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eddiesfaerie · 1 month ago

Text

who you let in

Summary: Jack has a soft spot. He didn't expect you to be the one to find it. (6.9k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot (the storyteller within me can't help it), unspecified age gap, hurt/comfort for both of them LOL, canon typical gore? medical stuff? idk, panic attacks, trauma, angst, power dynamics (reader's a med student), suicidal ideation, Jack being flustered, oral (m receiving because he needs it), big dick Jack, fingering, rushed sex despite how long this fic is i'm sorry, unprotected PIV sex, Jack's sort of a soft dom, semi-public sex, praise kink, competency kink, lots of fleshy bodily words in here to describe lust idk

AAAAA i just spent all day writing this yes i'm embarrassed <3 also haven't posted my writing in like actual years at this point.... anyways be nice to me

It’s unlike you, Jack thinks to himself, to look so out of it.

GSW to the chest. A young girl in her early twenties maybe. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her blonde hair somehow already matted with it, so much so that she could pass as a natural brunette. It’s gone dark with oxygen and coagulation.

Your team huddles around her, as do the other units around the dozens and dozens of gurneys being brought in one after the other, unrelenting and without promise to end soon.

All protocols you’ve learned in the last year are out the window. Disregarded for the mass casualty event that was PittFest. None of the residents had ever seen anything like this, you’d never seen anything like this. This was the most action you’d ever witnessed and suddenly you felt like there was a balloon in your own chest, compressing air flow or blood flow or something to your head.

All the blood, the smell of metal inescapable no matter which section of the ER you were suddenly rushed to.

Your knees go weak, they shake, your hands shake. Everything’s wrong-

“She’s going white Abbot pull her out.”

You hear your attending huff from right behind you before his hand finds your bicep, curling around it and pulling you from where you leaned over the patient. You can hardly protest, your mind elsewhere and your feet blindly follow Dr Abbot who leads you to the family room.

“Robby I need you to cover over on the GSW to the chest for a sec.” He calls over, his voice ringing in your ears, your mind trying to focus on one single thing but everything’s registering all at once. His hand on your arm, all the beeping, the cries of agony, tubes being intubated and balloons being puffed into chests. It all seems a lot further away when Abbot closes the door.

You never thought you were particularly his favourite. You’re much younger and typically too upbeat. You clash naturally, he’s not drawn to you and you’re not drawn to him.

Dr Abbot is unafraid of correcting you in front of your peers. After a year now of him being your attending you’ve become familiar with his ways but that doesn’t mean you’re any more appreciative of the public humiliations.

There’s something about these older ex military men, the ones who joined too young and have been in the system ever since, climbing up and up the ranks, hardening at each level to a point where disassociation is expected. Hold it in, hold it together. There’s is no I in team. All for one and one for all. All that bullshit.

Dr Abbot wasn’t really that guy to a T but hell was he uncrackable, unshakeable, hard as stone. No doubt it’s helped him here in the ER, you’ve never seen someone as laser focused and capable as Dr Abbot. It’s almost effortless for him, it seems. Like he doesn’t have to think twice about anything. His confidence is unmatched and you’d always admired that, no matter how much you thought he disliked you. So yeah it was kind of surprising when he was the one to pull you away for a time out.

Jack never meant to become so attuned to you. He didn’t do it on purpose. He blames it on being your attending for a while now, he’s worked with you the closet over this past year and he knows how you work, how you operate. He didn’t mean to but it happened. He feels like he can read you like an open book, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, on your face. You’ve never been one to conceal how you were feeling, unlike him. So when you stopped talking, stopped making little remarks and little jokes, nearly frozen and clearly dissociating, he knew what was happening long before the resident called for you to be pulled out. He wanted to give you a moment to bounce back as you usually do.

Dr Abbot closes the curtain to the family room, shutting the door. He turns around and finds you still awkwardly standing there, eyes far off, elsewhere. He had expected you to take a seat immediately, he doesn’t know what you’re still doing up considering how close you look to collapsing.

“S-sorry I don’t know what’s happening, I-” You stammer, embarrassed yet not in control of whatever’s taking over your mind and body.

“Hey, hey stay with me, kid. Don’t go to that place.”

Abbot puts his hand softly on the middle of your back, guiding you to the chair. You sit down reluctantly, unable to move your body in a coordinated way for some reason. He kneels in front of you, groaning as he goes down and his knees cracking.

“Listen, don’t tell anyone but I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks, okay?”

“Is that- is that what’s happening?” You ask dumbly, squeezing your eyes shut. You suddenly feel dizzy. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

“How does your chest feel? Can you breathe?”

“I feel like I can’t.”

“Then yeah, that’s what’s happening.”

Your lip wobbles despite how much you’re still trying to hold it together, that much Abbot can tell. You’re fighting like hell against this panic attack which might only threaten to make things worse. He grabs your hand in his, squeezing lightly. You’re barely able to return it.

“What are five things you can see?”

“W-What?” You sniffle.

“Tell me five things you can see, come on.” He squeezes your hand again, reassuringly.

You try to take a deep breath but your diaphragm spasms and it comes in all shaky, causing you to hiccup like a child.

“Y-you.”

Against all odds, Dr Abbot smiles. Incredibly small but you see it.

“That’s right. What else?”

You try to take a deep breath again. “Uh, the paintings on the wall.”

Abbot nods. You continue.

“The curtains. The chairs. The door.”

“Good. That’s good. What about four things you can touch?”

“Your hand.” You say most obviously, since he’s still holding your clammy hand in his. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so shaken up.

Dr Abbot squeezes your hand again and this time you squeeze back, a silent thank you of sorts.

“Um, my scrubs, my hair on my neck, the wind from the fan.”

“Okay, now three things you can hear.”

“Your voice.” Dr Abbot chuckles, like he was expecting it.

“Sure.” He nods.

“You’re breathing.” You take a deep breath now, as if it reminded you. Abbot breathes deeply with you.

You try to motion lazily to the door, “The doctors outside, I can hear them talking.”

“That’s right, and they’re being pretty loud, aren't they?” He tries to joke, to lighten the mood.

You nod your head, yeah.

“What about two things you can smell?”

You go to open your mouth but Abbot cuts you off again.

“And don’t say me, we’re about an hour into this shift and I know I’m not smelling too pretty right now.”

You laugh, you actually giggle a bit, albeit a bit breathless, your body still trying to catch up to your more relaxed mind. Jack smiles.

“I can smell metal and disinfectant.”

“Okay and one thing you can taste.”

Your cheeks burn a bit. You know it doesn’t mean anything but when you started each sentence with something relating to him… You can’t help but think.

“My stale gum.”

Jack chuckles a bit, shaking his head. What were you doing with mouth in your gum. It’s not allowed on shift but everything had started so suddenly you hadn’t had a moment to toss it and you got scared on choking on it if you swallowed it.

Abbot clicks his tongue at you in disapproval, holding out his open hand near your mouth. You look at him confused, but he just gestures to his outreached hand.

“Spit it out, let’s go get you a new one, hmm?”

Your face burns again, but you do what he says for some reason.

Because he asked.

He closes his palm around your gum for a moment before easily tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room.

Dr Abbot stands back up, knees cracking again. He helps you up, holding your elbows in each of his hands. You’re still a little wobbly, weak in the knees from your body’s sudden breakdown. You haven’t yet regained all your strength.

You try to steady yourself, your hands gripping his forearms, trying to concentrate on the strength of him holding you up.

You suddenly feel oddly close to him. Not just physically seeing as how close you two are standing but in the air, it feels like something’s shifted, like something’s irreparably been changed between you two. He’s just seen you at your most vulnerable, talked you through your first panic attack and even admitted to having experienced them himself. How many people in the ER can say they know that much about Dr Jack Abbot.

Maybe you’re just over analyzing what’s transpired.

“How you feeling?” His voice sounds out and you realize you had your eyes squeezed shut, when you open them Jack’s peering down at you, trying to give you the softest look he can muster.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? You don’t have to be.” You shake your head no.

“No, no I’m good. Promise.”

“I’ve got my best med student back?”

You can’t help but look at him quizzically, laughing a little.

“I don’t think I’m your best med student but sure, I’m back.”

“Come on, take the compliment.” He quips and it surprises you. You didn’t think he’d press your objections.

“I actually thought you-” Hated me, you want to say.

“I know.”

Oh.

“I know I’m hard on you. But I only do it because I know you can take it. I think it makes you better.”

Your lips go into a hard line, you nod. Right….

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt to be told I’m doing good every now and then. I do think I’m tough, you’re right, but I don’t know… I like this side of you.” You admit before you can stop yourself.

Now it’s Jack’s turn to blush. His cheeks go red in that boyish way and it blossoms all the way to the tips of his ears. Your heart leaps a bit.

If you weren’t back to yourself before, you were now. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing even though you’ve both let go of each other. It was sobering.

“Alright kid, as long as you don’t tell anyone.” He winks.

You burn.

“Promise.”

Things did, in fact, change after that.

Dr Abbot pulls you for huddles, just you and him now for feedback, no longer doing it in front of the other med students, doctors or attendees.

You stand closer to him, he stands closer to you in general.

He’s not afraid to grab your hand and stop you from doing something. Or start something. The amount of times he’s guided you through a procedure you’d never done before with his steady hadn’t engulfing yours, guiding a blade smoothly through a patients skin or a thin tube through an incredibly small incision.

You wondered if anyone noticed. If anyone had become attune to the fact that you followed each other around like each other’s shadows. Never one without the other. You could see Princess and Perlah whispering to each other whenever you stood close to Dr Abbot, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that at least someone noticed how he’d picked you as his favourite and warmed up to you. It made you feel special, all girlish and giggly even though it absolutely shouldn’t.

A new unusual sound had started to fill the ER. Jack Abbot’s laughter, even quiet giggles fuelled by none other than you. Not even Robby, once his rival now best friend in the ER, could get that sound out of him as often as you do.

Jack gets you sandwiches, juice boxes from the cafeteria when you look particularly out of it or if the moment granted a quick escape for food. He’d find a chocolate bar or anything to perk you up on days where you weren’t doing so hot, or had a particularly anguishing patient. Death was inescapable in the ER, everyone knew that but not everyone handled it well, it didn’t matter how well versed or experienced you were in the medical industry.

Not even Jack himself.

The night shift was now coming to a close, meaning the clock was close to striking 7am. That awkward time before the day shift shows up and the night team goes home to sleep through the day, all to start again in 12 hours.

It was weird working in the off hours, you felt like a vampire or a bat, you thought to yourself as you climbed the steps to the roof, trying to find Jack. You knew him well now, and you know where he goes to run away when he can’t handle the weight of the shift anymore.

You open the door, it creaked open annoyingly loud, announcing you rather ungraciously.

Jack drops his head low at the sound of the door opening. He knew it was you coming to find him. He leans back against the railing behind him.

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, calling out to you without turning his head. The wind carries the sound of his voice to you.

The sun is threatening to come up over the city line, light only beginning to spill upwards into the sky, painting the clouds all pretty shades of light blue, pink and orange. You struggle to take in the beauty due to the night that just transpired.

The vet hit and run. It was a hard one on Jack. He’d known guys like that in the military. They seemed untouchable, surviving tour after tour. It was never easy to watch one go, especially the ones that made it home and get taken out in some seemingly avoidable way.

Some church bell tolls in the distance. You approach him, unsure how to answer what you’re doing up here. Checking on you, wanting to make sure you’re okay, everyone’s worried but the reality was no one batted an eye at him escaping after spending the last two hours coding this guy into the system. This was how Jack operated. Disassociate, dissociate until he couldn’t anymore and his feet carried him up to the roof. Contemplating.

So you don’t say anything, you just stand behind him.

Jack’s skin looks golden up here. The light passing through his curls, catching the greys. Your heart tightens.

“It’s always a rough way to end the night.” You offer, unsure of what else to say.

“I must’ve had a reason at one time to keep coming back but… I can’t think of it right now.” Jack grips onto the railing, leaning forward and looking down below him.

You instinctively reach out to him, your hand going for his bicep, it’s closest to you. Despite the cool early morning air, his skin was still hot to the touch, still coming down from what had just gone down in the ER room.

“Jack…” You can’t help but sigh, silently pleading with him to stop.

His head turns, dark eyes meeting yours. God he looks so sad, a man worn down.

And you realize you’ve never called him by just his name. Just Jack.

“D-Dr Abbot, I mean- sorry.”

He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t particularly care right now. And the way you said it makes his heart tight like your hand is on his arm. Palms clammy with being so high up and so close to a ledge. You never liked heights and you hate that he’s always flirted with them.

He clicks his tongue, sighing before crouching down and reeling himself back over to your side of the railing. You sigh in relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath.

Jack is completely distraught. He looks wrecked, broken.

Your hand still on his arm, he comes to face you, standing so close but you can’t find it in you to step away from him, not when he’s like this.

Jack drops his forehead to your shoulder, you try not to freeze up at the sudden extreme closeness.

“Are you okay?” You ask dumbly, voice gone quiet because of how close he is. Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, plush flesh on soft cartilage. Jack shivers, turning his head slightly and his nose pushes into your neck.

What else is there to say to such a quiet man, lost in his own solitude of reflection.

“No.” He says simply, plainly.

Your heart aches for him.

Your hand is still on his arm, you flatten it and trail it up to his shoulder, squeezing him there.

He presses himself closer to you. You hold your breath, your heart threatening to leap up out of your throat. You swear he must feel it beating through his own chest. You think you can feel his.

He trails his nose along your neck, up your ear. You can feel that subtle white beard that carves the angles of his face so sharply, so perfectly, colour so soft and white it nearly blends into his skin seamlessly. They catch at your skin in that scratchy way and its almost too much.

His hands, they move and suddenly they’re on your waist, sliding around the circumference of you until he’s enveloped you in his strong arms. You can feel how sturdy he is, how solid and strong from years of exertion and force and yet you feel like you could blow away at any moment. This cannot be real. You can smell his hair, the remnants of his cologne peaking through the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. You can smell him.

He knows this shouldn’t really be happening. You both do. You’re both very much aware of that fact. Even though its just a hug its just a hug. Jack had been aware of it ever since that day in the family room when he first worried about you. Because that’s what friends do… they worry about each other, right? Friends….

Jack lets his nose travel higher, along your hairline behind your ear, relishing in the closeness of another living, breathing human being. Warm flesh against flesh, closeness of muscles and organs. Hearts, beating. When was the last time this happened? When was the last time he let his walls down like this? You both wondered.

“I’m sorry.” He offers lamely, voice quiet and matching yours. He tries to pull away from you but his body doesn’t get the memo, he stills clings to you. He’s afraid of what would happen if he were to let go now. Surely he’d crumble into nothing off this roof.

He moves his head, nose against your cheek as your hands move to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in your palms. You don’t want him away either. You need him close, suddenly very close. Despite your breathlessness at the closeness, you think you’d stop breathing if he were to pull away now. You wouldn’t bear it.

You shake your head no, “Don’t be.” You reassure him, voice still quiet.

Something posses you and you nudge your nose with his, Jack sighs loudly, arms tightening around you and you sigh too. Your mouth opens in an innocent way, trying to get more oxygen to your brain. But you can feel his breath on yours, feel it fanning against your lips and you lean closer, pushing your nose into his again and he has to use every iota of strength within him to not lunge into you.

This shouldn’t be happening, he reiterates to himself. All the alarms are going off in his head. He shouldn’t be touching you like this, he shouldn’t have grabbed you, you shouldn’t be letting him. You could both get in serious trouble for this.

But you fist at his shirt, hands trembling against his chest, feeling him, muscles under supple flesh. Your lips part, small breath fanning against his lips and he breaks. He’s just a man.

Jack presses his open mouth to yours, and you let him again for a reason he doesn’t quite understand. It’s sloppy in a desperate way, passionate and sad. You could cry if you weren’t so wrapped up in the feel of being completely encompassed by him, his soft lips on yours.

You open your mouth wider, your hands moving from his chest to wrap your arms completely around his neck, hauling his body into yours as if you couldn’t get any closer. You wanted to meld into him. Bone fusing to bone. You let your tongue poke out and suddenly he’s right there with you, his tongue going as far into your mouth as it possibly can, trying to get to every inch of you. Jack whines and you burn at the pathetic sound. A grown man, whimpering for you. Your knees threaten to buckle.

His body flush with yours, you can’t help but feel how his body reacts to you. Hard and solid against your hip, your leg as your bodies writhe against the other, pleading to get closer.

“Jack,” you whimper into his mouth, unsure, testing.

Jack lets his lips travel to the corner of your mouth, kissing every inch of you that he possibly can, your teeth as you say his name, your cheek, earlobe, the spot underneath your ear.

“Tell me to stop.” He groans, hands moving back to their spot on your waist, trailing down to your hips where he grinds you against him, making that aching part of him known.

You whimper again, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head like the sun threatens to come over that edge and catch you both where you ought not to be.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You admit, face burning even though you’re both as debauched and pathetic sounding as the other.

Boldly, you let one hand travel down from his neck, down his body to softly touch in between his legs, feeling where he’s hard, aching between his legs. He groans again, this time absolutely pained, his forehead dropping to yours.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” He admits, like you both don’t know that already. He’s practically begging you to give him a reason to stop this now, even though he knows he’s already too far gone to do anything at this point. You’re too warm, too welcoming and soft and willing. Salvation.

“Especially not here.” You manage to laugh a little. Suddenly you pull away from Jack and he thinks that’s it, you’re calling it. His instincts propel him to check his watch to check the time. T.O.D. Time of death. He’s being dramatic.

You pull him to the opening of the stairwell, creaking open that squeaky door once again and you lightly press him against the wall furthest away from the stairs.

It’s an enclosed space, a room up on the roof. You have to open another door to get to the stairs which lead all the way down to the ER, blocked by another set of doors. If someone were to go into the stairway, you’d hear them from a mile away. At least that’s what you hoped.

Jack let’s you move him, lets you press your body against his and kiss his tanned, freckled neck. Your hand finds its spot on his crotch, feeling him through his pants. God he hasn’t gone down an inch. He feels huge, painfully hard. You can’t believe you’re feeling him like this. You can’t believe The Jack Abbot is letting this happen, you can’t believe he wants it. With you.

“Can I?” You ask, already lowering yourself to your knees.

Jack just looks at you in complete and utter disbelief, mouth agape as he watches you get down on your knees, pressing your face to his clothed dick, kissing him through the fabric. Kill me now, he thinks. If anyone were to find you both like this…

He feels like a dirty old man as you pull his cock from his pants, watching it spring up and slap his belly with wide eyes, like you need it, like you’re suddenly starving.

His cock is huge. You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this. You try not to look frightened by it, by the prospect of shoving it into your mouth and hopefully, your cunt.

He’s your attendee, you try not to think about that. Try not to think about how you’re his subordinate and he’s so much older than you, experienced, well versed. This is all completely wrong, incredibly fucked up but fuck if it doesn’t turn the both of you on just a little more in the worst way.

His dick is hot in your hand, skin like silk and you salivate at the pure sight of it. You look up at him, his face flushed all the way up to his ears and down to what you can see of his chest poking out through the small v in his shirt. Skin on fire.

You give him a sort of inquisitive look and he realizes he never answered you. You looking up at him with those big, needy eyes. He can only bring himself to nod his head, at a lost for words.

You smile up at him, hand already gliding up and down his thick length. Jack hisses at the near foreign sensation, in this moment he can’t bring himself to remember the last time this happened, let alone a time when it wasn’t his own hand. Yours is much smaller, more delicate than his, you can barely wrap it around the entirety of him and suddenly he feels dizzy.

You lean forward, kissing the tip of him and he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, they open and close into fists at his sides. God does he want to touch you, to have you let him take what he wants but he’s afraid. Afraid of over stepping, afraid of scaring you.

Suddenly you’re opening your mouth and kissing at the head of him, licking at his slit, collecting whatever’s pooled there and humming to yourself at the taste. You’re worried you’ll become addicted to this.

More of him slides into your mouth, all the way until he’s hitting the back of your throat. Suddenly his hands are flying to the side of your head, holding you there. His eyes open and he looks down at you, eyes intense, mouth set into a hardline like he’s barely hanging by a thread. You make eye contact with him and he groans, loud. You’ve only ever seen him like this leaned over a patient, intense focus, blinders on to anything except the task at hand. But this time its you. Your pussy throbs.

Jack let’s himself thrust into your mouth a couple of times, eyes squeezed shut again, head leaned back against the wall behind him in complete surrender to you and your mouth. He says your name so broken, like its the only thing he can remember, the only thing keeping him grounded.

You wonder if he’ll let you fuck him.

A few more thrusts and suddenly Jack is pulling you off of him, looking back down at you again and hauling you back up to your feet. You give him the saddest eyes and he swears his heart breaks.

“I’m- I was gonna cum if you kept that up.” He sort of laughs to himself. Jack’s never felt more out of practice than he does now, pants down around his ankles, cock heavy and begging still in your hand, and a young, pretty girl looking at him with wet eyes, hungry for him.

What did he do in a past life to deserve this?

“That was kind of the idea.” You smile, bitting your lip and your hand continues to move up and down on his aching length.

Back face to face now, Jack can’t believe he has you like this, lips plump and swollen with exertion and slick with spit. Your eyes are dark with greed, hunger for something else. He never though this would happen, not between the two of you. Not that he ever explicitly thought about it but there were moments of weakness. Moments where he let his mind wander as he held your hand in his, guiding you through a procedure, noticing your body and its proximity, its warmth, that girlish smell you carry around you. You’ve always been intoxicating, a temptation just begging to be indulged in. Had he mentioned how wrong he thought all of this was?

“Jack?” You ask, pulling him out of this thoughts.

“Hmmm?” He basically slurs, distracted by the continuous movements of your hand on his cock, it was on the verge of turning painful.

“I asked you if you’re gonna fuck me.” You ask, devilish grin plastered on your face like you’re the cat who got the fucking cream. Or is at least trying to.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, voice cracking from your particularly harsh grip on him.

“Is that- Is that what you came up to the roof for?” He jokes but suddenly you think he’s being serious.

You worry thats all you thought of him, of this. A quick fuck, a need for release, a need to forget what happened tonight.

“No, Jack that’s not- I swear-” You struggle to find your words.

Jack smiles at you, it alleviates some of your worries. His hand moves and finds the waist band of your pants, he shoves it down until he’s cupping your sex. You gasp, his hand hot, feeling your hotter core and whats embarrassingly seeped out of you ever since you pulled him from the railing.

Jack clicks his tongue at you, like he always does.

“Yeah, I bet you want me to fuck you, alright. You’re soaking for it.”

Oh fuck.

You whimper, leaning easy into his touch, letting him feel you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his fingers gliding easy through your glossy folds, playing around in the mess you made. Its embarrassing. So much so that you almost miss him calling you baby.

Jack doesn’t fight the temptation long, no matter how much he wants to tease you about it. His two fingers find your hole and push in steadily, afraid to hurt you. You gasp, body falling into his, letting him hold you with his other arm. Your hand on his cock stutters but is determined to keep pleasuring him.

You moan when he pushes his fingers all the way in, crooking them to press up against that spongey spot inside of you, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head.

“Fuck-” You choke, head heavy on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, switching it up between that and toying with that fucking spot inside of you.

“Jack, I’m-”

“Oh I bet you are.” He chides and you burn.

This could have been so humiliating if you chose it to be. How quickly you folded for him, how badly and desperately you needed him. As if he hadn’t folded just as quickly, if not faster, for you.

Suddenly his fingers are ripped from your core and he’s ripping your pants down along with your underwear. You step out of them quickly, letting him manhandle you around to get you were you wants you.

“Look at you listening to me so easily now.” Jack remarks, turning you around and pushing you up against the wall.

“I always listen to you.” You admit, voice breathless and breaking and sounding completely debauched.

You feel him step in to your space, you arch your back instinctively and Jack basically purrs all soft for you. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance, threatening your folds. You whimper, shiver. You try to push into him but his hand flies to your neck, holding you still where you are.

He leans over your back, rucking your shirt up with the hand that was holding his dick. He hadn’t meant for this to happen like this, all dirty and rushed and in his fucking workplace. He thinks about the rest of you, hidden under your scrubs, how he’d kiss every inch. Maybe that was for another time. Hopefully.

“I know you do.” He praises, kissing the back of your neck and pushing into cunt in the same breath. You both groan way too loudly, pure relief coming over the both of you.

Jack breaches you slowly, he knows he’s big. He’s not even being any type of way about it, he just knows its a lot from past…. flings. But God do you take him like a champ. You push your hips back into his, needing him to fill you completely you’re fucking whimpering for it.

But Jack’s still got his hold on you, pinning you down so he can work you onto his cock slowly, at his own pace. He’s in control here.

You both moan again once he reaches the end of you, fully seated in your velvety pussy. His head falls onto your back, his arms wrapping around you to hold you to him, anything to get closer. You scramble to gain purchase on anything, the wall, his strong arms, anything. You feel dizzy, you feel full, you feel drunk.

“Always so good for me. Such a good girl” He moans, hips pulling back to just thrust back in punishingly. It punches a moan out from your gut.

You nod your head, unable to speak. I try to be good, I try to be.

Jack doesn’t wait, this has to be quick anyways, you both have been gone for far too long, he’s suddenly reminded that the day shift will be showing up in a matter of minutes and God knows Robby will be looking for him up here. His dick throbs at the thought of being caught balls deep inside of you, his little med student.

He pulls you back by the ass to meet his hips, pumping himself in and out of your creamy pussy at a brutal pace, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. He says your name, you’ve never heard him say a name quite like that and it breaks you.

“I-Is this good?” He asks, trying to be sexy but it comes out broken, desperate and pathetic.

You nod your head frantically again, trying to turn your head to look at him and Jack’s heart soars at the sight. Your pupils blown black, eyes big and watery from the feel of his cock filling you up to the absolute brim, hair matted to your sweaty forehead. He wants to lick the sweat from you. Next time, next time.

Jack leans closer, kissing you on the open mouth and you moan debauchedly into him. As he moved closer to you to keep kissing you it pushed his cock that much further into you, his hips grinding into your ass and his cock into the absolute end of you. You can barely keep yourself standing, you’re thankful for Jack’s strength keeping you up, you could’ve had both feet off the ground and you’d have no idea.

His cock pummels into you, moan after moan being punched from your chest, your gut, the deepest part of you.

You whimper into his mouth at his sweet kisses in contrast with his harsh thrusts, it was enough to make your head spin, your pussy clench, threatening to burst.

“Tell me it’s good, need you to say it for me.”

“S-So good, Jack. You feel-”

“Yeah?”

You cry, you think a lone tear falls from your eye and maybe Jack kisses it away or licks it but his cock doesn’t stop and suddenly you’re cumming, completely surrendering your body to his. You shudder and twitch and your pussy squeezes his dick so tight he nearly sees stars, it takes everything in him to not blow his load inside of you in that instant.

That would be bad, that would be really bad, that would be messy and irresponsible and fuck he’s not wearing a condom how could you both have been so stupid and drunk off each other to not grab a condom. It’s not like you have them in your scrubs but theres a dispenser in the bathroom and -

“Jack please,” You beg, voice so small and worn out. Your hand reaches out behind you, grabbing for him and suddenly he’s pulled back to the very real reality where he is fucking the shit out of you and he’s about to cum about it.

“Please what?” He asks, needing to hear you say it.

“Need you- need you to cum for me. Please Jack.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want this to be over, he needs this to go on forever, needs you to suddenly be his salvation, he’s not quite sure how he’s gone on this long without you but he knows he can’t go forward without it.

Jack’s body tenses, his cock somehow gets impossibly harder, you feel it thicken inside of you and you moan again, another orgasm threatening to rip through you.

But suddenly he’s pulling himself out of your greedy hole, his voice breaking as he spills himself onto the concrete floor beneath the both of you. Your cunt pulses, desperate to have him fill you again. Before you can protest his fingers lunge up into your abused hole again and he grating at that spot inside of you, the one that has you seeing stars.

“Need another one, yeah?”

“Jack- fuck!” It complete takes over you.

Somehow without having to even tell him, he felt the way your pussy spasmed and cried around him right before he pulled out, he knew you were close to cumming again. And ever the gentleman he is, he’s going to give you another one.

He’s unrelenting, just like he was with his cock. His two fingers crook up against that spot again and suddenly you’re seeing stars.

Jack’s arm wraps around the front of your shoulders, hauling your back straight against his chest, holding your trembling body to his. You can feel his slowly softening cock against your lower back, cum still dripping from it onto your ass.

“Do it, please.” He begs of you this time, the muscles in both arms trembling from his own orgasm.

Jack feels your pussy spasm again, feels the way your chest quickens its breathes, the way your feet nearly kick out from under you with the strength of it all and your cumming on his hand, your eyes going black and blind from the force of it.

You slump back against him, letting him hold you once again. Jack wraps both his arms around you, swinging you around so that his back is pressed against the wall so he can lean on something. You both try to catch your breath, clinging to each other with leftover desperation.

Greedily, he lets a hand swipe through your abused folds, collecting what you’ve given him. You whimper, leaning your head back to hide it in his neck, embarrassed.

“Jack,” you whine in a pathetic attempt at protesting.

He clicks his tongue at you, “Let me.” He tells you, plainly.

His fingers linger, scooping up what he can and bringing it to his lips. He licks everything, groaning at the taste and letting his eyes close. You whine, pushing your face further into his neck, smelling him. He smells manly, like sweat, cologne and sex. You let it envelop you.

Jack holds you like that for as long as he humanly can. Before the thoughts of getting caught inevitably come crashing down upon him again.

“We have to move, kid. Can’t stay like this forever.” He tells you in a sad tone. You press a final kiss to his neck, breathing him in before pulling away.

“I know.”

You both pull yourselves back together. Jack puts his own pants back on as he watches you pull your underwear on slowly. Mindlessly, he reaches for your pants and holds them out for you. You put your hands on his shoulders while you step into them.

“Thank you.” You tell him, voice gone quiet again, like you already have to be hush hush about this.

Jack kisses the top of your head sweetly. You wonder what’s to come after this. You look up at him and he gives you that slick side smile you’ve only seen him throw Robby or Dana.

“Didn’t know you could make noises like that.” He smiles and you push him back against the wall you were both just fucking up against, your face absolutely burning. This motherfucker likes making fun of you.

“Jack I swear to God-”

He grabs you and kisses you again, holding your face to his. You let him kiss you, fighting the want to just melt back into him and stay here.

Jack pulls away first. His anxiety getting the best of him.

“Can I drive you home?” He asks, unsure of what else to say. He needs to get you out of the workplace and have a normal fucking conversation with you that doesn’t revolve around grief and dying kids and elderly on life support.

And besides he knows you take the bus.

“Yes please.”

okayyy i literally had to cut it short because this shit was getting too long LOL, i had a full final act outlined but maybe that could be a shorter part two if anyone's interested..... lmk <3

#jack abbott #jack abbot #dr abbott #dr abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #reader insert #smut #jack abbot fic #dr abbot fic #jack abbot smut #my writing

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megalony · 9 months ago

Text

You Called My Wife?

This is a new Jake Seresin imagine, my first request for Jake and I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: The Dagger squad don't know much about Jake's personal life. And when he gets hurt during an exercise, they are surprised who comes to look after him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching into his back pocket, Jake pulled out the pair of sunglasses he had been carrying around with him for the last few weeks. The sun here back at home was intense and he couldn't stand the migraines it gave him. Even when he was up in the air, he often had his sunglasses on. He didn't care about the way the glasses pinched his ears or gave him splitting pains in the sides of his neck.

If Bob could wear his prescription glasses to see, then Jake could wear his sunglasses to stop him squinting so much and relieve the headaches he got that were becoming chronic.

His hands fell to his hips once his visors were perched on the bridge of his nose and he looked around.

It hadn't taken Jake nearly as long as he thought to complete his physical. They were doing physical assessments and training every other day to get them ready for their next assignment. They were going to be going against gravity, travelling up to G9 range and it would cause problems with breathing, taking in oxygen and could starve their brains for a few seconds, if not longer.

They all needed to be at their best physically and mentally to prepare for this and up to now, Jake was ready and rearing to go.

Today was training exercises on the ground rather than in the air. They were all doing different activities and now that Jake was rejoining the rest of the squad after his physical, he was supposed to be doing safety and maintenance checks.

He took a look around the open air field. Bradley was over to one side, looking like he was trying to do some physical exercises, but he kept stopping to quietly argue with Maverick who was following him around like a dark, looming shadow. Jake wasn't going to be going over there. He noticed Phoenix and Bob were at their aircraft in the middle of their maintenance. While Coyote was off to one side doing pushups; he had messed up somewhere if that was his punishment. And Jake had already passed Fanboy who was on his way for his own physical.

He busied himself finding one of the clipboards and he jogged over to his aircraft, smiling and patting his hand against the bulk like it was an old friend he was meeting up with.

He circled the aircraft like a vulture, checking the wings, the engines- which had had a run in with a flock of birds two days ago which Jake had been lucky hadn't completely ruined his left engine. He checked the wheels and made sure they were all clipped and chained down so the craft wasn't going anywhere without him.

Once all the outside checks were done, he climbed up the ladder and hopped inside.

It always felt weird to sit in the plane without his proper flight suit or his signature red helmet, but he wasn't going anywhere today. He was only turning the engine on to check everything was working and making sure he got all the right responses to show he would be ready for whatever training exercise he had to go out on next.

He slouched back in the seat, spreading his knees apart with the clipboard in front of him and the pen twisting between his fingers.

After ticking a few boxes, Jake tilted his head back and poised the pen behind his ear while his hand shifted to undo the first button on his uniform. He slid his hand beneath his shirt until his fingers found the familiar silver chain hanging around his neck.

He imbedded the ring into his palm that hung on the end of the chain, always tapping and jostling against his chest whenever he moved.

It felt safer to have his wedding ring on his chain rather than his finger. If he had any accidents and needed to be taken for a scan or for surgery, they would cut his ring off. Rings got in the way, jewellery got in the way and got lost but a chain around his neck was private and secure and more importantly, Jake had that ring as close to his heart as possible.

A soft look crossed his face as he brought his hand to his mouth and kissed the ring that had created a halo indent in the centre of his hand.

"I'll be home soon." He murmured against the ring as a picture of (Y/n) flashed before his eyes.

The last deployment Jake had been on had almost killed him. Three and a half months away from home. Three and a half months where he couldn't see, touch or feel his wife in his arms or have her lips against his or her body pressed up against his own. All he got were a few brief phone calls or five minutes of faceTime every other day, if he wasn't being shipped straight out from dawn until dusk.

He was much happier here where he could spend each night in his own bed, safe in his home with his wife. He didn't have to sleep alone or feel like he was going insane from having absolutely no physical touch or contact with (Y/n). Never before had Jake thought or believed in having withdrawal symptoms for another human being until he got married and had to face the prospect of leaving (Y/n) behind.

When he was done with his checks, Jake heaved himself up to his feet and climbed down back to level ground again.

He waved his clipboard up and down in front of his face like a fan, relishing the slight breeze it created to his melting skin. If he were back home in this heat his shirt would already be off and he would be lounging around in a pair of shorts. Or be would be on the beach in this weather. Either of those thoughts sounded very appealing right now.

He stood still for a few moments, taking in his surroundings and wondering what the next task would be, but his mind kept wandering off to the girl waiting at home for him. Exactly where he wanted to be right now.

"Bob, are you almost done?" Phoenix tilted her head back with an exasperated sigh, one hand clamped around her hip as she the other held onto the ladder Bob was perched on top of.

He was filling up their aircraft with fuel, they had half a tank but it was better to be safe than sorry because they didn't know how long they would be out on their next flight exercise. The last thing they needed was to be marked down and sent to do two hundred push ups because they thought half a tank would be sufficient.

"Almost." His voice was as passive as ever while he swiped his arm across his temple, wiping away the beads of sweat glistening in the afternoon sun.

"Bob, come on we've got other stuff to do."

He didn't know what happened.

One moment Bob was pushing his glasses further up his nose, rolling his eyes at his impatient partner calling up the orders below him. But the next, a shockwave was rattling up the ladder he was perched on and set him off balance.

His hands scrambled to steady himself before he fell off and he subsequently dropped the fuel line that had been in his right hand just as he unclipped it from the air craft that was now fuelled up. Bob scrambled for balance, bashing his legs into the side of the plane and earning a cut down his left forearm that scraped along a jagged edge on the ladder.

But it was the fuel line he was concerned with. It wasn't like filling up a car at the fuel station. The air crafts were large with tanks high up at the back. They had to use large funnel lines that looked like double sized garden hoses with a large round metal clip on the end the size of Bob's hand. That metal created a sizzling sound that sliced through the air when he dropped it.

The line swooped through the air like a bird trying to land but Bob could of cried when he heard a sickening crunch below him. He didn't want to imagine what it collided with- who, it collided with. His eyes snapped closed and he clung to the ladder, trying to gain his balance back so he didn't fall and break an arm or a leg.

The resounding crack echoed around the base and shuddered through everyone within close range. It was a sound no one expected to echo through the open air like that, it travelled far and wide and had everyone coiling in on the spot.

The metal end of the fuel line pelted down, gaining strength and speed as it swung past the ladder, lifted slightly into the air and smacked straight into the right side of Jake's head. Upon impact, his sunglasses snapped and flung off his nose and took flight on a course of their own, six feet across the base.

An awful crack shuddered through Jake's ears and rattled through his head as his eyes automatically snapped closed and his shoulders hunched up. Both arms recoiled into his chest as his clipboard slipped through his fingers that twitched and spasmed, unsure what to do as his body seemed to shutdown and recalibrate all at once.

The force sent his head snapping backwards until his neck got whiplash and his body followed his head's sense of direction, thrusting backwards until he landed harshly on the concrete floor.

Shockwaves rattled through his body causing his legs to shake and spasm out against the floor as if he was kicking and throwing a tantrum and all the air left his lungs when his back hit the floor. It took a few seconds for his diaphragm to loosen and allow his lungs to take in a deep breath, but when he did, a choked moan escaped his lips.

It felt like he'd been shot in the head.

He could feel his pulse throbbing through his temple and circulating all around the circumference of his head like someone pelting round a relay race. He could feel his veins throbbing and the blood steadily trickling down the right side of his face. The feeling of blood oozing down the bridge of his nose and around his eye socket made his nose scrunch up in disgust.

His hands curled and twisted against his chest, desperate to move but the sudden onset of trembling in his bones made it impossible for Jake to coordinate his body properly.

The trembling continued even as Jake suddenly realised he couldn't hear anything around him. He couldn't open his eyes. No sounds broke through the static barrier building up in his ears. He had no control over moving a single part of his body. It felt like his head had been severed from the rest of his body.

"Jesus Bob, what the Hell?!" Bradley spun on his heels and made into a sprint towards the three of them, Maverick hot on his heels.

The sight of Jake, laid out on his back, body overwrought with trembles and blood pooling steadily down one side of his face was a sickening sight none of them ever wanted to witness.

"I wasn't- didn't you see the ladder?" Bob hissed like a snake as he shakily slid down the ladder onto unsteady feet.

His hands began to rake up and down his thighs, wiping the sweat onto his trousers as his glasses started to fall down the bridge of his nose. He hadn't done that on purpose. He didn't just let go of the fuel line; Phoenix bashed into the ladder and knocked him off course. He would have fallen if he didn't scramble for his balance. It could just as easily have been Bob's head split open if he fell the other way or completely lost his footing on the ladder.

"I'm sorry-"

A groan spluttered past Jake's lips and stopped all their ramblings. He managed to curl his fingers around the middle of his shirt and he scrunched it up in his fists as tightly as possible. His legs continued to thrash against the floor but when he tried to open his eyes, he couldn't seem to do it.

"Oh God." He tried his best to reach his hand up towards his head but he could barely lift either arm from trembling against his chest.

Without his glasses that had been broken and flung off somewhere on the base, the sun was beating down on him with unwavering strength. His right eye was blinking furiously to try and stop the blood from getting into his eyes that were rolling to the back of his head that was pounding like a drum.

"Everyone shut up." Maverick's voice snapped through the air like a whip and stopped all their ramblings at once.

He crouched down beside Jake with Bradley on his other side with Bob and Phoenix hovering anxiously in the background and Coyote running over at the sound of commotion.

The wound looked bad. Maverick tilted Jake's head back and tried to touch his hairline to get a proper look. A large slash line went from his hairline towards his eyebrow and the skin had been split apart so neatly it looked like it had been cut with a sharp knife. Blood oozed out in every direction and splattered across Jake's temple and down his nose towards both his eyes like a jam donut had been tossed at his head.

He couldn't see his skull or any bone which was a good sign, but the blunt force could have been enough to crack his skull and give him a fracture. He most definitely had a concussion which meant he could have side effects.

He could start throwing up, he could black out or go fully unconscious, he could have a seizure if the impact was bad enough.

"Get him down to the medbay now." With a click of his hand over to the left, Coyote hurried forward and knelt down behind Jake while Bradley shuffled forward.

The pair of them carefully took one of Jake's arms each and looped them around the back of their necks.

"Alright, up. Let's get you up Hangman." Bradley looped his right arm around Jake's waist while his left hand gripped Jake's wrist. He held his breath and slowly pushed up onto his feet, slowly pulling Jake with him who looked very worse for wear.

Jake's head flopped forward as soon as he was sitting up. He groaned again, spluttering through a moan, spit forming on his lips and blood still trickling down his face. He could feel the shock setting in because even his neck was shaking now and once he was on his feet, his knees wavered and his legs felt oddly heavy and useless. He could barely stay upright and when his knees gave way, he slumped down like he was trying to sit on an imaginary chair.

His hands scrunched down around Coyote and Bradley's shoulders as each of them held his waist and kept him up on his feet.

Both Jake's feet bent awkwardly and the toes of his shoes scraped against the floor as the pair of them dragged him slowly towards the open hanger doors. He tried to move his legs and he did somewhat help them, but he relied on them to drag him along because he felt like collapsing to the floor and curling up into a ball.

He managed to find the will to open his eyes once they were inside, but the sight of the tiled floor disappearing and all the lines blurring before his eyes made his head swoon.

He found his eyes rolling around in his skull before he jolted forward with a croaky "Gonna puke."

True to his word, Jake tossed up his lunch the moment the boys paused in their quick shuffle towards the medbay. He felt a little better after that and he managed to lift his head once the three of them began their awkward tandem walk together.

By the time they were near the medic bay, Jake managed to place one foot in front of the other. He did an awkward walk and started to help them so they didn't have to heave him the whole way there.

"We've had an accident. The fuel line cracked Hangman straight in the temple and knocked him out. He threw up on the way down here." Bradley looked between the two medics idling around and waited for one of them to point towards the bed in the left corner of the large bunker space.

They trotted to the left and turned around, carefully easing Jake down until he was sat in the middle of the bed.

He felt more alive and a bit better once he was sat down. His head flopped back until the base of his head was touching the back of his shoulders and his shaking hands gripped the edge of the bed with intensity to keep himself sitting upright. It took all his effort to stop himself trembling and he tried to take deep breaths to ward off the sickness and the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed him.

"Okay Seresin, let's take a look."

Coyote and Bradley backed up until they were stood to one side. Neither of them fancied going back outside to finish off their exercises when Jake didn't look in his best shape. They would rather wait here to make sure he was alright and then head back to the rest of the team and tell them how he was fairing up. It was clear that Jake would be going home early today, he was lucky not to have been killed with that force, there was no way he was carrying on with any work today after this.

Jake begrudgingly lifted his head when one of the doctors stood in front of him. He let the man hold his chin and tilt his head from side to side to assess the damage and when he shone a pen light across his eyes, Jake winced.

A frightful yelp left his lips when the man tried to touch the wound and he reeled back with a groan.

"Afraid I'm gonna need an X-ray before I can stitch it. I'll clean the wound and get you some painkillers first." They were lucky the wound was on his head as they had a small, portable X-ray scanner in the back room they could use just to double check they didn't have to send him to hospital for urgent treatment. But if it looked okay, he could get some pain relief, be stitched up and sent home for the day.

"Great." Jake winced, trying to form a lopsided smile, but he couldn't quite manage it.

At least he would get to go home earlier than he thought.

***

"Hey," Bob groaned as sweat dripped off his body and onto a small puddle forming on the stone beneath him. His arms trembled as he tried to continue his push ups now that he was well into the hundreds. "Who's that?"

He nudged his nose against his shoulder to push the glasses further up his nose while he indicated his head to the left, signalling Phoenix's attention towards the person advancing across the base.

Maverick had told Bob and Phoenix to finish off Jake's safety checks, prep his fuel tank too and then do a set of two hundred push ups. They both knew they should have been more careful and they shouldn't have started squabbling like children when Jake was hauled off to the medic bay.

Phoenix lifted her head and glanced her eyes around, trying to find out who Bob was referring to. When her eyes set on a woman walking their way, her brows furrowed and she watched where she was walking.

She wasn't in uniform, whoever she was. She had on a baby blue tank top and a pair of denim shorts that stopped just before her knees. Her bag was hung on her shoulder, the strap clutched tightly in her hand and there was a nervous look plastered across her face.

The woman seemed to spare them a glance, noting that they were both sweating through their uniforms, before her eyes set on Maverick and she made a beeline for him.

"Mav, where is he?" (Y/n) bit her lower lip nervously when she reached Maverick who greeted her with a warm smile and a hand on her elbow.

"He's with a doctor, come with me."

(Y/n) nodded and let Maverick lead her inside the base. She couldn't quite believe how high up the ceilings were or how large the bay doors were, it was like everything was amplified as if giants worked and lived here. It felt strange to be walking round here with Maverick when Jake always said he would give her a tour round one day. Plans changed.

She had been expecting much worse when Maverick rang her and said Jake had had a 'minor accident' at the base, but knowing it was nothing to do with a crash or him being in a plane at all made (Y/n) feel better. It stopped her from having a breakdown or a panic attack as she drove down here, but she couldn't fathom what had happened. What kind of accident would her husband have when he was supposed to be safe here on the ground?

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing that the two others who had been doing press ups were now following after her and Maverick, presumably so they could see Jake too. They must be part of his team.

"What happened?"

"Phoenix and Bob, behind you," Maverick tossed a look over his shoulder and pointed his thumb in their direction. "Had a mishap when they fueled their plane. The pipeline dropped and caught Jake in the temple. I think he's got a mild concussion, but he'll be fine."

(Y/n) brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, hearing her shoes clicking loudly against the tiled floor as she followed Maverick around three corners and down a long corridor until they were in front of a medical wing.

That didn't sound too bad. That wasn't nearly as bad as she had been expecting, but it still wasn't good.

Her husband shouldn't be getting into accidents like this at work. He shouldn't be getting smashed in the head with their equipment. He was a pilot, an aviator. He was training every day to be in top physical performance and here he was with a concussion because his team had clearly lacked concentration.

It took all the effort (Y/n) had not to run ahead once they walked into a large open unit almost the same size as the open field outside. There was only one patient in here and (Y/n) set her sights on him immediately.

Jake was sat on the side of a bed, his legs swinging back and forth like a child at a doctor's appointment. His hands were clutching either side of the bed, his lips were set in a firm line and he kept squinting and closing his eyes as a doctor was stood in front of him, cleaning his wound.

Once they were close enough, (Y/n) hurried past Maverick and dropped her bag down by the foot of the bed. She didn't want to get in the way when the doctor was clearly trying to assess Jake and sort him out, but the moment Jake glanced to the left, his eyes widened and he jerked out of the doctor's grip.

"Baby." The surprise was evident in his voice and he let go of the bed to reach an arm out in (Y/n)'s direction. As soon as he started curling his fingers in a grabbing motion, (Y/n) smiled and moved forward.

Jake immediately coiled his arm around (Y/n)'s waist and reeled her closer until she had to plant her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. His fingers squeezed her hip tightly and he kissed the top of her chest before he glanced over her shoulder towards Maverick.

"You called my wife?"

The shock was evident in Jake's voice, but it was the looks of the rest of the team that made him wince. He hadn't mentioned to any of them that he happened to be married, that knowledge was on a need to know basis and as his superior, Maverick was the only one who needed to know. For emergency situations like this if Jake ever got hurt or shot down or sent to hospital.

There was no way they could let him drive home and since he had been injured, Maverick knew it was best to call (Y/n) and let her know so she could come and pick him up.

"You got concussed and you won't be able to drive home. Yes, I called your missus. You're welcome."

Maverick placed his hand on his hip and tilted his head to one side. Once Jake was silenced with that one look, Maverick nodded to himself and turned to leave. He knew none of them would be doing any more exercises today and he was okay with that, they would call it a day and start again tomorrow.

"You're married?"

"You never mentioned you're married to such a stunning girl."

(Y/n) tilted her head to the right, figuring the man that said that must be Bradley, the one Jake said was close to Maverick. He had a raised brow and his lips quirked into a smile beneath his moustache while both arms folded tightly over his chest.

She could feel the glares Jake was sending towards Bradley, squinting and glaring over in his direction before he looked back up at his wife.

With a quiet groan, Jake moved his hands from (Y/n)'s hips so he could bind his arms tightly around her waist. His hands feathered up and down her back and he pushed forward until his lips attached to her exposed chest just beneath her collar bone.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why did you need to know?" He countered, smirking tiredly against (Y/n)'s chest and he twisted his head so the left side of his face could press down against her skin. His cheek nuzled into her chest and he looked over at the team, watching the blush that rose to Bob's face that tilted down to look at his shoes and the way Phoenix rubbed the back of her neck bashfully.

He hadn't told them because it wasn't their business, they didn't need to know. He was in love, he was head over heels in love with his wife and in Jake's eyes, she was his little secret.

He didn't want the team teasing him or asking about her or trying to make jokes that he was tied down. He had dealt with that in the past with other people he worked with and he didn't like it. He smiled when people flirted with him in bars, but he kindly turned every one of them down and didn't let them get too close. (Y/n) was the reason why.

Sometimes it felt safer to keep (Y/n) as his little secret. What they did was dangerous, they had all lost friends in this job and it was hard to bring friends and family into this life. Jake didn't know if introducing (Y/n) to his team would be too much.

For him, it felt better to keep work and home life separate.

With a sigh, Jake lifted his cheek from (Y/n)'s chest, his lips forming a thin line as he stared up at her despite the headache that was swirling around behind his eyes. He scanned his eyes around the team who were all watching on eagerly like this was their favourite tv soap.

"Darlin', this is the dagger squad," Jake waved his hand around, muttering their call signs to which (Y/n) nodded earnestly. "Guys, this is my wife, (Y/n)."

"Nice to meet you all, even under strange circumstances," (Y/n) quirked a brow when Bob tipped his head down with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Clearly he felt guilty for the accident and (Y/n) was sure she heard him mutter a soft 'sorry again' clearly directed towards Jake.

He wasn't going to hold a grudge. It had been an accident and a few stitches was much better than some of the injuries he'd gotten on this job. But he would be holding this over them in the future and he knew he had earned himself a few free beers down at the Hard Deck for this.

"How bad is it then?"

Jake felt shockwaves coursing through his blood when (Y/n)'s hands moved from his shoulders to gently cup his face in her hands.

He loved the feeling of her thumbs brushing across his cheekbones just beneath his eyes and the way her fingertips tapped behind the tip of his jaw near his ears. His lips curved into a smile, despite the aching in his temple that had gone down a little when he took the aspirin and painkillers he was given.

His eyes squinted up at his wife whose lips curved into a pouting smile while her head tilted to the side, inspecting the wound on his temple.

All the blood had been cleaned from Jake's face and neck and his head had been X-rayed and dabbed with anticeptic, all he needed now was stitches.

"What am I gonna do with you?" (Y/n) murmured softly while she tilted Jake's head down in her hands so she could pepper kisses against the middle of his temple which no doubt would be aching. She didn't want to touch or go too near the wound, she knew even a light touch was going to hurt and she didn't want to hurt him. But he leaned into her touch and groaned, tightening his arms around her waist while his hands slid further down her back.

"I can think of a few things."

"I don't think I wanna see that." Coyote ran a hand down his face and patted Bradley's chest before he began to walk. He would see what Maverick wanted them to do, whether they were all getting the afternoon off or just Jake. He murmured a soft "Nice to meet you, Mrs Seresin." And laid a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder as he passed her.

"Yeah, us neither. Sorry again, Hangman, we'll owe you a few rounds when your back in action." Phoenix waved her hand towards Jake and dipped her head before she headed out with Bob following in her wake.

He uttered a soft "Nice to see you, sorry Hangman." before he followed Phoenix, silently praying they wouldn't have to finish the last twenty six push ups they had skipped when they followed Maverick and (Y/n) down here to the medic bay.

"Well, you look like your in good hands, so I'll catch up with you later. Maybe we'll see you soon, Mrs Hangman."

Once Bradley disappeared, (Y/n) managed to untangle herself from her husband's arms, causing him to grunt and pout dramatically. His hands reached out for her but she didn't move far. She stepped out from between his legs and moved to stand on his left side near the end of the bed he was perched on. Her arm looped around his back and her hand gave his shoulder a squeeze while she kissed the good side of his temple.

"When can I take him home?"

"I'll just do the stitches and then he's all yours."

Jake couldn't hide the grimace that flooded his face when he saw the needle and thread. He didn't like the inconvenience of stitches. His eyes briefly glanced up at (Y/n) before he shimmied round on the seat so his back was towards her. And he slowly reclined his head until the back of his head was settled down on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

He did his best to keep his head steady and his eyes fell closed when he saw an injection needle coming close. The numbing agent to make the stitches more bearable.

A low whistle passed his lips and when (Y/n)'s free hand curled over his thigh, Jake reached down and curled his hand over hers. He squeezed tight and tried to take slow, deep breaths when the needle finally started puncturing through his skin. It didn't exactly hurt, but he felt a sharp sting and each time the thread was pulled tight, Jake could feel his brow lifting as the skin was dragged back together.

Six stitches later and (Y/n) could barely feel her hand from how tightly Jake was squeezing it. She leaned her head down and kissed the top of his head, nudging her nose against his soft wavy hair as Jake finally opened his eyes.

"You're good to go with a mild concussion, Seresin. No flying for twenty-four hours, and if you go any higher than G7, I'll need to see you back here for a check over."

"Copy that."

"Thank you for patching him up."

When Jake hopped up from the bed, (Y/n) moved her arm lower to secure around his waist and she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his jaw which caused his lips to pull into a wide grin. He draped his arm over her shoulders, feeling much better than he did earlier.

The last thing he wanted to do was lean on (Y/n) and have her dragging him out of here like the guys had heaved him in earlier. He could walk on his own two feet again.

"That's going to leave a scar." (Y/n) murmured softly, reaching her left hand up to graze her fingers over his brow just beneath the row of navy blue stitches on his temple. It wasn't going to leave a dent or a prominent, deep line, but it would leave a faint streak of white like a dash of paint across his skin.

She pressed another kiss to Jake's jaw until he tilted his head down and captured her lips in a soft, burning kiss instead. "I know," He muttered softly against her lips, kissing her again and again as they walked as slow as possible out of the base.

"But I know you love my war wounds."

#imagine #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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your boyfriend cannot stop himself from kissing you all over. kissing you is his favorite thing to do - no matter when or where.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. suggestive, mild (to somewhat) nsfw, fluff. lots of kissing. lots and lots of kissing and loving. he fondles and gropes you everywhere basically. clingy satoru. tiny bit size difference (yes ok im a slut, what about it). body worship kinda. readers gets called ‘sweet / pretty girl, baby, princess’. beta read? what’s that.

you fell for it again; satoru told you it was only going to be a quick peck on the lips. ‘i promise, baby, c'moooon’ — you recall him begging in that whiny voice of his. that's all what was needed to make you putty in his hands.

“fine, but only one kiss, okay?” you gave in and walked over to satoru, climbed onto your shared bed and leaned in for a swift kiss—only for his strong arms to cage you in and never let go. it had been ten minutes since; the apartment was silent, except for the lewd sounds of your shared kisses and heavy breaths.

satoru’s soft hands are wandering everywhere. from cupping your cheeks to rubbing your sides and gripping your ass. the clock was ticking loudly, but the sound of it was drowned out by your moans. and satoru’s low, needy whimpers.

the appointment you were getting ready for had long slipped your mind.

“mh, you’re such a good kisser, baby,” the white-haired man sighs. he absolutely loves the way you follow the movements of his glossy lips—your head tilting to the side and back—automatically accomodating to satoru’s motions. he was kissing you with an urgent need. one you had never known or witnessed before, “more, ngh, need more of you, please.”

satoru was not letting up. you couldn’t blame him; it was easy to get lost in this warm and cherished moment of peace. his sweet kisses switched intensity—going from innocent kisses to sloppy ones, resulting in your chin dripping with a mixture of saliva.

you whine and straddle satoru’s lap which earns you a happy hum from your lover. that was his plan all along: to completely distract you from the fact that you had to leave the house. that you had to leave his side. others would call it annoyingly clingy, but satoru absolutely needs your lips on his.

he is sure that he would go insane if he spent a whole day without kissing you. an hour is already too long, if he is honest.

satoru would love to kiss you until the end of time. until death comes knocking onto his door. the last thing he desires to feel is your plump lips and wet tongue wrapped around his. a peaceful, warm death. one with no regrets.

“mhmmm, fuck, you taste so sweet.” satoru's eyebrow furrow in delight. he is nearly overstimulated by the taste of you. the way your small body clings onto him, your hands holding onto his jaw and sliding down his chest, your sounds of pleasure that only he could ever have the honour of hearing.

it was perfect. all of you was perfect.

your parted lips make way for his tongue again. satoru slips his tongue inside your mouth. it was tender, yet demanding. your throat tightens up and a choked moan fills his ears. his cold fingers make contact with the warm skin of your midriff. they were aiming at one place; your chest.

the one satoru loves to fondle no matter when or where. the same one he loves to use as a pillow every night.

“nnh, ‘toru, need’to breathe,” you are running out of air. the short gasps you took between the heated kisses were not enough to fill your lungs. but, it was addicting. the shortness of breath the two of you experienced only served as more proof of your love.

neither of you want to pull away—to pause the make out session for even what could be a split second.

the older man below you is hesistant. he does not want to let go of you. it's like you’re asking him to break up—that’s how much it hurts him to stop kissing you.

however, he felt a bit light-headed from the lack of oxygen as well. satoru pulls away, but not without sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip, lapping up the drool that dripped down the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with both love and lust. you stabilise yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders and satoru rubs your back to help calm you down further. a ghost of a grin tugs at his lips. he surely is enjoying your adorable, exhausted demeanour. your chest was heaving up and down—his fingers sneaking to your front and wrapping around a breast to feel its tenderness.

“pretty,” satoru sighs. he takes the chance once your lips part to take a deep breath. his tongue quickly slips in, invading your mouth and exploring every inch before separating the two of you again. he can not go a minute without kissing you. you sure are like a drug to him, “thank you, princess.”

you are surprised by the sudden tongue kiss, but brush it off with a chuckle. you know how satoru is; not able to keep away from you in heated moments like these. his large hands fondling, groping and squeezing every area of your body only proves that point.

“thank you for what?” you ask, planting a soft peck on his lips. your boyfriend responds by holding the back of your head. he leans in for another kiss like a man depraved of any affection. you shudder and hold onto him like he there is no tomorrow. he does the same back, squeezing you against his chest.

satoru slightly tilts his head back to answer your question. his breath was hot on your mouth, a faint string of saliva hanging between your bottom lips. he can not hold the urge. he can not answer. his lips are already colliding with yours once more.

over and over. until the two of you were out of breath and needed a break again.

“thank you for being with me,” satoru answers in a quiet whisper. the pad of his thumb brushes back and forth against the waistband of the shorts you are wearing. there is an urge to pull them down and reveal those pretty little panties you are wearing, but his current priority is to feel your mouth on his.

until he gets enough. which is never. never in a million years.

“thank you for everything, honestly,” satoru continues and leaves a couple wet kisses down your neck. his hands do not leave your perfect body. he’s admiring every curve - every body part that had yet to be touched, “could have never believed that i’d end up with such a pretty girl. but, here i am, with the prettiest girl in the world in my arms.”

satoru had a way with words. one that left you flustered like crazy each time. he looks at you and that’s when you know that he means every word. his eyes were shining, even when half-lidded. the admiration in them more than just visible.

he looks at your face and body like he’s witnessing the world's greatest treasure. and that you surely are.

“stop saying that.” you giggle embarrassedly. you cover your mouth to hide your smile, though satoru is quick to grab your wrist and pull your hand away. he keeps holding onto your arm to prevent you from hiding your face from his sight. and to stop you from hiding your lips from his, of course.

the older man clicks his tongue, scolding you jokingly for trying to hide that precious smile from him. he kisses the corners of your lips, touch lingering against your hot skin, “how am i supposed to admire my pretty girl if she keeps hiding herself, hm?”

you squirm due to satoru’s flirty words. his gentle tone of voice is making you feel those tingles in your lower abdomen. there has not been a single moment in your relationship where your lover made you feel unwanted. it’s been the complete opposite every day.

“someone’s getting a bit squirmy, aye?” your boyfriend teases. he knows that the combination of his words, looks and actions make you weak in the knees. you always react like it’s your first time kissing and that is both endearing and amusing to him.

you can’t control your bodily reactions either. the sight of satoru beneath you is simply too much. his fluffy hair that sits messily due to your fingers that tugged and played around with the strands, his black top riding up to reveal a glimpse of his defined abs and happy trail. . . the faint blush on satoru’s cheeks and the needy look in his eyes.

you surely can’t leave him alone while he looks like that.

“shut up and kiss me already.” you respond with a huff. and so, satoru does. wasting not a single second. kissing you is his job—his passion. the only thing he ever craves for.

the room once again fills with noises of pure contentment, enjoyment and pleasure. it’s just you two in that moment—no one else mattered.

as long as your lips stay attached to each other, no one actually does.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #x female reader

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ladysharmaa · 1 year ago

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My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

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hanasnx · 4 months ago

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PANTY-STEALING, PART ONE — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: part two. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ what it says on the tin, panty stealing ノ voyeurism ノ inappropriate thoughts about reader ノ sexual content.

When you start staying with CLARK KENT, he offers up his bedroom so you have a comfortable place to sleep and some privacy. He doesn’t mind taking the couch, but you insist there’s no need. Sleeping arrangements have yet to be confirmed, so he still treats his bedroom as his own. Heavy boots creak the stairs as he climbs up until another sound drifts into his ears: the faucet of the shower, the water hitting tile, and lofty singing. Clark swallows. He enters his bedroom, intent to gather his essentials so you can be left undisturbed in his bathroom. He didn’t anticipate that the door would be ajar, your song grown in volume as light from that room spills into his. Respectfully, he averts his eyes in case he sees something he shouldn’t. The shower curtain is too sheer, and the last thing he needs is the outline of your figure burned into his retinas.

A warmth blooms in his chest, and his heart rate picks up at the sudden realization how untidy his bedroom is. You’d invited yourself in here without notice—you’d insisted everything was fine and didn’t give him time to clean. Hastily, he snatches up old clothes from around. Some that hang over his bed frame and piles on the floor, and he glances at the open slit of the bathroom to check you’re still occupied. Hopefully you can’t hear him rifling around while you’re… naked. That warmth cooks into a heat, and he breaks out in a sweat. The laundry in his arms need to go somewhere, so he brings them to his hamper, but he stops in his tracks.

A glimpse of pink flushes his cheeks a similar shade. His arms drop, clothes falling to the floor at his feet as his eyes glue to the garment in his laundry basket. Cautiously, he stoops, and a single finger slots in a fabric leg-hole, lifting it from its crumpled place like it’s radioactive. A perfect pair of lacy panties hangs pitifully from his long index. It’s something out of a movie. He clenches his jaw, blinking hard at it as if it can’t be real, furrowing his brows at the sight like it’ll disappear in thin air at any moment. Not only are they a pair of ladies underwear, but they’re used, sitting innocently atop his laundry in the hamper freshly worn. Hesitantly, he curls his finger, rounding the garment until the inner crotch shows. It glistens. A mark of unmistakable sparkle splotching and darkening the fabric where it soaked in.

Eyes widen while his breath picks up, oxygen feeling scarce as he begins to register what exactly he’s doing. A girl’s dirty panties are in his room and he’s touching them. Scolds of perversion and deviation fill his mind as he screams at his body to move—to do something.

The faucet squeaks, and the water turns off. It’s quieter, and Clark panics. It shows in his gestures, ducking his head and looking around for answers. Your singing doesn’t stop, and it masks his escape, darting swiftly out of the room using an ounce of super-speed.

You come downstairs to a fresh pot of coffee Clark put on, unbeknownst to you that he’s subconsciously apologizing. “Hi, Clark.” you beam, and only then does he notice how short your robe is. Again, he averts his eyes, only after he accidentally snuck a glance at your ass. You toe out onto the cold hardwood floor, rubbing your own upper arms to generate heat. “Woo,” You shiver, your wet hair making matters worse as your nipples pebble through the thin silk material. He bites hard into his lower lip, and then conceals it with his hand clapping over his mouth. “It’s chilly, huh?” you ask as you enter the kitchen. Clark nods vaguely, and when you pass him he’s quick to flinch back, suspending his arms as if afraid to accidentally violate you. You don’t seem to notice his adverse and intense reaction occur just outside your peripheral.

“There’s, uh, some fresh coffee.” he offers, scratching the back of his head as he wills himself to relax otherwise you’ll get wise. He retreats from the kitchen just as soon as he sees you open the cupboard, raising yourself to the tips of your toes to reach. He gulps as his eyes move before he can escape—spanning your bare legs and the glimpse of the underside of your ass. Once again he curses himself.

You retrieve a mug, and glance at him from over your shoulder with a knee-weakening smile. “Thank you,”

His lips press together, and nods again—anything to avoid saying something and making a fool of himself. Awkwardly he shoves his hands in his pockets, and visibly tenses at the familiar sensation of those panties he’d had no time to stash anywhere else other than his jeans. The pad of his thumb sticks in the tepid slick, and he can’t do anything while under your watch. It remains there, intimately feeling your discharge like some sort of creep while you rummage around in his kitchen.

It’s quiet in his head for a second. The tip of his index finger traces the little bow at the front of your panties in his pocket, and his thumb circles in your dew. Experimentally, he tests the sensations, fidgeting with the material between his fingers while he gets lost in thought.

“Cream?” you question.

Clark’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Hm?” he asks in disbelief—until he realizes you merely wanted to know the location of a dairy product. “Oh! Oh, um, the fridge. Top shelf.”

#1k #indy: drabbles #ch: clark #clark kent drabble #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #clark kent x fem reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman smut #superman x reader #reader insert #tw voyeurism

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chiefguideandcentre · 2 years ago

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If going to a certain place means that I can’t breathe normally and on my own without the need for special equipment, special suits, or a special means of transport, then I’m not going.

#I’ve decided that’s the standard #if I can’t just stroll in and take a deep breath then I don’t need to be there #this applies to the ocean and space #if I could die bc of Hugh pressure which applies to ocean and space then I’m not making the journey #if oxygen does not already exist in this place and I gotta rely on a machine to simply breathe my ass is staying home #there is nothing I want to see in the ocean or in space #I don’t care to see any special fish or any aliens in person #if I was meant to be in these places I already would be or would automatically have the means to do so #maybe I’m super cynical and boring #but god damn if the contraption I’m in could literally implode due to the smallest infraction then I don’t need to be in it #this could apply to climbing the tallest mountain!#it’s difficult to breathe up on a high peak you could get light headed and pass out #if I was meant to be up on Mount Everest I would be but I can’t breathe without aid up there #so I ain’t gonna go

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wosofutbolfan · 8 months ago

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I Would Climb Every Mountain With You

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

14K of fluff and fun

For those interested this is the song that played in my head throughout the inception of this one;

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back for your nans 82nd birthday which was in a few days and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet. Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well.

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 metres. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked. Fuck. You thought, as you downloaded the boarding pass sent to you.

Your mum was going to kill you.

But god. You loved the outdoors.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that travelled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply. Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can provide it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I probably should buy new walking boots.” You thought to yourself as you clambered out of the minibus which dropped you and your small team at the muster point. Your boots fit like a glove but they did look a little worse for wear. All scratched and battered. The green laces prominent against the dark brown leather.

Who are you kidding? You knew you would never buy new boots.

You could still make out the scratch deep in the leather where you hooked your foot behind a rock as you careered down a shale summit when you were still a novice. A mark against the toe protection where a dog in the Andes got a bit too friendly and attacked your foot. Nah. These boots were the closest friend you had.

A rumble of a car cut against the silence of the mountains around you and you could just make up another mini bus trudging up the mountain pass from the elevation you stood at. You had a few minutes before the clients arrived.

“Who ‘av we got then?” you asked and you turned to face Rio, your long-time guiding partner when you were in this part of the world.

Full name Mario he was a kind man in his 40’s who lived for bad 80s music and loved his kids more than you thought any human was capable of love.

“I am unsure, Mi Amiga. I just got the paperwork that told me it was a team of 23 ladies. They assured the operator we have no fitness issues. They have translators in the group, multiple languages so we're best sticking with English. I have all the health forms here, everything looks good. Some dietary requirements but nothing we can’t handle”

Huh. A weird group. 23 fit women with translators in the group? Weird.

“Women. Rio. We prefer the term women.” you gibe him, “Urght. 23 women is a lot. I hope it isn’t a hen party. Penis straws aren’t my thing, if you know what I mean.” you knock your elbow into his ribs and let out a cackle.

You were very very gay. A fact that wasn’t lost on Mario as he had unfortunately been witness to more than a few hook ups after expeditions over the years.

“Si, I know what you mean, that rock over there knows what you mean, tu idiota.” he replied, rolling his eyes and moving to help the team with the checklist of essentials.

Your knee deep in gas canisters and spare tent pegs by the time the mini bus holding the clients arrives.

You untangle yourself with a sheepish smile to Rio as you move to meet the van and he moves to tidy your mess. He’s the practical guy. You’re the nice guy. It's your job to go and meet the clients and explain the expedition and answer any questions.

“Hol… Holy shit.” you start. What you intended to be a lively welcome in your best spanish quickly got lost on your tongue with each woman who exited the van.

Fucking hell. These women were gorgeous.

Specifically the last women to emerge from the van. All blonde hair and hazel eyes.

And tattoos.

And fit.

And tall.

And. Not to be a dick about it. Very gay.

You shake yourself out of it. Come on. Be professional. Stop being a gross guy. You scold yourself.

You turn to Rio who’s finishing up with all the kit who laughs at your expression; “Not a hen party then?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... so on day two we will reach the gorge, follow the treeline across the ridge, through the forest finding some good places to camp and then finally end in Arén. Where your bus will meet you and take you back to Barcelona. Is that good?”

The group lets out a murmur of agreement and an enthusiastic “Fantastic!” is heard above everyone else and Alexia rolls her eyes.

“Mapi, you really need to control your girlfriend. If you're not careful she's going to run away into the wilderness.” she mutters to her best friend.

“Shut up Ale.” Mapi hisses back, but it isn’t missed by Alexia how Mapi slowly inches herself closer to her girlfriend and hooks her fingers through the waist strap of her backpack, as though physically stopping her from leaving her, renaming herself Hedi and living the rest of her days in the mountains.

Alexia lets out a scoff of laughter, which was louder than she intended.

“There, at the back. A question?”

Suddenly Alexia finds the eyes of the team watching her, most with a glint in their eyes as they were all victims to her complaining over the last few weeks.

Listen. She's not bothered she has 22 sets of eyes on her.

She's used to it. Especially these eyes. She's their captain.

That's not what causes her mouth to dry up and her pulse to race.

No. That's you.

For the first time since getting out of the van Alexia looks up and sees your gaze directed straight at her. Holy shit. You were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

And she had seen a lot of women.

But you, standing there in your khaki shorts, simple vest top, hair tied up and a bandana and dirty old boots took her breath away.

You gave off an aura of cool. Dark raybans perched on your face and muscles rippling against a backpack bigger than you.

You were the coolest woman she had ever seen.

“Sorry, the paperwork said everyone would understand English, or had access to a translator. That's my fault. Can someone translate? Or I can spe-”

A ripple of laughter goes through the group but its Mapis cough and small kick that pulls Alexia out of her stupor.

“Vaya, I understand, lo siento, no. No questions here. Just. So excited to get going! Vamos Amigas!” Alexia cheerfully ended, ignoring her teammates' confused faces at her complete 180 as she hoisted her backpack on and threw you her most dashing smile.

Maybe she could make something out of this weekend after all.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You threw a smile past 3 of your group on the trail as you made your way down the mountain.

“Hola chica’s” you let out cheekily, throwing a wink at the three, who had quickly become your favourites.

You loved love and you could see how much the small brunette you learned was Mapi hung onto every action of her girlfriend. Ingrid's enthusiasm was one you shared, born of a childhood spent outside and Alexia.

Well.

Alexia was a mystery. Quick to smile and eager to please but there was something there. So confident and yet you could make out the blush on her cheeks at your innocent wink.

And god. Was she gorgeous. Chiselled and…stay professional!

They made a very likable trio and you had been spending most of your hike with them so far but you had to share the love and you left them behind a few miles ago to go scout out the front of the pack.

This was how you and Mario worked. You would take it in turns to be at the front and the back of the group - keeping everyone together and pacing everyone so they remained in a close-enough group to manage safely whilst not hampering or rushing anyone.

You’ve got to admit.

These girls were fit.

Even you found it difficult to keep up.

Though, to be fair you had to hike double with the overlapping on the hillside and your pack that weighed about 6 extra stone.

Still, you wouldn’t swap this job for the world. You thought to yourself as you spied the last team member a few metres down the mountain you halted and waited for them to reach you. Feigning that you were just taking in the view so that they didn’t feel bad about being at the back.

Someone has to be.

“Don’t worry about it” you let out easily at Pina and Patris apologies, “You guys are doing it the right way. Take in the view! We’re hours ahead of schedule”.

And you were. These girls really were athletic. You really should find out what the hell they do for a living.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Capi, what are you doing now?” Mapi grumbled as Alexia came to a stop.

She tosses her bag down and rummages through it, picking out a small bottle and spraying herself quickly before hiding it away.

“Vamos Mapi, you go up. I’m just… taking a moment.”

“No problem Alexia, we can wait with you. Is it your knee? Are you okay?” Ingrid's kind voice asked, her brows furrowed in concern for her captain.

“Si Si I am good it’s just…”

“Ah! I know!” Mapi exclaimed “the sudden buen humor. The changes in pace. I can’t believe it! Capi has a crush! With the mountain boss lady! Wait… is that perfu…”

Mapi is quickly silenced by Alexia's large hand covering her mouth as the captain looks down the mountainside in concern. You’ve passed them and are out of view and she hopes out of earshot.

“Callate idiota” she hisses “Ew!” She pulls her hand away and wipes it on her shorts whilst Mapi grins cheerfully, her tongue safely back in her mouth.

“I do not! It is good to feel nice, that's all. I am just taking a moment. Please. Ingrid. Take her away before I push her down the mountain.”

Alexia pleads to the Norwegian, who is more than happy to grab her girlfriend's hand and continue the best weekend of her life, explaining all about the different types of trees they would see as Mapi hangs on her every word.

Alexia isn’t alone for long until she hears your peel of laughter as you round the corner with the two meneces that were Patri and Pina.

You say something that makes Patri laugh and she shoves you playfully to one side which makes Alexia's heart jump into her throat.

“Ay! Idiota! Do not push her! She could slip!”

She takes your bark of a laugh and the soft look you give her happily, embracing the warm feeling that it makes in her chest.

“Sorry Capi.” Patri mocks, saluting with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Alright. That's it. What the hell do you guys do? You’re all mega fit, speak about 15 different languages and now you’re introducing this insane leadership structure. Is this some sort of new-age google thing?” you ask, incredulously, hands on your hips and question in your eyes.

There's a moment of silence and then all three of them burst into laughter at the same time.

“What? What did I say?” you ask. “What do you think we do jefa de montana?” Pina asks, as you all continue your hike upwards.

“I don’t know… really rich estate agents?” you ask, prompting more laughter from the group. “Erm… oh! I know! You’re all personal trainers in old folks homes but you’re taking it really, really seriously? OH! I know” You’re all spies!” you exclaim, just to hear Alexias laugh again. Which you are rewarded with.

“No tonta. We are all footballers. We are the Barcelona Femini first team!” Alexia lets out, arms wide, all three of them pausing with expectant looks on their faces in your direction.

“Ah. Makes sense. Cool.” you let out, smile their way and continue leading them up the mountain.

You sense you’re walking alone all of a sudden and turn to see all three of them standing like fishes, mouths open staring incredulously at you.

“What? What's wrong?” you call down.

“Footballers, you strange mountain woman! It’s more than cool! We’re the best in the world!” Patri lets out, incredulously.

It’s your turn to bark out a laugh. “Ha! Sorry chicas, I promise I will be suitably impressed once we reach camp” you wink as you all continue upwards, a peaceful silence settling over the three of you.

“I’m more of a rugby person anyway.” you break the silence.

A moment of pregnant pause.

“Push her off the mountain Patri.” Alexia orders, jovially. “On it Cap!”

You cackle as you run away from the three chasing footballers and the only thought that is running through your head is, ‘God, Alexia smells good.’

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ella es tan bonita” Alexia mutters to herself, as she watches you from across the clearing, after helpfully dumping herself outside of Ingrid and Mapis tent as Ingrid sets the whole thing up as well as going behind Mapi and re-clipping all of the clips and double checking all the poles, whilst ensuring Mapi doesn't see her.

“Ay, Capi. Stop creeping and come help. Or set up your tent, you need somewhere to sleep.” “I will, I will” Mapi takes a seat next to her captain who doesn't look like she's moving from her perch anytime soon.

“So, you’re in love, si?”

“Si…” Alexia lets out dreamily, “Wait. No! Shut up, I didn't say that.”

Mapi opens her mouth, ready to tease the hell out of her captain before… “We heard nothing Ale, don’t worry” Ingrid lets out from inside the tent. Mapis' mouth closes with a small frown at the idea of her teasing ammo being taken away from her.

“She is so cool though.” Alexia continues, “You know, she’s been to the arctic three times? And climbed 4 of the worlds highest summits. 4 of them? One on her own!”

“We know Ale,” Ingird responded, kindly, appearing from the tent “You’ve told us a dozen times. Come on. Let’s see if she needs help with anything.”

Alexia moves as though she’s just intercepted a stray pass in front of goal.

Rapid.

You stand, ignoring the aching in your back as you put the finishing touches onto the makeshift fire pit.

You’d spent the last hour scouting and setting up camp for the group. Mario was off helping some of the girls set up their tents for the night.

You both preferred the ease of a hammock slung between two trees with a mosquito net being the only thing between you and the stars. That meant you were both able to carry more provisions for the group and set up your camps quickly before moving on to help the clients.

“Do you need any help at all?” you hear accented english, you turn and Ingrid offers you a kind smile. “No, no you’re good guys, make yourselves at home.” you gesture to the logs that had been moved into a semi circle around the firepit. Logs collected by Mario waiting for the night to arrive.

You're on your knees setting some water to boil as you hear an annoyed grumble and a slap of skin “mierda!��. You turn on your knees and find yourself faced with Alexia, sitting on a log near you losing a one woman battle against a thousand midges.

“You must taste nice.” It takes you a minute of the blonde blushing and red face to realise what you’ve said. You stand and move to sit next to her “No! No sorry I didn’t mean… I mean…” you take a deep breath and…. “You smell nice.”

Mapis' bark of laughter makes you roll your eyes good naturedly, the blonde next to you still looking at you somewhat star struck.

“No really Alexia…” you move closer and breathe the blonde in, she smells sweet, floral…. Stay professional!

“That’s why they’re attracted to you. Your smell, and…” you move slowly, gently and take her arm in yours… “some people just react to the bites more, this looks like it could become sore.” you brush over a large, reddening bite on her inner arm.

Alexia, meanwhile, is acting as though your touch isn’t setting her blood on fire. She’s apparently chosen to hide this by just staring at you, wide eyed. Another midgey lands on her skin and you feel her arm tense in your grasp as she moves to swat it but you hold firm.

“Ey ey, there's more of them than you and we’re in their territory. Take only pictures, leave only footprints and kill…”

“Nothing but time!” Ingrid jumps in, excitedly, “Yes Ing, that's the one” you reply, as Ingrid sits proudly. “Mascota del maestro.” Mapi teases her.

You move your attention back to Alexia, “Ale, you should go and wash off, there will be a stream over there, looking at the treeline and the game track marks. It’ll take the sweetness from your skin. It will help, I have some antihistamine you should take when you get back and I'm sure I smelt some wild garlic growing just as we entered the clearing. It acts as a repellent, I will go forage some and add it to your meal tonight. It will help for the rest of the trip.”

“No, I’ll be fi….” you move to stand, gathering your wilderness knife and attaching it to your hip. “I wasn’t asking Alexia. I’m in charge here, Captain. I know what I’m doing, now go. Please”

Alexia isn’t told what to do often.

Yes she has a coach and she has trainers but she is the captain.

The expert.

But your kind and gentle nature just became firm in front of her eyes. This was your world and it was clear you knew what you were doing in it. She felt like a puppet as she stood obediently and made her way to the stream.

As she stood there, in only her underwear in the cold water, listening to the distant laughter of her teammates and overlooking the most beautiful blue-green water of the gorge beneath the mountain side. She kind of understood this whole outdoorsy thing. It was peaceful, she could hear her thoughts. Alexia was never alone. There was always someone fighting for her attention, needing something from her.

But here, she felt like her mind had gone quiet. And she could think. And breathe.

She was feeling somewhat light and philosophical by the time she made it back to the firepit.

You look up from your pan and see the silhouette of the tall Barcelona captain making their way over. She looks lighter somehow. Hair hanging limp softens her features and her face is bare, making her look somehow more beautiful. You shake yourself out of your thoughts and start to plate up the meal for everyone.

You feel Mario next to you; “Ay, smells goods, some of your best work Mi Amiga.” He mutters to you, shoving your shoulder gently, “ooh we’ve got fancy with the spices, si? Someone to impress” he obnoxiously wiggles his eyebrows at you and you very maturely, in your opinion, ignore his teasing in order to stir some sauteed garlic through one of the bowls. “Go give that to your apalastar. I’ll hand out the rest” he orders.

“I don’t have a crush” you hiss, even as you gather two bowls and make your way over to the blonde. Alexai looks up as you stand above her, seemingly having interrupted her thoughts. You offer a smile as you pass her a steaming metal bowl.

“Chicken and rice” you state, as you take a seat next to her, “with extra garlic, as promised” you smile as you start to shovel food into your mouth.

You take a moment with your eyes closed like you do before every meal before tucking in. Mario tells you that you eat like a wild dog who’s just found an open trash can, you don’t care, you love your food, especially after a long hike day cooked over an open fire.

“How do you know these things?” Alexia asks. You make the universal noise of; ‘huh’? And eye her curiously. “The garlic. The stream. How do you know?”

“Ah, it’s my life.” you reply, “I grew up in rural England. Me and my brother would go for hikes for days at a time. Not much else to do. I learnt how to read the land. You get used to it…” a beat of silence, “the solution is always around.”

Now it's Alexia's turn to let out a confused grunt, around a mouthful of chicken.

“In nature. Nature always provides what you need. If it creates a problem, it will create a solution. That's why I love it so much. Sunburn? Mud is the best sunscreen money can’t buy. Stuck in a monsoon? You’ll be saved by a cave to shelter in that's carved by the same weather that's trying to kill you. Mosquitos making you their next meal? Garlic will grow and act as a repellent. You just need to learn to read the signs. That's why I love it so much.”

Alexia grows quiet, and you can’t quite place the look she's giving you.

It’s open, and you feel maybe you shared too much so revert back to what you know. As you scrape the metal bowl clean you pull out a blister pack and present them to the footballer. “Sometimes, though, the answer is in a pharmacy in Perpignan” you grin cheekily and enjoy the blondes blush and laugh as she pops an antihistamine and swallows it.

You root into your pocket and pull out some bite cream.

“May I?” you gesture towards her arm as you see she has finished her meal. She nods and presents you with her arm where an angry looking lump had formed. You grunt in sympathy as you carefully apply the cream. Making soothing motions with your thumb making sure the cream is absorbed fully.

You struggle to remain professional with the blondes soft skin under your hands. And you struggle to pull them away. You don’t know what comes over you as you gently blow on the bite to sooth it. You don’t think you’re alone in your feelings as you hear a sharp intake of breath from the blonde, and feel goosebumps rise under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry, It helps to cool the area, it’s feeling a little hot” as you pull your hands away.

Alexia seems to be in a daze but you catch her eye as she lets out “eres tan caliente”. It’s quiet, under her breath and you see her eyes widen as she realises she's spoken aloud. “Pardon?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her.

“Oh sorry, nada, nothing. Thank you for your help. It feels better already. You’re really good at this.”

You smile at her happily, a proud buzz in your stomach at making her feel better, you're interrupted from any reply by Mario shouting your name across the fire pit. And that's when you realise you have 22 other clients all around, and you had kind of left your colleague to deal with them all.

Which makes it easier for him to convince you to fulfil his request. He always does this. And he knows you hate it. As he shakes the ukulele he’s carried up a frigging mountain at you. You can’t really deny him.

“Come on chica! Show the girls what you can do!”, you take it from him as you roll your eyes good naturedly as you settle back down, closer, somehow to Alexia, you can feel your thigh touch hers as you try to pretend that is isn't setting your world on fire.

Alexia pretends that she can’t see Mapis' eyes light up and eyebrows wiggle at her from across the campfire.

As the stars start to make an appearance you serenade the group with campfire songs you grew up on, some songs that Mario sings along with you, you strum as Mapi excitingly dances around the campfire and you continue into the night as your fingers start to ache. Lucy even teaches you the Barcelona anthem, which you murder, but it's worth it to see the laugh in Alexia's eyes.

You don’t mind making a fool of yourself if that's your result.

You feel the blonde slump more into you as the night goes on, and you feel the tension between you both increase. However, when you look across to catch her eyes you see that she's practically asleep as she sits.

“Hey, Ale” you mutter as Pina takes a turn on your ukulele, rousing her from her light sleep, “come on, the tablets can make you drowsy. You need to get to sleep.”

“Oh, no. But I don’t want to miss anything.” she mutters, cutely, you don’t think she’d be so open unless she was completely exhausted. “And I need to set my tent up.”

“Don’t worry, I set it up for you when you were in the stream.” you respond, easily, and there's that look again, the one that puts your stomach into knots and makes you unsure of what you’ve said, so you continue, “It’s next to Mapi and Ingrids. I thought you’d want their protection from the bears.”

“Bears?!” she exclaims, which brings everyone's attention to the both of you, 23 worried looking footballers now looking in your direction as you bark out a laugh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” you respond, to all of them, hands raised as a sign of peace. They settle down… “well actually I’m not, but what did you think the singing was for!”

Mario is the only one that snorts out a laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes up hot.

And thirsty.

She opens her eyes and takes a moment to remember herself and where she is. But as she hears the light chatter and banging of pans outside it comes back to her.

Last night, sitting around the firepit by your side, one she had gotten over how hot the vision of you playing the instrument was, she was being lulled into a drowsy state by your gentle singing, the stars shining above and the warmth of your body by her side.

She remembers your hands on her skin, causing goosebumps and her stomach to flutter, somehow those hands in the middle of a literal mountain range made her feel more safe than the most experienced medical professional in the most high-tech sports facilities ever could.

She remembers finding her tent from where you had set it up. Citronella candle burning outside keeping the bugs away, everything zipped up safely, and then seeing how you had set the inside up.

Sleeping bag open and inviting, all her bags set neatly, essentials on top of her bag, hiking boots sitting on pegs she definitely did not bring to air them and stop any creepies crawling into them. Water next to her cot.

God. She was in trouble.

As she crawled into the porch area she found a small metal bowl with what looked like a cut up cactus in it, goop oozing from it. She picked the bowl up and made her way over to her best friends, who were tucking into a breakfast of granola and fruits out of similar bowls to that in her hand.

“Hey, Ingrid. Nature lover. What's this?” She holds the bowl up with a curious eyebrow.

“I think you mean Hola Ingrid, How are you this morning?” Mapi grumbles, whilst her girlfriend rubs her knee and shushes her kindly, Alexia looks at her expectantly.

She takes the bowl and a smile overtakes her face, “This is Aloe, Ale.” “Aloe Ale? Are you making fun of me?” Ingrid smiles again, “No, Ale, it's Aloe Vera, it's the gel from the Aloe Vera plant. It's got healing properties and… good for sunburn, reducing irritation and swelling, some may say good for insect bites?”

“Oh, well thank you then Ingrid, that's really kind.” Alexia hums, happily.

“Ale. I love you, but I didn’t collect this.” Ingrid smiles, Mapi looks on in glee and not-at-all subtly points in your direction.

“It was the jefa de montana!” She whisper-shouts, “I woke up early and saw her coming back with that cool knife of hers… Hey… Ingri…?”

“No Maria. You cannot have a knife.” Ingrid lets out, not looking away from her breakfast.

Alexis misses Mapis' sulk, as well as the loving bickering between her two best friends, because she is distracted by you, sitting across the camp entertaining Jana and Vicky. Seemingly a boundless source of energy and knowledge. You must feel someone's eyes on you because you look up and it feels like you look directly into Alexia's soul.

She holds the bowl up with a shy smile and mouths thank you, and she re-iterates to herself how well as truely fucked she is as as you send a wink her way which makes her knees weak.

“Oh estoy jodida”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smile as you waved the girls off from camp, it being your turn to stay behind and finish packing up the provisions and bringing up the rear of the group. With Mario leading the charge down into the gorge where you would make camp tonight.

It was your favourite day of the trek today, and you were excited about the girls reaction to the camp set up this evening. You expect that you would get there earlier than expected with these super-fit professional athletes, which would give you all more time to explore the lake. You found yourself looking forward to a certain blonde's face as she took in the view, the mountain above reflecting into the water.

It really was beautiful.

You knew yourself very well. That's the thing about being an explorer. You have to know yourself, you spend a lot of time alone and with your thoughts. You need to know your limits. Assess your feelings. Is this the half-way mark of my endurance? Do I need to turn around now? It was important for survival.

And with everything you've done you're not sure you’ll survive the next two days with Alexia Putellas.

You found her disarming. She was stoic but kind. She was serious but hilarious. Strong but vulnerable. She was stern but looked at you so softly it made your heart melt.

She was a woman of contradictions in the best way.

And you wanted to wrap your arms around her and keep her safe. Yeah, it was your job to keep everyone on this trip safe. But it wasn't your job that made you trek back 2 miles this morning to harvest the Aloe you saw yesterday. Or take an extra 20 minutes to set her tent up making sure she had everything that she didn't know she needed.

You knew why you did it, but you don’t think you were ready to be that honest with yourself yet.

You finished packing up camp and making sure there was no trace of your group and then continued along the trail. You thought you had a few hours before you encountered any of the famous fucking footballers you were guiding on account of most of them all being fucking olympians, but it hadn’t been more than 90 minutes before you spotted the same person who was clouding all of your thoughts.

“Hola Capi!” you shouted down the trail below you, you didn’t want to spook her and get to close as she looked lost in her thoughts, gazing down to the lake below.

“Ah, Hola Jefa de montaña” a smile overtaking her features. “I didn't expect you to be at the back, Capi” you tease, nudging her and continuing along at her side, “the young’uns making you feel old?”

There's that laugh again. The one that seems to fill a hole in your heart.

“no por supuesto que no, solo soy….” she trails off as you look at her curiously.

“Ah, lo siento, you don’t speak spanish, I’m just taking my time, enjoying the view, no rush, si?” she asks you, completely misinterpreting your look. You go to correct her but she speaks before you have a chance,

“So, where's your favourite exploration been?” and if there's anything that you can yap on about. It's your adventures.

Alexia loves the way your face lights up, loves the way that your whole body thrums with excitement. The way you describe the sights, sounds, smells of your travels. Her heart drops when you tell tall tales of alligator attacks in the south american swamps, her laughter bubbles as you tell her about accidental orders of bizarre and unusual foods in china, she blushes as you describe being run out a village in mongolia for sleeping with the mayor's wife (completely accidental of course).

You tell a story with your whole body, arms flailing and actions where appropriate. The time flies and the environment around Alexia is lost to the beauty she finds in your excitement.

You finally pause for breath and the silence makes you realise how long you have been speaking for.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I haven't stopped talking - ple…”

“Do not apologise” Alexia interrupts, “I like to hear you speak, your stories are so…” she struggles to find the word and takes a moment “...colourful. And exciting.” she snaps her fingers, happy with herself.

“Exciting, me? Maybe. You though. Football, huh? That must be amazing. Free to travel the world… all of your adoring fans, huh?” you wiggle your brows and nudge her again, but her coy smile doesn’t appear like you expected it to.

She grows quiet, hand playing with the long grass as you both stroll by.

“Ah. Maybe. I thought so, but now… I’m thinking, maybe I am not so free?” she poses it as a question, and eyes lift to your face, and then her surroundings.

“I love football. Football is my life. But the other things… ah. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could walk down to mi Mamis without wearing a cap, or a hood. Just… go. You know?”

You do know. You couldn’t imagine such restrictions. Your spirit is a free one. And Alexia seems caged. Caged and wanting to break free.

“I get it, Ale.” your use of her name brings a blush to her face. And a smile you want to keep there. “Tell me about football.” you request, simply.

“What about it? It is the most beautiful game in the world! You are English, a good football nation, it’s coming home? No?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you do. “I’m from the countryside. Football is played in cities. I cannot think of any football team not named after a City.”

“Football is played everywhere! It's the game of the Earth”

“Is it?” you ask, “tell me.” you request again.

And off she goes, she tells you how she loves her team, the fans, Barca, how the game brought her close to her father and she feels closer to him as she continues to play. You enjoy the excitement in her voice as she makes you both stop as she uses a stick to explain the offside rule. You force a cereal bar into her hand and make sure you both drink water as you go. Seamlessly, as she continues to talk about her life's passion.

Before you know it you notice the placement of the sun and realise you have nearly completed the miles for the day. You are shocked that you haven’t run into any of her teammates, though you suppose, you have both been walking slower as you chatted.

Though, that does mean you have left Mario with 23 clients. Fuck you owe him.

“The way you talk about it, It does sound like a beautiful game, capi.” you summarise, as she finishes telling you about the football camps for underprivileged kids she visits.

She pauses and looks into your face. The moment grows less jovial than the whole day had been and you hear Alexia whisper, “Eres hermosa”. “Huh?” you let out, surprised. “Oh, da nada, nothing. Sorry, I don’t usually speak too much English…”

“Ah, Capi!” you hear a third voice, raised across the clearing you had just entered, a canopy of trees above and now you are at the lake shore.

You are both shaken out of your trances as you realise you have made camp, and by the looks of it, the rest of the group had been here for a while. God, you really did owe Mario.

“Ah, chica!” you hear Marios best as he makes his way towards you, “you left me! These girls, they are loco!” you laugh as you see the sweat beading across his brow and his face still red, “the walk and walk and walk, they walk so quick!”

Jana now makes her way over, taking Alexias backpack from her shoulders,

“We walk quickly because Capi told us whoever won she would give first dibs on shower privileges all seaso….” Jana is silenced by Alexia, who shoves her hand over her mouth. “Ay, Jana, she’s an iditoto, doesn’t know what she's talking about, Si. Vamos, Jana. You can help me set my tent up.”

Jana is practically dragged away as you focus your attention again on Mario.

“lo siento mi amigo,” you tell him, “I didn’t mean to.. I think I just got carried away…” you eyes follow the tall blonde as she makes her way across camp, Jana having abandoned her on route.

“Da nada my friend. I have not seen you like this before…” he smiles at you. “I think she is good for you.”

“Oh stop Mario. You know me. I can’t.”

“You won’t. That is different to you can’t. And I notice you do not deny, now, vamos, help me anti-bear this place.”

Your next hour is spent helping Mario set up camp, you're close to a huge water source now, and whilst bears will only come looking for food you need to take extra steps to not spook your clients, you keep the provisions away from camp, high in trees, you sprinkle ash from the fire around and you place dry leaves and twigs around, you and Mario are light sleepers, any visitor to camp will make you up.

Alexia has been abandoned by her team. “Team building, sure… you all have fun guys, I’ll be here…” she mumbles to herself as she struggles to feed the poles of her tent through the holes in the canvas. She takes a look up and sees you, lifting logs for the fire. All short, shorts and rippling muscles. Those same damn old boots on your feet so sexily rugged.

She gets lost in her thoughts, images swimming around her mind of making you sweat for different reasons, imagining being stood above you as you drop to your knees in front of her as she gathers your hair in her hand….

“Do you need me to help you with your pole?” you ask. SNAP. Huh? Alexia looks up from the daydream she had embarrassingly got lost in. Ignoring the heat between her legs. She looks up, flustered.

“Q..Que?” she asks you, she looks down and sees the metal pole she was trying to thread through in two pieces in her hands.

“Oh… oops.” she continues. “Oh Ale… that's the centerframe pole. That's keeping the roof over your head. I can try to patch it up with some twine… but I’m not sure it will hold.” you tell her, examining the two pieces in her hands.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t know what happened there.” Alexia tries to distract to get out of this awkward situation. “No problem, I will share it with Ingrid and Mapi. They won’t mind.”

You cast your eyes over to where Ingrid was walking into the lake in a two piece swimsuit, Mapi watching from the fire and almost setting her boot on fire as she paid no attention to her surroundings. You think they may mind.

“Okay Ale.” she knows her friends better than you, you suppose. “Now come, come look at this view.”

You lead her to the lakeside where most of the girls were settled, and you explain to the group some of the geography of how the gorge and lake was formed. And, to be fair to them, most of them did pretend to care. But you could tell they were just dying to jump in.

“Go on then Chicas! A few hours til dinner. Go have fun!”

The cheer that the group let out made you laugh, so did watching them as they scrambled over each other in the water as you and Mario made dinner. Lucy having produced a small ball from somewhere they all start to play in the water. Somehow, you felt like you were all of a sudden guiding 12 year old boys.

You could make Ale out, in the middle of the fray, contemplative nature fully unleashed as she laughed and played around with her teammates. You loved seeing her so free and open. Especially after your chat today.

You find yourself at the campfire again, plating up dinner for the group and you see an open space next to Alexia.

You make your way over but before you get there the seat is taken by Vicky, you miss the scowl that takes over Ales face as she slaps the back of her younger teammate's head.

“That space was being saved!” she sulks, watching as you change direction and settle yourself next to Lucy. Quickly being drawn into conversation. “Yeah, Lopez, that's her girlfriend's seat!” Mapi sniggers.

“Lo Siento Ale, I didn’t know.” Vicky looks so apologetic that it tugs on Alexia's heart as her gaze softens and she pulls her head into her chest in an aggressive hug, she kisses her hair. “está bien pequeña”.

After another night of singing, card games and this time smores you get the attention of the group; “Okay girls, serious now. We are in bear country.” a gasp goes through the group, “Me and Mario have made the camp safe but there's always a chance a bear may wander into camp. I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m saying this to keep you safe.” you point down to your calf, where a slither of scar tissue can be seen,

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a hungry brown bear before. They are good creatures, just hungry. They hate humans. If, and this is a big if a bear wanders into camp you need to just make noise. That will be enough to scare it away and bring mine and Marios attention to you. Si?”

The group is quiet for a moment until Ingrid lets out an affirmative noise.

You think your little bear chat scared them because quickly it's just you, Mario and Alexia who remain awake, as Mario tells stories of his family and the mischief his children get up to. He lets out a big yawn.

“Mario, you can get to bed. I will sort this” you point down to the dying embers of the fire. “I owe you after today.” “You do” he smiles as he stands up and makes his way across camp to his hammock.

“I will go to bed also.” Alexia stands, and you offer to walk her to Mapi and Ingrids tent with your headlamp so she doesn't trip on any ropes.

That smile again. She nods and as you move closer to the tent you hear a noise. You put your hand on her arm to stop her, and cock your head to one side, that won’t be a bear, surely?

There! That noise again. Louder this time. Wait. A… groan?

“Oh my god.” Alexia whispers, a laugh in her voice. You're confused and then you hear it again, this time, it sounds suspiciously like a groan of a name. Maria. Oh. Oh for god's sake.

“Maybe they took the ‘make noise’ instruction too seriously, si?” Alexia giggles into your ear. This makes you bark out a laugh, quickly hidden behind her hand that raises itself to your mouth.

“Qué fue eso” you hear from the tent. For some reason, this fills both you and Alexia with childish excitement and glee. As you pull her hand with you as you sprint away from the tent as though you are 9 in a school yard and have just been told someone has cooties.

You guide her to your hammock, and stand there, giggles subsiding, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Maybe they forgot you were in with them tonight?” you ask the blonde, who shrugs and replies “with those two I don’t think much can stop them.” this makes you laugh lightly and then a beat of silence.

“Erm, you can take my hammock, sorry, some people don't find it comfortable but it keeps the mosquitos away and I can set up a roll matt by the fire.”

“No.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make yo…”

“No, I mean. I am not kicking you out of your bed. I will go on the matt… “

“No Ale. With your blood you’ll be eaten alive without a net… maybe..”

“Si?”

“Maybe we can share? The hammock is huge and it's normal for people to share in survival situations, you know, to keep warm and stuff.”

“Creo que tener calor será el problema.” “Pardon?” “Ah, nothing, I just said yes we should share.”

This keeps happening, and you think it's hilarious, and you let out a coy smile, “roomies?” you ask, Alexia matches your smile as she nods.

You let her get settled into the hammock in her sleeping bag before you pull it wider, there being plenty of material to hold you both comfortably. You forgot, the design of the hammock encapsulates you both, the canvas bowing upwards forcing you both into the middle, and creating a shield around you, mosquito net a curtain around you.

Suddenly, all your senses are full of Alexia. Alexia beneath you and stars above you. God. Have you died and gone to heaven? No. In heaven you wouldn't be separated by 2 layers of polyester sleeping bags.

You shuffle around to try to take some of your weight off her and lie by her side. “Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a type of embarrassment you never do when usually sharing this space, probably with another explorer, usually in some death defying situation.

You don’t know how this perfectly safe encounter makes you more nervous than those. In those situations, you don’t have time to be embarrassed by how heavy your weight is on the other person, how it's been 2 days since your last shower…. How your breath must smell.

“Estas bien” she lets out, softly, and those two words calm you more than a half a bar of phone signal after days of trekking in the Atlas Mountains ever could. One of her arms envelopes your shoulder and your head settles onto her chest. “Lo siento my arm is in the way…”

“Estas bien.” you reply, softly.

Alexia has never been more comfortable in her entire life. The warmth of your body weighs on hers, the smell of you infiltrating her senses, the stars above and the gentle sway of the hammock.

Sleep is already dragging her as you whisper, “buenas noches que duermas bien ale”.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes to the feeling of movement on her chest. Before she opens her eyes she takes stock of her body. Her arms now fully wrapped around you. Hands tangled in your hair. You burrowed into her chest. She is warm.

She is happy.

She knows you're awake. But there's no springing apart in embarrassment. God no. She's not ashamed. She wants this moment to last forever.

But it can’t.

You groan in her arms as you both hear Mario clanking pans to start breakfast. You pop your head up like a meerkat to take note of the surroundings. It's early. Dew still in the grass and an early morning fog over the lake. The light is dim, the sun not yet as awake as the occupants of your hammock.

“Morning Ale” you croak, morning voice in full effect. You finally turn to her and your breath is nearly taken away by her beauty. Her face is open, hair bedridden and eyes bleary from sleep but smile tugging on her lips as she looks at you with that look.

“Cómo estás aún más hermosa por la mañana?” she asks, in a whisper trying not to break the silence of the morning, it just comes out of her mouth without thinking, and she can’t stop it.

You freeze in her arms, and for a moment she tenses.

“...pardon?” you ask. Ale covers herself, “Ah lo siento, I asked. Did you sleep well?” you hum in acknowledgement and she isn’t sure what to make of the look that you sent her way.

“Yes, very well thank you. At least you’re softer than the floor.” you joke, eyebrow arched.

“I am not soft!” she replies, affronted, “I am all muscle actually!” She sits up and begins to tense her biceps jokingly. This is the Ale that frightens you the most. Frightens you how deep your feelings will run. All jokes and soft edges and smiles. You need a moment.

“Alright alright superwoman. Go put the kettle on, will you? I’m going to jump in the lake to wash off before your girls wake up.” and with that you lean out of the hammock and pull your shirt off as you go, leaving you in a sports bra and Alexia with her mouth hanging open.

Which is why, not 6 minutes later, Ona is awoken to the sound of her tent unzipping.

“Lucia” she hears whisper-yelling, into the entrance of the tent. She freezes, sleep-addled mind confused… is that… Alexia?

“Lucia!” more urgent this time. Ona rolls away from her girlfriend and sees Alexia's head popped through the tent. Looking around urgently.

“What do you want, Ale?” Ona groans. Her girlfriend is dead to the world, an atomic bomb wouldn’t wake her up.

“I need Lucia!”

“What for. What has happened… it must be… 6am?” Ona grabs for her watch, confirming her suspicions.

“Si, pero eso no importa, I need Lucia to translate for me.”

“You speak better English than she does Spanish.” One is very very confused. “What needs translating?”

“I do not need English, I need British.” Ah. This is making sense now, The whole team had seen how love sick their capi had been over the mountain boss. It was unnerving for them, but all of them wish nothing but happiness for their well respected leader, still, it’s always fun to tease.

“Ah, mi Capi. This has something to do with the jefe de montana, si?” a teasing smile enters her face, “por favor, tell me, what's happened?”

Alexia looks frustrated, looking at something outside of the tent, but seems to accept her fate as she lets herself fall into the tent, practically on top of Ona, whilst holding a… kettle?

“She asked me to put the kettle on. But Ona, I don’t know what I’m putting it on! Is it a special kettle? it doesn't do anything, look!” and with that the young defender gets a metal kettle thrust into her face as though it's a rubix cube that she has 30 seconds to solve

Her captain looks at her so urgently it would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious. Ona can’t help herself as she bursts out laughing. All this does is further aggravate her captain.

“Oh, olvídalo, idiota, voy a despertar a Kiera.”

“No, No, No, lo siento mi Capi. You forget, I lived in England for years. She means for you to go boil the kettle. For hot drinks.”

Alexia looks at her dumbfounded, “then why didn’t she just say that!”

“I know” Ona looks at her with faux sympathy, as she passes the kettle back to her she looks so determined to complete the little task she's been set that offers her a lifeline.

“Capi, wait.” Alexia turns to look at her expectantly, “I have… experience? With the English.” her eyes dart to the lump that is Lucy sleeping beside her. Well Alexia can’t argue that.

“Make her a Tea. Just trust me.” Ona continues, sagely, as though she had just passed on the wisdom of the universe.

Alexia looks at her, about to question until…

“Tea? Someone's making tea?” Lucy grumbles, rolling over into Ona, seemingly awoken from her deep slumber like a dog who's just heard someone mention a walk.

Alexia doesn’t have time to open her mouth when she hears from the next tent over where she saw Keira set up last night, a thick english accent,

“Ey wait, Is someone brewing up?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s half an hour later and, with intervention from Lucy when Alexia tried to rip open a tea bag into your cup, that you have a warm enamel mug shoved into your hands. Alexia looked at you as though she had just handed you a pot of gold, all shining eyes and happy smile.

You feel much fresher after your early morning dip, trail shorts and vest back on and in two loose plaits that fall down over your shoulders. You look at the mug curiously, before you take a heavenly sniff of the liquid inside.

You thank the blonde, bashfully, and can’t help but place a grateful kiss on her cheek as you move past her. You pretend that your lips aren’t on fire from the contact. For her sake you also pretend that you didn’t see her stumble over a non-existent log at your action.

What you do miss though, is Ona sending her a wink, and the smug ‘i-told-you-so.” look at her face as she leans against her own girlfriend, who is happily drinking from her own mug.

You finish helping Mario make sure that all the girls are fed for the day before you stand in the middle of them and clap to gain their attention.

“Alright ladies! I hope you all slept well,- ” a mumble of affirmation goes through the group,

“I think Ingrid did not sleep so well.” Pina shouts across the group, “Si,” Parti joins in, “Did you see a bear Ingrid? Just I heard you screa-”

A rock is then thrown at Patris head, “ouch!” and you turn to see was directed by Mapi, Ingrid's face in a deep blush. The girls all burst into laughter.

God you were going to miss this group.

“Ok, Ok, Ladies calm it down. So, we have a choice today. Last full day on the hike… if you want it to be.” a curious mumble goes through the group. “Si, so, when we plotted this route someone…” you eye your partner “failed to mention that you are all literal athletes, so, we’re actually ahead of schedule, I’ve spoken to the bus company and if you want to then we can actually make it to the rendezvous spot today. It gives you a day back in Barcelona to yourselves before you start back at your traini….”

“No!” you’re interrupted as the group turns to Alexia who looks as though you’ve just asked her to never kick a ball again.

She takes a moment and realises that she's on her feet in front of the group, half of which are looking at her as though she's lost her mind, and the other half are looking at her with wry grins like they know exactly what's going on.

“I mean, we should not. We need to bond. As a team. Si?” she asks the group “That is why we are here, and we should do that. Yes.” She looks at her teammates determinedly, nodding, as though daring anyone to question her.

“But, Ale, you said that you hate–”, you see why Alexia is the best football player on the planet as you witness the speed in which she moves over to Jana and covers her entire face with her hand, stopping her words.

“No Jana, shhh pequeño. You look unwell. Are you feeling okay?” All Jana can do is nod under her giant hand as Mapi sniggers behind hers.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t miss this group too much. They can be a bit weird. But you pretend that you don’t put more enthusiasm into your next sentence.

“Or, we can take the long way round to the rendezvous point, we’ll get some great views of the lake from that ridge over there” you point upwards and 23 eyes follow your movement, “set up camp for one more night, me and Mario can set up a Bonfire for our last night, yes?” he nods, “and then back to the bus in the morning if we would prefer?”

“Si, That we would prefer!” Alexia answers for the whole group, though the enthusiastic nods behind her assure you that they agree with her.

“Okay then, let's pack up campers, we'll have some elevation gains today!” you smile, clapping your hands together and a groan settles through the group as you move to pack up the breakfast items you hear Mapi and Alexia talking,

“Todos estamos haciendo esto por ti y por tu capitán de vida amorosa, recuérdalo el día del entrenamiento en circuito.”

Alexia responds in a tone you haven't heard from her before, “Lo sé, gracias Mapi. Simplemente no estoy listo para decir adiós todavía, ella es especial” she looks direct at you as she responds, no attempt to hide her spanish words, and the intensity of her gaze makes you look away.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All you wanted to do was a repeat of yesterday, hang at the back of the group and walk with Alexia. Maybe let your hand brush against hers a few times more than necessary and learn all about her life in Barca.

But, you were the best guide on this side of Europe for a reason. And you think Mario would push you off the mountain if you left him to do it again, even if he tells you he wouldn’t, you still felt bad about yesterday.

So today, you found yourself at the front of the group. Weirdly, Alexia by your side with a few of the older girls, as well as Jana and Vicky who were hanging off Alexia's every word. It was cute, watching her with them.

Whatever fatigue she was suffering from yesterday which slowed her down so much seemed to have lifted, as her strong legs carried her with the rest of the group upwards. The elevation not bothering any of the women.

You were just hanging back with Mapi and Ingrid for a moment. Mapis backpack was bothering her, probably on account of her trying to carry all of Ingrids kit, you were teasing her as you helped to re-adjust the weight as Mapi was grumbling about how she definitely was strong enough to carry two sleeping bags, a tent as well as two sets of clothing whilst Ingrid was literally carrying a pillow, when the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Something didn’t feel right, you looked up and could still see the front of the group, Alexia and Vicky chatting, going off Aleixas hand movements there was some deep football discussion going on.

You take stock of everything around you. In order to be in your line of work you needed to be aware of all of your senses, if one failed, another would pick it up, a smell in the air brought your attention and you turned to see droppings just off the trail. A large amount of droppings, and, oh no, green. You turned again and saw a tree bark torn up further away from the trail.

Fuck.

Bear droppings are green and quickly turn black as they oxidise, bears tear up trees and rocks as they pass through an area. These droppings were fresh, very fresh.

That, tied with your fantastic intuition, made you nervous.

The group had continued onward as you took stock and Alexia and Vicky had turned a corner just up the trail. You quickly help Mapi back into her backpack and move through the group quickly, making your way to the front.

“Detener!” you shout, wanting Alexia and Vicky in your sights. You turn the corner and your shout has caught their attention as they are both frozen, looking at you expectantly.

What they fail to notice, however, is a bear on the trail in front of them, not 20 metres away.

It’s a young bear, that you can tell, which is good because of its size, but the worst possible situation because young bears, like humans, are stupid.

They are curious, they don’t see you as a threat, but if there is a bear this young here, there will be a mother bear somewhere around which you definitely do not want to be on the wrong side of.

You need to separate your group from this bear as quickly as possible. But without freaking them out.

“Alexia, walk towards me.” you instruct, seriously, arm out reaching towards the two girls, whilst you hold your other arm out behind you. Stopping the rest of the group before they can move forwards.

“What’s the matte— oh meirda…” Alexia has turned and seen what's on the path in front of her. Her back immediately straightens and grabs Vicky to pull her behind her. You hate the quick movement that they make as you inwardly cringe at their actions.

“Alexia, stay calm.” you slowly move towards them, “do not make any quick movements.” you don’t receive any sort of affirmation as both girls seem to be frozen in place.

“No te muevas rápidamente, no corras. Caminar hacia atrás lentamente” your use of spanish seems to get through the fear as you see Alexias feet start to scramble backwards, pushing Vicky behind her, who remains shielded behind her back.

You move forwards, slowly, arms still raised and as soon as in touching distance, pull Alexia behind your back. You can’t see her face as you refuse to move your eyes from the threat in front of you, but you can feel the terror running through her body.

Meanwhile, the bear is having a great old time, sniffing around and pawing at the ground. He’s stopped on the trail and is looking at you, curiously, as he starts to move towards you, you hear a yelp of terror from one of the girls behind you.

Usually, you know, to make yourself big and back up as slowly as possible, but you’re in a group of 23 novice hikers, and you knew you had to get this threat away as quickly as possible.

So instead, you make yourself big, you raise your arms in the air and start to move forward. You feel a tug on the back of your shirt and a frightened whimper from the tall blonde who seems to have grasped onto your shirt.

You take a big stride forwards as you move a hand back to untangle Alexia's grasp from your shirt.

“OYE, OSO. LO SIENTO AMIGO, TINES QUE MOVERTE!” you continue to move forward and wave your hands around. The bear cocks his head at you, curiously, you’re still moving closer and an alarm is going off in your mind, he’s gotta start moving or you’re going to be too close for comfort…

“SEGUIR. IRSE” you clap your hands together sharply, and that seems to frighten the curiosity from the young bear, who quickly scurries off the path and deep into the bush on your right hand side.

The silence of the moment is suffocating. You take a moment and breathe some deep breaths. Filling your lungs and slowly releasing it. Once you feel your heartbeat settle down you turn on your heel and open your eyes to face the group behind you.

There, you are faced with 23 shell shocked faces. Mouths comically dropped as they all stare at you in awe.

The silence is interrupted as Mario catches up to the group, singing under his breath, you see his head pop up from the back of the group and an innocent smile on his face, “Hey chicas? What did I miss?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“...And then El jefe de la montaña practically tackled this enormous bear that was virtually salivating at the thought of eating Ales pert butt as a light snack!”

Mapi dramatically, and incorrectly recites her version of events for what feels like the 5th time for the rest of the group who were hanging back with Mario during the excitement of the day.

The whole group sat together at the bonfire that you and Mario had erected, you’d gone the whole hog and dragged logs over to create a circle around the fire. You’d cracked out the marshmallows you’d been hiding deep in your backpack and you and the girls had had an evening of jokes, stories and, after Matio whipped his ukulele out again, songs.

You’re sitting with Ingrid and you miss the warmth at your side that had been present over the last two days. Alexia is sat with Vicky, and, whilst she’s been nothing but pleasant to you since the incident this afternoon, you feel like a barrier has come up between you.

You try to not overthink the situation, who are you anyway? She's Alexia Putellas, and, over the last 3 days you've learnt that that's a big deal. Of course she isn’t interested in you. God. You need to be a professional. You try to stay in the moment and stop your mind from running away. You feel the heat from the fire on your face as you close your eyes.

“... and how did you learn to do that?” you hear, and as Ingrid nudges your side, you realise Mapis question was aimed at you.

You open your eyes and see the attention of the group on you. There may be an entire football team's eyes on you but you can’t help but zone in on a certain set of hazel eyes which bore directly into your soul.

“I told you, I’ve been on the wrong end of a bear in my time.” you try to joke, pointing at the scar again running down your leg, and you get a few chuckles, but you note, Alexia's face remains stoic, and her frown deepens at your words.

“What happened?” Vicky asks, next to her. She receives a light slap to the head from her captain, “Aye, don’t be rude pequeño.”

“I don’t mind Ale.” you say, heart warming at Alexias protectiveness, “well, little football superstar” you address Vicky, “I was on a 6 month trek through the Andeas, we wanted to see if we could find any further remains from the Incas. We did by the way. Anyway, I was young, and stupid and we hadn’t stored our food safely, which, you’ll note, me and Mario have done today.” you reach across and give your partner a fist bump, “a mother bear wandered into our camp whilst I was alone. I was an idiot and got between her and an open packet of cheetos.”

“Cheetos!” Vicky asks, incredulously.

“Yes! Turns out they love those cheesy snacks” you wink at her, “she attacked and luckily, my camp leader was just coming back and managed to deploy his bear spray just as she managed to take a good swipe at my calf. I was lucky. But it wasn’t her fault. I was in her land and didn’t protect myself properly.”

Vicky waxes lyrical about your story for a while, asking you a million and one questions. The conversation across the campfire moves onto the upcoming season for the team as you and Mario start to set camp up for the night around them.

“Hey, Al, Me and Ing are heading to bed, I promise we’ll behave tonight, but I can’t promise I won’t cuddle you.” you hear Mapi address to Alexia,

“Great, look forward to it” Alexia replied sarcastically. Mapis retreat to bed seems to have set off a chain reaction amongst the team who all start to say their goodnights.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t upset that you won’t have a repeat of last night in your hammock. The sadness swirls in your stomach, but you remind yourself that the whole thing seemed to be a fantasy you’d made up in your mind.

You look up to the sky and with your head torch can see that it seems to have darkened somewhat. You move away from camp and string a rope above your hammock, you throw over a tarpaulin which covers your hammock and protects you from any rain.

As you move back to the fire you decide you’ll wait it out instead of throwing water on to drown the fire. You have some excess energy from the excitement of the day and you know you’ll just lie awake in your hammock anyway. As Mario squeezes your shoulder in goodnight you notice that Alexia seems to be hanging around the edge of the circle.

“Night Ale.” you say, kindly. It’s not her fault you have a massive unrequited crush on her.

You don’t know her well but she seems…nervous? Hands playing with themselves and feet unable to stay still.

“Nig… actually… Can we talk?” she asks, chin turning upwards and vulnerability showing on her face.

You nod and you are surprised when she sits next to you and asks, “why do you still do it?”

You look at her, curiously, she is so beautiful. Sharp angles of her face illuminated by the dying embers, perfect lips, the arch of her nose. She takes your breath away. You have a question in your eyes.

“This. As a job. You got hurt…” her hand moves, and god it's only been a few hours but you feel like you’ve been touch starved for years, as she lightly traces the scar on your calf. Leaving behind a wake of goosebumps. “You’re so brave…”

Maybe it's her touch that makes gives you the confidence but you dont think before you reply,

“I could ask you the same thing.” She has a question in her eyes now, so you repeat her action, hand moving to touch her knee where you can see the surgery scars that pull tight against her skin.

You feel her take in a breath and you think you may have overstepped until she takes your hand in her large one, keeping your hand resting on her knee.

You look into the fire as you continue; “I love my job. I can’t imagine my life without it. It gives me air in my lungs. It's my reason to live. And yeah. I got hurt. I've been hurt before and I’ll be hurt again.” Alexia squeezes your hand at that, “but that's why we do what we love, isn’t it? You’re so brave every time you step out onto a pitch again” you direct your question to her, “we learn from our mistakes, come back stronger from our injuries, not just in our skills but as people? No?”

There's that look again, those open eyes, that expression you can’t place.

“Football is the same for you Ale. I can tell. When you talk about it. Think of that feeling you get. That's why I carry on. I love it, and it wasn’t that bears fault I got hurt, It was mine. Just as it wasn’t the rocks fault as I slipped 200 feet down Mt Kilimanjaro. They’re all lessons on how to adapt, on how to come back stronger.”

She nods, a look of understanding in her eyes and turns her gaze towards the fire. But doesn’t let go of your hand.

You don't know what Alexia is thinking. You don't know that she feels like every word out of your mouth feels like you've plucked it straight from her heart. You're deep. She feels like finally someone gets her.

“You spoke Spanish today.” she lets out into the silence.

Ah, you think, she hadn’t missed it like you thought that she may have done in the heat of the moment. And, as usual, you try to break the tension with a joke.

“He was a Spanish bear. I wanted him to understand me.”

Alexia doesn't laugh but instead turns to you again, “I feel stupid.”

There's that vulnerability again.

“No. Never feel stupid Alexia, you are the most intelligent person I have ever met.” you reply, instantly, and turn your body to hers,

“You didn’t tell me that you spoke spanish… everything I have said…”

“I meant to! Honestly I did, I mean I told you I lived in Peru for two years.” she raises her eyebrow at you… “Ale they speak Spanish in Peru.” “Oh.”

Her eyes drop down to the floor and you can’t physically allow that look of sadness to sit on her face for a moment longer.

“I think you’re more beautiful in the mornings too.” you whisper, the only noise around you the crackling of the drying embers around you.

Alexia looks up at this, eyes somewhat, hopeful? And it's that look that gives you the belief that maybe maybe she feels the same way?

“Si? Even though you made me smell like garlic?” she asks, before the syllable is even out of her mouth you reply. “Si, tan hermoso. Aunque tal vez sea más hermoso ahora con la luz del fuego.”

You stood in front of a bear today.

But the scariest moment of your day is as you move your head towards hers, slowly, more frightened of this rejection than any wild animal.

You look deeply into her eyes and the permission you seek is gained there, she gives you a small nod as she closes the distance between you both. Her lips finally meet yours in a gentle and sweet kiss.

It's like fireworks have gone off in your stomach.

Your mouth tingles where it presses against hers, your lips softly encase her lower lip and you hear her squeak of satisfaction which is the cutest fucking thing you have ever heard in your life.

You kiss as though you have all the time in the world. It is gentle and slow. Until it is not. And then you kiss like a pair of horny teenagers as it deepens and you groan into her mouth as her tongue seeks permission in yours.

You would have continued all night had mother nature not intervened.

You’re good with your senses and you hear the fizz of the fire going out before you feel the drops of rain on your skin. You pause your movements and look deep into Alexia's eyes.

“Y hueles deliciosa” you whisper, enjoying the way her eyes crinkle as you make her laugh.

“Will you sleep with me?” you ask, her eyes widen in panic at your question and it takes your lust-addled brain a moment to catch up, “wait. No! No Lo siento, no soy un asqueroso! I mean. Will you stay with me tonight in my hammock? No funny business, I promise!”.

Your hands move off the taller girls hips where they seem to have found themselves as she settled onto your lap, and you hold them high in surrender.

Alexia saw you face a bear today.

And the look on your face now is more panicked than it was then.

She smiles at you, god she has it bad she thinks.

“Si, I will, and… maybe some funny business?”

You’re lucky that your bark of laughter doesn’t wake up any of your campmates.

Content that the rain which is now falling more heavily will take care of the fire, you rush the blonde to your hammock, lifting the tarpaulin above her head so she could duck down and she settles herself into the material like a seasoned pro.

You open up your sleeping bag and turn it into a blanket which will cover you both as she opens up her arms and you settle into them. It’s pitch black in the tent and you feel as though your other senses are working to make up for it. The rain patters against the plastic sheet above you and you enjoy the sound as you enjoy the warmth beneath you, the hammock still swaying gently.

You shuffle in the blondes hold, moving so that you can lie stomach to stomach. Your face close to hers, you exchange gentle kisses and enjoy the feeling of her hands on your back as you gently scratch against her scalp.

Your head on her chest as sleep starts to take you, still enjoying the heat of her body and the ministrations of her hands which have moved beneath your t-shirt.

“Maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad.” you hear her whisper as sleep takes hold.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life is funny sometimes.

You think to yourself.

You think about how you got here.

Not 24 hours ago stood in Arles, a minibus packed with footballers in front of you, and, in most cases, gawking at you, faces pushed against the windows, comically, as Ingrid moved through the inside of the bus, slapping heads and pulling them back into their seats.

You’d held Alexia's hands. You’d followed her lead this morning and since you both woke up and made breakfast at the campfire, she hadn’t stopped being affectionate, seemingly, no hint of hiding her affections from her teammates.

She’d hung behind with you and helped you pack up camp, as you both spent what you thought potentially was your last morning together.

It was light, you both had laughed easily and teased each other relentlessly.

Until that moment, when reality struck. You, due to fly back home to England in a few hours, and Alexia, about to board a bus which would take her miles away from you.

You’d already scribbled your number onto a trail mix wrapper and secured it into her hand. She had promised to message as soon as she could and you had promised to keep in touch, trying to keep the tears that teased your eyes at bay as you settled your face into her warm palm.

But it hadn’t felt right.

It wasn’t fair. It was too soon. This had felt too right.

So you hadn’t been able to control yourself, as you faced her back as she boarded the bus when you asked; “Hey, Ale?” she’d turned and you knew you hadn’t misplaced that look of hope in her eyes, “Have you ever been to an 82nd birthday party?”

The grin that overtook her face could only be matched by yours.

So here you now found yourself. Standing in your nan’s garden under a gazebo as the English rain lightly drizzled, only 2 hours fashionably late for the event you actually arrived back in England for 4 days ago.

As your brother had opened the door earlier, you laughed at the shock on his face when he took Alexia in. All blonde, lean and mediterranean and very out of place in the middle of the drizzle of the English lake district.

Your whole extended family had popped up behind your brother, smiles and coy grins on their faces. Your mum broke the stunned silence at your arrival, more specifically, at the blonde by your side.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Alexia's face broke out into a huge grin that literally warmed your heart.

“I know how to do that!” she had replied, excitedly, her spanish accent thick.

Well, maybe not that out of place.

fin.

#Spotify #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso community

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enhaflixer · 2 months ago

Text

don't tap out now

childhood bsf! riki x f! reader - playfighting to ......

smut, crack, fluff

You say it so casually it shouldn’t mean anything.

“I could definitely kick your ass.”

Riki freezes mid-bite of his cereal, spoon suspended in the air like gravity just forgot what to do. He looks at you like you’ve personally offended his honor.

“I’m sorry—what?”

You lean against the counter, sipping from your water bottle with mock innocence. “You heard me.”

“Say it again.” His voice is already low and dangerous, but you know that tone. You grew up on that tone. That tone is about fifteen seconds away from him tackling you to the ground.

So, obviously, you double down.

“I could kick your ass,” you repeat sweetly. “Anytime, anywhere, Nishimura.”

He stands slowly, chair scraping back. “You literally cried during Karate Kid.”

“And I’ll cry again. Over your broken pride.”

The rest happens fast—always does. He throws the cereal box (you dodge). You launch a couch cushion (he tanks it). And then you’re both lunging at the same time, colliding in the middle of the living room like idiots with no impulse control.

You shriek as he tackles you onto the rug, both of you wheezing through laughter, knees and elbows knocking painfully as you try to wiggle out from under him.

“Get off me, you heavy ass—!”

“You started it—ow! Did you just bite me?!”

“You said no rules!”

He yells, and you scramble free—but not for long. He grabs your ankle and yanks hard, dragging you back across the carpet while you scream bloody murder.

“LET GO—”

“Say you surrender!”

“NEVER—”

He flips you again, pins you with a grin that’s all teeth and smug satisfaction. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

But he lets you. Just for a second. He lets you think you’re winning.

You squirm up, shove his chest, straddle his waist like it’s a power move and not the worst decision of your life.

Because the second you plant your palms on his shoulders—breath heaving, your thighs on either side of him, skin flushed and shining—

everything changes.

His hands go still on your hips. His gaze drops to your lips.

The air thickens like molasses.

And you realize—he’s not grinning anymore.

You’re still smiling, barely. “What?” you whisper.

Riki’s voice is hoarse. “You gonna let me win?”

You blink, throat dry. “You gonna kiss me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at you like you just asked him to give up oxygen.

And then he moves.

He surges up, one arm around your back, the other cupping your jaw, and kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

It’s not sweet. It’s not soft. It’s everything he’s been holding in for years—the teasing, the tension, the nights he couldn’t sleep thinking about you on the other side of the wall.

You moan into his mouth. He groans into yours.

He flips you without warning—slams you flat to the floor again, his body heavy over yours, grinding down just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips. “Talking all that shit just to get fucked like this?”

“Riki—” you gasp, nails dragging down his back. “God, you’re such a—”

“Yeah?” His mouth moves to your neck, licking a stripe up your throat before biting down, just enough to leave a mark. “And you’re such a fucking liar. Acting like you haven’t been wet for me since high school.”

You whimper. Actually whimper.

He grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip, grinds down again. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Can feel how warm you are. Through your shorts. Jesus.”

His hand slips under your shirt. Up your ribs. Around your back.

“Take it off,” you pant. “Take it off—”

He does. Shirt gone. Yours too. Skin to skin now, chest to chest, heart to fucking heart.

And still—not close enough.

“Bed,” you gasp. “Please—bed—”

He scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Carries you to his room like a man possessed. Kicks the door shut. Drops you on the mattress and climbs over you like it’s instinct.

“Tell me,” he rasps, fingers at the waistband of your shorts. “Did you ever think about me?”

You stare up at him, wild-eyed, nodding hard. “All the fucking time.”

He pulls your shorts down, underwear next. Licks his lips when he sees how soaked you are.

“Tell me what you did,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “What you thought about.”

You reach down, palm flat between your legs. “I used to touch myself thinking about your mouth. Your hands. That night you got out of the shower and didn’t realize I was in the hallway.”

He groans, like the wind just got knocked out of him.

“Used to fuck my pillow,” he confesses. “Pretending it was you. Had to sleep with a blanket over my dick for months.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me. Right now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His boxers come off. Yours are long gone. His cock slides between your folds, hot and heavy, and you both lose your minds when he pushes in.

“Oh my god—” you gasp, clenching around him.

“Shit, baby—” He buries his face in your neck, hips moving already, fast and hard like he can’t help it.

He grabs your leg, pins it high to his shoulder, and just—ruins you.

“You’re mine,” he says, teeth gritted, sweat dripping. “Fucking mine. Always were.”

You choke out his name, claw at his back, arch into every thrust.

“I waited for this,” you sob. “Waited so fucking long—”

“Not waiting anymore.”

And he fucks you like he means it. Like he’s never letting you go again. Like every second wasted not touching you was a sin he’s now making up for with every thrust, every kiss, every filthy word he moans into your ear.

He cums with your name broken on his lips, hard, buried deep.

You follow seconds later, clutching him tight, head thrown back, legs shaking.

And when it’s over—when you’re both breathless and boneless and covered in sweat—he kisses your collarbone and whispers, “Best win I’ve ever had.”

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cherrixpie · 3 months ago

Text

NEMESIS

part six of six

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ eventual nsfw content (at ca. 8k words); wc: 14.8k (because why not); cw: mentions of violence, swearing, blood, smut (mdni) ; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers ; nsfw tags: oral fem receiving, praise, teasing, overstimulation, p in v, aftercare

( masterlist )

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you hurried past students and ghosts alike. In your vision, they were reduced to flashes of blue, yellow, green and red, or an ethereal shimmering, background noise, the first layer on a canvas.

Once you reached the top step, you were gasping for breath, but the lack of oxygen didn't stop you from running along the wall to avoid the crowd that would only slow you down, simultaneously mapping out Hogwarts inside your head to take the quickest route to Dumbledore's office. Half aware that many heads were turning after you, some whispering behind their hands, you crossed a corner into an emptier corridor and only hastened your tempo.

Fictitious yet haunting images flashed before your waking eye as your imagination ran wild with what could possibly have happened to Mattheo. He'd get in fights constantly, but, to your knowledge, had never been summoned to the headmaster. Though, Dumbledore hadn't asked for him but you. Fear tore at your chest, adding to the ache of running. Was Mattheo so badly hurt that he felt the need to console his friends- and significant other?

In the last corridor, you barely stumbled towards the stairs that led up to the headmaster's office and gasped the password at the gargoyle who nodded approvingly and let you in. Barely managing to climb the last few steps, you slumped against the door to Dumbledore's office and knocked your fist against it. “Step in!” the headmaster’s old voice called from the other end and you pressed down the handle to swing the door open.

You'd been in this office once already, the night almost six years ago, after you and your friends had found the chamber of secrets and Harry had slayed the basilisk inside. There'd been a feast after, but you weren't sure if Mattheo had attended it. You'd have to ask him. Over the last days, you'd continued your habit from the tutoring lessons, of teasing each other about the way you'd previously perceived the other- though it was a lot more fun on his part when you got to hear his side of the story, living through all the events you did but experiencing them so differently. Sometimes it was funny and you found yourself giggling about things like preschool children. Other times, it was melancholic, a plea for better times or an unwelcome reminder of the difficulty of your relationship.

The portraits on the walls were pretending to be sleeping, but you couldn't be fooled anymore since your fateful run-in with chattery Dorothy Dankworth. Filigree golden instruments stood along the walls, fulfilling their mysterious purposes, and a great golden phoenix, Fawkes, sat on his place on Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster himself sat behind the desk and looked up from his parchment when you stepped in, still panting audibly for breath. His thin lips pulled into a smile as he lowered his half moon spectacles and his piercing blue eyes met yours.

You knew he could do legilimency, just as Mattheo could. Only, Mattheo had promised you never to use it against you without your knowledge, and the man sitting across from you had never made such promises.

But Dumbledore averted his stare fairly quickly and rose from his seat behind the desk, walking around it and beckoning you closer. With hesitant steps, feet still hurting from your little sprint through a huge damn castle, you walked towards him and he offered you a chair he conjured out of thin air. Without a word - you were still too out of breath - you sat down on it and he reoccupied his seat as well, clasping his hands together over the table.

“Miss Lovegood may have told you why I wished to speak to you,” he said calmly, his expression painfully serious. Oh, what you would have given for a calming smile or a winking eye right now, the safety and comfort the headmaster always displayed at the start-of-the-term feasts.

“Is he hurt?” you asked, for once without regard to proper etiquette. Your hands were clenched into fists beneath your robes, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as you fearfully awaited Dumbledore's answer.

For a few seconds, Dumbledore surveyed you thoughtfully, slightly crooking his head, before giving you the smallest of smiles. “It is true, Mr. Riddle got involved into a fight today, but he is not seriously injured. Though he would do well with medical treatment, which I hear he refused.” You breathed a sigh of relief, as confusion rose within you. Why then had you been called to the headmasters office? Why weren't you already with your boyfriend, patching him up?

“Gossip spreads incredibly fast in Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore quietly, “as you have experienced yourself. So I must ask: are you aware what the cause of Mr. Riddle's disagreement with two very unfortunate Gryffindor boys in your year was?”

“No,” you replied truthfully, going through the Gryffindor boys in your year one by one. Ron and Harry were the most likely candidates, but to your knowledge, they had spent the whole day up in Gryffindor tower and had still been there when Hermoine and you went on your way down. You could rule Neville out definitively, which left-

“Though Mr. Riddle remains with no major injuries, the same cannot be said for Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas,” said Dumbledore seriously. “If eyewitnesses are to be believed, Mr. Riddle attacked Mr. Finnigan upon overhearing him suggesting to Mr. Thomas how you would come to your senses eventually, that once Mr. Riddle would get bored of you, you would come, ah, ‘crawling back’ to them.” Dumbledore seemed almost embarrassed to say this out loud.

Biting down on your lip, you lowered your gaze. It was true, Seamus had been very reserved towards you ever since you'd kissed Mattheo the day after his fight with Ron. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that he had said these things, though you'd had more respect of him before. And Mattheo… you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at him, not when a stupid fuzzy feeling in your chest betrayed how flattered you felt that he had tried to defend your honor, even though you ultimately would have preferred it hadn't happened and no one were injured right now.

“Miss y/n?” Dumbledore asked and you looked back up at him. “Your relationship with Mr Riddle seems to be a popular topic of discussion all around the castle these days. Just yesterday, I overheard the fat monk and Sir Nicolas talking about it. So I regret weighing in on a topic you are probably long tired of.” So that was it. Dumbledore wanted to know about your relationship to Mattheo. And he was right, you weren't really in the mood of discussing it with your headmaster.

You realized he was looking at you, awaiting some sort of reaction, and you nodded. “It's fine.” It was not fine, but really, you just wanted to get this over with quickly so you could see if Mattheo was really alright as Dumbledore had said.

“To my understanding,” said Dumbledore, “and you may correct me if I'm wrong, you’re Mr. Riddle’s first girlfriend- not counting his many -uh- exploits, as well as his only relation outside of his friend group.” Reluctantly, you nodded. This felt wrong. What was he getting at?

“You must have met a great deal of resistance from your peers, especially your own house,” he continued. “Tell me, my dear: what do you see in Mr. Riddle others do not?”

Though you were taken aback by the question, you didn't need to think about it long. “What people think of him is entirely founded on the assumption that he must be like his father," you said seriously, "But you yourself will surely agree with me that it's not blood that is important, or what family you belong to, but how you choose to live your life and what decisions you make for yourself.”

“But,” Dumbledore said gently, “Mr. Riddle has been notorious for violence for quite some time, as you yourself must know.”

“If you tell someone over and over again that they are going to be a monster, that that is the path cut out for them,” you said, your voice rising a little as you got more heated, “You are not allowed to be shocked or surprised when they follow the path you pointed for them all their life!” To make your point, you sat up a little straighter and placed your hands on Dumbledore's desk. “Mattheo is a person, he's always been, what did you expect would happen if there is no hand extended to him?”

“So, you extend that hand to him?” asked Dumbledore calmly and watched you very carefully over the rim of his half moon spectacles.

“No,” you said curtly, “that was your job. For god’s sake, Mattheo isn't my charity case!” Realizing how loud you'd become unintentionally, you took a deep intake of breath to calm yourself. Respect for your teachers had always been important to you, Mattheo was the one with the anti-authority leanings. “Headmaster, I don't know what you expect me to say. But I'm not with Mattheo to- to save him or something, I'm with him because I love him.”

“Love, Miss y/n,” said Dumbledore pensively, “is often the greatest weapon against darkness. But it is not always enough to save someone who does not wish to be saved.”

“What are you saying?” you pressed, not breaking eye contact as your fingers clenched around each other on the table, curled into a tight net.

Dumbledore breathed a long sigh, and for a moment, he looked older than you'd ever seen him. “Mattheo Riddle is a young man burdened with a name that carries a great deal of darkness. I fear that darkness is eager to claim him.” He leaned forward ever so slightly. “I quite agree with you that it is not our blood that defines us. But do you believe Mattheo understands that?”

You couldn't answer this. In whispers, Mattheo had confided in you about his parentage, what some called his legacy to follow his father’s footsteps. As an incredibly powerful wizard, he'd always been expected to use these powers for the worst. It had been drilled into his head, that nothing about him could be good, that he would always be the destruction of goodness, the epitome of heinousness. He had confessed to you how he never knew how to hold you, as if you were an angel from another dimension. Too good for him, too pure to be touched by him, incorruptible and therefore never to be his, truly.

Dumbledore seemed to sense your inner conflict and addressed you, making you look up at him. “There is a storm inside that boy, one that I believe he doesn't know how to quiet. And yet, with you, he may be able to. But I advise you to let caution rule. You may be his light in the shadows, but even the brightest light cannot force someone to walk out of the dark.”

“Is that all?” you asked, burning to escape the headmasters office that seemed to get more cramped with each second. Dumbledore examined you closely, but then he nodded and you rose from your seat in an instant. Your hand already on the door handle, he called your name one last time and you turned around.

“Miss y/n?” asked Dumbledore, and the lightest of smiles played around his lips, though it seemed tainted with worry and sadness. “I do sleep better at night, knowing Mr. Riddle has you in his life.”

Leaving the office, you took off to Gryffindor tower at once, sprinting through halls and up the stairs until your lungs seemed to be bleeding and screaming in protest. Stumbling through the portrait hole, you caught sight of a group of Gryffindors in your year huddled together, throwing you both judgemental and apprehensive looks as you passed them, but neither of your closest friends were among them, so you paid them no mind.

Thankfully, the girl's dormitory was empty when you broke through the door, panting and gasping for air. Walking over to your bed, you pulled your medical bag out of your cupboard, flung the handle over your shoulder and took off down the stairs again. But when you went to make your way across the common room, you suddenly crossed paths with Ron. Assuming he'd ignore you, you tried to rush past him but his voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Can we talk?”

You turned around, finding him looking a little embarrassed and self-conscious, though he was still frowning. Even though the fight had been about a week ago, some of the bruises were still visible on his face, in spite of Madam Pomphrey’s medical miracles. “What is it?” you said, trying not to sound too impatient.

Ron blew out a long breath through his mouth, rocked lightly on the balls of his feet and looked anywhere but you. When you were just about to ask again, he glanced back at you and his frown deepened. “I was… a bit of an asshole last week.”

These barely muttered words stunned you enough to momentarily forget about Mattheo and concentrate your attention on the boy standing before you, who was rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah… kinda…” you said, suddenly realizing that you weren't even mad at him anymore. His words had been cruel, but you hadn't been innocent either, and he was one of your best friends. You knew he hadn't meant to hurt you, and he had gotten his comeuppance already.

“Look, I-” he seemed to be looking for the right words, “I didn't mean what I said about you being stupid and naive and throwing yourself at Riddle. I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine,” you said, after a short pause. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lied to you all like that, you guys are my best friends. I was just afraid that you might react, well, disproportionately.”

“You're going to keep seeing him then?” Ron asked, barely managing to keep the bitterness out of his tone. At least he wasn't shouting anymore, and you felt confident enough to quirk a little smile. “Well, yes. Actually, I was just on the way.”

Ron clenched his jaw. “I don’t trust him. I probably never will. But if he ever hurts you, I swear I’l-” He stopped himself and sighed, giving you a hesitant smile. “Just be careful, okay? Look, you're like a sister to me, that's why I was such a bloody idiot about this. I just don't want to see you get hurt.”

“You won't,” you promised, and, after a second of hesitation, you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around him. It was kind of hard because Ron towered over you with his considerable height, but nevertheless, he returned the embrace. When you shifted, he winced slightly and you broke apart. “Still hurts?” you asked empathetically.

Ron shrugged. “I guess I deserve that. Have fun with your boyfriend.” Though he rolled his eyes, he seemed in a much better mood than before.

Ten minutes later, you hurried down the steps to the dungeons and flew past the torches on the walls, blazing through your vision, in search of the Slytherin common room. When visiting the dungeons, you'd only ever been to the kitchens. There had never been an occasion when you'd felt the desire to enter the snakes den. Up until now.

Rounding another corner, you were suddenly faced with a dead end. Dark brick obstructed your way, cold and unsympathetic to your plight. You groaned in growing desperation, already turning on your heel to keep looking for the entrance, when suddenly, you gasped. Someone emerged from the wall, walking through stone, it seemed, as if it were nothing but fog. When they broke apart from the wall, you realized it was Theodore Nott. Equally surprised to find you, his eyes widened, then dropped to your medical bag.

“Did somebody already get you?” He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. To be on the receiving end of Nott’s staring was slightly terrifying and your fingers closed around the handle of your bag.

“Nobody got me,” you answered, growing more self-conscious by the second. Nott seemed so hostile- did Mattheo not want to see you? “I just… heard what happened and I wanted to come and… well…” Gesturing vaguely to your medical bag, your voice drowned off uncertainly.

But Nott only said “good” and motioned you towards him. When you came to a halt next to him, faced with the dark wall, he cleared his throat and said “vaframentum” at the wall. It seemed to be the password, as he held you by the arm and walked back through the seemingly hard brick, pulling you through with him.

It was the most peculiar feeling to walk through a wall, it seemed to mold around you like a tight suit, unable to breathe, until you came out on the other side the split of a second later. You shuddered, looked back at the brick and shook your head. “No offense, but I prefer our entrance, I think. Do people ever get stuck in there?”

“I think there was a kid, few decades back,” said Nott easily. You noticed his eyes were quite cautious as they surveyed you, but he didn't seem as hostile anymore. “He's up there.” Nott indicated something above you and only now did you properly appreciate the sight before you.

The Slytherin common room was somehow just like you had expected. The whole room was tinted in a greenish hue due to it being beneath the black lake and the portraits of many stern looking witches and wizards adorned the dark walls. Though a fire cackled in the large sophisticated fireplace, the room was a good few degrees cooler than the Gryffindor common room. The couches were of black leather and very elegant and desks stood along the walls, groaning under quills and parchment.

You looked up into the direction Nott had indicated and saw a flight of stairs leading upwards, where the dormitories had to be. With a short nod, you followed him, struggling to keep up with his long strides as you climbed the stairs. Walking up the staircase in silence, you passed many doors though none seemed to be the right one. Finally, Nott came to a halt before a large wooden door, undoubtedly the Slytherin boy's dormitory.

For the split of a second, Nott seemed to hesitate, but then, he brushed past you and opened the door. Because his large frame obscured much of what lay beyond the doorway, you could only see several pairs of feet and a curl of smoke rising over their heads, and hear Mattheo's voice, rough and agitated as he snapped at his friend. “Not you again, piss off, Nott! I need everyone to get out of my damn face.”

“It's not a pleasure looking at your face right now, I can assure you, mate,” Nott replied, coolly, leaning against the doorframe. “You look like Frankenstein's monster.”

A humorless chuckle sounded through the room and you heard someone shift. His voice, his laugh was enough for you to know that whatever had happened during that brawl had not been enough to fulfill Mattheo's need to make someone bleed for it, and for a split second, you were almost worried about Nott, even though you knew Mattheo loved him like a brother. “Oh great, another lecture,” Mattheo drawled sarcastically, looking to provoke, “you know, for someone who is not my mother, you sure nag like one.”

You couldn't help it, you couldn't stifle the little chuckle that left your throat at their banter. Silence fell upon the room. Next second, Nott was suddenly pushed away with a rough thrust and Mattheo stood before you in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm braced against the wood, his posture careless yet undeniably tense. His knuckles were split, seeping with blood, but he didn't seem to care. Neither did he seem pained by the deep cut that split his lower lip, swollen and dark, and the faint bruise that was already blooming on his cheek.

His hair was even messier than usual, like he'd run his hand through it too many times in frustration, and he removed the cigarette from his lips to flick it down and stamp on it to suffocate the glowing embers. As he scanned your soft figure and noticed your chest heaving slightly, every breath somewhat audible as a slight hitch, his dark eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing behind them. A smirk ghosted his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Didn't think I'd be seeing you here, princess,” he drawled, his voice low and rough, yet his eyes had somewhat softened at the sight of you. “If I knew getting my face bashed in would get you sneaking into my dorm, I might have done it sooner.”

Though worry tugged at your heartstrings at the sight of his injuries, you rolled your eyes slightly as a little smile played around your lips. Mattheo's eyes seemed to cling to them like a drowning man to his lifeline and he lowered his head slightly, grinning irresistibly down at you. Before he could try anything though, you gave him a glare and a flick against the forehead. “None of that until I have fixed that lip.”

Your rejection couldn't wash the sly smile off his lips. “I'm sure this is one of those things you can kiss better.” Behind him, you thought you heard someone gag, and Mattheo turned around sharply, glaring at Malfoy who seemed to be the culprit. “Why don't you shut your ferret ass mouth in front of my girl, Malfoy, before I make your face even prettier than Finnigan’s?” In an instant, Malfoy fell silent, merely glowering at the ground. Beside him, Lorenzo Berkshire gave you a little wave and smile that you returned.

Mattheo's eyes flickered briefly between the two of you, but without another comment, he seized you around the waist and pulled you against him and into the room. It was very orderly, probably not because of Mattheo. Zabini, Malfoy and Lorenzo seemed to stand around the four poster you assumed to be Mattheo's, looking at you with varying expressions of interest, disapproval and encouragement.

“Oi, idiots,” said Mattheo gruffly as he sat down on his mattress and pulled you along with him until you almost sat in his lap. “Kindly get your stupid faces out of my girlfriend's sight.” He seemed to take great satisfaction in calling you his girlfriend and his fingers curled into the flesh of your waist as he watched the others with sharp eyes.

“Mattheo,” you said softly, attempting to calm the storm that still seemed to be raging inside him. His head snapped around at you and his expression changed in an instant, softening visibly. His lips ran a line up your temple as he pulled you even closer. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Malfoy storm out of the room. Zabini followed, dragging a pissed looking Nott along with him, and Lorenzo left last, with a friendly smile your way.

Once the door fell shut behind them, you freed yourself from Mattheo’s hold. A disgruntled frown crossed his face, but he didn't try to stop you and only wrapped his hands around your knees, thumbs rubbing lazy circles onto your thights. A trickle of blood made its way down his chin and you brushed it away with a fleeting touch, careful not to hurt him. Many of his wounds were already scabby, but untreated. A defeated sigh lift your lips and you noticed Mattheo's eyes snapping down to them. “Why didn't you clean your wounds, Mattheo? You must be in a lot of pain.”

A casual grin tugged at his lips as he looked up at you, his dark curls falling into his eyes but he made no effort to brush them away, perhaps hoping you would. “You worried about me?” he asked in a teasing tone, his hands traveling up your thigh almost indiscernibly. “Careful, princess, you're gonna make me all soft for you.”

Shaking your head at his antics, but unable to suppress a smile, you placed your medical bag next to Mattheo on the bed and opened it to grab a small towel. With a murmured “aquamenti”, you moistened it and started to clean his cuts and bruises. You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your skull with a new intensity as he crooked his head. When you reached his lip and ran the cloth ever so carefully over his swollen cut, he didn't even wince but only leaned up as if chasing your lips for a kiss.

Quickly, you turned away, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really, Mattheo, you’re impossible. You're bleeding and bruising up and you still-” Breaking off with another sigh, you averted your eyes from his that had begun to glint at your abashed expression. You discarded the towel and instead took the murtlap essence, dipped your fingers into the cold liquid and began dabbing it onto the cut on his lip.

“Not gonna lie,” he said, lowering his voice slightly and it resonated in the limited space between his and your lips. “You fussing over me is kind of hot.” His eyes searched for yours, and when they met, his gaze locked you in place, unable to take your eyes off of him. “I wanted you to do it,” he said huskily, “I didn't clean ‘em because I wanted you to do it.”

The way your brows scrunched together almost had him on his knees for you. You looked so fucking irresistible in the dim light of his dorm, looking down at him with worry etched into your gaze and the soft touch of your hands. No one had ever cared for him like this. No one had ever cared enough to heal him, patch him up. Mattheo himself had mostly just let the injuries be until they vanished or turned into messy scars. Not that he'd ever cared. If anything, it only made people flinch back even more. And as much as he hated them for their silent judgement, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the fear in their eyes when they looked at him.

Fear. Mattheo had found himself reveling in it ever since he'd first experienced it: the summer after his father had returned from his Albanian exile. Before, it’d only ever bothered him how people burst out of the way when he walked down hallways. But now, doing to them what was done to him seemed not only just in a twisted way, but satisfactory. Even seeing his friends flinch away from him from time to time was a warped sort of thrill he relished.

But not with you. Mattheo hated the thought that he might see the same fear he'd seen in others reflected in your eyes. Your horrified expression after the brawl with Weasley had been enough of an appetizer to make him detest the very thought. No, you saw something in him, something good, something worth worrying about. And for the first time in his life, Mattheo didn't want to prove anyone's assumptions right by being as much of a monster as they all expected, but to be whatever you liked about him, though he couldn't really imagine what that might be.

“Knew you'd come,” he said, finally, after a short silence during which you had been dabbing at a cut through his brow, eyes narrowed adorably in concentration. “You're too kind, princess.” He couldn't resist urging you closer, his hands still cupping your lower thighs. Though his head was craned upwards, he couldn't have cared less about neck strain. He'd not let himself be deprived of the sight of you fussing over him with such tender care. A smirk played around his lips and he could see your eyes flick down to them, an almost unnoticeable tint of pink on your cheeks. Fucking hell, how he loved to see you blush.

Almost instinctively, his hands tightened and your breath hitched a little. Mattheo couldn't help the light groan that left his lips. “You should be in bed, not sneaking into the serpent’s den for your reckless boyfriend.”

To his surprise, you breathed an amused chuckle and ruffled his hair. He could have moaned when your fingers grazed over his scalp, he was damn near purring, leaning into your touch and catching your thumb between his teeth. You gasped in faux indignation and delivered the lightest of slaps to his temple. But a soft smile spread across your utterly kissable lips. “Tragically, I would do it any day.”

Mattheo felt something pull tight in his chest at your words, a warmth he wasn’t prepared for, something dangerous in its softness. He covered it the only way he knew how: with a smirk, with teasing, with the same careless charm that usually kept people at arm’s length. But it didn't quite work with you. Not when you were this close, your hands so gentle against his bruised skin, your eyes holding none of the judgement he was used to. He forced a chuckle, tilting his head as if unaffected, as if you hadn’t just unraveled something inside him with a single sentence. “Tempting idea, if it gets you all over me.”

It was meant to be flirty, meant to be light, but even he could hear the edge of truth beneath it- because, Merlin help him, he was starting to think he liked being taken care of by you. And that? That terrified him more than any fight ever could. The little laugh that spluttered past your lips didn't improve his precarious situation. “There are easier ways to do that, you know,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “Not involving sending people to the hospital wing, I mean.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Mattheo's expression darkened visibly, as if the storm you'd managed to calm for a few minutes was brewing up again, swirling in his dark eyes. His jaw clenched dangerously and again, his grip on your thighs tightened as if on instinct. “They deserved it. Like I'd ever let them talk about you like that and do nothing." You could tell he was still agitated by what Seamus had said, his knee rocking restlessly and the words practically spat out of his mouth.

Frowning, you dabbed at his cheek and drew soft circles on his blooming bruise. “Mattheo, people just need time. Before I came here, Ron apologized to me. It will be the same with the rest, they'll get used to it.”

But your attempt to soothe his simmering wrath, it only seemed to spur him on as his eyes hardened. “Did you forgive him?” he asked through clenched teeth, still looking up at you with unwavering attention.

You hesitated upon recognizing the barely suppressed fury in his tone and leaned down peck his healing lips. Though his lips chased after yours, you didn't want to risk reopening the cut and drew away decisively. “Well,” you said, ignoring the way one of his index fingers started to draw a line up your thigh and the goosebumps it left in its wake. “Yes,” you confessed, “for what he said about me, at least.”

A harsh “tch” made its way past his lips and the next words he nearly growled. “Of course you did.”

Feeling a pinch of defiance, you got a hold of Mattheo’s hand that had been wandering up to your skirt and placed it firmly back on your knee. “So, you think I was wrong to forgive him?” you asked with a frown.

For the first time this evening, Mattheo tore his eyes away from yours and fixed them instead on a spot somewhere on your belly where your shirt was tucked neatly into your school skirt. “‘m not gonna sit here and pretend I don't benefit from you being so damn forgiving. But I guess that's what you have me for now.” Though he shrugged, you saw that his shoulders were tense and caught his fingers wrapping around each other, squeezing the bleeding knuckles that only emitted more blood.

“You’ll be my guard dog for the bad guys then?” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. A heavy tension had set upon the room, weighing down on you like a thick blanket. His touch and his intense, dark eyes paired with his agitation and words of boiling rage. The inevitable mood swings, when he'd attempt to shield his true feelings behind a well crafted mask of sarcasm and flirtatious teasing. Mattheo Riddle was a rollercoaster of a man, and it was hard to keep up with him at times. But then again, you'd always known that.

Instead of switching to a more conversational and casual tone, Mattheo suddenly brushed your hand off. You could practically see it in his eyes, like closing shutters of a dimly lit house. Mattheo was closing himself off, and he moved his head so your arm fell helplessly to his side. His hands had detached themselves from your thighs as his fingers seemed to look for another smoke in his inside pocket. “You're wasting your time, love. Not like a few bruises are gonna kill me.”

With an almost exasperated sigh, you crouched down before him so that you were now the one looking up at him and closed your fingers around his red and slimy hands. Not a muscle twitched in his face, it seemed to have frozen over into a mask of indifference. “Mattheo, I want to,” you said, firmly and in great earnest, “I don't want to see you hurt. Please-” your voice dropped down to a low whisper, “please let me help you.”

Fuck. You'd used the magic word, whether it had been conscious or not. Mattheo could never resist you pleading so sweetly, looking up at him with those caring, loving eyes, holding a gaze so heavy with tenderness as he'd never experienced it before. Your hand reached out to him, and he flinched away for the split of a second, knowing your touch would be too much, would burn down all barriers and barricades he could flee behind to hide from your disarming kindness. When your hand cupped his face softly, he damn near shuddered under your hold, leaning into your touch and looking up at you with blazing eyes. “You're really gonna waste those pretty hands on fixing me up, huh?”

You let out a smile laugh, aghast at how he could be flirty even in the most grim of circumstances, with blood running down his face. Shaking your head, you got a hold of his hands and started to treat his bashed in knuckles. “I think these pretty hands are put to good use.”

Seeing his lips quirk up into a smirk, you knew what he was gonna say before he did, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I think I know a way to put them to better use.”

“You are a menace onto the world, Mattheo,” you chuckled in disbelief and his smile only seemed to widen. Dropping his right hand, you reached for his left one and started dabbing a soothing creme onto his scabby knuckles, moving your index finger in small, careful circles over the wounds.

Mattheo leaned forwards slightly, seeking your gaze with his distracting enigmatic eyes. “Mmm, keep touching me like that and I might start purring.” You delivered a light push to his torso in a feeble attempt to free yourself from his distracting proximity, but your eyes widened in alarm when Mattheo failed to conceal the lightest of winces. Immediately, he attempted to distract you with another charming smile, but your nurse instincts knew greater obstacles.

“Take off your shirt,” you said firmly and gave him a short glare. To your surprise, he didn't quirk one flirty brow at you and no low teasing whistle made its way past his lips. Instead, he turned and held your steady gaze hostage as he slipped his hand from yours and worked on the buttons of his shirt. You felt almost burned by his chestnut eyes as his fingers escaped your sight and he shrugged off his white shirt in a singular motion.

When your eyes wandered down his torso, you felt your breath catch in your throat- but not in a good way. The bruises and fresh cuts were bad enough, but it was his scars that truly stunned you. They were spread all over his upper body, some faded and thin, others deep and jagged and alarmingly recent, craving stories you weren't sure you could handle knowing across his skin. Your fingers, trembling slightly, hovered over a particularly brutal mark near his ribs, but you couldn't bring yourself to touch it, afraid of hurting him, afraid of what it might mean.

Were those all a product of his fury fueled fighting? Many of the fresher scars didn't look like the consequence of a hallway brawl. They looked like remnants of cruel torture, the kind you'd only ever seen in your healing books about treating wounds inflicted by dark magic. How many times had he been hurt like this? And worse- how many times had no one been there to patch him up? The thought sent a dull ache through your chest, made your heart clench and sadness settle heavy in your stomach.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, but he wasn't smirking anymore. His expression was guarded, wary- like he was waiting for you to flinch back, pull away, see disgust settle upon your features. But all you could think of was how much pain had he been carrying alone? Without your consent, you felt your eyes well up with tears and averted them, pretending to study the more recent bruises. But the deep, brutal cuts stood out to you as if there was a stagelight upon them, and you felt a stubborn tear slip past your defenses and roll down your cheek.

Before you could brush it away and pretend it had never been there, you felt rough pads of fingers under your chin, guiding you to look at the one they belonged to. Mattheo's brows were scrunched together in what seemed like worry. It was an unusual look on his face, it somehow didn't seem to match his features, as if someone had pulled and arranged them into an awkward interpretation of care. But you knew better. You knew he wasn't used to showing any kind of emotion, much less worry, care or empathy. All of which would be considered a weakness, and Mattheo couldn't allow himself to be weak.

Mattheo Riddle was an animal because his life had been guided by a single driving force: staying alive, making it to the next day. Roughening up with each new hardship was an adaption, a natural evolution. Hardening was a necessary precaution, because care for anyone else would mean less care for himself, and he needed all he could get. You knew what a precarious line he walked, and how eager the world was to see him fall. Because you had been them, and you had been watching. Only now did you realize how much.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding almost insecure. Though you tried to keep it together, this show of vulnerability only added to the pile weighing in on your poor heart that belonged to him way too much already. You tried to smile, but another tear made its way past your lashes and down your cheeks and your breath trembled audibly.

“I'm just-,” you said, unsure how to properly wrap the emotions welling up in you up in a sensible string of words, how to explain. “I'm just so sad,” you finally managed to confess weakly, plainly, the words so flat you could have slapped yourself. “For you,” you clarified, when his brows twitched with irritation, the urge to rid you of anything that might be dissatisfactory to his princess. “For all the pain in your life. I wish you hadn't needed to go through it.” Your voice was a mere breath, a dying whisper on your tongue. Finally, your shaking fingers lay upon the largest scare with such care that he would barely be able to feel it. “I wish I'd been there with you.”

“No, you don't,” he said firmly. Something flashed in his eyes, almost like panic, like a deer in the headlights as he imagined you with him, within his fathers reach. But they hardened the split of a second after. “Hear me, princess? You don't.” You couldn't help yourself, you leaned into his touch and his hand seized your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

For a long while that felt like an eternity and a second at once, he didn't speak, only looked at you. Your care had taken him off guard. You'd shed tears for him. Nobody had ever cared about him like you did, with an unconditional love like yours, with a kindness like yours. Nobody had ever shed tears for him. He should have felt bad that you were crying for him, especially when he himself would say some of these wounds were deserved. If not for his direct action, then for the crime of his existence. But he couldn't deny the feeling of stupid stupid relief at seeing you care so deeply.

Having calmed your tears, you wiped the last remnants from your cheeks and gave him an apologetic look. But before you could even open your lips to mutter an apology, his free hand seized one of your wrists and the intensity with which his eyes met yours made any attempt at speaking die on your tongue. Slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away any second, he guided your hand towards him until it touched the skin of his shoulder, one of the more faded scars. It felt hot against your hand, even though you'd made sure to warm your hands up before treating him.

Still keeping your gaze hostage, Mattheo slowly moved your hand, moved it over his collar bone and down his chest, running over smaller and bigger scars, clean and brutal ones. He didn't blink once, only looking into your helpless eyes as he made you touch every single scar on his body. When he let go of your wrist, it fell limbly against your side and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he crooked his head at you. “See? Now they’re beautiful.”

A shaky breath left your lips and hung in the air between you, like a question. He answered as he tilted his head slightly and reached out to you in a way that didn't need hands. When you lowered your lips onto his, they were still impossibly soft from the soothing effect of the serum. His moved gently against yours, missing the usual heat and settling for a tender caress. His hands settled on your thighs once more as he caught every shaky breath with his lips. You knew he was no man of words, a stranger to comfort, but he had the right instincts.

After a good minute, you parted and you directed your eyes at his body once more. You were still here to treat him, after all. So, you sat down on the bed beside him, made him turn and face you and started applying diptam to his bruises. Checking that no ribs were fractured, you ran your hands over his sides and could practically feel him swallowing down a provocative comment.

When you were finished, you pulled away from him and stored your flasks in your bag. As you looked back at him, you felt your heart skip a beat. The neutral healer’s eye had been replaced, you could no longer see Mattheo's body as just another body to be treated. He was undeniably, unfairly beautiful. The sharp cut of his collarbones, the taut muscles beneath scarred skin, the way his stomach tapered down in a way that made your stomach twist. Even battered and bruised, sitting on his bed beneath your healing hands, he carried himself with, it seemed, effortless strength. Every line of his body was shaped by a lifetime of fights, of survival.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, warmth creeping up your neck as your eyes traced the ridges of his abdomen, the way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his dark gaze flickering over you like he knew exactly what you were thinking. And maybe he did- because when you finally dragged your eyes back to his, that damn smirk was back, lazy and knowing, and Merlin help you, it only made him more infuriatingly attractive. You felt heat rise in your cheeks and averted your eyes, afraid they might linger and betray your hunger for him. But of course, nothing could escape Mattheo.

When you attempted to bring some distance between you and his irresistible smile and body, he rose from the bed and strolled towards you with slow, deliberate steps. Backing away, you felt like a mouse fleeing a hungry cat, until your back met wood and your breath got stuck in your throat- audibly. Mattheo's eyes widened with pleasure at the sound and his infuriating smirk only deepened as his attentive eyes caught the way your gaze fixed on anything but him. Fucking adorable.

You even leaned back your head against the wood as his arms came up to cage you in, making you look up at him with rosy cheeks and an abashed smile. “Uh,” you said, squirming under his intense gaze, and voice shaking for a whole other reason than distress. “Don't you want to put your shirt back on?”

Mattheo chuckled at your words, he seemed to find your sudden embarrassment very amusing. “Blushing, are we?” he asked, ignoring your suggestion and inching closer until there were only breaths between your still clothed chest and his bare one. You found yourself aching for him, aching for him to close the distance, because you could never, and you would never ask it. But Mattheo only made a “tsk” sound and shook his head in playful scolding, “and here I thought you were being professional.”

Any response died on your tongue when he leaned down and all you could see was him, all you could smell was him, all you could hear was him. Your senses were overwhelmed with him, him, him, as you did your very best not to sneak a look at his bare upper body. For some reason, Mattheod seemed to be able to sense your distress, though he made no attempt to ease it. Quite the contrary. Another chuckle left his lips, growing ever more dangerous. “Relax, princess, you can look. I don't bite, not unless you want me to.”

“I-” you managed to say before the look in his dark eyes sealed your lips just as effectively as a charm might have. He leaned in even further until his breath fanned your lips and you closed your eyes in unfulfilled expectation. “Fucking hell,” he murmured into the little space between you, “you're adorable when you try to pretend you're not flustered. Tell me princess-” Without a warning, he grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to his chest once more, this time running it over his abs. His devious eyes seemed to notice every reaction, every nervous flicker of your eyes. “Do you want to touch me?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded and he cooed, running your hand up to his chest and down again. Again, that suffocating smirk. “I know you want to look at me,” he said, “wouldn't even need legilimency for that. Go on. I'm yours now, remember? You’re allowed to look, princess.” For a moment, you managed to keep up the act, but then, your eyes flickered down to his body and you felt yourself shiver with desire. God, he was beautiful.

Suddenly, his hands released your wrist and found their way to your waist, pulling you with him as he walked slowly over to his four-poster. You felt almost dizzy from looking into his eyes, as if they were black holes pulling you towards him with irresistible force. Your heart nearly leaped from your chest when a light push made you flop down onto his mattress and he followed suit, swallowing all forms of protest as his lips clashed into yours with fiery heat.

The kiss was demanding, it had the edge the previous one had missed. Mattheo kissed you as if he wanted to devour you whole, as if he wanted to claim your lips as his forever. His rough hands dug into the flesh of your waist and guided you slowly to lie on your back, exerting full control over you. Yet you'd rarely felt more content, experienced such a thrill as when one of his hands cupped your cheek and angled your jaw just right for his lips to wander down your neck and leave red marks in their wake. There was little Mattheo loved more than marking you up, molding your soft skin into a shape of his liking, sully it with marks of his claim on you.

When he reached the spot just below your ear, your breath hitched in your throat and Mattheo damn near groaned into your neck. Your smell overwhelmed him, the feeling of your soft skin on his, listing to your labored breathing and you. You laying in his bed, in his sheets. When he was satisfied with the mark he was working on, he forced himself to part from your neck, from your skin, to hover above you. Your lips were kiss-bitten and slightly swollen, fresh hickeys adorned your neck and writhed so sweetly in his bed. His. This was where you belonged, with him, and he with you.

Your breathing was uneven as you looked up at Mattheo, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as they raked down your clothed figure. A crease appeared between his brows as he lowered himself once more, but refusing to close the distance between the two of you. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt that had come untucked at some point and his voice was nearly a growl. “Think we should be equal, don't you, princess?” His voice was heaving just slightly, enough to make him maddeningly irresistible. “Why don't you take this off?”

Though thoroughly flustered by your current predicament, by the way his bare chest moved against yours and the pads of his fingers brushed experimentally over the exposed skin of your waist, you managed to give him a small smile. “Why don't you?”

Something changed behind the guarded curtains of his eyes, something shifted, like a beast awoken from slumber. Mattheo chuckled dryly against your lips when suddenly, a resounding rip reached your ears. You flinched when he literally tore your shirt off of you, buttons flying in every direction. Your gasp was muffled by his lips as they crashed into yours once more, chaotic and wild, as he worked on discarding what was left of your shirt. In dire need for air, you pulled away and pushed at his chest lightly. “Jesus, Mattheo, my shirt!”

“Be that damn cheeky again and I'll do the same to your skirt,” he said lowly before propping himself up just enough to get a proper view of your exposed upper body. His eyes were captured with fascination, unable to tear themselves away from the soft skin, the curve of your breasts and your damn white lace bra. Fuck, if you hadn't looked enough like an angel already. Unsuspectedly, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, his fingers almost trembling as he ran them up the side of your belly, over the soft flesh, until they reached your bra. Shivering deliciously beneath his simple touch, you looked up at him with your doe eyes and he felt the conflicting desires to absolutely ruin you and impale himself on a stick for touching something so damn holy with his sullied hands.

Sitting up slightly, you seemed to misinterpret his lingering stare and crossed your arms over your chest. Immediately, his shot forward to seize your wrists and pin them above your head, unable to hide the hunger brimming behind his cold facade. “Fucking beautiful you are,” he said gruffly and reveled in the way your cheeks heated up, the soft tint of pink. His eyes were drawn to the hickies on your neck and Merlin did they look good on you.

Your chest was heaving under his intense gaze as he dipped his head down to kiss, nibble and mark all along your collarbone. “Take that off.” You complied immediately, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and discarding it somewhere to the side. “Won't someone- ah!” You let out the a high-pitched squeak when he bit down on the flesh just above your breasts and could hear him breathing in deeply. Determined, you tried again as his lips made their way down the valley of your breasts. “Won't someone come in?”

“No one who wants to keep their head,” he growled and you whimpered when he turned his attention to one of your tits. He let go of your wrists in favor of cupping the other and rubbing circles around your sensitive bud, making you stifle a soft mewl. “So, what about that skirt?” He pressed and your now free hands quickly made their way down, tugging at the waistband of your skirt. Impatient, one of his hands slapped yours away and pulled the skirt down your legs, along with your thights, leaving you with nothing more than your panties against the heated air of his dorm.

Mattheo buried his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs and you could feel him against your thigh, feel his arousal. It was somewhat calming to know that he was just as effected as you, though he wasnt yet mewling helplessly. You felt his hot breath on your skin as his lips travelled down, down your belly, leaving a trail of unexpectedly soft kisses and whispering into your soft flesh as if in holy confession. “Merlin, you’re so fucking beautiful, can't believe it, cant wait to hear you scream my name-”

If you’d been blushing before, you definitely were now. Something hot seemed to pulsate in your cheeks as your heart fluttered with every word he spoke into your skin, spoken in the tone of a starving man praying for salvation.

Mattheo was in love with the little sounds you made as his lips made their way down your body, his fingers brushing over spots he knew would have your skin break out into goosebumps. Merlin, how he relished how responsive you were, how your soft, pliant body seemed to mold into his every touch and how your helpless little gasps and suppressed mewls sounded like music in his ears. He’d have you screaming for him in no time, have you screaming his name, and his heart raced in eager expectation.

But he had to take it slow with you. For one, he knew he was far more experienced than you were- when it came to the physical sense. But he’d never done it like this. With actual love behind it. The act of sex had always been about selfish pleasure on the one hand and power on the other. The power of someone else’s reactions, the satisfaction of knowing they despised him as they fell apart under his touch, that he’d be their dirty fucking secret but so powerless in that moment. There was no love behind it, just sex and power.

But now, he had to overthink. You were so perfect, so soft and gentle, so he had to try and be gentle with you, too- because you deserved it more than anyone. Mattheo was well aware that you deserved someone better than him, someone less tainted, less selfish, and better at loving you. But the heavens should strike him down if he couldnt give you the best time out of anyone in this damn castle. But it had to be perfect. It had to be just right.

As he reached your pubic bone and his deft fingers closed around the waistband of your underwear, you squirmed slightly and felt goosebumps spread all over your skin, in spite of how damn hot it was. “No no no, don’t run away from me now, princess,” he muttered against the skin of your pubic bone, and when you glanced down at him, you saw him look up at you with the utmost devotion and a carnal need that had you gasp lightly. Both his hands were on your thighs as he rested his chin on one of them and looked at your through his long dark lashes. The tension seemed to mount between the two of you, you realized he was waiting for something as heat crept up your neck.

Then, without any warning aside from a small twitch of his lips, he leaned down and blew a gust of air against your clothed core. A high-pitched yelp left your lips and he chuckled darkly, slowly pulling at the waistband of your panties. And even still, he was fixing you in place with those criminally seductive eyes of his. “What do you want me to do, princess?” he asked with raised brows and you swallowed thickly, chest heaving as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Your wide, pretty eyes almost had him folding for you, but he wanted to hear you say it. Wanted nothing more than for you to disregard your bashfulness, whatever means necessary.

But you found yourself unable to answer, not with the way his eyes bore into yours and you hoped he would read your desire in your mind, so you wouldn't have to say the words that felt so utterly filthy,you could never say it. Let alone the thought had your cheeks burn with shyness and you shook your head shakily, looking at him with pleading eyes. His teasing smile grew when suddenly, you felt his hand cup your clothed cunt, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. “Want me to eat you out like you deserve, princess?” he asked, smiling evily at your abashed whine, “Salazar, I bet you taste sweeter than sugar.”

“Mattheo,” you breathed, whether to spurr him on or to warn him you didn't know, but he cooed. “I know, princess, I know.” His hand drew away, but was soon replaced by his index finger drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your underwear. With a disgustingly smug look on his face, his eyes raked over your slightly trembling form as you practically shook in anticipation.

You looked so fucking sweet, barely holding it together, blushing and stuttering and he hadnt even properly touched you yet. Though he had planned your first time with him to be all about you, he could feel himself harden painfully as he burned to seek relief against the mattress. But if Mattheo could do one thing, it was to disregard his needs.

“Tell me, princess,” he drawled as he kept rubbing painfully slow circles, barely teasing your clit. Though you would never mentioned it, you’d heard from the other girls in your dorm how good he was in bed, you knew he was teasing you deliberately. “Anyone ever eaten you out before?” Hesitating for a split second, you shook your head and saw his brows twitch. He hummed lowly. “What fucking losers.”

You stifled a moan when he slipped his hand under your lace panties and grazed the rough pads of his fingers over your most sensitive spot. “There weren't a lot of them,” you almost whispered and his eyes snapped up at you. “A-actually just one, really.”

An almost mocking smile adorned his lips. “Really now? And how was it?” Somehow, he already knew the answer, you could see it in his eyes, the quirk of his brow, the edge of his smile. Whether it was legilimency or he had somehow read it off the curves off your body, you didnt knew. You only knew he’d derive great pleasure from hearing you say it.

“‘t was pretty short,” you managed to croak out and gasped when Mattheo’s fingers finally released you from his tortuous teasing and twirled around your clit in a way that had you mewl loudly. Embarrassed, you slapped your hand over your mouth, but his eyes hardened and he fucking pinched your clit, making you squeak in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“None of that, princess,” he muttered in a commanding tone, “I wanna hear you, if you want me to make you cum. You do want that, don’t you?” Bashfulness, paired with his diligently working fingers, made you whine pathetically and he smirked. “That’s what I thought. Be a good girl and take those hands off your mouth, yeah?” With shaking fingers, you did and he tutted softly. “Atta girl. Now lie down.”

In a twisted way, it went to his head, how quickly you let yourself sink into the mattress, how eagerly you obeyed his command, how much you trusted him with yourself. You could still afford to be trusting, he realized, other than him. But he would fucking make sure you’d never lose that. He’d never let the world wash away your kindness, he’d kill anyone who tried.

With an impatient grunt, he pulled your panties off and threw them somewhere to the side. A shudder went through him when he came face to face with your perfect cunt. Merlin, you were so damn soaked. Mattheo felt pride swell within him, so unlike the selfish satisfaction he'd gained from others' pleasure. Oh, how long he’d imagined this these past few weeks, having you all pliant and soft under him, making you fall apart on his tongue. But fuck did your sweet smell call out to him, so that he couldn't waste an time.

When his tongue came into contact with your clit, you squeaked in a mix of surprise and a sudden surge of pleasure, but Mattheo barely gavce you any time top adjust to the feeling. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in the way he was practically delving into your soaked cunt, as if he meant to suffocate himself in it. His tongue leaped at your core, then sucked on your clit in a way that had you seeing stars and you moaned powerlessly as you became putty in his hands. Mattheo ate you out like a man starved, and every single on of your moans was like music to his ears. His tongue swirled around your clit and a high-pitched mewl fell from your lips, so addictive that he had to do it again, and again, and again-

Mattheo threw your legs over his shoulders to find a new angle and your hands shot down to bury themselves in his soft curls. You tried not to tug too hard, but when he licked one long stripe up your cunt, moaning so fucking filthily, you couldn't help but hold onto him as if he was your lifeline. And Merlin, how he loved it. Loved the way your fingers dug into his curls, loved the way you pulled at them in response to his ministrations, how he could feel your fingers quiver when his came down to your cunt to ease open your entrance.

When he slipped a first finger inside, you practically whimpered and Mattheo could’ve sworn he lost his sanity right then and there. He added another finger to your sweet little cunt and scissored them, pushed them in and out of your glistening folds, angled them upwards and unerringly hit the spot that had you break for him so fucking deliciously. What he didnt expect was for you to breathe a mewl of his name that went straight to his aching cock. Oh, you little minx.

He chuckled against your sensitive bud and your breath hitched in your throat. “Say it again,” he murmured against your folds as his fingers and tongue worked tirelessly to bring you to your high. “Say it, my name, say it.” You didn't even need his instructions, the repeated high-pitched moans of his name rolled off your tongue as if it were the only word you had ever known and, glancing down, you saw him grind his hips into the mattress. Your hips bucked against his face when the pleasure mounted up to new heights and he accelerated the speed of his tongue and fingers.

Allowing himself one look at you, he wished he could engrave the sight into his skull: you, shaking and blushing under his ministrations, whimpering helplessly and writhing in his sheets. His sheets, his girl, all his. Even his mind was growing hazy, but he willed himself to stay focused for you as you got closer to your high. You were on cloud nine, feeling only pure bliss and goddamn had everyone been right about him: Mattheo Riddle knew what he was doing. His deliberate movements overwhelmed your senses with unknown pleasure and your thighs started shaking, as did your fingers.

“‘M close,” you barely managed to breathe out, lips quivering with the intensity of the orgasm you felt building up in your core.

You weren’t sure if he’d heard you, buried between your thighs, but his fingers only picked up speed, his tongue flicked against your clit and with a guttoral moan, you fell apart on his tongue. You could almost see the gates of heaven as pleasure unlike any you’d experienced before wiped any and every thought from your head but him, him, him. Mattheo worked you through your high as you kept mewling his name as if in prayer. How ridiculous, someone as heavenly as you praying to someone as depraved as himself- and how utterly twisted it was that he enjoyed it so fucking much.

Even as you began trashing in his hold, he couldn't stop, couldn't have it be over, couldn't depart from your sweetness. “Mattheo, ‘s too much,” you whimpered, but he was like a man possessed, kept going as if he couldnt stop himself. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, lapping up your juices, and you couldn't help yourself. As you felt a scream build up in your throat, you ripped your hands from his hair, earning a grunt of displeasure, and threw them over your mouth to muffle the loud cry. He stopped.

For a second, relief flooded over you, but then his face entered your field of vision as he hovered above you. His curls were as messy as you'd never seen them before, due to your restless hands, and your juices covered the better half of his face, making his lips glisten. His pupils were blown wide and a frown adorned his beautiful face, a frown that made you breath hitch and goosebumps spread all over your skin.

“Sorry,” you gasped, so short on breath as if you’d just run a marathon. “Sorry, Mattheo, I couldnt-”

His frown softened when he heard your voice quiver, looked into your pleading eyes. You were so fucking sweet, he’d never even think of punishing you. No, he only wanted to spoil you rotten, see the bliss in your eyes and hear his name on your tongue as he pushed you over the edge.

“‘S fine,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and lowering himself down to meet your lips. You seemed taken aback to taste yourself on his lips, making him smile into the kiss, but then, you opened your soft lips to allow his tongue access into your mouth and readily gave in to its push. Feeling his skin against yours, chest against chest, your tits pressed against his sternum and his sweat mingling with yours. It was so intimate you sighed into the kiss, which made him chuckle lowly.

Just then, you felt it. Something hard, clothed, dig into your thigh, and a trembling, daring hand of yours slipped between your intertwined bodies and grazed the tent in his pants. Mattheo let out a sharp hiss and his lips departed from yours to bite down on your ear lobe teasingly. “Well, aren’t you nice, always thimkin’ of me?”

You ignored his comment, sittin up a little to establish eye contact. Something was burning on your tongue, something you needed to ask before anything else happened between the two of you. Your heart beat nervously against your ribcage, but when you met his chestnut eyes, you felt all worry wash away in an instant. “What is it, princess?” Mattheo asked, crooking his head in a way that had his curls fall adorably into his eyes.

Before he could, you brushed them away softly and kept your hand on his cheek, as if to stabilize yourself. “I- I want to keep going.” God, your cheeks burned from just these words and he took notice with a light smile. Mattheo made no attempts to interrupt you as you searched for the right words in your head, arranged them in order, just to discard them. You weren’t good at this, he was, he could just talk about this kind of thing without turning into a blushing mess.

“Mattheo?”

“Hm?” he made expectantly as one hand of his started rubbing slow circles on your hip. “I-” you broke off and wet your suddenly dry lips with your tongue. God, this was so embarrassing you wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “I’ve heard from others about- well-,” you stuttered hesitantly and Mattheo, slowly piecing it together, grinned teasingly, only worsening your embarrassment. With a shaky breath, you dared to meet his eye and decided just to get it over with. “Would you mind not being as- as rough on our first time? I mean, now? It’s not that I don’t- I mean, I just-,” you rambled but he placed a quick peck on your lips, effectively shutting you up.

His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, more open than you’d ever seen them, more vulnerable, more loving. “Hey, hey, princess. We do it exactly the way you want, the way you enjoy, alright?” he said, still drawing soothing circles on your skin.

But you frowned lightly, brows drawing together. “But that’s not right,” you protested, “what about you?”

For the split of a second, Mattheo was startled, simply because he didn't remember ever being asked this question by anyone. But of course you would. You, with the kind smile and the soft hands and the warm look in your eyes. You, who never failed to think of him even when he really didn't want you to. But who was he kidding, it felt fucking amazing to know how much you cared about him.

“I’m getting my fair share of pleasure either way,” he smirked against your lips, playfully pinching the skin of your hip. You nodded slightly, your hand shakily resting upon his clothed cock once more and he covered the shaky breath that left his lips with a growled chuckle. “Careful there, princess,” he teased, head dipping down to trail kisses up your jaw, “You’re playing with fire.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the next words that left your mouth as you brought your other hand to his chin to make him look at you. “Then maybe I want to burn with you.”

Something seemed to snap within Mattheo and he surged forward, stealing the breath out of your lungs as he cradled your face and kissed you with such force you fell back into the sheets. Your chest heaved against his as you brought your hands to his hair and he groaned into the kis, biting down on your bottom lip. “We don’t have to do it tonight,” he managed to rasp against your lips, summoning his last remnants of morality that kept him from ruininmg you right here, right now, and drinking up every single sound of pleasure you made.

“I want to, Mattheo,” you whimpered as his hand found your clit once more, rubbing slow circles over the oversensitive bud. “I want you.”

“Fucking hell, primcess,” he straight up moaned and your breath hitched when he ground his clothed erection against your bare core. But you didn't let up, bucking your hips up to meet his and mewling when the fabric of his trousers rubbed over your clit so deliciously.

“Please,” you breathed against the shell of his ear when he started sucking on the already blooming hickeys on your neck again. “Please, Mattheo, I need you.”

Holy hell, your pleading shot straight to his cock. Your slightly whiny tone, the begging. Please. Please. You repeated it and Mattheo wished he could hear you say it forever. He fucking loved hearing you beg, loved the way your breath hitched in your throat when he bucked his hips into yours and your fingers tightened in his curls. His impatient fingers fumbled with his belt, tugged at the zipper of his pants until he was able to discard them to some corner of the room he didnt care to know. Because all there was now was you. Your breathing, your little moans, your squirming figure beneath his and your god damn pleas that had him weak in the knees. And, of course, the feeble but of fabric still separating you from him.

Pulling his boxers down as quickly as possible without departing from your neck, he finally managed to get them off and his cock, an angry red and already leaking precum, slapped against his abdomen with a filthy sound. When you felt his erection rub over your core, no fabric seperating you anymore, you bit down on Mattheo’s shoulder to stifle a mewl and dug your fingers into his biceps. His lips departed from your neck as he hovered above you, his curls framing his face like a halo. God, how you loved that man.

Your eyes were locked with his as his cockhead kissed your clit and you let out a high-pitched gasp, giving him a needy look. But Mattheo’s usual teasing manner had been replaced by an almost somber look in his eyes, as if he wanted to savor every second of this. He didnt have to ask if you were ready, you only nodded and he pushed in the first few inches.

Mattheo moaned loudly, unabashedly, and you tightened your grip on his bicep at the uncomfortable stretch. God, he was big, bigger than the one you’d had before, and anxiety curled in your stomach that you wouldnt be able to fit him inside. But Mattheos seemed to sense your worry as his breath shuddered over your face and he pecked your temple. “Relax,” he cooed, whispering praises into your ear that had you tremble and blush helplessly.

He didnt move, and it seemed to cost him a great deal of willpower, but as his tip pressed into your entrance and you breathed in and out through your mouth, you slowly managed to adjust as the sting turned into a comfortable stretch. With a little nod, you signaled him to go further and he pushed in another few inches, straight up whimpering into your ear. The sound made you clench and his fingers tightened around your waist. “fuck, princess, you trying to kill me?”

You shook your head and buried your face in his shoulder, trying to relax to make him fit. Mattheo cooed at your determination, rubbing lazy circles on your clit to ease you in. “M’gonna make you feel so good, princess, promise.”

Finally, with a lot of patience and willpower, Mattheo managed to bottom out and both of you struggled for air. His hands wandered down to your hips as he chuckled against your ear. “Such a good girl, taking me like a champ, arent ya?” All you could do was whimper in response, you felt so damn full, could almost feel him in your stomach. But the uncomfortable stretch became more enjoyable by the second and you let out a shaky breath against his skin.

“M- mattheo,” you croaked out pathetically and he cooed once more, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Feel so full,” you almost slurred, as if your mind had gone permanently blank, and you could feel him chuckle darkly into your hair.

“Do you now, princess?”

You nodded and his grin persistet as he started to rock his hips against yours. He pulled out and slammed back in, eliciting a loud moan from you, and reveled in the way your face scrunched up with pleasure. Your fingers shakily tried to grasp anything, his biceps, the sheets, any sort of halt, as he repeated the movement and you mewled helplessly. Mattheo burned to pick up the pace, ram into you with all his might, claim you like the animal he was, but he forced himself to discipline and established a slow pace to help you adjust.

Hiding your face in his shoulder, soft moans of his name slipped past your lips that made it impossibly harder to keep up the slow pace, but for nothing in the world would he stop now. He couldn't. His cock fitted so perfectly into your warmth, your little moans rung in his ears like a heavenly symphony. This was truly heaven, had to be. Especially when he looked down on you to see your fucked-ut expression, the crown of your hair around your face. He’d been wrong. You weren't an angel. You were a fucking goddess.

Without him even realizing, he’d picked up the pace and your fingers dug into his shoulder. “M- mattheo,” you whimpered and he had to stop himself from mercilessly ramming into your perfect cunt. Instead, he let his head fall to your neck and bit down. The cry it elicited from you made him shiver and moan in response, as his teeth dug into your soft flesh in search of some sort of support. He knew it would be the most prominent mark of all, and he relished the thought of you walking around with it, cheeks heating when someone asked about it. Damn right, they’d know, know you were his.

As if you’d heard his thoughts, your shaky little voice rasped into his ear: “Yours, I’m yours.”

Had he said it out loud? He couldnt tell anymore as any and all resolve crumbled and he rammed into you, all the while craessing your soft body with his rough hands. “Fucking right,” he spat against your lips - when had you come this close? - “You’re mine.”

Nodding helplessly, you seemed to be at a loss for words, or maybe too fucked out to string a single sentence together. The thought made him chuckle amd you whined. When you squirmed, he held your hips down, desperately stopping himself from cumming before you. As he felt his own high approaching, his fingerds slipped back down to your clit to draw hurried circles on it. “You’re mine to worship, mine to protect-” He pistoned in and out of you and each push was met with soft little “ah”s from you as you threw your head back and exposed your neck to him, your neck that was covered in his hickeys and he moaned uncontrollably.

“I’ll kill ‘em all,” he rasped against your lips as you tightened around him and the pleasure seemed to pierce through you like arrows, blinding you as you squeezed your eyes shut and cried out his name. “Damn right,” he murmured and you werent even sure what you’d said anymore, only holding onto him as you release cam crushing down on you. “I’ll kill anyone who’ll ever hurt you, nobody touches my girl.” You were pretty sure that he, too, was merely rambling right now as his hips bucked against yours uncontrollably, having lost all steadyness or rhythm.

As the world slowly took form again around you, as you came down from your high, you could practically feel him pulse inside you and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed you back like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Between kisses, you managed to catch fragments of drunken ramblings, until you realized it was a singular phrase, repeated agin and again, breaking off and whispered repeatedly against your lips, in a way that had you wondering whether he himself knew he was speaking.

“I love you.”

Your hand closed around his as he pulled out in a rapid motion and you could feel him release his cum all over your quivering thighs. For a few seconds, there was nothing but your breathing, the soft heaving of your bare chests against each other, the desperate attempt to refill your lungs with air. Then, Mattheo rolled off of you and sank into the sheets next to you. His strong arms came to wrap themselves around your waist as he pulled you towards him. One hand found its way to your neck where he tilted your head just right to softly peck your lips, and again, and again, but giving you room to breathe.

This was new territory, but it felt almost natural to trace soft lines down your sides, card his fingers through your hair and swallow up your little sighs. Mattheo was a stranger to aftercare, as to so many things you had taught him, beginning with airplanes and ending with unconditional love. He’d almost feared this moment, but the tenderness seemed instinctive with you as he grabbed the towel you’d used earlier for his wounds, cleaned it with a bit of wandless magic and ran it over your oversensitive core.

Exhausted, you rested your head against his chest and your hand on the prominent scar on his abdomen. Finally, you dared ask. “What happened there, Mattheo?”

His lips came to softly caress your temple and one of his hands rubbed soothingly along the curve of your hip. “Nothing you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, but your tone suggested that you would not insist upon hearing the story tonight. “It’s you, and I worry about you, because-” you hesitated for just a moment before opening your eyes and looking up at him. “Because I love you too.”

Mattheo couldn’t answer, any ability to form words seemed to have left him as he stared into your wide, trusting eyes. Again, he felt that if there was a time to die, it was now, with you. But there was another voice too. You loved him. You cared for him. And he had sworn to you that nobody could ever hurt you again. So he had to stay, for you. He wished he could have expressed in this moment how much he appreciated you, how much he loved you, how he’d never thought he could love anyone, given his parents- how could someone coing from pure evil carry anything good inside him? But he did, you’d proved him wrong and he’d never stop being thankful for it. Even better, when you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, he knew you understood, even without his words that would never manage to express his true feelings.

“I hope we find those clothes all again,” you said in a lighter tone, and Mattheo was thankful for it. “Not that Malfoy finds my bra or something.”

Your nose wrinkled in disgust and he laughed quietly, rubbing his nose against your temple affectionately. “Don’t you worry, they’ll know what we did anyway. Don’t think anyone could’ve missed those screams of yours, princess.”

Instead of blushing or looking alarmed, Mattheo was surprised to find you smiling sheepishly. “About that… I think I’ll have to disappoint you.” Biting down on your lower lip, you glanced at the door. “I might have put a muffliato charm on your dorm.”

“No,” Mattheo said disbelievingly, pinching a roll of your stomach and making you squeak. But he knew you weren’t lying. “When’d you do that?”

Now, there was the slightest tint of pink on your cheeks as you shrugged. “When you sent the others out. I thought… just in case…”

“fucking genuis, my girl,” he muttered into your hair and couldn't find it within himself to be irritated at you. “And here i was thinking the whole of the dungeons had heard what a good time you had tonight. No matter,” he smirked, looking back at you and examining the work he’d done on your neck and throat. “You still have the hickeys to show tomorrow.” Mattheo would gladly admit that he took pleasure in the way your eyes widened and you scrambled up in search of a mirror.

When you swung your legs over the bed to stand, however, they wobbled so hard you plopped right back down onto the mattress. Your thighs were still quivering with the last aftershocks and felt about as stable as cooked spaghetti. You glared at him when he laughed and pointed your finger at his face. “This is your fault.”

“Indeed it is,” he admitted and sat up as well, patting your bare hip. “‘m sure you’ll manage though.”

You gaped at him in indignation. “You’re not gonna help me?” When he grinned at you, you groaned, exasperated, and rose to your feet hesitantly, wobbling carefully over to the bathroom.

“‘M gonna pick your clothes up,” he said, getting to his feet as well and grabbing a pair of sweatpants to pull on. “Not that Malfoy actually finds your bra, I’d hate to have to explain to his mother why I gauged his eyes out.”

“You’re deranged!” he heard you call from the bathroom, but he could detect the smile in your voice. When you reemerged, he let his eyes run over your bare form, satisfied with his work.

You cleared your throat. “Can I have my clothes back?”

“No need,” he shrugged, storing the heap of clothes that belonged to yours in one of his drawers. “You can borrow one of my shirts.” When he caught your confused expression, he raised his brows at you. “What, you think I’m gonna let you walk back to Gryffindor Tower past curfew in your condition? You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“And your friends?” you asked hesitantly, and he flashed you a grin that could be mean no good. “Will keep their eyes to themselves if they like them.”

Once you’d pulled his shirt over your head, you slipped under the covers and Mattheo placed a soft kiss on your temple before leaving the room to notify his friends that they were allowed in again. You could still hear your heart beating in your ears amd had to suppress a squeal when the realization of what you’d just done hit you. In order to seem like a well adjusted person, you buried your head in Mattheo’s pillow and breathed in his scent. It was almost like having him here again, and you considered asking him whether you could switch pillows in the future.

But that was talk for tomorrow. How you’d get to class was talk for tomorrow. How the fuck you’d cover up the battlefield Mattheo had left on your neck was a talk for tomorrow.

After a few minutes, you heard several footsteps outside and looked up from Mattheo’s pillow. He was the one to push the door open, and his eyes softened considerably when he saw you laying in his bed, under his sheets. Behind him, the other boys trailed in, all of whom, you noticed, were purposefully avoiding to look at you directly. Malfoy seemed to be pissed about something, and you didn't have to wonder what, and Lorenzo smiled at you again, only to raise his hands in surrender when Mattheo sent him a withering glare.

Turning back to you, a smile tugged at his lips and once more, you were taken aback by his quick mood changes. Without another word, he slipped in beside you, turning his back on the room to hide you from sight and wrapped his arms around you. His breathing was calm against your ear as his chest rose and fell against your back and his smell engulfed you whole. You found yourself relaxing completely in his arms, all tension leaving your body as you leaned into him and he pressed another kiss to your temple.

“Sleep, princess,” he murmured against your skin and you nodded, resting your head against him, clasping his hand around your belly with your own and letting sleep consume you, knowing you were the safest in his arms.

a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around till the end and going on this ride with me, I hope you liked it! 🫶

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