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webshooterrr9 · 4 months

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dbf!miguel staying over

i mean....... i had to eventually...

w.c: 2.6k

content warning: alcohol usage, age gap (reader is 21, Miguel is 35), smut, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight dom/sub dynamic but not really because mig is such a sweetie and reader is sassy af, teasing because mig is secretly a meanie :(, not really tho he wants it just as much as her, big scary men whimpering!!!

sorry for y'all who don't speak spanish cuz i didn't feel like adding translations because it messed up the look but dw most of it is in english

Miguel and your father have been friends since college.

When your dad needed help with homework, Miguel was there. When your dad needed someone to pass to during the game, Miguel was there. When your dad mourned the loss of your mom, taken from the world too soon, Miguel was there. There were countless nights where Miguel would tutor your dad on subjects he struggled with after missing classes to take care of you: the angel he was gifted with in high school. Although he admits you came into his life a bit too early for comfort, he has always loved and prioritized you. And Miguel quickly became your dad’s best friend because, although he never met you, he could tell just how much your father cared about you.

And so he was always there for your dad. All through college and beyond.

It wasn’t until you started college that Miguel had the pleasure of meeting you. Your dad had planned a hangout with the three of you, telling you about how important it is to have a good friend on your side, how it helped him when times got tough.

And now you’re 21 - sitting on your childhood bed after coming home from college for the summer. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Miguel since you’ve been home. When you met him three years ago, you were somewhat intimidated by him. How could you not? Look at the sheer size of that man. But you came to know through your school breaks that he was a lot more laid-back than you previously thought. You hate to admit it, but you’ve developed a slight crush on him. It’s stupid, you know, but how could you possibly resist those deep brown eyes and that smooth baritone voice that pulls you in every time?

Knock knock “Chiquita?”

You recognized that silky tone. It was Miguel.

“Yeah?” you say, putting your phone to the side. “Come in.” The doorknob twists and your door slowly creeps open. Behind it was that beautiful man: soft brown curls, slightly hidden by a backwards cap, a strong nose, dusty jeans that hug his legs just right, and a plain white tee with a gold cross dangling from a chain around his neck. Your dad’s best friend. Miguel.

He steps into your room and lingers by the door, a lazy smile across his face. Dios… he was something else.

“¿Qué estás haciendo, mami? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

You sit up straighter, trying not to look as lousy as you feel. He came in here looking like a goddamn Roman god and you’re just sitting in your pjs. “Just scrolling,” you reply. “Trying to enjoy my time without homework.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your papi invited me over,” he says, stepping further into the room. “Just to catch up and share a few Modelos.”

You watch his arms cross over his chest, the sleeves of his tee tightening around his huge arms. “Doesn’t explain why you’re in here,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be out back with him, then?”

“What, ¿no puedo saludar a la hija de mi amigo?" he laughs. “That’s not fair.” he adds with a fake pout that makes you giggle.

“I didn’t say that,” you smile. He walks over and sits on the edge of your bed. You notice his watch gleam in the sunlight filtering through your windows. “Did you come here from work? Your shirt is dirty as hell.”

“You know how it is, beba. Being a blue collar worker is a tough job.”

You snort. “Please, being a mechanic is hardly blue collar work. You stay inside a garage all day.”

“My customers would beg to differ,” Miguel says. “You should see how many señoras come into my garage looking for a replacement for their shitty husbands.”

“Makes me feel like they’re tryna put a ring on it.” he wiggles his calloused fingers in front of you for added effect.

“Well, it makes sense,” you say. “You’re about their age anyway.”

“Oye!” he laughs. “I’m thirty-five, thank you very much. Not even close to their age.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, viejo.”

The sun had set an hour ago and he hadn’t gone home yet.

Despite the amount of times Miguel offered to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome, your father insisted he stay for “ten more minutes” and handed him another beer each time. The sound of the two men laughing from the living room kept you awake. It normally wouldn’t bother you, since you’re a night owl anyway, but you have plans with your friend tomorrow that you have to wake up early for.

You exit the comfort of your bedroom and head into the living room where you find Miguel and your dad chatting loudly on the couch. Miguel’s arm is draped over the back of the sofa, which accentuates his already defined chest - not to mention the dim lamp light casting beautiful shadows on his face.

“Ah, mija, there you are!” your father exclaims, very drunkenly. “I was wondering where you were. No te he visto en todo el día!”

“Lo siento, papi.” You reply, leaning against the wall. Miguel’s stare feels hot on your skin. You can see him through your peripheral vision, looking as handsome as ever.

“Es tarde en la noche, chiquita.” Miguel says, his words coming out slower due to all the Modelo in his system. “Why are you still up?”

“That’s exactly why I came in here; to tell you two to shut up.”

“¡Oye! Watch your mouth, mija.” your dad says sternly, while Miguel just chuckles.

“Sorry, pequeña,” Miguel says, setting his beer down on the coffee table. “We’ll keep it down. But don’t swear at your padre, yeah? Respect your elders.”

“Uh huh.” you shrug, waving the two men goodbye as you retire to your bedroom. You were sure that Miguel would still be there when you woke up in the morning, but hopefully he’ll be passed out by then and not still chatting with your dad.

----

You fall asleep almost immediately. The newly-installed fan in your room helped rid the summer heat and cool your bedroom to a comfortable temperature, while still allowing you to snuggle up under the blankets. A band tee and plain panties is all you wore, which was normal for you unless you were staying at a friend's house - at which point you’d obviously throw on some shorts. The moon shining through your windows acts as a sort of night-light, and you’re soothed to sleep by the crickets outside and the less-deafening sound of chatter from your living room.

Your alarm wakes you up around 8am, which is earlier than you normally start your day. As you go to turn off the noise, you hear a tired groan come from behind you. “Mmph… turn that off.”

You flinch and turn around, covering yourself with your blankets at the stranger in your bed. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Miguel.

“Miguel!” you whisper-shout, nudging his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He huffs and pushes his face into your pillow, and this is your first chance to get a good look at him. He’s shirtless, of course, but his muscular frame isn’t what draws you to him. His hair is tousled from sleep in a way you haven’t seen before, a grumpy pout peeking out from the pillow he’s buried his face in. He still has his gold chain around his neck, but he seems to have discarded his hat and jeans - which you see laying on your floor. You knew this man was gorgeous… but this was the most stunning you’ve ever seen him. The morning light only makes it better.

“Tu papá durmió en el sofá,” he mumbled, the sleepiness of his voice making him sound more attractive than ever. “And his room was too hot to sleep in.”

“That doesn’t explain why you decided to crawl into my bed unannounced.” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, and one of his arms slides under his pillow to prop himself up. “Cálmate, princesa. You had tons of room and it was cool in here.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

You sit up and brush the hair out of your face, trying to wake yourself up so that you can get ready. Miguel sleepily snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you back down. Your head flops on the pillow and messes up your hair once again.

“Quédate, mami. Sleep with me.” he mumbles, closing his eyes once more.

“E-Excuse me!?” Oh you were definitely blushing now. No way he just said that! You knew that he didn’t actually mean it like that… but you also knew that he wasn’t dumb. Whether his intentions were pure or not, you knew that he worded it that way on purpose. Was your silly little crush reciprocated?

He hugs you closer to him, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The cold metal of his necklace makes you shiver, especially in contrast with how hot his body is. Temperature, you mean.

“You heard me.” he doubles down.

“Do you even-”

“I know what I said, chiquita.” Miguel opens his eyes now - the lazy drawl of his voice becoming more awake and purposeful. His gaze on you is unbearable. You could feel the intensity of his stare. “And I know what I meant.”

You stare at him in silence. How could you speak? The man who you’ve had a crush on since you started college was in your bed, half naked, making a move on you. Part of you thinks that he’s waited long enough to finally do this, but another part of you feels some sort of guilt. He’s over a decade older than you, and a family friend no less. You can see through his eyes that he feels similarly, but his passion is overpowering any sense of guilt. Besides, you’re both adults. How bad could it be?

He leans over you, pinning you down onto your own mattress. A position that’s typically domineering, and yet, you can see his gaze soften uncharacteristically for him. He brushes a strand of loose hair away from your face.

“Que linda…” he mumbles, eyes trailing all over your face. “Eres tan hermosa.”

Miguel leans his face closer to yours, his gold cross dangling from his neck and touching yours. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. You’re stunned but also… excited?

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“Quiero sentirte.” you whisper, your eyes meeting his. You hear his breath catch in his throat. “Tócame. Hazme el amor.”

He chuckles, a flirty pout crossing his face. “Oh, pobrecita…” he grins, tracing your jawline with his dexterous fingers. Your face tilts up closer to his, your lips brushing as he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”

...

What?

“Why not?” he can visibly hear the disappointment in your voice. It almost makes him feel bad, especially with how beautiful you look in the morning light.

“Don’t wanna wake your papi, nena.” he caresses your face once more, leaning back a little so he can look at your face properly. “I can’t make you scream while everyone else is asleep. We have to keep this a secret. But where’s the fun in sex if I can’t hear your pretty whines, hm?”

You smack his chest. “Oh fuck off, Mig. Come here.”

Before he can respond, you grab him by his necklace and drag him down to your lips. The moment your mouths connect, it’s like fireworks going off in his head. He swears you taste better than any bizcocho he’s ever had. Miguel holds your waist as you tangle your hands through his hair, and he lets out a soft groan. His hips involuntarily rut against your thigh, and he decides he can’t take it anymore.

His hand dips between the two of you to tug your panties down, freeing your skin to his touch. His thumb lazily circles your clit, while the other calloused hand is still resting on your hips. He feels like he’s in heaven, feeling you squirm underneath him, but he knows this is only the start of the fun you’ll have together. He swallows every sound you make with his lips on yours, his tongue fighting with yours for control. He pulls his hands back once he’s sure that you’re wet and ready. You two are gasping for air by the time your lips part, and his deep eyes look into yours with a silent plea. You nod your head desperately.

Miguel makes quick work of removing what little clothes he had left on his lower body before sinking into your warmth, slowly but surely. You gasp.

He leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment of stillness. It’s like you two are in your own little bubble - no one else can interfere. He kisses you lovingly as he starts to move, silencing any moans or sighs you might have that others could hear. You’re just for him, no one else can experience you. His thrusts are slow, but agonizingly deep. You feel it deep in your core, kissing your cervix with every push of his hips forward.

“God…” he whines. “You feel so fucking good. So good for me, baby.” You arch against him, your hands dragging along his back for support. He glances down at where your two bodies connect, and the sight almost makes him pass out. “Que cosita más linda, mami.” he whispers.

“Damelo… please..” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut with all the pleasure you feel.

“I am, nena, I am. It’s all for you, princesa. I promise.”

His pace speeds up a little more, but he’s still pushing into you just as deep, “Show me you love it, baby. Mírame.”

You meet his gaze with glassy eyes, breathing heavily and nails digging into his back. You wrap your legs around his slim waist and he throws his head back at the tighter feel. “That’s it, baby. Así así…”

He’s rutting into you wildly, chasing his high. You look down to watch as his dick disappears into your cunt. The wet sounds of his hips smacking yours clouds your mind. Each roll of his hips brings you closer to the edge. “You’re so pretty, muñeca. So so pretty f’me.”

His large hands sneak under your t-shirt and grope your tits, squeezing and caressing in a way that makes you hazy. “Want you to look at me while I fill you up. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nod your head frantically, scratching the skin of his shoulders. You’ve never wanted anything more. The two of you are getting dangerously close to climax, and you swear you can hear him whimper.

“God, baby, feels so fucking good. No puedo más, no puedo más…!”

A squeal escapes you as he spills into your heat, with your own crescendo arriving shortly after. There’s a creamy white ring around his base as he starts to slow the roll of his hips. Miguel eventually stills and collapses, hugging you close in the same sort of cuddle as before, but still resting inside you.

After the exhaustion wears off, you pull back to stare into his eyes. A hand comes up to cup his face, rubbing his flushed cheek gently. “That was fucking amazing, Mig. I haven’t felt that good in so long.”

He laughs softly, returning your affectionate gaze. “Do you think your papi heard us?”

“Definitely not.” you giggle. “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“That’s good.” Miguel holds you for a few more minutes, just silently staring at you. You can’t even imagine how blissed out you must look right now, but it’s all so gorgeous to him. “Eres increíble, mi vida.”

You hum in delight, stroking his cheeks once more. “You too, mi cielo.”

... you're gonna have to cancel your plans for today.

sort of switched to Miguel's pov in the last section cuz i wanted to experiment :))))

i hope you guys liked it!! dbf!miguel inspiration from @mybvalentine

and yes... he's a mechanic. it just suits him ok??

----

webshooterrr9

#webshooterrr9 #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #fanfic #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #i wrote this with one hand #dbf!miguel #owns my heart #mechanic!miguel

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lorarri · 4 months

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★ . . . 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 , 𝐂𝐒𝟓𝟓

summary , your brother is desperate for you to like real madrid and is willing to do whatever it takes to get there

pairing , real madrid! footballer! carlos sainz x fem! alonso! f1 driver! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | sol’s masterlist | f1 masterlist

BIG BRO NANDO

I come bearing great news!

LIL SIS Y/N

what have you done?

BIG BRO NANDO

I got your team to get you to do some pr with

*drum roll*

REAL MADRID

LIL SIS Y/N

you're really not gonna stop until I find football midly interesting, huh?

BIG BRO NANDO

yup

you are spanish

your lack of interest in the beautiful game is scary

and who knows you might find your future husband there

LIL SIS Y/N

I doubt it but okay

HEY JUDE

okay dude are we gonna talk about the tension between you and Y/N or....?

CHILI BOY

hola jude

also I have no idea what you are talking about

HEY JUDE

dude we allll saw you basically eye fucking each other the WHOLE TIME we were filming

CHILI BOY

.....

was I that obvious?

HEY JUDE

yes.

anyway cuz I'm such a good friend

I'm going to help you shoot your shot

so I invited Y/N to tonight's game and I also invited her to the after party

so you two can talk and get to know each other

cuz the quicker the two of you do that the quick you can get the team paddock passes and you two can get married and do it couple shit

CHILI BOY

wow...

thank you for removing my free will and planning my life out for me

HEY JUDE

what are friends for mi amigo

yourinstagram and carlossainz55 . 4hrs ago

seen by fernandoalo_oficial judebellingham 87,489,583 others

fernandoalo_oficial replied to carlossainz55 story!

hurt my sister and I will kills you

and I don't care if you play for my favorite team or not

judebellingham replied to carlossainz55 story!

so.....

when's the wedding?

cuz I was thinking summer

too soon my friend

carlossainz55 replied to yourinstagram story!

hola hermosa

I think you left your earrings at my place

and I think you should come get them

I wasn't wearing earings last night tf?

if you want me come over you could have just asked

okay

can you come over

sure as long as you buy me food

anything for you princesa

yourinstagram and carlossainz55

liked by fernandoalo_oficial charles_leclerc 87,479,459 others

yourinstagram and carlossainz55 #mycalvins w/ the love of my life

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user MY WIFEY AND MY HUBBY TOGETHER???? SINCE WHEN???

user rue when was this

judebellingham took you long enough mate

user why goes my gut tell me nando had something to do with this

camavinga and finally he makes a moveee

user love how we are all losing our minds and planning a wedding in the comments section

vinijr when's the wedding and what color suit should I get?

user okay but how slay is this hard launch

aurelientchm one hard launch for chili one large step for man

user love that the madrid team saw this coming from miles off

fernandoalo_oficial !hala madrid!

user nando plz now is not the time for your madrid propaganda

user oh twitter must be in shamles by now

user at this point might as well rip up my 2024 bingo card

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fernandoalo_oficial and judebellingham . 2hrs ago

seen by yourinstagram landonorris 87,368,479 others

carlossainz55 replied to judebellingham story!

I owe you one dude

just make me the best man at your wedding and then we are square

and get killed by toni?

not a chance my friend

was worth a try

570 notes · View notes

luxurychristmaspudding · 1 month

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Mi Amigo | On Call

part iii

summary: summer arrives at last - and along with it, care, confessions, and a bbq.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. fluff, more smutty thoughts, drinking and smoking. grinding and kissing. kind of dubcon (they're very drunk) but we know they're obsessed with each other. frankie comes in his pants cos that's all i ever want him to do. bug jumping to conclusions. one good boy. a little praise kink.

reader is a teacher and has hair, but is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 9.4k

an: to probably absolutely no one's surprise, what was supposed to be the last chapter of these fools is now split in two. i am a yapper at heart, and a yapper i will always be. i really hope y'all enjoy the last bits of this story <3

huge love to @schnarfer, @jolapeno and @toomanytookas, who held my hands through all my wobbles and questions. you guys are three in billions.

before we begin - if you haven't already, catching up here and here will be useful before these chapters <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

I've got a friend Helps me to get up again Showers me in boozes Tells me I got a big old dick And she wants my ass home

- mi amigo, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s six o’clock when Frankie knocks on your door, tool box in hand.

He squints at you from your porch, all chocolate curls and sunkissed skin and a big, silly gin. You give him a once over, a similar smile stretching across your face.

‘Well. Isn’t this like the start of a bad porno?’

He laughs as you step back to let him in, leaning to give you a swift peck on the cheek.

‘Evenin’ to you too, teach. Heard you needed your pipes checked.’

You snort, cackling as you close the door behind him, and he’s laughing too, body bowed towards your amusement as you lead him through to the kitchen.

Your kitchen table is tidier than normal, plants blooming in the summer sun.

‘You want a drink of anything?’ You ask. He shakes his head, placing the tool box by his feet.

‘You can ply me with alcohol later, Bug. I need good eyes and steady hands for this.’

You tut at him.

‘Wasn’t going to be alcohol, Morales. You want water? Juice? Pepsi?’

He’s grinning again as he kneels by the sink, opening the cupboard beneath it.

‘Sure. Pepsi would be good.’

You head to the fridge to grab him a can as he eases himself into the cabinet, the cool aluminium sweating in your hands as he tinkers for a moment.

‘How bad is it, doc?’

His face reappears from the gloom, wincing, and you hand him the drink. He cracks it open with a fizz and takes an audible sip.

‘Awful. You’re gonna need a whole new kitchen,’ he pouts. You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs, winking. ‘So easy you could have done it yourself.’

You roll your eyes at him, popping yourself up to sit on the counter, hand idly drifting through his toolbox.

‘How was today?’ He asks, heaving himself up to gather a handful of tools. You lift your shoulders.

‘Aw, all good. Happy it’s Friday. Happy summer’s almost here.’

He smiles.

‘How was yours?’

‘Quiet. Well, apart from Luc. I don’t think she’s ever been this excited for something before.’

You scrunch your face up, ahhing as he disappears back into the cupboard, starting his work on the pipes below the sink.

‘Do you think she’ll be alright?’

‘Yeah,’ he grunts, ‘She’ll be fine. Got Herman - y’know, her little dog - so she’s well prepared.’

You swing your feet a little, pulling your lip between your teeth.

‘Still gonna keep your phone on you at all times?’

His stomach jumps with a laugh.

‘You got it, Bug. I won’t sleep.’

You tip your head at his torso, watching him work. The concealed movement of his arms, the slither of skin revealed to you as he stretches to reach something. Perfect to run your fingertip along, your tongue -

Frankie groans. You wet your lips.

‘Everything alright, boss?’

‘Yeah,’ he sighs, ‘Picked up the wrong one. Hand me that 36.9mm wrench.’

You freeze, staring down at the toolbox beside you, the jumble of metal. Sure, you know what you’re looking at, and he’s joked about it before, but -

‘Quickly.’ He says, making blind grabby hands in the direction of the box. You scrabble around, picking up three different types of wrench, scouring them for clues. He says your name, exasperated.

‘I am going quickly,’ you protest, ‘I just have to read everything. There are so many sizes -’

‘See, I knew you didn’t know what a wrench looked like.’

You drop one of the tools, flipping him off even though he can’t see it, before fishing out another.

‘Keep being smart, Morales, and I won't help at all.’

A disgruntled ha! sounds from beneath the sink.

‘This is your sink I’m fixing -’

‘And it’s not my fault I don’t have an engineering degree, or a maths degree, or whatever the fuck -’

Frankie makes to sit up, grumbling, but promptly smacks his head on the inside of the cabinet with a loud thump. His Jesus fucking Christ is almost drowned out by your laughter as he edges himself out, rubbing at his forehead.

‘Don’t laugh at me, pendeja.’

‘That’s karma, Fish.’

‘How is that karma when I’m trying to help you?’

You shrug, finally holding out the right wrench.

‘The dildo of consequences rarely arrives lubed, my friend.’ You snicker.

He takes the wrench from you and ducks back under the sink, barely repressing a grin.

‘That doesn’t even make sense,’ he grumbles, voice tight with the effort of holding back his laughter.

You watch the flash of his elbows as they work beneath the counter, loosening, tightening, before he finishes with a huff.

‘Done.’

You check your watch as he wiggles out, and he makes to throw the wrench at you.

‘Record time.’ You grin, and he rolls his eyes, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. The front of his shirt is stained a darker grey than it was before, and he grimaces at it as he rises from the floor, knees popping. You hop down from the counter, grabbing the dishcloth from the oven handle, moving closer to pat at the damp fabric. He catches your wrists in his hands.

‘It’s no use, teach,’ he says, ‘I’m done for.’

‘You’ve got a real taste for the theatrics tonight, Morales,’ you scoff at him, ‘I’m starting to see where Luc gets it from.’

He releases one of your wrists to give a swift pinch to your cheek, and you gasp dramatically, holding your hand to the small sting.

‘How very dare you!’ You cry, and he laughs, shoulders jumping, mumbling something about your theatrics. You take the chance to step back and whirl the towel around itself between your fists, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

‘Hey now,’ he says lowly, ‘There’s no need for that.’ Raising his hands in surrender, a slow smile stretching across his lips. You watch each other with bated breath until you lurch forward and he spins giddily, running away as you chase him around the kitchen table.

He clamours against the chairs, bumps against plant pots, giggling all the way. A high-pitched, careless little laugh that you like to think only you can elicit from him.

You’re calculating, breathless; tilting your head, his legs in sight, towel held taught in your hands. Close enough. You release one end of the cloth in the direction of his calves - weak, barely even a flick of your wrist - and lightning fast, Frankie turns and grips the free end, yanking you towards him through choked huffs of mirth.

‘Do not whip me, Bug.’

Your only response is a barely muffled hehehe against his chest, and he levers his spare palm against the forearm still holding the towel. He takes it from you easily, efficiently winding it into an actual dangerous looking weapon, before chasing you back around the furniture in the opposite direction, you shrieking out your protests as he bounds behind you. You make three rounds of the table before he screeches to a halt directly opposite you, and you still, both clutching chairs, chests heaving.

‘You have to let me get one. You owe me one.’ He says, eyes narrowed, levelling a finger at you.

You bark a laugh.

‘I owe you nothin’, Morales. You were too slow.’

‘Fair’s fair -’

‘Grown man, talkin’ ‘bout fair’s fair -’

‘Bug -’

‘Frankie -’

‘Bug -’

‘I will bite you.’

He gives you a baffled look, one that quickly melts into amusement. A lop-sided grin, one eye dropping closed in a wink.

‘Do you promise?’

For a second, he swears you falter. Like something short circuits, the same way it did on his sofa, the same way it did on his porch. And then you smile, wide and lascivious, striding round the table to stop in front of him.

He almost drops the towel when you lift a hand to his chest, tracing one finger over the water stain, up to the round collar at his neck.

‘I promise, Frankie,’ you coo, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

His mouth is parted, panting slightly. Eyes wide with surprise, darkening with a kind of hunger he’s not sure how to hide.

You rip the towel from his hand, bouncing backwards with a cry of aha!

Frankie rocks on the balls of his feet, swallowing before echoing a pale shadow of your laughter, heart thumping painfully behind his ribs.

‘Alright,’ he rasps, ‘You win.’

You grin at him again, and his chest squeezes tight as you loop an arm around his waist, pinching his side.

‘Bastarda.’ He hisses, and your lips stretch even wider.

‘Alright, Morales,’ you crow, patting his chest. ‘Go get changed. I’ll get us dinner.’

When he opens the door, freshly changed into sweatpants and a new t-shirt, you’re stood outside. One fist raised, the other holding the neck of a half-full bottle of whisky.

‘Y’alright?’ He asks, looking you over - fresh-faced, in your own sweats, hair a little wet.

‘Yup. Was just gonna check you hadn’t fallen in.’

‘Fallen in,’ he repeats, closing the door behind him before picking you up in his arms. It’s a death grip, the air in your body squeezed out like bubble wrap as your spine pops. He swings you about a little, until you thump on his back with your spare fist, wheezing.

‘Put - me - down - asshole -’

He drops you unceremoniously on his porch, and you bend, hands on your knees, as you catch your breath. He chuckles down at you, and you flip him off.

‘You know,’ you pant, ‘I never liked you.’

‘Whatever, Bug.’ He smirks, hopping down his porch steps. You straighten, bounding after him.

Cool grass at your feet, warm air in your lungs, you catch up to him easily, watching his broad back in the moonlight. He says nothing as you glance at him, strong nose, scruff, plush lips. But his growing smirk tells you he’s noticed.

A heat rises in your cheeks, and you take the moment to jog ahead of him, hopping the fence.

When you turn back, he's watching you with his hands on his hips.

‘I thought we were walking together.’ He pouts.

‘Thought we could hop the fence together instead.’

He stares at you for a moment, considering. Glares at the fence, then shakes his head. You snort.

Feigning defeat, Frankie begins to walk towards the front of his lawn, but you take a step back towards your house.

‘Ah-ah. Hop the fence,’ you say, waving the bottle. Frankie sighs.

‘I’m not hopping the fence.’

‘Hop the fence,’ you giggle, ‘And I’ll give you a cigar.’

‘A cigar?’

You waggle your eyebrows at him.

‘Yes, sir. A cigar.’

He chews his cheek, still thinking. Decides to call your bluff, takes one more step -

‘Nuh-uh. Hop it.’

‘I’m old. I’m not hopping shit.’

‘You are not old,’ you say, scowling at him, ‘You’re too serious. Hop the damn fence.’

He sighs again, jaw working around a clever comeback that never materialises. He looks up to the heavens, and then closes the distance between you.

You watch with delighted amusement as Frankie settles himself at the white pickets, hands in the position to launch himself over. He waits for muscle memory to kick in.

Nothing happens.

‘You good, buddy?’ You goad. He grimaces.

‘Yep. Just… gearing myself up.’

You scoff.

‘Hop it, Fish. Or I’ll have them both smoked by the time you’re here.’

You watch as he mumbles a fuck it before jumping up and flinging both legs over the top slat - and just when it seems he’s about to land gracefully, the tip of his foot catches the wood. He sprawls to the ground, all flailing limbs, with a muffled mmph.

The cackle you let out is long and loud, and you clap a hand over your mouth to try and stifle it. He stays motionless, huffing on the grass as you gasp, trying to regain your composure, and when you’re sure you won’t wet yourself, you come towards him and drop to your knees. You grip his shoulder to turn him on his back, his eyes scrunched shut against your smirk. The corners of his mouth curl when he hears you snort again.

‘Come on,’ you giggle, ‘I’ve got just the thing for geriatric patients.’

He moans and tries to turn himself back over, shoulders rounding, but you keep your hand firmly where it is.

‘Leave me,’ he grumbles, ‘I’m no good anymore. Take the kid. She prefers you, anyway.’

You laugh anew, settling on your butt, before pulling him roughly to lie flat. You pull the cork from the whisky bottle and take his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

‘Open up,’ you say, ‘This’ll help your strength.’

You bring the bottle to his open lips and tip it. He winces when the whisky hits his tongue, coughing it down, shoulders lifting from the grass as he hacks. When it begins to sputter out the sides of his mouth and dribble into his beard, he sits up, narrowing his eyes at you as he splutters and wipes the spill with the back of his hand.

‘You’re a bad influence.’

You roll your eyes and begin to stand, holding a hand out for him. He eyes it sceptically.

‘If I had a dollar every time I heard that,’ you say as he takes it and you pull him up with a groan, ‘I’d have at least three dollars.’

‘Goes to show.’ He mutters, swiping his hands on his jeans as you lead him to your porch.

You clap him on the back as he staggers forwards, keeping your palm plastered to the warmth of his shoulders as you guide him up the steps, handing him the whisky and settling him on the bench facing the garden before disappearing back inside. He’s still nursing achy joints when you reemerge, two tumblers pinched between fingers, a lighter and a cigar case in the other hand.

You plop next to him with a sigh, handing him the glasses as he pops the cork back off the bottle.

‘Ordered pizza.’ You tell him, picking a cigar out from the case.

He smiles, eyes sparkling as he holds a filled tumbler out to you. You take it, fingers brushing his.

‘Pepperoni?’

‘Of course.’

He sets the bottle down as he watches you deftly cut the end of the first stogie, picking up your lighter and letting it warm the darkening end. He accepts it gratefully, letting it rest between his fingers as you cut your own, rotating it over the flame. The silver of the lighter catches the moonlight, and in it, he can see the intricate carvings engraved on its surface. Flowers and leaves, a tiny bee. Your initials at the bottom.

‘Cardinal sin to just let it burn.’ You murmur, nodding to his hand. He chuckles, lifting the cigar to his lips for the first, rich drag. He peers at you through his eyelashes on the exhale, and you smile at him as you inspect the burn on yours.

‘Nice lighter.’ He says as you flick the cap back over the flame.

‘Thanks. Was my dad’s,’ you say. ‘The cigars were my graduation gift from him. Last two.’

Frankie pauses.

‘Last two?’

Mhm.

He lowers his hand.

‘Bug, if these are your last two, I don’t wanna -’

You cut him a look through your first puff of smoke, and he stops.

‘Frankie, honey. I wouldn’t have invited you over if I didn’t want you to have one.’ You hold your glass out to cheers him, and he clinks it gently. ‘Consider it payment for the sink.’

He scoffs at you.

‘You don’t owe me anything for the sink.’

You twist your body to face him.

‘What kind of friend would I be if I didn't get you back for the sink?’

He shakes his head.

‘You already do enough for me with Luc.’

You regard him for a moment, so long that he’s forced to meet your eyes. Something moves through them. Something deep and warm, a little sad.

‘You know I’d do anything for you two.’

You’d meant it to sound casual, but it slips from your lips and lands heavily on the bench between you. It sits there for a moment, a sentiment beyond its words, its presence ballooning so quickly that you scramble for some quip to say to make it smaller.

Frankie’s eyes don’t leave yours.

‘I’d do anything for you, too, Bug.’

He says it with such sincerity, such understanding, that it takes your breath away; his eyes so deep, so round, you feel you might fall into them. Pupils so blown they’re almost black, mouth parted to release a breath before he clears his throat. Your eyes flick to your hands, the last cigar your father gave you, before finding his again.

‘School breaks up on Friday.’ He says.

‘It does.’

You wait.

‘Luc gets picked up Friday evening. Vanessa’s back. I’m, uh - I'm having a barbeque on Saturday. The boys are coming,’ you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. ‘They want to meet you.’

The small smile pulls into a grin.

‘You been telling your friends about me, Morales?’

He scoffs.

‘Told them about you the day you moved in. They know all about you.’

You chuckle a little, taking a puff of the cigar.

‘All good things, I hope.’

‘Everything about you is a good thing.’

You cut him a look.

‘You'd better stop that before my ego gets too big.’

He laughs this time, taking a drag before asking you -

‘Do you wanna come?’

You knock your shoulder against his.

‘Course I do.’

He nods, head dipping low.

‘Good. That's good.’

You’re grinning still, leaning so your knee touches his.

‘So, what else do you tell your friends about me?’

Frankie freezes, hand stopping halfway to his mouth. Only a second, but you don’t miss the way a blush begins to bloom up his neck.

‘Nothing else.’

You grin wider.

‘Nothing else? You sure?’

He stammers on his words when it should be easy. How great of a friend you are, how good with Lucia you are, how I almost kissed you on the porch, how much I wanna kiss you all the time, but nothing. Nothing -

From within the house, through the open back door, there comes the short blast of the doorbell. You suck a breath in through your teeth, still amused - oblivious.

‘Saved by the bell, mi amigo. Hold this for me.’ You say, handing him your half-finished stogie.

He sighs as you stand and vanish into your home, knocking his head against the back of the bench, gazing up at a moth fluttering around the porch light. He closes his eyes, counting to fifty in his head to try and sooth his pounding heart, before you appear again.

You hold a box out to him.

‘Don’t go falling asleep on me now,’ you sing, ‘The night is young, and so are we.’

He chuckles.

‘Speak for yourself, asshole.’

Several more moths are scrambling above your heads by the time you finish eating. Hot, greasy cheese, scarfed down between sips of whisky and the dregs of the cigars. You leave the boxes stacked clumsily next to the bench, your legs intermittently slung over Frankie’s lap, or your heads knocking against each other's shoulders in laughter as conversation wanders from work, to family, to stories of friends. It’s a rare night that you get to yourselves - no hushed voices for the small person upstairs, no muffled laughter.

When an almost imperceptible chill begins to settle, you stand from the bench. Frankie raises an eyebrow at you.

‘You wanna dance, Fish?’

Inside your living room, you hand him your phone, busying yourself with turning on your speakers. Frankie’s eyes stay glued to the slope of your back as you crouch down, a little fuzzy around the edges, before dragging his attention to the device in his hand. He presses his thumb to it, and the screen alights. Something warm pulls and floods in his gut when he’s faced with a picture of him, you, and Lucia at Pride, one of the selfies you took. He’s still smiling dumbly when you stand and look at him expectantly.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ He says, gesturing to it.

‘You’re supposed to connect -’ You cut yourself off, rolling your eyes a little. ‘Here, I’ll do it.’ You say, taking the phone from him, unlocking it and opening the bluetooth settings. Frankie sways a little in time with the swell of his heart.

‘Your lockscreen.’ He says.

You smile broadly at him.

‘It’s you guys.’

‘It’s us guys.’ He chuckles, sweeping you up into his arms in a rush of affection. He kisses the top of your head as you press the phone into his hand, Spotify already open.

‘Pick something,’ you say, ‘Anything you want. But make it groovable.’

So he does. Leading you in a romp through his expansive taste, interspersed with your own picks. Queen, Bowie, Pet Shop Boys, Incubus, Dire Straits. He surprises you with ABBA, Soft Cell, and Daft Punk. Leads you through Blue Öyster Cult, wields a dramatic air guitar through Aerosmith and AC/DC, sings Noah Kahan with full lungs, dances to La Bamba with his whole chest. Wails through Livin’ On A Prayer and More Than A Feelin’, drops to his knees for Pour Some Sugar On Me, bops around the room to Groove Is In the Heart and Earth, Wind and Fire.

He pulls you close during Springsteen, closer still when Fleetwood Mac pours through the speakers. You’re laughing through it all - pressed against his broad body or dancing on opposite sides of the room, arms free and wild, feet never still. Mouths breathlessly close during You Make Loving Fun and Gold Dust Woman, howling at each other through The Chain and Go Your Own Way. Theatrical during Silver Springs, singing to him as you dance on top of the sofa. Close again as you croon Dreams to each other, your head pressed against his chest, moving in time with him as he wraps his arms around you.

You’re drawn, time and time again, to the way his eyes crinkle with his near permanent smile. The way his hips move, the way he sings, unburdened, unbothered, the way his hands search for you. Spinning and twirling you, pushing your arms with his in time to the beat of the music, one hand cradling your head as you slow dance, one clutched to the small of your back, moulded to the curve of your waist. The press, subconscious grind, of your bodies moving together. A low, sticky state of arousal, easily pushed aside by bright laughter and off-key singing.

And it feels so natural, this night, to be with each other. Uncaring and sweaty, time passing without you realising, your breath continuously caught in your throat by the way he looks at you, how easy it would be to press your lips to his. You itch with the possibility of it all, the way your heart would once batter against your ribs in fear of him discovering the way you feel drowned out by the drums and guitars and whisky.

You could spend the whole night - a whole lifetime - alone in your living room with Frankie like this.

The light from the lamps is low and warm now, bathing the room in shadows, the leaves of your plants sinking into a darker green. Outside, it is utterly dark.

You slip through each other’s arms like molasses, giggling uncontrollably. Frankie only breaks his firm hold on your waist, your hands, to reach for the bottle again, pouting when he finds it empty. He tips it up to his eye level, emptying the last few drops onto his tongue before swinging it around like more might magically appear.

You plant your hands on his shoulders, squeezing the firm muscle there. He meets your eye, trying - and failing - to balance the bottle on your head.

‘Ya want more?’ You ask, a grin slipping across your face.

His answering ‘Yup,’ is emphatic enough to have you bounding into the kitchen, the walls softening the sound of Fleetwood Mac as you stumble to the cabinets on the far side. Frankie watches, slouched against the doorframe, as you struggle on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf where another bottle sits, label glinting gold. There’s a soft grunt as you sway a little, before starting to scale the kitchen units. He starts towards you.

‘Bug, let me get it.’

You relent immediately, kneeling on the countertop, eyes glassy as you watch him. He’s so fucking handsome you could cry. His curls, his smile, his arms, the little slither of tummy that’s exposed when he reaches up -

You barely catch the noise you were about to make in your throat as he lowers the bottle and shuts the cupboard door.

You’re still watching his fingers as he pops the cork and inhales deeply. He hums, deep in his chest, and you want to press your ear against his ribs to hear it better.

‘That’s good stuff.’

‘Always for you, baby.’ You smile, tongue poking against your teeth.

He knocks your shoulder with his fist, apparently oblivious to the blush that spreads right to the tops of his ears.

‘Stop that.’ He chuckles.

‘Mm-nope.’ Is your reply, and he’s still grinning as he swaggers out of the kitchen, taking a great gulp as he walks. You stay knelt on the countertop for a few seconds more before you manage to process that his warmth is no longer beside you.

‘Hey!’ You call, scampering down, running back through to the living room. Frankie is dancing again, but the sway of his hips is easier to ignore when he’s drinking your liquor.

‘Hey!’ You protest again as he lifts it back to his mouth, raising his eyebrows at you - teasing.

‘Give me some of that -’ you crow, trying to swipe it from him. But he's so fast. ‘Frankie, that’s mine,’ you whine, a petulant child, as he easily dodges your grabbing hands. ‘You fucker, I want some -’

And he’s giggling, ‘Come and get it, then.’

You move so quickly you surprise even yourself - climbing up onto the sofa beside you and launching yourself at him. He catches you on instinct, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders as you fight to get the bottle back, him swinging himself in circles to try and dislodge you. The collision knocks whisky from his mouth, the air from his lungs.

‘Fuck - Bug - get off - my back -’

You manage to pry the bottle from his fingers, taking great glugs as he spins and you laugh maniacally.

‘Bug,’ he pants, ‘Please -’

‘Oh baby,’ you coo in his ear, a shit-eating grin on your lips, ‘What’s wrong?’

He stills briefly, the blush returning, his heart hammering against your palms. You lick your lips, pulling yourself a little closer, a little tighter, hitching your head over his shoulder so you can nibble at his ear lobe.

‘Tell me, Frankie. What do you want?’

His breath stutters, eyes flutter shut.

‘Baby -’ He croaks.

Something warm curls in your belly, wetness beginning to dampen your underwear. Baby.

You lean forward again, this time pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his neck. He staggers like you’ve swept his feet out from under him.

Frankie lurches, grunts, heaves you around to his front, and drops you on the sofa beside him.

Still smirking, you drink from the bottle again, watching as he drops heavily onto the loveseat adjacent to you. He’s breathing deeply, lifting his hips to adjust himself in his sweats.

‘Fuck. You.’ He breathes, levelling a finger in your direction. You smile wider, lascivious.

‘Is that a promise, or a threat, Francisco?’

He groans, low in his throat, a hand scraping over his jaw, and you’re moving without thinking about it. Drawn to him so easily, the neck of the bottle hanging between two fingers.

He watches you, eyes heavy lidded, fingers twitching where they rest on his thighs. You bite your lip, a quiet whine working from behind your teeth as you process the growing bulge against the grey.

He hasn't broken your gaze. You stop in front of him, between his spread legs. The air is thick, warm. You’re not even sure if the music is playing anymore.

‘Promise? Or threat?’ You repeat, softly.

He leans forward. Big, calloused hands trail up the back of your calves, the backs of your thighs. So slow, so sure, you’re positive your knees might give way. Your breath stutters as he presses a kiss to your stomach, brown eyes wide, looking up at you.

‘Promise.’

You bury a hand in his soft curls, tugging his head back softly, before trailing the backs of your fingers down his stubbled cheek. You pinch his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

‘Open.’

He does. Slowly, so slowly, you pour the whisky into his waiting mouth. Big brown eyes patient, wanting.

‘Close.’

He swallows as you bend to place the bottle on the floor, watching a dribble of liquid flow from the corners of his lips.

Good boy, you murmur, and he moans again. One hand pressed to his shoulder to push him back into the cushions, you drop a knee onto the sofa on one side of his narrow hips, and he uses his hands on your thighs to guide you the rest of the way to straddle him.

‘So good. Wanna make you feel so good.’ You whisper, half delirious, crowding him, settling your core over his growing hardness. Tangling a hand in the curls at the nape of his neck, the other cupping his cheek. You lean closer, and his eyelids flutter as you flatten your tongue against his chin, licking the whisky from him, rocking your hips slightly at the same time. It’s delicious, and you can’t tell whether it’s the taste or feel of him that cracks your mouth open with a moan. You lean back again, and he’s staring at you - pupils so blown they're black. Searching his eyes for permission, as if he would have ever let you get this far otherwise.

He beats you to it, leaning forwards again, your eyes just closing at the first press of his lips to yours - soft, sweet, gentle. He holds his mouth there for a moment as your heart catches up with your body, dropping dizzyingly into your stomach, your breath suddenly hard to find.

You open your mouth, and someone so different to the Frankie you're used to - desperate, hungry - claims it as his own.

His hands are everywhere. Cradling your cheek, gripping the hair at the back of your head, squeezing your ass, your thighs. Halfway between grounding and ravenous as he kisses you, all tongues and teeth and desire. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, and you fist your hands in the hem of his t-shirt, wondering whether you should pull it up and off, thinking about the slip of skin you’d seen earlier, the scar and broad chest you’d admired at the beach. He releases your lip and ducks his head, kissing and nipping at your throat, and your body is so numb with feeling, goosebumps all over your skin, that you wonder whether this is what it should have felt like. All this time, everyone you’ve ever wanted. Even Annie. You’re gasping, moaning, a high pitched whine slipping from your mouth as he sucks a mark into your pulsepoint, your hands grabbing at him, pink half moons carved into his shoulders.

‘Frankie,’ you gasp, ‘Frankie -’

He mumbles your name against your skin, and then again, lower, growling.

‘Want you.’ He presses just behind your ear, and then his hands are squeezing at your hips, rocking you back and forth slowly. His head falls back against the sofa as yours tips forwards, fighting the urge to shut your eyes against how good it feels. You’re soaked, panties sticking to your damp folds, so wet you’re sure it’ll show through your sweats. So wet you’re sure Frankie can feel it, the way he looks down between your bodies. You follow his eyeline, groaning again, a fresh wave of slick pulsing out of you when you see how hard he is, tenting against the soft material.

You slant forward, bumping your forehead against his as you whimper, the seam of your clothing catching perfectly against your clit, head spinning. Frankie licks his lips, mouth tacky from breathing so hard.

‘So good, baby,’ he groans, ‘Fuck, you feel so good, moving like that.’

And you’re hot all over, heavy with arousal. Dipping your head low to kiss at his neck again, letting your tongue trace his skin, biting at the tendons there. He groans above you, puffing breath through his nose as he paws at your ass, urging you to arch your back more as though he knows you need to chase more friction. You whine into the crook of his neck, letting him drive the pace now as you clench around nothing, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

‘Fuck,’ you breathe against him, ‘Fuck, Frankie.’

‘Yeah?’ He rasps, ‘You like that, princesa?’

You moan again by way of an answer, scrunching the neck of his tee in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut. You don’t know how you’ve gotten there so quickly, knot pulling tight in your core, burning through your insides, but the hours of thinking about it probably haven’t helped.

‘’M gonna come.’ You mumble against him, and his breathing falters.

‘You gonna come like this?’

‘Mhm.’

You tip your head to suck at his neck again, and he presses you harder against him, moaning out.

‘Okay,’ he gasps, ‘Good girl.’

His praise goes straight to your aching cunt, your orgasm blinding as it approaches even faster than you thought. You stagger out a gasp, a moan, a broken cry of his name as you grind against him, hips twitching, one hand flying out to tug at his curls. Frankie grunts your name, something like a warning, and then the heat between your legs gets warmer, wetter as he spills inside his boxers.

‘Fuck,’ he gasps, ‘Fuck me.’

You giggle, dazed, as the grip of his hands soften, and you take the moment to grind against him a little more with the aftershocks. You keen at the sound of his overstimulated whimpers, the feel of his cum soaking through your clothes, until you can no longer resist the urge to draw back to look down at him.

He’s wrecked. Flushed and sweaty, curls a little tighter where they’re damp. His eyes are wide, deep and sparkling, lips wet and swollen from your kisses. Blissed out, a little faraway as he gazes at you. He looks beautiful.

You lean down to take his mouth with yours again, slower this time, relaxing into it as you come down from your highs. You lick along the seam of his lips, and he lets you in, tongues tangling lazily with each other. You run your fingers through his hair, twisting his soft curls around your digits, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted. He’s all you’ve ever wanted.

He’s all you want, and suddenly you have no idea where you stand.

All at once, the music is too loud, the rest of the world too still. Your legs feel too heavy, your hands shaky, a queasy feeling in your stomach. A spiral of something, a crushing weight of dread. You’re fucking this up.

He’s all you want, but what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if you’re just drunk - what if this is a one time thing? You won’t be able to look at him, won’t be able to sit at the table drawing with Lucia now you know how he sounds when he falls apart. And you will not break your own heart by getting into something casual, something where he’ll inevitably find someone else -

You try to push it away, swallow it down, focus on the press of his soft, full lips, the firm feeling of his body against yours, but your mind is screaming at you -

What the fuck have you done?

Fleetwood Mac falls into silence. Your eyes fly open, mouth quickly detached from his.

‘Bug?’ He says, too softly.

You can’t breathe. Can’t say anything as he watches you, one hand still at the nape of your neck, the other wrapped around your hip. There’s a prickle in the back of your throat, a burning at the back of your eyes. Whisky sits heavy in your blood, and yet you’ve never felt more sober.

‘What’s wrong?’ He asks, and you shake your head.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, voice strained, ‘Frankie, I’m so sorry -’

He sits up properly, adjusting you on his lap. Your hands drop to your sides. Frankie’s stay at your waist.

‘Bug, why are you sorry?’

His words are rushed, pitching higher. He’s worried - he’s panicking.

But you’re searching his face for regret, for clarity, for shame.

‘I -’ the words are too thick, too heavy to come out. Impossible to tell him now what he means to you, when it seems so clear he got caught up in the moment.

He’s still watching, still waiting. His hands squeeze at your sides, offering comfort. You close your eyes, shake your head, lips trembling.

‘I don’t know if you wanted this - if - if - you just did it because it’s something to do - or -’ you choke off with a shuddered breath, clenching your jaw, trying so hard not to cry. The wetness from both of you is cooling between your legs, and it’s too much, this whole thing is crushing, too much -

‘You don’t think I wanted this?’

You shake your head again, lips pinched together against a sob. Your chest aches. Frankie’s warm palm settles against your cheek.

‘Baby, look at me.’

You tip your head back, inhaling deeply through your nose, before tilting it back towards Frankie and opening your eyes. Warm, deep brown, frantically checking you over. Eyebrows crinkled in a frown. He breathes your name, mouth working around the words he’s trying to find.

‘You have no idea,’ he begins, ‘No idea how long I’ve waited for you. Not even since you moved next door. I’ve waited my whole life for you, do you understand that?’

You shake your head, refusing to hear him, unbelievable, a sob clawing out your mouth. He holds you closer.

‘I have. My whole life. God, Bug. The only thing I wish was different is that I’d bought the pizza so I could say I got you dinner first.’

A watery chuckle escapes you, despite yourself. Relief trying to bloom in your chest, a smile teasing at your lips.

‘You’ve made me dinner plenty of times -’

‘Mm-mm,’ he hums, smiling now, too. ‘Doesn’t count. I wanted to take you on a date, get dressed up, have some wine -’

‘No,’ you laugh - it’s so incomprehensible, ‘No you did not -’

‘I did.’ He rasps. ‘I just could never find the words - the fucking nerve - to say it.’

You take him in. His sweet, soft face. Every line and freckle you know so well. You could draw him from memory, starting with the little heart-shaped patch in his beard.

‘You mean it.’ Not a question, a confirmation. He takes your hand from your side, brings the knuckles to his lips.

‘Of course I do.’

You twist your hand in his, kiss his palm. Words tangle on your tongue but are swallowed, catching on their way down.

‘What do we do now?’

He laughs, head knocking against the back of the sofa. He looks down between you.

‘Get a change of clothes.’

You giggle, shifting again. His grip tightens, a sigh shifting past his lips. Your hips twinge.

‘After that?’

Frankie tips his head. In the quiet, you can hear birds through the glass of your windows. Without bidding it to, your mouth stretches in a yawn. Frankie quickly follows.

‘We go to sleep.’

‘And then?’

He smiles, plays with your fingers. A dusting of pink across his cheeks.

‘I tell everyone we’re seeing each other. And then, maybe one day, I tell them you’re mine.’

Your heart swells to double - triple - its size. Everything that felt heavy before now floating, light as air, as though nothing tethers it to the ground.

‘Sounds good to me, Morales.’

You lean forwards, press your lips against his. Feel his eyelashes flutter against your cheeks. He pulls away minutely, just to mumble against you.

‘If it sounds good to you, baby, it sounds perfect to me.’

‘Holy fuck.’

You scrunch your eyelids tighter together, trying to stave off the pounding of your head, how the room is spinning even in the darkness. Frankie is warm against you, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he groans.

‘I know.’

He laughs, a deep rumble vibrating through your ribs, until you’re joining him, cut off with a sharp intake of air.

‘Don’t,’ you mumble through clenched teeth, ‘If you make me laugh, I’ll puke.’

‘Mm. Yep. Not what we want. Water, that’s what we want.’

The mattress shifts as he does, and when you muster the strength to roll over, you’re faced with his bare, broad back, perched on the edge of the bed. You reach out a finger to connect the freckles on his shoulders, dipping low to the dimples above his boxers. You watch as his muscles tighten, as goosebumps flare over the skin you’ve touched. He swivels his hips to half face you.

‘Morning.’ He smiles. You answer with one of your own.

‘Morning.’

His lips stretch wider, mischief twinkling in his eyes. He gestures to your rumpled sheets.

‘Last night, did we…’

You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

‘Oh, fuck off, Fish -’

He leans over, chuckling, crawling back towards you. Your lungs freeze as his gaze drops to your lips.

‘I know,’ he breathes, ‘But I wish we did.’

He pecks you, gently, catching your eye before leaning closer to do it again. You return them, quick, gentle, peppering them all over his face. He hums, coming closer still, one arm braced over your body.

‘You know, you’re making it very hard to -’

His ringtone chimes loudly through the room, and you squeeze your eyes closed against it as it rattles through your skull. You knock a fist against his arm.

‘Frankie - please -’ as he groans, retreating, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He answers the call, holds it as far away from his ear as possible.

‘Hello?’

You listen to the murmur of the conversation, piecing it together, trying to save yourself from the doze threatening at the corners of your body. When quiet returns, you crack an eye open to find him watching you.

‘Luc?’

He nods.

‘Duty calls.’

You smile, stretching your neck to catch one last kiss as he stands and leans over the bed. He stumbles around your room for his clothes - fresh sweats - yawning and stretching, scratching at his shoulder, and you can’t help how goofy, how giddily happy you feel watching him do it.

‘Are you safe to drive?’ You chuckle.

He squints into the sunlight streaming through your curtains. Pulls his t-shirt over his head, covering the chest you’d slept against. Looks down at you in the bed he’d held you in months ago.

‘Reckon I’m good,’ he grins, ‘See you later?’

You nod, biting your lip.

‘See you later.’

He swoops down again, seeking your lips, unable to help himself.

‘Later.’ He mumbles, puffing out a laugh as you push him off. ‘Get some rest.’

You hum as he leaves the room with soft footsteps, pulling the door gently closed behind him. Listen as he closes the front door, starts his truck.

I tell everyone we’re seeing each other. And then, maybe one day…

You roll back onto your side, one eye open, staring at the picture on the bedside table of you and your dad. A grin twists across your face, lip caught between your teeth as you point a finger at him. His answering smile, his arm always wrapped around you.

A ship in a harbour is safe. But that’s not what ships are built for.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’

You can hear his laugh all the way from here.

You spend the last few days Lucia is home playing the most entertaining game of nothing-has-changed.

School is exhausting, the kids bouncing off the walls as you strive to finish your final piles of marking, of grades, working to the bottom of your inbox. You catch Frankie and Lucia every morning, almost every evening. Stay for dinner twice, stealing kisses in the kitchen when Luc isn’t looking.

As the week drags on, hands get more desperate, the game gets riskier. He backs you up against his counter, one hand grasping the marble beside you, the other against your face, splitting your mouth with his tongue, licking behind your teeth. His thigh tangles between your legs, his quiet moans so close, but not nearly close enough, to what you heard on your sofa.

It’s never enough.

You spend the nights alone, hands buried between your thighs, soaked with the knowledge he’s doing the same.

It’s the last day of term when you struggle out of your truck, arms laden with potted plants and summer reading, to see a small, red car parked on Frankie’s driveway. A swoop of sadness in your gut, a tiny, guilty, twinge of excitement.

You’re trying to work out how to retrieve your keys from your pocket, worrying whether you’ll have time to say goodbye when she jumps down the porch steps to greet you.

‘Bug!’ Luc crows, sprinting across the grass before crashing into your knees. Your precarious pile of books wobbles dangerously as you laugh.

‘Well, if it isn’t my favourite Morales!’ You cry, peering down at her over the monstera. She beams up at you, jumping a little.

‘Mama’s here!’ She shouts, her arms still wrapped around your legs, squeezing them tighter.

‘Your Mama!’ you parrot back excitedly, ‘I have to meet your Mama, Luc. You’ve told me so much about her, all the places she’s been -’

Movement on Frankie’s porch catches your eye, and you look up to see a woman coming down the steps towards you. Beautiful - shining hair, a wide, genuine smile. Lucia’s smile.

Luc swivels against you, following your eye.

‘Mama!’ She shouts. ‘It’s Bug!’

You laugh again, and Vanessa laughs with you. She stretches an arm across your shoulders, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

‘Bug,’ she repeats warmly, squeezing your arm. ‘Vanessa. I’ve heard so much about you. Luc talks about you all the time on the phone. You’re her favourite person in the world.’

Your cheeks heat, a bashful chuckle leaving your lips.

‘She has awful taste.’ You whisper conspiratorially. Vanessa laughs loudly.

‘Hardly,’ she says, ‘You’ve been an angel. All the stories I’ve heard, the way Frankie talks about you -’

She cuts off as he emerges from the house. He spots you straight away, eyes shielded from the afternoon light, cap pulled down over his curls, smile as bright as the sun.

‘Hey.’ He says, softly, as he approaches the three of you on the grass.

Vanessa rolls her eyes at you.

‘Hey,’ she repeats, nudging you, ‘As if he's not been talking my ear off about you all afternoon.’

‘Making friends already, I see.’ He says, cheeks turning rosy as he catches the tail end of her sentence. You poke your tongue into your cheek.

‘You talking about me again, Morales?’

Frankie flushes an even deeper pink, and Vanessa giggles, delighted.

‘Oh, I like you even more than I already did.’

Frankie tips his face to the sky, exasperated, as you snicker. Lucia’s tinkle of laughter joins yours, and Frankie plants his hands on his hips, frowning playfully down at her.

‘You don’t even know what you’re laughing at, mija.’

Lucia sticks her tongue out at him, and you and Vanessa laugh again.

‘She’s clued in, this kid,’ she says, ‘Knew it from day one.’

‘Knew what?’ Lucia demands.

Vanessa ruffles her hair.

‘That Bug’s special.’

Something swells in your throat as you catch Vanessa’s eye. There’s such goodness there, an understanding. Gratitude, a kind of encouragement.

‘Are you staying for dinner?’

Vanessa shakes her head, smiling fondly down at where her daughter now stands between you.

‘Not tonight. We only hung around to see you.’

She smiles at you again, eyebrows raising. Your throat aches, and you swallow tightly.

‘Thank you.’ You say softly.

Vanessa scoffs.

‘Thank you,’ she says, ‘For everything you’ve done. I hope you have a really great summer.’ She pauses, nodding to your books. ‘You deserve it.’

You chuckle, bending down to lower them onto the lawn, arms sore. You swipe your palms on your pants. She pulls you close again, and you go willingly, arms wrapped around her.

‘I mean it,’ she says in your ear. ‘Have a really great summer.’

She winks at you as she pulls away, and your cheeks heat again, eyes darting to Frankie.

‘Shit stirrer.’ He whispers, chuckling over her shoulder as she hugs him too.

She smacks a hand against his bicep as she steps back.

‘Someone had to say it.’ She grins.

You bite your lip, squatting down to Lucia’s level as Vanessa pats her pockets for her car keys.

‘You be good,’ you say to her, hands on her arms. ‘Look after your Mama, do what she tells you. And I’ll see you when you get back.’

She nods solemnly.

‘Promise?’

You hold out your pinky.

‘Pinky promise.’

She joins your fingers before lurching into your arms, her little body bending into yours.

‘I love you, Bug.’ She whispers.

You squeeze her tighter, tears pricking in the backs of your eyes.

‘Love you too, bean.’

You rub her back as she tightens her fierce hold around your neck before backing away. She takes Vanessa’s outstretched hand.

‘Shall we go, Luc?’ She asks.

‘Yep!’ She says, taking Frankie’s offered hand in her spare one. He squeezes your arm as he passes you on the way to the car, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead.

You watch as he straps Lucia into her carseat, leaning over her to tuck in her belt, pressing kisses all over her face until she squeals. He murmurs more quiet goodbyes to her before reluctantly closing the door, hugging Vanessa again before she lowers herself into the driver’s seat. He steps back as the car starts, raising a hand to wave as they start to back out of the driveway. You step closer, standing at his side as you wave, too, until the little, red car shrinks to a pinpoint on the road.

You turn to face him as the first tear falls to find his own streaked with wetness. His mouth tightly closed, eyes watery, lips downturned before cracking into a smile. You giggle at each other, though your heart pulls low.

‘Gonna miss her little face.’ You whisper, before you blink and the tears start in earnest. Frankie crackles out a half-cry, half-laugh.

‘Me too,’ he says, pulling you into his chest. You wind your arms around him, breathing him in. His chest rumbles with another chuckle. ‘Jesus, look at us.’

The sun is low in the sky, glinting against your jewellery as you drape your arms around Frankie’s neck. It’s well past the hour you should have left, but each time you get close to stepping out the door, your lipstick manages to get smudged again.

You can’t begin to guess why.

His hands are incessant, grasping at your waist, the nape of your neck. Lips even more so, intent on undoing your work as you giggle at him, putting on a poor performance of driving him away.

‘Frankie,’ you murmur against his lips, ‘Baby, I have to go -’

He grumbles, hands gripping you tighter.

‘Don’t have to go anywhere. Should stay here with me.’ He mumbles, full mouth pressed to yours as you try to squeeze out your reply.

‘I’m new - I can’t - miss - my first - end of year - party.’

‘You’re not new,’ he says, scruff whispering against your neck as he peppers kisses below your jaw. ‘Been there for the whole year. Can’t believe the first chance we get at a free house - and you’re making your escape.’

He rolls his hips against yours, and you briefly consider sacking the whole thing off and pulling him into your bed. But you’d promised Rachel, promised Marie and Calum and Helen -

‘Tomorrow.’ You half-moan, and he grunts.

‘Barbecue tomorrow.’

A huff sounds between you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from you or Frankie. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stave off the arousal pooling between your thighs.

‘We’ll have the whole summer after this -’

‘Not long enough.’ He growls, and you laugh properly, if a little breathlessly.

‘And all the months afterwards. I need to go.’

You fist his hair, his t-shirt, a little rougher. He inhales deeply at your pulse point, dragging his nose against your skin as he pulls away.

‘You look beautiful.’ He says.

Your cheeks heat as you take in the way he looks at you. So intense, so honest in his truth and his want. It makes your insides gooey.

‘Thank you.’

He waits as you collect your purse, checking your lipstick in the mirror before the door. He kisses you again, soft, chaste, as he steps out before you into the evening air, a hand tangled with yours as you lock the door and come to the bottom of your lawn.

‘I’ll see you later.’ You smile, loosening your fingers for fear he’ll pull you back in and truly render your plans asunder.

‘Later,’ he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Be safe. Text me if you need anything.’

‘I will.’ You murmur, unable, despite your best efforts, to fight the instinct to kiss him one last time.

Frankie keeps a vigil most of the night. You’d texted him to say you’d arrived, sent a couple more to tell him you were having a great time and that you’d told Rachel, who told everyone else, that you were seeing someone.

Somehow, they guessed it was you first time.

You been talking about me, teach?

Apparently I never shut up about you. Embarrassing.

Go to bed ;)

His eyelids are heavy against the glow of the TV in his bedroom, and more than once, his head droops so low that he starts himself awake with the sudden movement.

He doesn’t even realise he’s been asleep until the thud of a closing car door shakes him from his slumber, brain slowly processing the sound of your front door opening and shutting. He groans, rolling over to check the time on his bedside clock. It’s three in the morning.

He stands in a heavy-lidded daze, body weighted and warm with drowsiness, twitching his curtain to see your bedroom light on, standing there in the semi-darkness as the shadow of you moves across your window.

His heart lurches in his chest as the corner of your own curtain lifts, heart hammering at the peak of you just like it did that first day. There’s a flash of your teeth through the gloom, and then you disappear, the window covered again.

His phone buzzes on the bedside table, and he moves with slow feet towards it. He picks up on the second ring.

‘I thought I told you to get some rest.’

He falls heavily back against his pillows, free hand searching blindly for the remote to turn the volume down.

‘Couldn’t sleep.’

You snort down the line, and he can see your eyeroll.

‘I saw your scruffy hair,’ you tease, ‘You’ve been asleep already, Morales.’

His voice is more slurred than yours when he speaks again, and it makes you giggle even harder.

‘Wanted ta make sure you got home safe.’

He stifles a yawn against his hand, and you chuckle again.

‘’M home safe,’ you say softly, ‘All good.’

The line is quiet for a moment as he fumbles for more words to say, wanting to listen to your voice a little longer.

‘Didya hava good time?’

Your answer is a little more indulgent this time, and in the following silence he hears the click of your lamp and the rustle of your sheets.

‘A very good time,’ a pause, and then, with the sound of a smile, ‘I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.’

He nods, although you can’t see him.

‘Mkay.’

‘Goodnight, baby.’

‘G’night, princesa.’

He’s out like a light, phone slipping from his hand before you even hang up.

Before he can catch the words that slip in a hush from your lips.

frankie and bug's whisky night playlist <3

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: on call

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stoopakoopa · 2 days

Text

Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from @donze-trash's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me."

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet! The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon). Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement.

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot.

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?"

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh mano?"

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point.

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!"

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

#mesdelostrescaballeros2024 #donze #three gay caballeros #donald duck #ze carioca #panchito pistoles #omg it's so bonkers late

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pablitogavii · 3 months

Text

Su doctora

Today was the day you started working with the Barça medical center and you were so excited! Not to mention it was your boyfriends official first day back with the team.

Many people undermined your skill and said you only got the job because you’re dating Gavi but that was far from the truth. You only started dating Gavi after the acceptance letter came to your mail box a few months after finishing medical school.

“Im nervous amor!!” You say checking your stethoscope and Gavi hugged your from behind smiling at the two of you in the mirror.

“Don’t be..I’ll be your first patient doctora” he smirked kissing your neck and you giggled pulling away and turning around in his hold.

“We need to keep it profesional today, okay amor?” You remind him of the rules of the club and he promised to behave.

“Alright, let’s go preciosa!” You two drove together walking in hand it hand before he had to go meet the team and you went to the medical wing to prep everything before their arrival.

“Hola amigo!” Andy was first to greet Gavi who was very happy that’s his friend was finally back home. This was their season and Gavi could feel it.

“Is it true your girl is our doctora today?” Hector said with a smirk and Pablo clenched his jaw..he never thought he would get so jealous of another guy calling you “doctora” which was your title after all…but you were his doctora!

“Yeah, she started working so don’t give her a hard time boys” Gavi said and they all agreed. Pablo really wanted to punch that smirk off Hectors face!

Shortly after they were called in by a nurse.

“Gavi you’re up” nurse said and he proudly stood up excited to see you even thought you were together not even thirty minutes.

When he walked in seeing you in your white coat and your hair tied pack..you looked breath taking to him..so much so he had to remind himself to remain professional.

“Hola…where do you want me doctora” he said and you blushed looking at his bright smile while instructing him to lay on the bed while you connected all the monitors on his raked chest.

“Just breathe normally” you said and Pablo nodded focusing on the task. Only when he saw the nurse walk away to grab measurements from another player did Gavi grab your hand and you turned around.

“He called you doctora..and I don’t like it” he whispered and you held his hand tightly blushing a little..you could t believe something so silly got your boy jealous.

“Who amor???” You ask and he looked towards Hector who was next in line to be checked.

“I am a doctora Pablo” you remind him but he only clenched his jaw letting go of your hand when the nurse returned. He knew he had no reason to be mad at you but he hated the fact that you didn’t care if that cabron called you doctora.

“Am I done?” He asked obviously angry and you sighed not really having the time to deal with his antics right now as you nodded and he left to finish the rest of his rests..you wished he didn’t make such a big deal.

“Hi doctora” Héctor said and you didn’t give him much attention connecting his device and turning to see Gavi who was getting measured while giving the boy daggers

After you checked all of them and it was time for their training you just couldn’t let Pablo leave angry at you..you wanted to make up before he left.

“Gavi..I forgot to analyze your heart if you could come back quickly?” You said and all the boys smirked while your boyfriend proudly walked past Hector and closed the door behind himself.

“Que? I know you already checked my heart..” he said still passively aggressive. You signed pulling him to the corner and placing your hand over his heart.

“Hmm I did that long time ago mi niño…” you whisper looking up with him with pleading eyes and he signed trying to surprise a smile but couldn’t.

“Please don’t be angry Gavitoo” you said and he took a few looks at your eyes before finally nodding his head.

“I’m sorry..but now that you work here they will all call you doctora..I just have to get used to it” he said sadly and you touched his face making him look at you before going on your tip toes and kissing his lips softly.

“But I’m only su doctora Pablito” you say into the kiss feeling him smile brightly.

“Hmm I am gonna call you mi doctora from now on, bueno?” He said and you blush nodding your head.

“Bueno” you agreed

“Bueno, ven aqui mi doctora..” he said holding your jaw before deepening the kiss while holding you in his strong arms protectively.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barcelona #fc barca #fc barça #gavi #gavigif

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updownlately · 11 months

Text

if you’re gonna waste my time (let’s waste it right)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.3k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety, self loathing, negative thoughts, and depression -this delves into some slightly heavy topics so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: got this ask a while back and an idea struck to me while driving! first fic in a while that i've written in one sitting so let's see how this goes! honestly started off really strong but then idk where we went. anyways, not proofread as usual, but happy reading! take care amigos! and just know that each of you are loved, cared for, and cherished by those around you, even if you don't know it! 🫶

~~~

Fight, flight, or freeze.

They say that every human has these three survival instincts built in.

Instincts meant to protect, to escape, but most importantly, to survive.

Responses meant to make sure that one would make it out of harm’s way, preferably unscathed.

Fight, the mechanism that evoked adrenaline. That helped you battle your way through the toughest of encounters.

That did its best to make sure you were well equipped to tackle any scuffle, minor or major, to the best of your ability.

Flight, the mechanism that helped you run- escape before you couldn’t anymore.

The one that ensured that you got out before you could be attacked- before you could be hurt.

And then of course, freeze.

Rooted to your spot, immobile as harm directed itself towards you, one only praying that you could be so still that harm skipped right past you, practically avoiding you as you let it pass.

Freeze, that left you with a pounding heart, blood rushing in your ears.

Freeze that meant you couldn’t move, body rigid, feet planted, mind stopped in time.

Freeze that kept you stuck. stuck in an endless loop of agony, of shaky breaths, of paralyzing fear.

Freeze, considered the weakest of the three.

So as you stood there, eyes wide, muscles tense, body frozen, you cursed your mind and body with all that you could, wondering why of the three instincts, freeze was what you had done in order to try and survive.

~~~

There’s something terrifying about the voices that ring in your head.

How they so scarily sound similar to the people in your life, past and present.

Voices reminding you how you aren’t good enough. How you’ve let them down. How maybe if you weren’t there, the world would be okay. That it would move on without a hitch, without a second thought, because when it came to it, at the end of the day, maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really matter anyways.

Voices that sounded like your mother, reminding you of dark nights of you hidden in your room, the harsh words ringing in the four walls of your bedroom, what was supposed to be your safe haven, now tainted with feelings of regret, of disappointment, of outright disgust.

It’d be better if you didn’t exist.

Voices that sounded like your father, angry yells late into the night, enough smashed dishes that left your hands littered with scars that’d never cease to remind you, enough nights spent under your covers silently wiping tears as you prayed that you were quiet enough.

What a waste of air.

Voices that sounded like past coaches and management that knocked you back with each word spoken, each push forward sending you feet yards back, support that felt like hindrance more than anything.

You’d be lucky if you got to play past the little leagues. It’d be a miracle that’s for sure.

Voices that sounded like fans- people that were meant to support you- but you couldn’t force them to. Hundreds if not thousands of comments left, each asking for you to be traded. Hell, they’d take a sack of potatoes if nothing else.

I can’t believe that we wasted our money on this. Can’t we just, I don’t know, get rid of her? She’s the reason we suck. Maybe if she was half a decent player we’d actually be somewhere in the league.

Comments that repeated your worth. Ingrained it into your mind. Over and over and over again.

You weren’t good enough.

Sentences that etched themselves into the forefront of your thoughts, always ready to haunt you at the slightest notice.

You weren’t good enough.

Not now, not ever.

Not for your own mother or father, never mind your siblings.

Not for your teammates, nor the fans.

It was a miracle you were even playing professionally in the first place.

God if they took one good look at you maybe they realized how poorly they fucked up by signing you.

You weren’t a good footballer, barely even a decent one. How you managed to play for this long was a miracle.

They’d notice soon enough though. They had to. They always did.

They’d notice soon enough that you weren’t good enough.

And then?

Then you’d be left with nothing, as you always were.

~~~

You didn’t know when you were led inside to the locker rooms- when that absolutely terrifying moment of being in front of the opposing team’s stands had gone from you taking a corner to being absolutely pelted by random junk.

From empty bottles (plastic thankfully), to empty food containers, balled-up programs, signs, merch, all being hurled your way, never mind the onslaught of assaults- the stands only repeating everything your mind ever told you, every, single, day.

You didn’t hear when the ref blew their whistle, nor when the rest of the girls dressed in red crowded you, some chastising the fans along with the away team, others wrapping around you protectively, quickly leading you towards the benches.

You weren’t there as you were subbed off, your mind still frozen, much like the rest of your body.

All you knew right now was that you could smell the familiar scent of your girlfriend’s perfume as the heel of your palms pressed harshly into your eyes in an attempt to cease the uproar in your head.

Breaths getting heavy, you tried your best to calm yourself down.

You weren’t a stranger to panic attacks, and even in your hazed state, you could very well recognize the oncoming situation.

Bringing your arms to wrap around your own stomach in a futile attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort, you felt your breathing pick up as the sharp lights of the room seemed to get darker.

Room spinning, the voices in your head louder, you could only bring your knees up to your head, body now practically in fetal position as you rode out the attack.

Even with the hundreds you’d had by now, you hadn’t been able to come up with an effective method to deal with them.

So you sat there, huddled into a ball, body shaking, mind louder than ever as Leah stood above and watched helplessly.

The blonde had been there in the stands to watch you get abused, immediately making her way down to the pitch because ACL and league rules be damned, that was her girlfriend for fuck’s sake.

She stood by the sidelines, ready to receive you as the obvious substitution occurred, an arm coming to wrap around you as she led your ghost of a body to the locker rooms.

She watched as you mindlessly sat in front of your locker, not a single word uttered from you, not a single response to the quiet comforting words the blonde had whispered to you gently in an attempt to rouse you from your clearly distressed state.

She itched to reach out and touch you as she saw you slowly curl into a ball, you getting ever so smaller as she could only helplessly watch, you unknowingly flinching the second she touched your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

It was only when your heavy breathing died down every so slightly, nearly fifteen minutes later if the blonde’s perception was right, that she tried again, slowly coming to sit beside you as she gauged your reaction.

Seeing your shaking start to slow as well, she slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her own body tense as she watched you stiffen up before you relaxed slightly, letting her pull you into her side as her other hand came to hold your left one.

And long after you had buried yourself into her side, body defeated with the rollercoaster of emotions you’d just experienced, too tired to think of any of the consequences of your actions, you let Leah led you- helping your pull on a hoodie and your jacket and change out of your cleats as she gathered the rest of your gear.

Helpless except able to nod in agreement as the blonde suggested you leave early from the game, you followed her quietly, not a word said from you, as she led you out of the ground and to her car, where you fell asleep within seconds.

It was only when the car pulled up to her house, a place you’d been to many times, your relationship long past new to the both of you, did you rouse, mind still not present and following the blonde.

Leah was good. You trusted Leah. Leah was safe.

The words repeating in your head, you believing they were true like all the other words that crossed your mind, you let yourself sleepily be led up the stairs and up to the ensuite.

Standing there awkwardly as you slowly came to the situation, the lights in the washroom waking you up, your shoulders sunk as the embarrassment from earlier set in.

God you were an embarrassment. First a panic attack in front of the English skipper, and now this- you stood helplessly in her bathroom like you were broken, waiting to be fixed.

You watched in dread as the blonde flitted around the joint closet, quickly gathering a change of clothes for you before she stacked them neatly on the countertop, handing you a towel and starting the shower, not meeting your eyes.

What you didn’t know was that she didn’t want to scare you off, intimidate you as her heart ached at the shameful look in your eyes.

“Take a warm shower, yeah? We’ll get you some food after, and then how about a nap?”

Unable to do anything but nod in response, your fear of upsetting the blonde, of anyone really, making itself known, you followed her instructions, locking the door as she left and starting to remove your sweat covered kit.

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later when you emerge from the shower, your dirty clothes held precariously in your hands, your eyes wide as you see Leah sprawled across her bed, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

A small smile unknowingly escapes you as you watch her nearly throw her phone, very much caught off-guard at your appearance.

Smile tightening quickly as you realized it rested on your face, your eyes met the ground, ears sharp as you noted the footsteps headed towards you.

Before you knew it, the mess of dirty clothes was swiftly taken from your hands, your gaze snapping up as you watched Leah take your dirty kit and toss it into her own hamper before turning to you.

“Alright. I’d rather you eat, but I’m not going to force you to, yeah? We can take a nap, maybe just reset, or if you wanna sit down and watch a movie or a show we can do that too…how’s that sound?”

Feeling your eyes water at the blonde’s gentle tone, feelings still overwhelming from earlier, your sights met the ground again as you meekly nodded.

Blood rushing in your ears, you felt the vibrations as Leah stepped towards you again, her hands gently taking yours.

“Nap?”

Taking her chances at guessing which you preferred, the tender tone in her voice had you easily nodding again, tears you’d been trying to hold back now escaping.

And as the blonde led you to her bed, you winced as the voices in your head picked up once again, mind baffled at why someone was treating you with this much kindness, this much care.

Choosing to ignore them for now, you smiled shyly at the sight in front of you, Leah having rounded the bed to go on ‘her’ side, the skipper tucked into the sheets, arms wide open as she shot you a soft grin, eyes sparkling with glee as she waited for you to join her.

Gingerly approaching the bed, you hesitantly pulled back the covers, eyes meeting Leah’s every few seconds to make sure you were okay, before entering, unsure of whether you were allowed to hug the blonde (even if a part of you so desperately wanted to do so).

Your question was answered for you, however, Leah was unable to see you lying down in such a stiff manner, taking matters into her own hands and hooking an arms around your waist and pulling you into her.

And as you slowly got comfortable, moving millimetres every minute until you finally found yourself resting with your head on her chest, arm wrapped around her midsection as her hand came to wrap around your waist, one running through your hair, you let yourself sink into her hold, brain quietening every so slightly as the familiar presence and scent had you relaxing.

It was only when you were on the verge of sleep, minutes later, did you hear Leah’s voice whisper into the air between you two, her lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as an apology as she realized her mistake of rousing you from your sleepy state.

“There’s a lot that goes on up there,” with a small nod towards the top of your head, she continued, “but it doesn’t have to stay there y’know?”

Holding her breath as she felt you shift slightly, you turning your body to listen better, she spoke again.

“I’d be more than happy to stay here and listen to you when you need it. Really, any of us would. All of the girls love you and care for you, and despite whatever people might say, you add to the team, yeah?”

Feeling you nod hesitantly at the words, Leah waited as she sensed your jaw move, anticipation killing her as you sounded out the words silently before they left your mouth- and even then, you winced slightly.

“I don’t want to be a burden…don’t wanna waste your time…”

There was something in the way the words quietly rolled off your tongue, no doubt said many times before, the sincerity behind them proving you meant them wholeheartedly- that you believed you were an inconvenience, that broke Leah’s heart.

You weren’t a burden. You weren’t.

She wondered if you’d ever seen yourself the way other’s saw you. If that coloured glass that you saw yourself through was tainted any other colour than black. Whether it was ever yellow so you’d see just how much of a ray of sunshine you were on the stormiest of days, often cheering up your shared teammates with just a single smile as you’d skip into the change rooms.

Or if you ever looked at yourself through the rose coloured glass, the same hue that would coat your cheeks as you’d interact with fans post-game, giving each and every one your undivided attention, making them feel special, and loved, and cared for.

Or whether you ever saw yourself through green, breathing life to even the dullest moments, standing tall, unwavering, as players would try to take you down on the pitch over and over again, you getting back up each time, a force to be reckoned with, one that not even the rainiest of days nor Mother nature could defy.

You weren’t a burden, and the blonde needed you to believe it, because it was the truth and nothing but the wholehearted, honest-to-god truth.

It’s why her honest admission just tumbles out, the words spilling before the defender could stop them.

“If I could hold you all night and all day, I would, without a single doubt or any hesitation.”

Her grip tightening on you as the words are spoken clearly and strongly, her placing a gentle kiss to your temple before continuing.

“If you think you’re gonna waste my time by talking to me when you aren’t doing well, then just know, that listening to you as I try and comfort you and get the chance to hold you in my arms? It’s the best waste of time I’ll ever have in my life. It’s one I’ll cherish till the end of time, because it’s never, and I mean never, a waste.”

Taking a deep breath in, the blonde felt you nod at her words, your own grip tightening around the blonde as you pulled yourself closer into her, closing your eyes in an attempt to believe her the best you could.

Leah could sense your struggle though, not ignorant to the way a small, trembling breath escaped you, frustration clear.

“You don’t have to believe me now, or any time soon really, but just know, it’s the wholehearted truth- and I’ll spend as long as you need reminding you, because you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, and worthy of love, and a good life, and good things. You deserve love, even though your brain tries to tell you otherwise, yeah?”

When you didn’t say anything, it clear to the blonde that you were silently taking in her words, contemplating them, doing your best to believe them, she let you be, revelling in the silence as took in the feel of you being in her arms, one of her favourite feelings in the world.

The blonde could almost feel you turning her words over in your head, examining them from top to bottom as you inspected them for any indication of a lie, surprised when there wasn’t one.

Content with the way you hadn’t spoken out yet in disagreement, Leah decided to take her chances and bite the bullet.

Proposing her next idea, the blonde held her breath in anticipation, heartbeat slowing dramatically as she hoped you’d agree to her words.

“I’ll always be here to hold you, but I think it might just help if we see a professional, yeah? You and me, both of us, we’ll go, and just give it a crack?”

Feeling your hesitancy this time, the blonde pulled you closer to her gently, turning onto her side as her eyes met yours.

One hand now carefully resting on your cheek, she placed a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose before continuing.

“Three sessions is all I ask. If you don’t want to go after that, then I won’t ask again, ever. But, just give me three sessions, and I’ll be there for each one if you want, and if nothing changes, then you’re off the hook, deal?”

There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped Leah’s lips as you hesitantly nodded in agreement.

Deciding that that was good enough for the time being, Leah smiled softly to herself, more than happy with any baby steps of progress being made.

“Just want you to love yourself the way the rest of us love you. The way I love you…”

The words were punctuated with another gentle kiss on your head, this time her lips lingering as you both basked in the touch, the blonde well aware that physical touch was your love language.

Nodding to yourself as your girlfriend’s arms wrapped around you at the end of her sentence, heart feeling just a tad bit lighter as her embrace sucked you in, you let out a sigh of relief at the quiet in your mind and warmth in your chest.

Snuggling further into Leah’s hold, you let out a shaky breath as the emotions of the day filtered out of you, you weren’t going to lie, you were terrified for the future- absolutely scared shitless for what it held. But, with Leah by your side, on your team, cheering you on, a spark of hope nestled quietly inside you, filling you with a refreshing breath, a new goal to work towards.

Not now, not soon, but slowly and surely, you’d work your way through this. You wanted to. for your sake and hers.

After all, with your girlfriend to remind you that you were human, someone that could live and not just survive, maybe you could finally teach yourself it too.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #fic req #hurt/comfort #iygwmt

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shitsndgiggs · 2 months

Note

Hello!, hope you have a wonderful day. could you may write some fluff with Pau cubarsí maybe him introducing her to his family or the barca team teasing him how whipped he is for his girl

take care and take your time<3

HE IS WHIPPED - PAU CUBARSÍ

The Barca team teasing Pau for how whipped he is for you

Pau Cubarsí x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Today was the day Pau had been eagerly talking about for weeks. He was going to introduce me to his FC Barcelona teammates, and while I was excited, I was also a bit nervous.

Pau reassured me countless times that the team would love me, but it didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as we walked into the training facility.

Pau held my hand tightly, sensing my apprehension. “You’re going to be amazing,” he whispered, giving me a comforting smile. “And they’re going to love you just as much as I do.”

We entered the training ground, where several players were already warming up on the pitch.

The moment they noticed us, a chorus of greetings erupted.

“Hey, Pau! Is this the famous girlfriend we’ve been hearing about?” Sergi Roberto called out, grinning widely.

“Yes, this is (Y/N),” Pau said proudly, pulling me closer. “(Y/N), meet the guys.”

The introductions began, with each player giving me a warm welcome. Fermin, Frenkie de Jong, and Pedri were the first to come over, their smiles genuine and friendly.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Fermin said, shaking my hand. “Pau hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

I felt my cheeks flush slightly, but before I could respond, Gavi walked over, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, you’re the one who has our Pau completely whipped?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Pau rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Come on, guys, don’t embarrass me in front of (Y/N).”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Alejandro Balde chimed in, clapping Pau on the back. “We’ve never seen you so smitten, amigo.”

I laughed, feeling more at ease with their playful banter. “Well, I can’t help it if he’s completely irresistible,” I teased, looking up at Pau with a wink.

The teasing continued as other players joined the conversation. Marc-André ter Stegen gave me a knowing smile. “You should see him before training sessions. Always checking his phone for messages from you.“

“And don’t even get us started on how he talks about you during team dinners,” Frenkie added, grinning.

“Alright, alright,” Pau said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, I’m completely whipped. Happy now?”

Ferran chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re just happy to see you so happy, man. (Y/N), you’ve got our boy wrapped around your finger.”

I looked at Pau, my heart swelling with affection. “I think it goes both ways,” I said softly, leaning into him.

Pau wrapped his arm around me, his smile widening. “Okay, enough about me. Let’s have some fun.”

“Let’s have a little match!” Pedri suggested. “(Y/N), how about you join us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I’m not exactly great at football.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Gavi encouraged. “We’ll go easy on you.”

With some gentle coaxing from Pau, I agreed, and we divided into teams. Pau, ever the supportive boyfriend, stayed by my side, giving me tips and cheering me on.

The match was a whirlwind of laughter. I tried my best, but my skills were nowhere near the level of the professional players.

I slipped and stumbled more than once, but Pau was always there to help me up, his eyes shining with pride.

During a break, Pedri grinned and said, “Pau, you’re going to have to give her some extra training sessions.”

“I will,” Pau replied, beaming. “But I’m already proud of her.”

As the match continued, I managed to make a few decent passes, earning cheers from the team.

When it finally ended, I was exhausted but exhilarated.

“You did great, cariño,” Pau said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Even though I didn’t help at all?” I asked, laughing.

“Especially because you tried,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “That’s all that matters.”

The team gathered around, still teasing Pau. “Looks like Pau’s got himself a keeper,” Frenkie said, winking at me.

“And he’s totally whipped,” Sergi added, making everyone laugh.

Pau shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “I’m lucky, and I know it.”

#football imagine #football x reader #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi

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theangelcatalogue · 6 months

Text

ISLAND OF THE LOVESICKNESS || ★!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Romantic!☆

Gender neutral!☆

Starting notes; Little project i wanted to make, since i love total drama and iots! This was inspired by iots but with Yandere ghosts! I will have multiple chapters, everyday one vitcm! I hope you all like it! (IOTS WAS MADE BY @eavee-ry )

TW: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, KILLING, OBSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, YANDERES, POSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, THROW UP, OUT OF CHARACTER, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR!! YOU DON'T NEED TO READ IF YOU DON'T WANT! (Tell me if i missed something)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

They are death

Every single one of them, you know that

You were hired by your own uncle Chris McLean to be a intern at Total Drama, you would be something like a camp counselor! Your job was to check the campists

People said your uncle was a amazing guy, but you knew it was a lie, you never knew anyone more arrogant that him

Well, at least you have something to do at summer! And it would be fun see some drama...

Your job was to be a baby-sitter to resume, you were checking up and taking care of tennagers! People of your age! It was kinda fun but you were so tired of them

The nice thing is that they seemed to like you! Even Heather, but sometimes they were acting toward you(you thought that was weird cause it dind't make so many time you knew them)

It was going to have a challenger! Everyone was there except for Beth, you decided to look for her

In the florest you decided to worry, where is she? You heard a sound in the cave, as the beautiful curious you are, you got in

A bloody axe...

A lost arm...

Her body was bloody

She was dead.

SHE WAS DEAD!?

You wanted to throw up, the smell of blood...

You felt sick

You Chris and the interns, and they discover that a killer is in the island, what should we do!?

Chris had the idea of left the campers here

You tried to convice him other wise, but when you noticed you already in a boat leaving the island, you felt guilty, Chris made you leave them

Chris dind't left you because how would him explain this to your parents? Your Mother would kill him!

And when you came back home, he said to tell that you were in vacation...?

You passed the next months feeling guilty and sick, you wanted to throw up, and sometimes you really did it

You should had stayed, or at least try to convice Chris....

One day, Chris called you to go with him and two new interns to go back to the island and save them

You knew why Chris was doing that

He wanted to be the hero, that's it

But you decided to go, cause now it's time

Time to the truth, and let's be honest

You were afraid of the truth.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

I left the boat, this place looks so weird to be honest, you felt sick again

Something was wrong, you knew that! But now it's time

What happend to them

" I hope they are okay... "

I was afraid, afraid to go anywhere in this island, i dind't wanted to do that, but at same time...

I was scared

I felt something in your shoulder, a hand

" Don't worry Y/n! We going to find them, i hope... "

Sierra was trying to comfort me, but i could look at her eyes and see that she knew the truth

" Amigos! Everything will be alright, but i hope we have everything to survive here, Chris dind't explain so well "

Alejandro was in Sierra's side while looking at the island and looking around, he was right, Chris dind't explained how would you guys find the others, does him even know how to walk around this island?

I don't think so

" Can we stop to talk! Come on you- we have job to do! "

Chris said and started to walk, me, Sierra and Alejandro just followed him

Something is wrong in this place, i feel watched while walking

Oh god.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Notes:

★ THIS IS SOOOOO BAD HELP WHAT??? i tried ★

★ I hope you all like it! I will try to be more online even thought school is making this nearly impossible ★

★ Idk but Ily you guys <3 ★

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

whore I’ll give u my first born if you write vampire lando only turning his humanity on for his girl 🐈‍⬛🙏

ew i don't want your children

“So, this is your plan!”

He received no response.

“Just gonna dose me up with vervain and lock me up? What do you think that’s gonna accomplish?”

The silence remained, and Lando let out a humourless laugh.

“This is pathetic!”

He pushed himself to sit up, only to let out a groan as he felt the burn of the vervain still fighting his system. He leaned back against the wall, his curls sticking to his forehead as he glared at the metal door across from him.

“This is bullshit and you know it,” he called out again, though the dull pain in his gums made it a little harder. He needed to feed. He needed blood. He needed to get the fuck out of this cellar. “If this is some intervention, let’s stop wasting all our time and move on!”

He heard a whoosh before he saw Carlos’ face staring back at him through the small window. “This is for your own good.”

Lando’s smile was grim. “That’s all you have to say? C’mon, Carlos, I expected a better speech than that.”

“This isn’t you, Lando,” the Spaniard continued, his lips turning down with a frown. “You’re better than this.”

“I disagree, amigo,” Lando said with a small snort of laughter. “I have never felt better.”

Carlos sighed. “We aren’t giving up on you.”

“Oh whoop de-doo,” Lando scoffed as he leaned his head back against the stone wall. “You’re wasting your fucking time. Nothing you are gonna say is gonna make me suddenly see the light. I’m happy the way I am. I like who I am right now.”

“We might not be able to change your mind,” Carlos started before the loud, clunking noise of the lock being opened echoed through the cellar. “But she can.”

Lando’s face instantly fell when the door was pushed open and you slid into the room, giving the boy a shy—maybe even nervous—smile.

“Hey, Lando.”

Lando instantly stood up, his body burning at the movement but he didn’t care. His eyes found Carlos’ as the man slid the door back shut. “What is she doing here? She shouldn’t be here!”

“Why? Because she’s human?” Carlos guessed, almost looking smug. Lando had never wanted to snap his neck more. “You’re different now, Lando. Surely you don’t mind ripping her throat out. She’s just a measly human, after all. Just like the rest of the ones you killed.”

“Carlos,” Lando gritted out through clenched teeth.

“You said you wanted to feed,” Carlos grinned. “There’s your meal. Bon appetit.”

Lando’s eyes instantly fell to you as you stood on the other side of the cellar, watching him like he was a stranger. Like you had never seen him before in your life. “You need to leave.”

“We both know that’s not happening,” you said with a grim smile before you took a step towards him.

His back was pressed against the wall in a flash, his eyes narrowing at you. “Stay away.”

“You look different,” you murmured, ignoring him as you continued to close the distance between you both.

“Love—” The nickname slipped past his lips in a pained voice.

His eyes clenched shut when you were standing in front of him, his body twitching when he felt your warm palms resting on his cold cheeks. He could hear your heartbeat, hear the way it skipped a beat. Not in the way it used to. No, this time it was in fear. He hated how much he knew the subtle difference, how he wanted to get rid of it.

“Open your eyes, baby,” you murmured in a soft voice, your thumbs brushing against the apples of his cheek. “Please? For me?”

He hesitated for a short moment before he opened his eyes.

Your lips twitched upwards in a soft smile. “There’s my boy.”

“You need to go,” he whispered to you, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I’m not leaving this room without you,” you said to him, completely serious. “So, you either join me or you kill me.”

His eyes flashed in anger. “Love–”

“I mean it, Lando,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s your choice whether I leave here alive or dead.”

“I-I can’t,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “It’s too much. I…I can’t do that, I can’t turn it back on—”

“Yes, you can,” you assured him, squeezing his cheeks slightly. “I’m here. Let me help you. Let me in. Let me carry the burden with you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, a single tear rolling down his eyes. “Baby—-”

“Shh, I’m here,” you murmured and you wasted no time in throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he nuzzled himself against you. His body wracked with sobs are you clung onto him, letting the emotions pour through him. “I’m here for you, Lando. Forever. Just like I promised.”

And he could only hold onto you tighter as you held him while he cried.

#cece's slumblurb party #lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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asvterias · 1 year

Text

𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖡𝗈𝗒 (𝟥)

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: Just Heartfelt Fluff

Pairings: (FWB) Jaime Reyes x (FWB) Black!Fem!Reader, Bestfriend!Milagro x Bestfriend!Reader

Summary: Being friends with benefits with Jamie is hard to keep undercover, in hopes of Milagro never finding out. The number #1 rule is to be strictly sexual and not explore romantic feelings for the other. What happens when that rule is broken?

Word Count: 2.0k+

Tag List: @n7cje @drqcrys @websterss @pxachy-tea @moralesszz @odiesdayoff @allthingsvicf @tinkerbelle05 @alienstardust @lemonyboy97 @alastorhazbin @writing-fanics @gay-dorito-dust @presidentbarbieirl @veronicarose20 @conicoroahre @sodacatz @chaotic-reblogger @horrorluver20 @zipporahsstuff @yutasol @littlekidsteve @illicee @everybody-hates-mills @hoshi4k @violettathewriter @mymanjaimereyes @vampire-grrl @666kpopfan @nutella-directioner-vampeete @ushygushysimp @borhapparker @tessamoreno @stitched-mouth @obrienslove @raebo0421 @loki-is-low-key @tacoreib @staraifos @avitute @dumbperson6 @idyllcy @luvly-writer @june-pop @madnesspea @chaoticbi-cheesecake @daltonshotgf @unreasonablysapphic @planetvenusworld

Author’s Note: What’s this??; not me publishing two parts in one day! Kinda got carried away with the fluffy ending but who cares?! :)

Spanish Translations

“mi vida.” — “my life.”

“Cálllate, Milagro!” — “Shut up, Milagro!”

“Cálllate, hermano! No me ves teniendo sexo con tu mejor amigo, verdad?” — “You shut up, bro! You don’t see me having sex with your best friend, do you?”

“Uhh, muy grosera, hermana. Estoy parado aquí mismo.” — “Uhh, very rude, sis. I’m standing right here.”

“Bien, entonces no necesitas que me repita.” — “Good, then you don’t need me to repeat myself.”

“No te preocupes, cariño. Sabes que siempre serás mi chica número uno.” — “Don’t worry, babe. You know that you’ll always be my number one girl.”

Everything seems to be picture perfect as you and Jaime viewed, all hot and bothered in each other’s arms. That was…until shit hit the fan for the both of you.

“Jaime! What the actual fuck are you doing?! And with my best friend?” That voice made your heart stop, instantly breaking out of your bubble. Thoughts of Milagro arriving back and catching you two in the act didn’t cross your mind.

You and Jaime looked at each other like deers caught in headlights as you both stumbled to cover yourselves up with your duvet.

How were you two gonna explain this to Milagro now?

“I’m scarred! For life, I’m permanently scarred.” She covers her eyes despite closing her eyes and leaving the room. Guess she needed double reassurance of security to unsee what she just saw. “(Y/N), where’s the bleach? I need two gallons of it for my eyes.”

“You’ll be fine!” Jaime brushes his sister off.

“Says you; you were the one getting it! Lock the door next time! I’m not ready to be an aunt just yet!” She shouts from the kitchen.

“Shut up, Milagro!” Jaime yells, annoyed at his sister. You got dressed in one of Jaime’s oversized hoodies and slipped into a pair of panties, preparing to leave and talk to Milagro.

“Cállate, hermano! No, me ves teniendo sexo con tu mejor amigo, verdad?”

Her statement causes you to softly giggle at their classical sibling tactics. “We have to go out there and talk to her.”

“No, we don’t,” He brings you in by the waist, tightening his grip so you can’t escape from his loving embrace, “She’s twenty years old, not ten and she’ll get over it.”

“She’s used to seeing me naked, not her older brother.” You defend the situation, your finger wiggling onto his chest. Jaime swiftly got dressed after hearing your concluding sentence.

“Wait, what?” His eyebrows furrowed together in shock and confusion, “When did my sister see you naked?”

“That’s a secret that I’ll take to my grave.” You leave the room.

“What? Why not (Y/N)?” Jaime begrudgingly jumps off the bed and follows after you.

The whole discussion with Milagro was awkward. Why wouldn’t it be awkward? She caught her brother and best friend having sex behind her back. The three of you awkwardly surrounded the small kitchen island, all remaining silent.

“When did this sneaky scandal begin?” That was her first question.

You answered, quickly calculating the time frame. “About two months ago.”

“Are you happy?” She cringes, even at her own words.

“It just happened, Milagro. He was the right guy at the right place and time.” You held her hand, “Please don’t be mad, Millie.”

“I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

Your perisan white cat Mimi jumps on the kitchen counter, and walks over to you, her fluffy tail high in the air and meows in your arms when you pick her up.

“So, are we good, Mil?” You nudge her. “All water under the bridge and shit!”

“Of course, we’re good, (Y/N).” Milagro assures you before gesturing over to her brother, “But out of all people, why my idiotic brother? You could do so much better.”

“Uhh, muy grosera, hermana. Estoy parado aquí mismo.”

“Bien, entonces no necesitas que me repita.”

Jaime began to argue until you interrupted him. “Guys, we’re getting off track here.”

“Were you guys drunk….when you two first slept with each other,” Your best friend grimaces in horror, shaking her head as she struggles to her words out. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Is this friends with benefits thing going anywhere?”

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing my sex life with my sister.”

“Well, you’re sleeping with my best friend so I’m required to know where this relationship is going.”

“That’s none of your business, that’s between me and (Y/N).” He finalizes. Mimi gestures over to Jaime, wanting to escape from your hands and into his. You scoff at her sudden switch-up, knowing that she was often clingy with you, barely paying attention to Jaime when he came over.

Mimi curls up into Jaime’s arm and he pets her.

“You know for friends with benefits, you two sure act like a couple.”

“What? Where did you get that idea from?”

“Oh come on, even Nana knew before you two idiots.” Milagro rolled her eyes, “She said; ‘There’s nothing like love at first sight, and your best friend and brother are no different to that infamous saying.’ She mimics her grandmother’s words.

“Wait, Is that why mami and papi were acting so weird with me whenever (Y/N) came to visit?”

“Everyone else knew except the two of you.” You stared at Jaime, unable to decipher his thoughts behind his eyes.

Was it true? Were you and Jaime so oblivious that neither of you noticed when other people started to discover the tension between you two? Did Jaime have feelings for you? If so, you were anxiously waiting for his reaction, hoping that you might have the possibility of becoming a couple.

Milagro’s voice broke you from your train of thought. “Don’t make no babies!” Those were her last words before the door slammed shut.

Dreaded silence lingered around the whole apartment as you thought of what to say.

Luckily, Jaime beat you to it and spoke first. “It was true...what I said earlier.” He hesitates.

Mimi jumps out of Jaime’s hold, and scurries off into the living room on a couch, wanting to escape from this current love confession.

“When you said that it was always me, not any other girl. That you’ll always choose me over any girl.” You clarify, recalling his words from doing extracurricular activities with him earlier.

“Yes, all of that is true. I do have feelings for you, (Y/N). I know we made a pact to remain strictly sexual and nothing beyond that but…I’m breaking it because I’m in love with you.”

“I feel the same way,” You whisper, leaning your foreheads together as you caress his face gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. A smile overtook his face, overjoyed at the reciprocated feelings.

You giggled at him when he picked you up, lifting your feet off the ground as you held him tightly. He spun you around, hearing your marvelous laughter erupt from your mouth, and stopped to give you a wholesome kiss.

“You’re free to back out now because there’s no going back anymore once I have you.”

“Oh no, pretty boy, I have no second thoughts, and neither should you. I’m in it for the long haul, all of you.”

A smirk appears on his face, “All of me?”

You quirk an eyebrow, immediately catching on to your unintentional seductive innuendo.

“Don’t push it.” You peck his lips.

“And you better not be holding out on my well-deserved kisses.” He quips, caressing your face as you gaze into his eyes. The boy puckered his lips, “Now I know that you can do better than that.”

You chuckle in amusement at his humor, sending him a thoughtful intimate kiss, as if you were pouring all of your love and affection into it. This time his lips are soft, melting onto your plump brown ones.

When you pull away from him, he gives you a dumbfounded expression, hazy from the powerful kiss.

“Oh yeah, I could certainly get used to this.” He nods, beaming when you pull him in for another kiss.

“Red’s definitely your color.” He says referring to your shade of lipstick as he disconnected your lips. Little does he know that he’s sharing the same faint lipstick on his mouth…and certain parts of his body. “I don’t know why you don’t wear it more often.”

“Because I’m working most of the time, Reyes.”

“Yeah, but when you’re off work, it’s a different story. You should absolutely wear red lipstick occasionally, you look even sexier in red.” You narrowed your eyes at him, urging him to elaborate, noticing his shyness replacing confidence. “Not that you need makeup to look sexier. I was just— meant to say that you do whatever you want to do.”

“Well, I do know that I look sexy in red, Jaime.” You tease him. “But I think that you prefer me with nothing at all. Just all natural, isn’t that right?” Although he grew used to your confidence, you still rendered him clueless and flustered at times.

Mimi brushes against your legs, making her presence known again, causing you to pull away from Jaime. Picking her up gently, she meowed in affection.

“You also have a stepdaughter now.” You held up Mimi excitedly, waving your medium-sized cat in front of your boyfriend.

He laughs as Mimi reaches out for Jaime. Your cat cuddles into his embrace and lounges her body all over him.

“Kiss-ass,” You mutter folding your arms, avoiding eye contact with either of them, hating that your boyfriend’s attention is already being stolen away by your cat, “Just so you know, I’m not fighting with my daughter over my boyfriend.”

With Mimi comfortably adjusted on his left arm, he stretches his other arm across your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him because he is almost nearly 6 feet tall.

“No te preocupes, cariño. Sabes que siempre serás mi chica número uno.” He places a kiss on your temple, content when you snuggle into his body, wrapping your arms around his waist.

The cat cuddling Jaime screeches in betrayal, seemingly understanding the different language.

“Apparently, Mimi understands Spanish as well.” He jokes, looking down at the cat, whose eyes narrow down in annoyance and disappointment. Attempting to bring up Mimi’s mood, he scratches her head and kisses her on the head as well. The persian cat purrs lovingly in response as she rests her head on his chest.

You swoon over the wholesome interaction between your boyfriend and your dear cat.

“I love you, mi vida.” He kisses your cheek.

“I love you too, my pretty boy.”

Perhaps some rules were made to be broken, exploring the boundaries and the depth of the type of relationship. Either way, you finally had Jaime and you were never letting go of him. Hopefully, your new healthy relationship will transpire into a long-term relationship, full of mutual respect, admiration, and most importantly, communication. He was determined to make him the best boyfriend that you dated.

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#blue beetle 2023 #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x fem!reader #jaime reyes x black!reader #jaime reyes x black!fem!reader #jaime reyes fluff #jaime reyes imagine #jaime reyes fanfiction #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle x fem!reader #blue beetle x black!reader #blue beetle x black!fem!reader #blue beetle fluff #blue beetle imagine #blue beetle fanfic

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theowlwrites · 7 months

Text

Shall we dance? // Bailamos?

Melissa Schemmenti x F!Reader

Cariño: Term of endearment, can be translated as honey/ dear/ darling.

~Just want to clarify that I love Mexican and Italian culture. 🫶🏽

Warnings: no physical description of reader, it is mention that her nationality is Mexican en 2 occasions, consumption of alcohol. Angst, fluff, and a little smut at the end?

Summary: Reader is the new Spanish teacher at Abbott, she goes to a celebration of 5 de Mayo at Barb’s house, were things turn interesting with Melissa.

************************************************************************************************************

“Come on!” Janine was trying for the hundred time to convince you to go to this little get together at Barbara's house “It will be fun!”

Today was 5 de Mayo, and for some reason, in the States, they celebrated it. You have nothing against it, but back in México it goes like any other normal day. Despite that, seeing all the decorations with Mexican themes made you miss your home.

“I've already told you” You close the folder you were working on a look at her “I can't go, I already made some other plans”

The truth was that you didn't have any plans, you just don't feel part of the teacher group just yet. You are the new Spanish teacher at Abbot, just entered this year. Everyone has been nice to you, especially Janine and Jacob. You also have a good relationship with Gregory, but you aren´t really close. When it came to the older teachers, you have no issue talking to Barbara, she is really nice, she sometimes even asks you to help her with her Spanish. But Melissa, she was a different story, she isn´t exactly mean, but she likes to make clear that she preferred anything Italian over Spanish, and that Italian cuisine was better than the Mexican. You never argue, mostly because Melissa intimidates you, but not for the reason she intimidates the other younger teachers, but because you have the biggest crush on her.

So going to this 5 de Mayo party to Barbara's house looks like the perfect place for Melissa to tell you over and over again how Italians do it better. Not really something you are looking forward to.

“Leave the booze to me Barb, I know a guy that can get me the best tequila” At that moment Melissa and Barbara were entering the teacher’s room, interrupting you and Janine.

Barb looks directly to you, ignoring Melissa “Oh good, I was looking for you dear” She takes a sit next to you. “Please can you take care of the music? Maybe you can play some Spanish bangers in that Walkman of yours” She meant your Spotify. All eyes were on you know, making you feel the pressure. “You are coming… right?”

“You know Barbara… I… I don´t think I can make it, I have to...” You were avoiding looking at her, you couldn´t lie to her face, actually you couldn´t lie to anyone’s face, you were a terrible liar.

“Okay, what is it?” Melissa´s voice came from behind you, then she walked to your side and took a sit in front of you. “Why don´t you want to spend time with us?” She had her glasses over her head, leaving a few strands of hair free next to her face, she was raising an eyebrow. She was looking hot.

“It´s not that” Your voice comes out weaker that you expected. “I don´t know, it makes me feel a little… homesick, I guess” It wasn´t entirely a lie, but you couldn´t tell the redhead that she makes you nervous to the point of almost forgetting how to speak English.

“Oh darling” You felt Barbs arm wrap your shoulders. Melissa was still looking at you, but this time with more gentle eyes that before “I can imagine how you feel, but I think this could do you good. You can show us a little bit more of your traditions, I would love to hear about that”

“Yeah girl… we can get to know each other a little bit more” Melissa winked and eye at you, which made your heart beat faster.

With a big sigh, you finally agree “Okay then, I´ll be there at five o´clock”

“You won´t regret it, amigo!” Janine says

“Amiga… with an a” You laugh.

“See you at five o clock then, dear. Don´t forget the music.” Barbara smiles, pleased that she convinced you to go and leaves the room with Janine. Leaving you with Melissa, who was still looking at you.

She stood up and grab her bag, carrying it on her shoulder. “See you soon… cariño” You were so glad that Melissa left immediately after saying those words, otherwise, she would have noticed how your face turned red as a tomato.

Later that day you were at home, putting together a playlist of spanish music. You added some ballads, some more mariachi music, and algo some dancing music, like salsa, cumbia and some bachata, just for fun.

At 5:15 pm you were standing outside Barbara´s house, you have already knocked twice and nobody answered. Maybe you had the location wrong, so you decided to call Janine, but just as you were going to press the call button, a voice from behind called you.

“Hey, cariño, it´s over here” Melissa was standing next to her car on the sidewalk, holding some bags that you assumed contained the tequila bottles. “This way”

You followed her to the back of the house, everyone was there, at the patio. No one was inside the house, that’s way nobody heard you knocking.

“Look what I found in your front door Barb” Melissa was referring to you, as she went straight to the table to settle the bottles. All eyes went to you, for second time in the day. Everyone was there already, with the exception of Ava, that preferred to stay at home watching Desperate Housewives than “going to that lame party” (her words).

“I forgot to tell you we will be at the back. Anway, I´m very glad you came. You bring the music?”

“Of course,” You proceed to connect you phone to the speaker and start reproducing your playlist.

“Now this is a fiesta!” Said Janine while trying to dance at the bit of one song.

You were standing next to the speaker, watching everyone enjoy the party. Barbara has offered you a plate of mini taquitos, that were actually really good. It was probably the music, the Mexican decoration and even the taquitos that made you feel nostalgic, so your mind started wondering through your childhood memories. All those parties with your family, how your father had taught you to dance in those parties, how you mom food tasted. You were so immersed in you thought that didn´t notice when the redhead went to stand right next to you.

“Penny for your thoughts” Her voice snapping you out from your own mind.

“I was just remembering some childhood stuff, that all” You didn’t dare to look at her eyes. And she noticed it, actually she had always notice it, how you would avoid looking directly at her. She always took those moments as opportunities to look at you with more detail. Melissa hadn´t admitted this to anyone, not even Barbara. but she thinks that you are very beautiful, she´s intrigued by you. She likes it when you speak Spanish, you make everything sound better. But she has no idea how to approach those feelings, so she decides to keep her distance too, by not being the nicest or most accessible teacher at Abott. She wanted that to change, and she was going to start working in that today.

“You know… I sometimes feel nostalgic of my home as well.” She drank from the plastic cup she was holding. “I have always lived in Philly, but I don´t see my family as often anymore, and we haven´t had a reunion or a party in so long… I miss that” You looked at Melissa. She was actually telling you something personal, without sarcasm. “But of course, it must be harder for you, being away from your country” She then looked you in the eyes.

“It´s not too bad” You were actually looking at Melissa´s eyes, for mor than 1 second, for the first time, and God they were beautiful, just as her. “I visit them once a year, and they sometimes come visit” There was a silence, both of you looking at everyone else enjoying the party.

“Would you like a paloma?” Melissa asked, with a mischievous grin.

“That´s what you are having?” She nodded. “Yeah, please”

Melissa served you a paloma (soda with tequila), and from that moment you never parted her side. Both of you kept talking, laughing, at some point you teaching her some Spanish, and she teaching you some Italian. It was probably the booze, but you started feeling how Melissa was getting more comfortable around you. She was being handsy, placing her hand around your arm, sometimes over your hand, and some other times around your waist. Soon she started leaning against you, caressing your hair, holding your waist longer. She was flirting. Neither of you were drunk drunk, you were still perfectly conscious and in you five senses, which made you very anxious but excited about this sudden change in Melissa´s attitude.

It was already 9:00 pm, Janine, Gregory and Jacob had already left, tomorrow was school day. Barbara, Melissa and you were sitting around the folding table in the middle of the patio. Your music still playing. The three of you has stop drinking like an hour ago, to sober up, and were just chatting. And even without the effects of the alcohol, Melissa was still being nice to you, maybe a little less handsy, but still very friendly.

Barbara excuse herself to go to the bathroom. A comfortable silence between Melissa and you, when a salsa began to play at the background.

“God, I love that salsa, I used to dance it all the times at parties, with anyone, even alone, I just wanted to dance it” You smile as you remember. Unconsciously you closed your eyes and started moving in your chair, humming the song. Unaware of the way Melissa was looking at you.

“Shall we dance?” You snap your eyes open. She offers you her hand to you, already standing up next to you.

“What?”

“Bailamos?” She repeats, and this time you nodded. She holds her hand until you are standing next to her. She places her free hand on your waist, keeping you close to her, while her other hand holds yours at the level of her face. And you start dancing.

It´s a slow salsa, so it is easy to dance, but you have the feeling that even if it was a faster rhythm, Melissa would dance like if she had done it all her life.

You feel Melissa´s eyes on you, she´s smiling. She moves her arm, so it surrounds your waist. The sudden closeness makes you lose your balance a little, Melissa holds you tighter, preventing you for falling. You both laugh.

Her face inches away from yours, her eyes going from your eyes to your lips. She caressed your cheek with her other hand, and pulls you closer, closing the space between you.

The kiss is sweet, slow. You both take your time to feel it, you enjoy it. Your arms around Melissa´s neck, keeping her close to you. Soon the kiss turns a little more heated, Melissa´s tongue asking for permission to pass your lips, to which you happily submit.

You still can taste a little bit the alcohol from earlier, and you taste the sweetness of Melissa. Really there is no other way to describe it, it feels and taste sweet to be kissing her like this.

You break the kiss until you realize you need to take a breath, but not breaking the embrace. You are still so close to each other Melissa can basically fell how your heart is beating fast.

“I never thought Italians were this good at salsa dancing” That´s all you said, making Melissa laugh.

“We are good at everything darling, but you do it amazing yourself, cariño, give yourself some credit.” She kissed you again. “Let me drive you home.” Melisas whispered to your ear, you just nodded.

You both said goodbye to Barbara, not without offering to help her clean, to which she refused. Once inside Melisa´s car she couldn’t stop eyeing you, she kept a hand in your thigh. You couldn’t stop looking at her either, and honestly, if it wasn´t for the seatbelt, you would be on top of her long time ago.

You arrive home, Melissa opens your door, helping you out. And before she could say anything, you were kissing her. This time was passionate, full of desire and lust. Melissa was against the car, her hands on your hips. You were leaning on her, your hand on her hair.

“Come inside, please” You didn’t mean to sound do needy, but you couldn´t hide it.

“I would absolutely love it cariño, but tomorrow is school day, and I need another change if clothes. I just wanted to make sure you arrive safe and sound.” She was keeping her hands on your hips, but this time with a stronger grip, trying to create a little more space between you tow.

“Please” You took Melissa´s hands away from your hips, letting you lean to her once again. “Por favor” (please) You whispered to her ear. Now her arms were surrounding you shole waist. You started kissing her earlobe, descending to her neck. Melissa was in a trance. “Te necesito” (I need you)

“You are making this very difficult for me, cariño” Now it was Melissa´s voice the one that came out shaky, which made you feel proud.

“It doesn´t have to be difficult, you can just come in”.

“Let´s make a deal, hon… I promise that tomorrow I will be here, with a bottle of wine, and we can do whatever you want, but you have to promise to speak I little more Spanish to my ear, deal?” That mischievous grin was back on Melissa´s face, and you loved it.

“¿Te gusta cuando hablo español?” (Do you like when I speak Spanish?) You said as innocent as you could.

“I have no idea of what you just said, but keep doing that you will pay the price tomorrow”

“Trato… deal” You agreed. She kissed you once again, this time keeping it less heated and shorter. You took a few steps away from Melissa, trying to pull yourself together, and trying to ignore you soaked underwear. If Melissa wasn´t going to spend this night with you, you had some plans before going to bed, and as if she could read your mind, she added…

“Oh, and cariño… don´t touch yourself tonight, It will make tomorrow more fun” She winked her eye to you. It wasn’t a question; it was an order. “You can do that for me, right hon?” You really wanted to release all this tension tonight, but you couldn´t say no to Melissa.

“I promise” you said

“Good girl” She went inside her car. “See you tomorrow cariño, sleep tight” She left, leaving you horny as hell.

God, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow…

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Okay, so this idea pop into my mind while I was watching Shall we dance?, I really love that movie, and I love Lisa’s character. 🥹

Hope you like it, and let me know if you want a second part 🫣

#lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #wlw post #lesbian #bisexual #melissa schemmenti soft #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti fluff #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti smut

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paperbackribs · 8 months

Text

Clear Lungs, Full Heart

content: alpha Steve Harrington, omega Eddie Munson

Eddie wasn’t surprised to work out that Steve is an Alpha. If anyone was born to fuss and fret over the safety and well-being of a pack, it’s him.

He’d assumed as much from a distance: you don’t often get shoulders that broad or hands that big in the other secondary genders. But any awareness Eddie had of him fell away when the golden boy of Hawkins High dropped into obscurity, one day up and deciding to avoid the Tigers and the sycophants that came with them.

At the time, Eddie had shrugged. He could care less about the goings-on of one more rich, athletic asshole. Now, having survived the Upside Down, he’s learned that Steve Harrington is not only a good dude, but he is the tank, the protector, the sword and shield that guards the kids in their fellowship of heroes and has helped save the world on more than one occasion.

Could an omega be blamed for feeling a little stirred in the face of all that?

And it’s a good face too, Eddie mulls, watching the afternoon light pour lovingly over Steve’s strong features. Having found a mutual appreciation for Steve Martin, the two of them are about to watch The Three Amigos in Steve's lounge. Eddie is enjoying a pre-film smoke outside before they begin while Steve keeps him company.

He taps the cigarette in his hand, ashing it to the cement below as he watches Steve shift and drum his fingers restlessly. Steve paces to the edge of the pool, looking down at the building foliage on the surface and clicks his tongue. “I should’ve cleaned this weekend.” He glances up at Eddie but looks away almost immediately.

Eddie exhales a plume of smoke, pursing his lips as Steve walks to the kitchen door before pacing back again. Shoving his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans, Steve stares resolutely at the woods that abut his backyard.

That is until Eddie inhales and exhales smoke once more, which is when he twitches. Swaying to his side like he’s about to lean into Eddie before abruptly straightening again.

All of this Eddie watches with a vague sense of entertainment. Steve’s as jittery as if he’s got ants in his pants, but his lips are pressed tightly together. “All right,” Eddie says finally before Steve loses it, “What’s going on with you?”

He taps the building ash and Steve glances over before swiftly turning back to the woods. “It’s stupid,” he mutters even as a light blush forms on the high of his cheeks.

Eddie grins, his curiosity only ratcheting at the betraying flush of blood under thin skin. “Oh, now I have to know, Stevie.” He holds his hands behind his back while leaning forward in a coy manner, “What’s got you all riled up?”

A thrill of excitement sparks through him as Steve’s eyes flicker over his lips like he can’t help but stare, but he only sighs and looks away to the woods. “It’s nothing. Just Robin getting in my head about health stuff.”

Eddie straightens abruptly, throwing his cigarette away to latch a hand onto Steve’s arm. All playfulness dying at the idea that Steve is unwell. “Are you okay?”

Catching his expression, Steve’s face softens and he places his hand over Eddie’s, gently squeezing it in gratitude. “Nothing like that. It’s about you.”

Eddie’s mind stutters: is he sick and no one told him? It’s only when Steve snorts that he realises that he accidentally said that out loud. “No,” Steve repeats, gaze flickering to the curl of smoke rising above the still-lit cigarette at their feet. “It’s just,” the red across his cheeks deepen and he looks away before finally blowing out a breath to say in a rush, “They’rebadforthepups.”

Eddie wiggles his finger in his ear, sure that he’d misheard the jumble of words, “Say again.”

Steve raises one hand over his eyes, hiding behind it as he repeats more slowly, “They’re bad for the pups. Smoking, that is. Cigarettes can cause cleft palates and make them weaker in the womb. That’s what Robin says anyway, but I tend to trust her about these things.

“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, “I’m not pregnant.”

“I know,” Steve says with gritted teeth, still hiding behind his hand and refusing to look up.

“I’m not even seeing anyone.”

Steve hums a noise that makes it clear he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but Eddie’s still confused because, if he’s not even pregnancy adjacent, why would Steve care? “Do you know anyone else that’s become pregnant recently?” He ventures, trying to unravel this mystery.

“Nope,” Steve’s voice is high and strained with cheeks a glowing crimson to rival the burning cherry at their feet. Eddie sniffs the air surreptitiously while Steve’s not looking, opening his mouth slightly to allow any nuances to filter in.

His tastebuds are subtly coated in the green, earthy aroma of freshly cut grass on a summer’s day, filling Eddie with the familiar sensation of safe and happy. But other than a general sense of identity there is very little for Eddie to tease out, no great sense of emotion or purpose within the invisible indicators inherent to all alphas, omegas and even, to a lesser extent, betas.

As he often does and despite his awkwardness, Steve is keeping a tight rein on his pheromones, leaving Eddie with no clues but for what he can see and hear.

“But you’re concerned about my imaginary pups being hurt by my real smoking habits?”

Steve huffs a short laugh at Eddie’s description and he must have decided to own his embarrassment because he drops his hand and adopts a wry expression. “Yes, which is why it’s stupid of me to be worried, and also pretty fucking rude since it’d be none of my business anyway.”

Watching Steve’s eyes dip to Eddie’s waist only to quickly flit away like he doesn’t want to be caught, Eddie starts to form a suspicion. A little niggle that has hope stuttering in his chest. He stops closer again, tilting his head so that his scent freely wafts through the air, the crisp and clean smell of fresh rainfall teases at the edge of Steve’s earthy soil.

Blinking in surprise, Steve’s nostrils reflexively flare, and his hooded eyes drop to the slim column of Eddie’s neck, a heavy, flickering flame steadily building in their depths.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, letting his breath caress across his lips, licking his own, and watching Steve’s pupils expand. “Yeah, Eddie,” his voice is full of gravel.

“Would you perhaps be concerned because you keep imagining a possibility…”

Steve’s lashes flutter and he draws a steadying breath, mouth parting like he’s testing the air around them. Eddie wonders what exactly Steve smells, thinking that perhaps freshly fallen rain is blooming into thickening clouds, a coming tempest fuelled by anticipation.

“…Maybe even that you might want to be the reason why I’d have pups to protect.”

Steve exhales in a shudder, one large hand reaching out to grip Eddie’s hip as if to keep him from running. He leans in close, drawing the edge of his nose over Eddie’s cheekbone, down to his neck and nuzzling under his hair. Eddie’s breath catches, the hunger that had started low in his belly rising to a heated simmer. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” Steve growls against his skin.

He presses forward and Eddie gasps, hands flying up to spear through Steve’s hair as he licks a firm wet stripe against his scent gland. Steve sets his mouth over it and suckles, leaving Eddie a moaning mess with the decadent pleasure rippling through him.

Steve draws back, expression almost feral while drawing Eddie’s hips closer, pressing him against his burgeoning length, “Eddie, tell me if this is dumb, tell me that I’m out of my mind—”

The keen bewitchment on Steve’s face has delight popping through Eddie’s chest like fizzy soda and confidence begins to steadily fill him; Steve finally wants him back and Eddie is going to seize the chance while he can. “I think,” Eddie interrupts playfully, pressing little kisses against his jaw before completing his sentence, “That we’re going to come back to that kink you’ve got knocking up around there, but for now…”

“For now…” Steve asks hopefully, voice wreaked, and Eddie takes him by the hand, drawing him through the door, into the kitchen, and hopefully further. “For now,” he answers, “I think we should be doing some practising.”

Steve laughs, a loud open sound of joy and he scoops Eddie up before he rounds the kitchen island, propping Eddie on the counter and tilting his head up to take his lips once more, a collision of passion that he obviously savours by the low rumble sounding at the back of his throat. The noise is almost a deep purr unlike any Eddie has heard before and he draws back, nibbling on Steve’s silky lip before teasing, “You keep that up and I’ll think you’re putting on a mating display.”

If he weren’t so close, Eddie may have missed the flicker of alarm that crossed Steve’s face at his words, but he does see it and it cools his ardour somewhat.

Alphas purr, it’s what they do. Sometimes to convey pleasure or contentment, for pack bonding and sometimes in healing, and, at the exclusive end of the spectrum, as a display to attract mates. He’d thought that Steve’s worrying about second-hand smoke had to do with some sex thing, a pregnancy kink that Eddie managed to trigger somehow. But by the reserved expression that briefly crosses his face, Eddie wonders whether he’s underestimated the situation.

Nevertheless, Steve tries to shrug off his brief, faltering moment by smiling slyly and falling back onto old alpha stereotypes, “We’re always throwing our weight around one way or another, right.” Chuckling like Eddie’s in on the joke he presses forward, but Eddie draws back, placing a finger over Steve’s now pouting lips.

Because, yeah, knotheads like to throw their growls and roars and other vocalisations around, just as easily as pushing out their pheromones to mark their territory. Or, Eddie wryly acknowledges, what they usually think is their territory, but Steve is very different.

From the moment Eddie had fallen into the unfortunate adventure that had been Spring Break, all the way through his recovery from the demo-bat injuries and even now as a member of the found family that is this pack, Steve has always been very careful about how he presents around them all.

He’ll scent the kids for protection, just a casual tussle of the hair or with a friendly headlock, and he’ll scent Robin in an extension of the deep bond of siblings, but otherwise, he keeps his hands and pheromones to himself. The closest Eddie’s ever heard to a hierarchical growl from the guy was after Lucas jumped from the trees into the pool, missing the concrete edge by an inch and turning Steve livid at the risk he’d taken.

And with Eddie, he’s been the most careful of all.

Eddie had taken his distance to mean that Steve was uninterested in him, as an omega at least. He’d taken his friendly overtures and what has become a treasured friendship as a signal that Steve wants Eddie as a buddy but nothing more. Yet the hard grip Steve has on his hips and the heat in his eyes tell Eddie two very different things.

“What was Robin saying that got you thinking about all this?” He asks, knowing that Steve can be stubborn and that the best way to get into his head at times is through a roundabout route.

Correctly reading that Eddie won’t be diverted from his tangent, Steve sighs, tipping back with a resigned expression; although he keeps his hands still wrapped around Eddie’s hips, a tentative connection lingering in the press of his fingertips.

“She doesn’t like that I still smoke when she’s not around,” he begins, “And you never really think that’s it’s going to happen to you…” He nods at Eddie’s guess. “Cancer?”

“Yeah, so she changed tactics and started listing the infections and asthma risks the kids could get from second-hand smoke.” Eddie hums in encouragement, “Sounds good so far.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “She didn’t think the excuse that I won’t smoke around them is good enough so she decided to list all the ways it could hurt someone else, someone that I care for,” his voice trails off and Eddie’s heart thumps, one long hard pulse that he’s surprised doesn’t create a hole in his chest from the vigour of its movement.

He’s sure that shock must be writ large across his face because wanting a good time with your buddy Eddie is very different from what Steve is hinting at, but Steve doesn’t see his expression because he screws up his face, looking over Eddie’s shoulder as he admits, “Robin may or may not know that I’ve had a thing for you for a while now and she may or may not have used that as a means to convince me to avoid smoking from now on.”

“A thing?” Eddie asks cautiously, not wanting to break the moment with clumsy words, wishing instead that he could simply open his scent fully to Steve and allow him to smell just how keenly Eddie wants him back.

Has wanted him ever since Steve looked at him with comforting eyes in the boathouse while Eddie was emotionally and physically strung-out from watching Chrissy’s gruesome death, convinced that Hawkins PD would sooner shoot him dead than take him in for questioning.

Steve’s steadying presence and calm voice, extended for the trembling omega next to him, had caused a riot of emotions that took Eddie months to unpack.

But Steve’s avoiding his gaze now and has tightly drawn in the sweet scent that had just started to unfold into a rich earthy deepness. So Eddie tamps down on his urge to lay himself bare, unsure of why Steve looks so uncertain and sad when surely expressing his feelings to someone who had jumped into his arms at the first hint of reciprocation can only be a good thing.

Shoulders slumping a little, Steve sighs. “Never mind,” he mutters, “She just got in my head a little.”

Eddie’s heart starts again, but this time in trepidation; he can feel something precious slipping through his fingers, and he won’t allow it. Can’t. He takes his courage in his hands and ventures forward, careful again, “I would like that — if you had a thing for me.

Steve startles, “You would?”

Heartbreak dampens the rain and Eddie reaches out, spearing his fingers through Steve’s locks comfortingly. “Yeah, baby. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t have much to offer a pack, Eddie.” Steve meets his gaze, eyes sad and resigned. “Didn’t get into my safety schools, working a minimum wage job. I’m not exactly the alpha dreams are made of.”

Eddie slides his palm down to lightly shake Steve by the ruff, hoping that he knocks some sense into his head at the same time. “Do I look like the type of omega that wants to stay at home, treated as precious glass?”

“I don’t know,” Steve tries to joke, “You’re pretty impossible to budge first thing on a Saturday morning.”

“That’s because it’s a precious and holy time of the week, sweetheart.” Eddie bops him on the nose and Steve squints at him in miffed betrayal. “You know what I want in an alpha?”

“What?” Steve asks, hope and caution warring across his face.

“I want an alpha that cares. One that looks after a scared omega on the run who he barely knows, an alpha that chases after the little shitheads we call pack because he wants them to have a carefree childhood despite the Upside Down.” Steve’s face softens like hard soil after a summer rain, and Eddie continues, “I want an alpha who may or may not have a pregnancy kink—”

Steve snorts, eyes filling with begrudging amusement.

“—but is going to quit smoking because he doesn’t even want the possibility of asthma or cleft palates or whatever else it was that Robin said near the people he cares about.”

“He sounds like a pretty good alpha,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips.

Drawing back by only an inch, Eddie softly strokes his thumb across Steve’s cheek, sure that his eyes are shining with the love that he hasn’t named yet even as it sits strongly in his heart, “He is. And if he would like this to be something beyond just a good time, something greater for the both of us, then I can tell him that there’s an omega that has more than a thing for him.”

Steve’s breath catches, eyes blinking in hopeful shock, “More?”

Eddie smiles, “Much more.”

Steve’s hand slides up from Eddie’s hip, caressing him in one long stroke from his tailbone to the nape of his neck where he loosely clasps him, pulling him down to close the gap between. Eddie hums and loses himself in the kiss, sweet rain falling on welcoming earth to create a space rich with possibilities, unfolding into a beautiful future.

Steve licks his lips before asking with a wry smile, “But, uh, about the cigarettes…”

Eddie laughs, head tipping back before he exuberantly clasps Steve’s head between his palms, pressing honeyed kisses against this adorable man. “Robin is a very smart woman.”

“A genius,” Steve agrees slyly.

“And what do we do with geniuses in this pack?”

“We follow them.”

“Exactly,” Eddie happily hangs his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “No more smoking,” he promises, feeling summer-sun bright with the new world now open to him.

Other steddie fics over at Ao3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #stranger things #paperbackribs writing #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson

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the-californicationist · 8 months

Text

Excerpt from Gunslinger - "Appaloosa"

OMG!! I commissioned this artwork from the incredible @captain-natey who RETURNED TO ME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!! I just wanted to plug their work (their commissions are OPEN! visit their website here!!) and I wanted to post the chapter excerpt from "Gunslinger" (Price/Reader) that it belongs to. Hope you enjoy! Please go show Nate some love! Thanks for reading. TW: reference to past domestic abuse, Reader has call sign and speaks Spanish

Price sat beside you and pulled your chair closer to his, looping an arm around the back of it,

“Look, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t -”

“Capitán! Quit whispering your sugary words into her ear. This is the woman who survived Miguel ‘El Matador’ Moreno for diez pinche años. She may look like a little lady, but she’s done nastier work than all four of you perritos combined. She is the reason why the infamous Jefe Luis Villagomez doesn’t travel north of the Rio Grande. Charon doesn’t ferry the living very often, amigos. She only takes the dead. Porfa,” Alejandro waved a hand in the air dismissively, unamused by Price’s coddling tones.

Ale may have been embellishing a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need your hand to be held.

“I can’t leave the animals,” you said, checking to see how far these men had thought this plan through.

“Laswell called Tony, and he’ll be here Wednesday,” Gaz told you.

Tony had watched the ranch for you once before. He was a sharp-witted veteran that had run his own ranch for decades, so you felt good about leaving the farm to him. Tony could take care of himself. He did tend to spoil the goats, but there were worse things.

“How long?” Your question hung in the air like a balloon losing its air, floating, surrounded by silence.

Vargas and Price shared a look. Price repositioned himself in his chair, not thrilled about having to answer you,

“Not sure, love. Is that alright?”

It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice for this man and his makeshift band of brothers? Your peace? You’d fought so damn hard for that peace. You’d survived a devil of a man in order to sleep warm and safe and knowing you could take care of your damn business unaided. After giving up years of your life to unrest and fear, your reward had been the reconstruction of your independence. Price was asking you for your hard-fought freedom. You weren’t ready to give that up. You weren’t ready for sleeping on floors and reloading guns. You weren’t ready to face more devil-men.

But what else could you do? Price had you, threatening your heart. If you woke up tomorrow to his empty bed, you didn’t know if you could take that pain. You imagined that Kahlo’s Wounded Deer felt much the same; shot through the chest with nowhere to run, stuck between the cliff’s edge and your lover - your hunter - both promising suffering in different ways. No escape.

The captain studied you like a heeler dog studied its herd, watching for even the slightest movement to strike, to react. He witnessed the fear flash in your face, and in turn, you saw the despair shadow his. It was so slight, that change in his expression, but to you, it was like he was screaming. You, too, were screaming.

“Okay, but just for this mission. Then, I need to get back to my life,” you decided, making your limitations known, quietly but firmly.

The relief that washed through Price’s eyes was palpable.

Vargas served dinner in his chaotic way, family style, sharing plates. Everyone was eating with their hands, cradling the homemade tortillas like little flowers, using them to scoop up meat and sauce that dripped down their palms like nectar, spicy and sweet.

Ghost didn’t take his food into the other room this time, feeling secure enough to flip up the mouth of his painted mask to eat. It was like seeing him naked; he was always covered up, so any skin was somehow too much. Soap crowded Ghost from his corner of the table, trying to steal more asada, laughing and joking with Ale. Gaz and Price were huddled, murmuring about something, talking with full mouths in low tones.

It was almost too serene. There were times in life where you understood that you were in a moment you could never return to. You may have similar ones in your future, but somehow, you knew when certain wrinkles in time were singular. As you watched your guests, you knew that this was definitely one of those moments.

Price had his arm draped across your chair, keeping you near him. You crafted a bite for him in your hand, pinching the soft tortilla until it held the perfect amount of Ale’s asada.

You nudged Price with your free hand,

“Toma, come esto, papi.” Here, have a bite, daddy.

He turned away from Gaz and found you there, his bite of food in your hands, and his face lit up like a flame. Bending his head down to meet your hand, he grabbed your wrist in his huge fist, trapping your arm. Then, slowly, he put his mouth around the morsel, lips touching the pads of your fingers, tongue licking the sauce from them.

Vargas watched your interaction from the other side of the table, open-mouthed. Soap smacked him on the shoulder as if to cash in a bet.

“No, animales! Not at the table!”

The men shared a lighthearted groan and laughed good-naturedly, giving you and their captain a hard time about your little display of affection.

You smirked, feeling accomplished. Price had wanted to tell them, so you thought a dropped hint or two would be alright. To your relief, he laughed with them, chewing his food before making a comment,

“Sabe buena.” Tastes good. His voice, still badly accented, was mirthful and suggestive, dragging out another round of playful jeering.

Then, to your surprise, the captain pulled your chair back away from the table, leaning it on its rear legs, holding it at an angle, and kissed you deeply. You let out a little cry of shock, silenced by his mouth. But, you recovered, kissing him back, wrapping one hand around his jaw and the other running through his hair.

It was all in good fun. Normal. Just a couple flirting with each other, but for Price, you could tell it meant more. It was one thing to bare your souls to each other in front of the farm animals, or to sneak off and rediscover original sins in the quiet of your room, but it was something else to show the world that you chose him. To show his men that you were committed to their captain. That you weren’t just a rest-stop on their long journey. You got the sense that by committing to him, you were also committing to them: his family.

The rest of the meal passed in that same warmth, filled with laughter and jokes, stories and questions about each other. Intimacy. The whole time, Price couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Your thigh, your hand, the nape of your neck - he was grabbing you like a lifeline. He shared his food, making you try his chili relleno, giving you sips of his drink when yours ran dry, doting on you.

“Okay, time for dessert, yes?” You asked the others, picking up dirty dishes as you retreated back to the kitchen.

You heard exasperated groaning, their bellies full and struggling, but you didn’t hear a no. Vargas followed you into the kitchen, pretending to help,

“Dios mío, necesito un cigarrillo después de verlos a ustedes.” My God, I need a cigarette after watching you two.

“Cállate, cerdito.” Shut up, piglet. You smiled to yourself, cutting up what was left of the cheesecake, giving Price’s plate the largest piece.

“¿Estas enamorado, morena?” Are you in love, darling? His voice was a quiet whisper. It felt like a gunshot wound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you said, in English, not trusting yourself to tell such a lie in your native tongue.

Your old friend covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows heading skyward, giving you an obvious look. He replied in English, understanding the secret you’d been trying to conceal,

“You know better, Charon. We are not men who should be loved. I hope you know what you’re doing, mija. ”

You didn’t reply out loud, but on the inside, you heard yourself say, “Me, too.”

Even though they lived in the shadows, you weren’t sold on the idea that they should be priests for their causes. Men like Price typically followed two paths. The love of a woman, if she becomes his family, could break his heart, making him forget his purpose, distracting him from his quest for justice. Or, she would light a fire in him, turning him into a dragon. You were afraid to find out which path he would choose.

You wondered if he loved you.

You delivered the cake and poured more tequila into all the little cups that were thirsty for it.

John was rolling a cigar in his fingers absentmindedly, and you could tell he was aching to smoke it.

“You wanna come outside with me, love?” Price invited you, rubbing your thighs in big, sweeping strokes, making your blood rush through them, somehow knowing what you wanted.

Everyone else was chatting, or watching Gaz play that video game of his, backseat driving, telling him where to hide and who to shoot. Which gun to use. You slipped out onto the porch with Price, avoiding any more ribbing.

You stood against the porch railing, facing the yard, staring out at the darkness of the night, the rain finally dying out to a drizzle, casting little blue galaxies in the flooded grass, reflecting the light from a huge moon. Price stood directly behind you, pressed against your body, wrapping one hand around the railing, closing you in. He held his cigar in the other hand, smoking it in circles, trying to make the ashes burn evenly.

“You surprised me at dinner,” he commented, obviously looking for a response.

You feigned ignorance,

“Oh, why?”

“Feeding me by hand like that. Can’t be doing that in public. Makes me go a bit hard, love.” His voice was right next to your ear, gravelly and delightfully threatening.

You smiled sweetly, your words coated in pretend innocence, playing with him,

“What do you mean? I just wanted you to have a bite. One little bite can’t hurt, can it, John?”

“It’s bloody mental, the way you make me feel,” he took a long drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble out as he spoke, leaning over you, “I’d fuck you right here, pretty girl, given half a chance.”

He took a deep breath along the side of your neck, smelling your skin beneath your hair, and when he exhaled, a moan was wrapped quietly inside it.

You pressed your ass into his crotch, finding him nearly hard. Touching his hand gently, you took his cigar and stuck it in your mouth, the wet leaves tasting like him. You curled the smoke with your tongue, locking eyes with him over your shoulder, watching him suffer deliciously,

“I dunno about ‘mental’, John. But it seems like you have an oral fixation.

You punctuated your last two words, saying them with a soft, sultry undertone. His eyes narrowed as he smiled down at you in a sinister grin,

“Do I ever.”

He stole the stick back from you and smiled even wider, teeth gleaming, his incisors seeming like fangs in his wolfy smile.

“Think they’re watching us?” You let your eyes turn over to the window, covered with a sheer curtain, fully aware that the view outside was more visible than your view into the house. Trick of the light.

He shrugged,

“Not if they know what’s good for them.”

Price’s cock had fully hardened now, and he thrust it up into your body ever so slightly, rubbing himself through layers of clothes, rocking his hips once and then twice like a promise of things to come. It made you feel a deep, primal lust, understanding his need without his words, your bodies engaging in an ancient art that had remained untainted by eons of time. You returned his invitation, rolling your hips back onto him, your ass pressing soundly into his pinned shaft.

“We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow. It’s five hours to El Ojo,” Price groaned, whispering, rutting against you mindlessly, burying his face in your hair, staining your scent with his smoke.

You turned around to face him; he didn’t stop his idle grinding, looking tranquilized by his heady tobacco. Hypnotizing you with his casual eroticism.

“You don’t seem sleepy,” you commented, letting your hands roam over his chest and belly, tracing his nipples beneath his smooth shirt. He shuddered at your touch, sighing deeply.

With his cigar perched carefully between his fingers, he grabbed your jawbone, and you could feel the wet end press into your cheek. You could sense the warmth of the ash on your skin. He began to kiss you, all of the smoke and musky scents of him blended together, and his strong, masculine cologne made your head spin. His kisses were controlling and long, moving your head where he wanted it to be, sucking your lips and tongue, keeping them from exploring on their own. He was the guide for your passion, showing you all the ways he would be able to please.

He broke away, but only far enough to keep your lips from touching, his breath hot as it warmed your mouth when he spoke,

“Early. Tomorrow. We have to get up early. We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you sighed, a little dramatically, easing past his grip, removing yourself from him, untangling his vines from your bones, “if you say so, John. Buenas noches.”

You walked inside, swaying your hips a little more than you needed to, knowing he was looking, his blue eyes burning into your curves. Just before you went through the door, you glanced over at him. In the darkness of the porch, cast in shadow, the smoldering tip of his cigar glowed in his open mouth, the light from it gleaming off of his teeth and coloring his lips and beard a fiery orange. He was grinning, like a fox in a henhouse. When he saw you looking, he made a small show of readjusting himself, pawing at his swollen rod to release it from where it was trapped, and in the dimness, you could see its threatening outline.

You shut the door behind you, hands shaking. The other men mostly ignored you, but you caught them glancing your way, trying to sneak looks. Soap was not as sneaky as the rest, staring blankly as if he had a secret he shouldn't have.

As you wished them good night, they returned the sentiment casually, but it was then that you noticed the window. Price was still at the railing - in full, clear view, smoking. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel the flush tingle against your skin with embarrassment.

An hour or so later, you were already asleep when Price came upstairs. His heavy footsteps pulled you from your slumber. He was pacing in his room, packing perhaps. You went to the bathroom and pulled open the door. Upon hearing you, he opened his as well.

“Hey,” you whispered, squinting from sleep.

“Hey,” he was breathing heavily, dressed in nothing but the jeans and boots he had worn that day.

The captain watched as your eyes feasted upon his skin, gazing longingly at his thick waist where his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off just a bit of hair from below his belt line. One of his giant hands gripped the door frame, high on the plank, stretching his chest into a sweeping display of muscle. His armpit, arms, and torso were covered in the thick, dark hair you had let your hands roam across last night during your joining, and you knew how it would feel to touch.

Price slid his hand down the frame, making a slow scraping noise, stepping fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click, his icy eyes never leaving yours.

He was enormous in the small space. His body was a powerhouse of visible strength. The meat of him hung heavy on his large bones, and he seemed, in the clean white tile of the bathroom, as if he was a specimen in some sort of display. Some museum exhibit, showing off, in sterile composition, the ideal form of Man. Built to fuck, to kill, to dominate the beasts of Eden from the lamb to the lion. Top of the food chain.

Still a little shy from realizing you’d given his team quite the show earlier on the porch, you averted your gaze, turning toward the sink. Before you could run the water, he was behind you, quick, crowding your space exactly as he had on the porch.

He positioned himself behind you and, much more luridly this time, began to kiss and lick your neck, grinding himself into you as he did so, slipping a warm hand under your loose top, finding your soft flesh waiting for his touch. You could feel the roughness of his denim jeans through your cotton shorts, and the contrast between his soft, melting kiss and the hard, unforgiving feeling of him trying to fuck you through your clothes was too much to handle. Your body was trying to reconcile the two, splitting your thoughts, making you love-drunk on his ministrations.

Price pulled off your shirt, raking it over your head, tossing it to the floor. He laced his hand through your hair and began to tug your head back, forcing you to look at yourself, bare to him, in the mirror. There was only the nightlight, more like a small Christmas bulb attached to a plug, so the room lacked any harsh contrast. Your bodies, your faces, the walls - everything began to swirl together, all colorized in the same, peachy glow.

You felt his hands on your breasts, and you watched him touch you in the mirror. Seeing yourself being pulled and manipulated by such a large man was gratifying. His hands massaged into your softness, leaving warm trails on your skin, the tell-tale feeling of where he had touched and where he still had left to go. The captain saw himself in the mirror for the first time, then, looking up from leaving erotic kisses on your neck and shoulders.

He sighed, locking eyes with you in the glass. That sigh trailed off into a groan, a ghost of the one he’d given you last night in the midst of his ecstasy.

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he said in his lowest tone.

Suddenly, he was tugging at the button of his jeans and unzipping the fly, freeing himself and stroking his cock to attention using your plump ass. Through your flimsy shorts, you could feel the burning heat that radiated from him. Reaching behind you, his hardness fell into your palm and you watched the sensation crawl its way through his expression in the reflection. He gasped, resting his head against yours, whispering - yes, yes, yes - into your ear in a hiss through clenched teeth.

John’s hand found your pantyline and pried it away from your skin with a confident finger, traveling down into your folds, searching for the swelling bundle nestled in the crest of your slit, rubbing it in long, loose ovals.

It wasn’t feverish; it was measured. His was the hand of a practiced man. As he worked, you joined him, rolling your wrist to rub his foreskin up and down in achingly long pulls, letting his wet head graze your skin as you teased him. The thick length was drooling with precome, and you could feel its stickiness on your palm.

It didn’t take him long to find your particular rhythm, the one you used when staring at Pinterest photos on your phone of Keanu Reeves in his John Wick era; sweaty, bloody, and great with a gun. Price’s movements felt personal, like he’d read about what you wanted in your diary somewhere, as if he was in on the secret. It brought you to the summit very quickly, and he noticed the flush in your cheeks and breasts, only then increasing his intensity.

You tried to continue to stroke him, but as you began to come in Price’s hand, you could only hold onto his cock, grasping it like the handle in a car driving too fast, careening downhill, rushing to its inevitable crash.

“Yeah, love, come for me. Just like that, you gorgeous fucking thing,” he watched you tumble over the edge, crumpling in the mirror, reaching for him.

“John! Please,” you cried.

You felt the tension burst inside of you like a mortar, hot and molten, pouring out of your core and into your body in waves of climactic pleasure. No one had ever made you come that hard, that quickly. It was hard for you to stand. Price steadied you, using his talented hand to hold you to him while you remembered your legs.

Once you regained your senses, you removed your hand from him to pull down your shorts and panties, letting them pool at the floor beneath your feet. You returned to his cock, now swollen and throbbing, and fed it into you. Your come made his entry smooth and slippery, and he filled you up, your body celebrating his return.

He returned to his slow, grinding dance on the porch, thrusting himself into you rhythmically in aching, rolling motions. It was not the slamming pugilism of two people trying to find release. This was a concerted effort for him to fuck your walls into his memory, rubbing his dick along them to sense every ridge and sweet spot, and to find the ones that made you scream.

When you let slip a desperate moan, he would pause, reflect, and return, hitting it again and again, watching you writhe and begging for him to help you.

“You feel so good in me,” you admitted, talking to him in the looking-glass.

His eyes were full of mismanaged control, and his grip on reality was slipping,

“Bloody beautiful. So warm and wet for me. Goddamnit, I’m not gonna last.”

But, he did. Your beast had stamina. He returned to your clit as he thrust in and out of you, dragging his fat cock through your body, ripping two more orgasms from your lips before he surrendered.

You watched him come, crying out darkly in his reflection. He had pulled himself from you and was painting your generous ass cheeks with his load. The tacky fluid was searingly hot, and it ran down your skin in drips.

You smiled, bending back to kiss him,

“Messy boy,” you chided playfully, a naughty tone in your voice.

“Wanna clean you up,” Price sighed, satisfied and spent.

Do you want 30 more chapters of these two? Read "Gunslinger" here.

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