#idk is that enough warnings lmk if I missed anything <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gyuswhore · 4 months

Text

Never Shall We Die (2)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags in following parts

[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!

THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters.

You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence.

“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!”

“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?”

You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan.

“Just needed some air,” you mumble.

“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”

He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you.

“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up.

“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs.

When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup.

“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you.

“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides.

You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face.

But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done.

Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth.

You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle.

By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering.

Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour.

It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however.

Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard.

Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you.

“What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup.

You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment.

“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle.

“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.

His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face.

Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it.

“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees.

He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”

Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory.

And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight.

And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash.

And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?

There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones.

He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours.

“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles.

“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.”

It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way.

“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick.

“Fell on glass.”

“This one?”

“Punched Mingyu.”

You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation.

“I apologised,” he defends.

Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else.

Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with.

Entrusting to save your future with.

You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues.

“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound.

Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.

“Thought you’d recognize your own work.”

And then you remember.

The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours.

“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face.

His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth.

Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line.

“No.”

He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression.

You felt like you’d passed some kind of test.

“Good.”

And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol.

Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable.

Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared.

Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused.

Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly.

“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up.

All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates.

HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion.

The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up.

He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being.

Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are.

And where all of the alcohol is.

He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck.

“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock.

It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck.

There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of.

Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.

With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing.

But you plague him anyway.

Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom.

It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him.

At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame.

Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?

The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long.

He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy.

Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave.

Hoshi has been moved to insanity.

Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask.

When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open.

“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent.

“The rum’s gone.”

“Why is the rum gone?”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew.

There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep.

It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip.

“Did the spirits possess you?”

“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”

“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”

“Learn.”

“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits.

Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell.

But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh.

He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.

His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case.

“But what did the rum do?”

“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!”

“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.”

Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction.

The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all.

At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…

A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest.

Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.

PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven.

One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right.

Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars.

Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den.

Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent.

“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew.

“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”

The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.

If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry.

The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom.

It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.

“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you.

Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you.

Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again.

He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!”

A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look.

The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn.

He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.

“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”

“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart.

“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.”

His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles.

“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”

“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle.

Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues.

“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament.

Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock.

There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek.

Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain.

“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?”

That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth.

“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice.

“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”

You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.

“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down.

“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.”

There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you.

There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile.

“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”

“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.”

You flinch without meaning to. Princess.

This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are.

“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.

You exhale, “I know.”

“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”

You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab.

You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.

The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby.

“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.”

Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.

“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud.

Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance.

It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles.

Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing.

“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do.

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.

A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies.

It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island.

Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically.

Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head.

Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed.

Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.

The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little.

“Who’s that?” you ask quietly.

Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path.

Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan.

“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.

“Captain,” the man greets.

“Captain,” Hoshi replies.

Captain. So he was a pirate.

“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest.

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled.

Oh. Was that scar his doing?

“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek.

“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”

“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?”

There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”

“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.

Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose.

To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”

For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills.

You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation.

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.

Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could.

“Wh—ow!”

He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone.

“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!”

Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub.

Someone did try to carve his heart out.

Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates.

Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him.

“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”

This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that?

As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse.

You note the woman herself is nowhere near.

“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.

The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option.

They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part.

So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body.

This would have to do.

And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with.

“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes.

“Uh,” you laugh nervously.

“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice.

Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf.

“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”

She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.”

The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.

Goodness, this man stays busy.

“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”

These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway.

“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”

Slam!

Rum. You smell rum.

It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—

“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”

For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts.

He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan.

“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile.

With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you.

“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”

One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!”

And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans.

Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards.

“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”

With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether.

Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.

You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt.

Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.

Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger.

“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks.

Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat.

“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps.

“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”

Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes.

Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.”

Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today.

You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh.

You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.

Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.

“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”

Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands.

Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing.

“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”

“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”

“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused.

“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”

“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”

“I have boots!”

“Warm boots!”

“But—”

It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale.

In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious.

“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you.

“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”

He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.

“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”

Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time.

“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask.

“Oh—”

“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular.

“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”

Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra.

By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship.

“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack.

You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load.

“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile.

You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”

“But—”

“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”

There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”

You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless.

It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps.

It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here.

Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out.

Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you.

If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now.

Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see.

Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies.

“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”

“I…”

Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked

You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade.

The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded.

Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you.

It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form.

You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward.

Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.

He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse.

Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.

Like your head isn’t spinning enough.

By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes.

Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away.

Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued.

You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.

In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks.

Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower.

It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves.

“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door.

There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over.

Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears.

Was this panic?

Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers.

It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything.

Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father.

The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most.

The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all.

The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands.

You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked.

You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.

LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.

It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs.

The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth.

And then there’s pressure.

Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you.

The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.

And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left.

The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace.

“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching.

He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own.

He tastes like rum.

OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers.

He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters.

Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness.

You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.

Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.

Hoshi’s scent sticks to you.

Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed.

Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.

Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.

Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.

The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair.

Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours.

Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck.

You halt in your tracks.

He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body.

Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”

Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”

Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope.

In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become.

His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right.

You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact.

His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact.

Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship.

He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.

Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt.

“I just…”

When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead.

You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.

“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”

You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”

“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”

“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”

He falters.

“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”

“What am I then?”

The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist.

“What?”

“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”

“You’re…”

Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.

“I’m?”

“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense.

You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice.

“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself.

You take a step closer as he takes a step back.

His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face.

The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool.

“Everything they say about you is wrong.”

“What?” he asks again.

“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”

For once, he remains speechless while you persist.

“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”

“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.

“And mine with it.”

He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?”

“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.

This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you.

Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember?

You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.

You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.

Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck.

“You’re projecting.”

Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back.

He’s cornered you. Yet again.

“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”

“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear.

“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?”

He’s moving closer, too close.

“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”

Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat.

Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind.

It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again.

“Stop.” A whisper.

“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”

“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.

The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone.

THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.

For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed.

The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.

“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”

Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.

“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”

“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”

The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now.

“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.

“Why?”

“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”

If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.

“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.

“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”

There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt.

“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.

Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, “I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”

“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment.

Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit.

“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room.

Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.

“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”

Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all.

YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point.

It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun.

Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless.

“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”

The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point.

Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”

Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”

Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”

“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”

He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”

You stiffen at the mention of his name.

“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”

Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body

“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact.

Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.

“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.

“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.

Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him.

“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving.

Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s.

The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours.

“W-what?” you breathe.

“I’ve been quite stupid.”

“Have you?”

It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”

Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill.

“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”

“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”

You nod slowly.

“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.”

The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die.

The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die.

Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own.

In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones.

You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need.

Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own.

Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”

“In case?” he whispers back.

“In case… we don’t make it.”

It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.

And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder.

He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss.

“God, you’re freezing.”

The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.

You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own.

There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face.

“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.

“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.”

Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily.

“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”

He opens his eyes.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.

“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”

He looks at you expectantly.

Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.

He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”

“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes.

You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.

“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”

“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”

“You started it.”

“And I’m ending it.”

He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands.

“That’s—”

“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”

He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday.

“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”

The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest.

He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist.

“Wait.”

Hoshi stops.

“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.

“But—”

You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms.

“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say.

“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”

THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did.

It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.

He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.

And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths.

Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board.

You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was.

The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren.

And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice.

Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder.

The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued.

The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground.

And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant.

“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain.

In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal.

Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched.

In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot.

That was it. That was all you had.

But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans.

He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye.

As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party.

In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever.

There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back.

It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”

It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case.

“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess, at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.

From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips.

“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”

“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”

“Give me my ship first.”

“Hoshi Kwon—”

Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”

But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now.

“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”

There’s a pause.

“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”

“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.

“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back.

There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”

Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.

“Ho—”

Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across.

If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered.

But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him.

And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward.

You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing.

Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well.

“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes.

“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”

Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin.

Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you.

Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons.

Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile.

Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged.

“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else.

Please be okay.

As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest.

You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors.

It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets.

It looks like a prison cell.

When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.

Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?

You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check.

There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.

Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight.

The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock.

Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again.

Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul.

“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess.

“Not at all, sir,” you respond.

“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago.

He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them.

“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”

You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.

“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”

His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled.

“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”

Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was.

“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.”

The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye.

There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic.

It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment.

“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.”

“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”

He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips.

“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”

He slips them off his hands entirely.

“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”

Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right.

“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”

And then his hands were around your throat.

[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!

308 notes · View notes

littlecharmingenvy · 1 year

Text

Diavolo Headcannons

Dia brainrot go brrrrrr (pls I love this man)

warnings: NSFW (MDNI), couple of kinks mentioned, Diavolo having a sub-par father, author not knowing how to take things seriously (aka, use of the phrase "dicked down crazy style"), uhhh I feel like I'm missing something but I can't think of it so if I am pls lmk

SFW

<3- He’s always been intrigued by humans; how such fragile creatures could have so much courage would never fail to amaze him. So when MC comes along, this sweet little thing who didn’t even know demons actually existed until a few weeks ago, he can’t help but be impressed on how little fear they show

<3- Immediately finds himself attracted to MC, but, of course, being the crowned Prince of the Devildom, he tries to keep things diplomatic. He didn’t want to risk a scandal, especially not now, since everything was finally working out to his liking

<3- MC recognizes Dia as the Prince, but because they didn’t grow up in the Devildom, they aren’t sure what that title exactly entails, so they stick to treating Dia like they would any other person, much to Lucifer’s chagrin and Diavolo’s delight

<3- With how casual MC is to Diavolo, he quickly finds himself falling for them, despite his best efforts not to. How could he be expected to not fall head over heels for them? Especially with their laugh when they’re caught off guard, or the side eye they give that seems especially reserved for Diavolo, when one of the brothers does something laughable. He feels special, as if their little silent conversations exist in a place no one can taint; its something just for them, and that’s something Diavolo has always yearned for

<3- As soon as he realized his feelings were something he couldn’t just brush over, he told MC. He’s a patient man, but he sees no point in hiding it from you, not when you two were already as close as you were. He swears his soul ascends to the Celestial Realm when you reveal that you feel the same

<3- Showers you in the finest jewels and gold (or silver if it matches your complexion better, cool toned shawtys gotta stick together FR). His father growing up only showed affection by gift giving, leaving Dia to lack any emotional warmth outside of material objects. While he tries to be better than his father, and is always praising you and showing love in any way he can, he especially loves giving you gifts, as that’s how he learned to show love

<3- He doesn’t mind receiving gifts from you, anything you give him he’ll cherish for the rest of his life, but he gets especially soft when you make him something. Little paper flowers? They’re the prettiest he’s ever seen. You bake him cookies? They’re the best he’s had in years (don’t worry, Barbs gets it). Give him origami you made in class when bored? He’s proposing then and there /j (/hj?). Just the idea that you thought about him and cared enough to make someone by hand makes him all soft and fuzzy inside.

<3- Aside from handmade things, Diavolo adores quality time. Just having you sit near him while he’s doing paperwork or enjoying his tea send him over the moon

<3- Very protective. While he’s sweet with you, and would never let you see any other side, he is still a demon, and he would (and has) threatened or killed a few who wished harm on you, and he’d do it again without a second thought

<3- Loves loves loves pet names. Lover, My dear, Angel (ironic), Beloved, he hardly ever calls you by your name anymore

<3- Overall, very soft with his lover. He just wants them to know how much he loves and adores them

NSFW

<3- I know this is widely agreed upon fandom-wise, but I’ll say it again for good measure. Size. Kink. Seeing how small you are compared to him makes him want to rail you into next week. When you look up at him with those doe eyes of yours, having to crane your neck up to make eye contact? Done. He’s dead. He died. It’s over for him

<3- You know monster fuckers? That’s how he feels about humans. Human fucker? Idk, but his enamoration with humans doesn’t stop in the bedroom

<3- Tries to be soft with you, really, he does. But at some point he just breaks, and he needs to dick you down crazy style then and there

<3- Praise kink, going both ways. He’ll tell you how pretty you are and how good you’re being for him, and will nearly cum when you tell him how good he’s making you feel

<3- He’s open to a lot of kinks, but isn’t likely to bring them up. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love experimenting though. Actually, it’s you who makes him realize he’s into a lot more than he thought he was

<3- Loves giving head. Really, good luck getting him off of you once he starts. He’ll be down there as long as you’ll let him, accidentally overstimulating you pretty much every time. But when he paws at your clothes and looks at you pleadingly, you can’t help but give him what he wants

<3- Generally, Dia’s just a big boy who wants to make his little human feel good. Boy’s absolutely whipped for you, and isn’t afraid to show it. Anyone who has a problem with it will be taken care of

#obey me smut #obey me #otome #smut #obey me!#obey me diavolo #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo smut #obey me diavolo headcanons #diavolo headcanons #diavolo smut #headcannons

1K notes · View notes

genderlessdude92 · 5 months

Text

PRECIOUS

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship dynamics (but they both love each other dw), Intense emotional distress, Language, Potential Triggers, Donestic conflict. (MAJOR FLUFF AT THE END THOUGH!!! ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!!!) They were a couple alive too if you don’t mind idk i suck at writing- USAGE OF Y/N I ALMOST FORGOT AHHH- Lmk if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

WORDS: 1.7k

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

“Alastor, are you serious?!” You yelled as Alastor started to walk away from you, mid conversation.

Alastor had just gotten into a big fight with Vox, luckily survived, though. The frustrating part is, he won’t even let you heal him. Or know what the battle was even about?!

Which made you really, really paranoid.

“Alastor, don’t walk away from me, that’s rude.” You caught up with him and began to match his pace and he walked to the halls of the hotel to lucifer knows where. “We need to talk about this.” You say firmly. “I’m going to find out one way or another.” You add, raising your voice slightly.

Alastor stopped walking and turned around to face you. He was looking down at you, which always made you feel so small. Even if he wasn’t actually looking at you, you could still feel it.

“Well, then.” His voice was calm, but a hint of annoyance was there. “Aren’t you just invested in my little public hiccup.”He crossed his arms, waiting for your response.

“Yes I am. And I think we should talk about it, instead of you getting defensive.” You looked him dead in the eye and kept talking. “And why you didn’t tell me.” Your voice went quieter again.

Alastor hid a chuckle, “I thought you would care more about me surviving, than knowing how many lives I took today.” He raised his eyebrow, mocking you. “Or maybe, I don’t want to share this kind of information with someone who will judge me for it.” He was now fully annoyed by you.

You stepped closer to him, trying to keep him from leaving again. “Alastor, please stop. I’m just trying to help. I don’t…” You trailed off nervously. “I don’t want us fighting.”

Alastor smirked at you, “Oh, don’t worry love. We aren’t fighting. Yet.” His tone was harsh and he leaned down to look you in the eyes. “But I will if you continue to harass me about this.”

You felt yourself start to panic, but tried your best to hide it. “I’m sorry Alastor, I just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as he interrupted you.

“No. Don’t ‘just’ anything. You know I hate that word.” He said with a cold smile. “Now leave me alone before I get upset with you.”

“…You know,” You began, standing in your place as Alastor walked away, “You should at least act like you care about my opinion, maybe act like a husband, as well.” You snapped back, but in a more calm, collected tone. (minus the shakiness in your voice.)

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alastor snapped back, turning around to face you again. “What did I ever do to deserve such a self-righteous wife?” He raised his voice a bit, but not enough for others to hear. “How dare you assume things about me without even asking. How dare you come here and make demands of me. How dare you try to control me.” He continued yelling, walking towards you. “You have no right to tell me what to do! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m just saying, maybe you could at least consider what I have to say sometimes…” You tried to say bravely, but failed at the end. You felt so small. So insignificant.

You felt like nothing.

Alastor was now right in front of you, towering above you. His height and stature were intimidating, but his voice was worse. It was rough and demanding, making you feel like you weren’t worth anything. “You are nothing, nothing compared to me.” He sneered. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. What you say. What you do. You’re just a pathetic little sinner who has no idea what real power feels like. You’re not worthy of my time. You’re not worthy of my attention. You’re not worthy of my love.” He spat out the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

His words were cutting through your heart, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You dashed away to the nearest staircase, needing to get to your office. Your only safe space.

***

It has been about a week now since the fight you and Alastor had.

It had also been a week since you came out of your office.

You didn’t really leave your office because, one, it had a fridge of food and other things. Two, you had a makeshift bed with the couch. And three, why would you even go out there?

Only problem is, you’ve cried everyday, and that made you feel like complete imp-shit.

You really wanted to see Alastor, but you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You also didn’t want to be around anyone else, either.

***

Alastor was a gentleman to all women who deserved so.

An example he would give you is Rosie. He’s a gentleman to her because she’s nice to him and has manners. She deserves it.

But, if he was near Velvette, he would call her cruel names and shred all her ‘designer masterpieces’.

But, now he was confused.

What happened with Y/N?

He had never fought like that with her before no, usually she would be next to him in bed right now.

He was starting to miss her.

…he needed to give her an apology.

But he knew he wasn’t good with words.

So, he brainstormed.

“I could probably give her a heart…” He thought, stepping out of bed and pondering for a moment, “…no, no….maybe…some flowers?…” he looked over to his bayou. “…Allergies.”

He slumped onto his armchair and looked around his room for any ideas at all.

“…maybe some candy? No.” He thought, “She doesn’t eat much sweets.”

He sat there for a while longer, thinking.

Then it hit him.

***

You heard footsteps outside your door, and immediately froze. You looked around your room for any escape route, and found none. You decided to sit back down on your couch, and began to wait for whoever was there to leave.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and a knock sounded out. “Y/N, open the door.” Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding. “I know you’re in there.” He added.

You opened the door slowly, and peeked out to see who it was.

“Hello, darling.” Alastor said with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

You just stared at him, saying nothing

‘fuck’, he thought, ‘i caused this.”

“Y/N, I just want to apologize.” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was wrong.”

“…you don’t mean that.” You replied, still not moving.

“I do mean it, darling. Please jsut…let me in.” Alastor said sincerely, taking a step forward.

You hesitated for a moment, then moved aside to let him in. He closed the door behind him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do or say next.

Then, your eyes wandered to the large picture album he was holding to his side.

“Alastor…what’s that?” You asked, taking a step back cautiously.

“…it’s our picture album.” He looked at you, remaining calm. “…from…when we were alive. You know, with all those crappy photos.” He smiled softly.

You looked up at him, “…I’m scared.”

Alastor knew exactly why, as well.

He sighed, “I promise…I will keep myself contained if i ever, ever lash out like that… ever again.” He claimed, tears building up in his eyes.

“What i said back there was not true at all. You are everything to me, you are worth so much, and most of all, I love you.” He dropped the book to the floor and held out his arms to hug you.

You didn’t move, “…I don’t want to be here…” You said, letting a tear fall.

He nodded, “That’s okay, dear, let’s go to our room, okay?” He reassured, picking the book back up and holding you tight to his waist as the shadows consumed you both, talking you to his room.

***

You and Alastor missed this.

Limbs tangled together in bed, holding each other close, breathing in each other’s scents, you wish you had this sooner.

Alastor flipped a page of the album, “Oh look,” He noticed, pointing his claws to the first picture in the album, “It’s our cat, oh, what was his name again?” He asked, looking at you.

You were still crying.

He took a deep breath, “Y/n,” he exhaled, “It’s okay, dear…please don’t think about it.”

You looked at him, “w-what?” you said, wiping your cheek.

He ran a claw through your hair, “Nothing.” He said, smiling softly.

You put your head on his shoulder, “Okay,” you mumbled into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his scent.

He stroked your hair, “Do you remember our wedding day?” He asked.

You shook your head, “…no, I don’t…it was too long ago…” you said, sniffling.

He kissed the top of your head, “That’s alright, sweetheart, we have plenty of time to talk about it.” He assured you, pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved.

Alastor flipped the pages until he found the wedding pictures, “Oh, here we are. Look, see how my mother walked you through the aisle?” He rubbed the picture with his thumb, rethinking back the memory.

“…yeah…I remember now…” You snuggled closer into him, trying to control your ragged breathing.

“…just breathe daring.” He reminded you, “Look here, you see how much you’ve changed?” He laughed softly, flipping another page, “See here? Here you are at our anniversary dinner, you wore that beautiful dress that made your legs look amazing.” He blushed lightly, “I remember you told me I was the only one allowed to see it.”

You giggled, “…that was a joke, silly.” You said, opening your eyes and smiling up at him.

“Ah, yes, I know.” He smiled back,

“…You’re so precious to me, y’know that?” He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: Idk what i was thinking when i made this fic erm…! Idk I’ve been going thru some shit rn but I’ve gotta impress the community because the notes/likes/comments/reblogs on my posts aren’t doing to good rn!! Oh no!!! (that is a sign from my greedy ass) And i just started a multi-chapter fic so like idk why i’m typing this- support is appreciated. BAI!!![![![11!

-Lynn ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩ Masterlist Link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

397 notes · View notes

homestylehughes · 3 months

Text

husband sidney headcanons

pairing(s): sidney crosby x fem!reader

summary: sweet and sexy headcanons of sidney!

warning(s): sfw and nsfw!

wc: 520

an: hi loves!!! first time writing for the dilf of hockey himself sidney crosby. idk how it's taken me this long to write about him, but i'm not complaining!!! i saw a picture of him this morning and it makes me feral so i wrote about him!!! lmk if you guys want anymore sidney fics in the future, i'd be morreeeeeee than happy to write about him!!! i'm getting back into the groove of writing again, and after not writing for a week, made me realize how much i missed itttttt. like and reblog if you like! much love as always!!

happy reading <3

sfw:

husband!sidney: Sidney is the type of husband to wake you up with kisses all over your body, causing you to giggle as you wake up. Wrapping you up on the tightest hug ever, sinking into his warm body in the morning is your favorite way to wake up.

husband!sidney: Sidney would be the type of person who would pick you up from the airport, holding a funny sign in his hands waiting for your arrival. The signs never fail to bring you to tears of laughter from how funny they were, it's the best thing to come home too.

husband!sidney: You always try to stay up for Sidney when he gets back from long road trips, posting up on the couch with a book in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. You manage to stay awake for a while, before you feel your eyes start to close as your eyes dance across the pages of your book, falling asleep before you even know it. Sideny walks into your shared house, he softly smiles as he sees the living room dimly lit, seeing you sleepy peacefully on the couch he can't help but smile at you with love in his eyes.

husband!sidney: Sidney is so good with children, seeing how he acts around your nieces and nephews and other children at hockey camps makes your baby fever increase by the second.

husband!sidney: Sidney loves your baked goods, he's convinced that everything you make is heaven sent from God, but your baked goods? Those are his favorites. Anything from cupcakes, cookies, everything and anything. He gives a request of things he wants you to make for him, at least once a week, even baking things for the team and fundraising events.

husband!sidney: Sidney loves surprising you with a new bouquet of flowers each week, always doing small things to remind you how much he loves you.

nsfw:

husband!sidney: Sidney loves to watch you fall apart from beneath him, the way your head drops back, how your mouth falls open as you gasp for air. The pants and moans are enough to make him come again.

husband!sidney: Sidney has a huge breeding kink. He wants nothing more than to see you carrying his child. He loves stuffing you full of his come, holding it inside of you, just to make sure you get every drop.

husband!sidney: Your favorite part about Sidney's body is his hands, especially when they’re wrapped around your throat. The way you gasp and moan out below him telling him to tighten his grip on your neck.

husband!sidney: sidney is a big fan of car sex, he loves how easy it is to rile you up, then bend you over the back seat and fuck you until you forget your name.

husband!sidney: He loves loves loves, whenever you ride his face. The way your thick thighs wrap around his head, moaning out above him as he devourers your wet cunt, eating it like a man that hasn't had water or food in days.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby x you #sidney crosby smut

171 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 11 months

Text

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

325 notes · View notes

storiesandthingsofthatnature · 1 year

Text

Cradle Snatcher (Pt. 1)

Summary: You had told Leon that perhaps after he graduated from the police academy than maybe you would give him the time of day. You two have an age difference but it’s nothing too big. However it still weirds you out. But, with Leon Kennedy, can you really say no?

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: RE2! Leon Kennedy x fem! reader (afab) Warnings: Age difference (5 year age gap), breeding kink, biting, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be silly~), cream pie, pre-ejaculation, dom/sub dynamics lemme know if I missed anything! Disclaimer: MDNI!!! 18+ only! A/N: Hi there! So I’m very new to the RE fandom so please be nice to me uwu. Anyway, I’ve been reading a lot of dominant Leon and while that shit is nice I also feel like subby Leon is just as hot~ I hope that I did him justice. Like the title says this is pt. 1 so pt. 2 shall be out soon enough! :D If you like my writing be sure to think about popping up in my inbox for some requests :3c I do other fandoms so just lmk! :D I may even make a post about my rules and such, idk. If I get enough of a following :3 Alrighty! Enjoy! :D

You had told Leon that when he had graduated from the police academy then perhaps you would give him the time of day. To be honest, you just felt like a cradle snatcher. Leon was about 5 years younger than you. He was 21 when he graduated and you were 26 and already a lieutenant in RPD. You didn’t want to have a relationship get in the way of work anyway but Leon was hellbent on making you see him as more than a new subordinate.

It all started when you were just the ripe age of 21 yourself. You were called to a high school to talk about RPD and how it may be a nice career choice for the young minds of Racoon high. Leon was one of the bright eyed students that sat right in the middle, his stare never leaving your silhouette as you talked about what could be expected on the job. After class, he had stopped you to ask a few questions. You were happy with his curiosity and answered all of his questions with fervor. You were a budding rookie yourself and anyone who was interested in the same subject that you held dear was a friend automatically.

Somehow he had wrangled your number out of you, saying that he would love to discuss further on possible internships and things of the like. It seemed like he was truly interested in policing and while that was true he was also very interested in you. Coupled with your beauty and passionate standing with justice and helping people, he couldn’t help but want to be sure that he had some way of keeping in contact with you.

However, he didn’t make a move until he was 18 and had just graduated high school. You two had interacted a lot since the first day, Leon following your shadow for “on-the-job” training and even studying on his own when he could. On the eve of his first day at the training academy, he confessed to you about how he felt. He was a blushing mess and he ran over his words a lot but it was probably the cutest confession that you ever had the pleasure of witnessing. It was full of pure innocence and a part of you wanted to ruin it~ But you stayed strong and gently let him down.

Again, you would feel like a cradle snatcher and while there was not that big of an age difference you still felt weird about it considering he had just graduated high school and was barely legal. But he was persistent, wanting to know the reason why. You couldn’t come up with a logical answer other than “You’re younger than me I’d feel weird.” And not wanting to lie to him you told him just that. He then started to ask if it would be because he was less experienced and that made you blush considering what that entailed. With a stutter you mutter a quick,”Maybe after you graduate.” And then quickly ran off to your office.

You really didn’t think that he would actually wait until he graduated to try again. You were sure that he would have found some cute rookie cop girl, to your dismay, and find happiness with them. However, when he invited you over to celebrate his graduation, you should have known something was off when it was just you. But you did not say anything as you two hung out and drank in celebration. Like the good boy he was, he hadn't drunk any alcohol until he was the legal age, you introducing him to new beverages and mixes.

After a few shots, Leon couldn’t help but try again. “Will you go on a date with me, [y/n]?” You choke on your drink, a part of you thinking that you should have seen this coming. But another had hoped that it wouldn’t happen. You cleared your throat of the froth,”Leon…” “I know what you’re going to say. That I’m too young for you but I think that’s absolute bullshit. I also know that it’s probably because I’m not all that experienced-” You sigh. “Leon, it’s not that-” “So let me prove to you that I can please you just as much, if not more, than any other guy you’ve been with. Use me.” You felt yourself go into cardiac arrest. He asked what now?! “Use…You?” Leon inched closer to you, eager to prove himself. “I can be your fuck toy.” He declared and you nearly passed out. “Leon.” His stare was stifling, filled with admiration and intent. “Please?” He asked, his fingers finding purchase on your thighs. “I know I can make you feel so good, just let me try?” He seemed to beg, his forehead coming to rest against yours. You audibly gulp. “Have you even been with anyone, Leon?” He gave a shy smile. “I’ve made out with a few girls but nothing more. Wanted to save myself for you.” He admitted and you have never felt so flattered.

You felt your resolve slipping away. Leon was a very handsome young man. You were sure that a lot of people would love to make him happy. But for some reason he wants you and you couldn’t understand why. “Why me?” You asked, your eyes resting on his lips. You licked your own and Leon’s pupils seemed to dilate at the sight. Leon gave a small laugh. “I could count the ways but I feel like we’d be here for a while and I really want you to fall apart on my tongue right now.” You gently push at him in play,”I’m serious.” He pulled back to look at you. “If I tell you, will you let me?” He was basically asking you if he had a chance and you just couldn’t say no to those beautiful, blue eyes.

You give in. “Fine.” You whisper and the giant smile that etched onto his face makes your heart swell. He was on you like glue, kisses eager and sloppy but you pushed him back gently. “Uh-uh, no reward until you tell me.” You gently laughed but you felt out of breath. His inexperienced kisses were enough to punch the air out of your lungs. Maybe you had it worse than you thought. He felt like whining but he kept it from bubbling out,”Your personality; from how passionate you are about your work to how motherly you are when you are amongst others that you have to look after.” He seemed to say that last bit fondly and that caught you off guard. “Motherly?” You wonder aloud and he nodded. “You handle people so well and in such a gentle way. It’s both nice and hot to see.” Well at least he was honest, you thought to yourself.

“Hot? How so?” You muse and you could tell that he was getting a little impatient. He wanted to touch you but you were going to see how long he could last before he snapped. His blush was heavy,”Do I really have to explain that part?” You hum,”Obviously, rookie. I’m very interested.” He gave a reluctant sigh,”You acting motherly…Makes me wonder how you would act if we had kids..” He admitted softly, you having no idea that this is what your Leon was thinking of you this whole time.

“Oh?” You ask with a glint in your eye. At first you weren’t really for this but now you were starting to get into it. Perhaps you had feelings for Leon that you hadn’t wanted to come to terms with. It’s just having him spill his heart out like this was moving and you couldn’t help the heat forming between your legs from his words. “Does my rookie want to make me a mommy?” You ask with a purr and Leon felt like he was about to explode from the embarrassment. You giggle at his reaction and cup his face in your hands to have him look at you. “Red looks nice on you.” You winked and he wanted to cup his face in his hands and groan.

While the idea of getting pregnant was definitely not a good idea for you right now, the thought of getting knocked up after this little encounter was enough to make you think twice on logistics. Well, if you had to make a “mistake” with anyone you feel like Leon would be the ideal partner. You find your way onto his lap, his expression turning surprised as you settle yourself over him. “[Y-y/n]?” You gently quiet him with a chaste kiss. “While I would love to learn more about how you feel about me, I can’t help but get riled up by that little imagination of yours.” You say and Leon audibly gulps. You place your arms across his shoulders, crossing your forearms behind him as you lean forward to brush your lips against his. “How about it, rookie? Wanna make me a mommy?” You whisper and Leon bucked his hips up against you.

“C…Can I?” His voice sounded hopeful, filled with pureness yet sticky with lust. You giggle and give a few languid kisses to which he shivered from. “As long as you don’t dip on me if you actually do end up getting me pregnant.” His hands found purchase on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he said,”Never.” That was the most confident he had been all night and it made you stutter. “O..Okay. You better keep your word.” You gently joke but at the same time, hope that he truly meant what he said. You lean forward again to capture his lips with yours, Leon returning with fervor. He took your lead and found a place between your hips. He kept his hands against you like you were going to run away and you slid your fingers through his hair to massage his scalp to try and tell him otherwise. He sighed contently into your lips, hips beginning to grind against yours. “S-Sorry.” He whispered, feeling a little embarrassed by his behavior but you give a shake of your head. “No, baby, don’t be. Feel good?” You ask and he gives a fervent nod.

“Such a good boy.” You purr and he groans from your praise, his hips picking up in pace. You let out little moans of your own, wanting Leon to know that he was being so good for you and your sounds alone were enough to nearly make him cum in his pants. He stopped grinding suddenly, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to suppress his orgasm. “No, no no, that won’t do.” You say as you begin to grind down on him. “N-no, I’ll cum too soon.” He groaned and you hummed,”It’s not good to keep back your own pleasure. Besides, don’t you want me to see how good you look when you fall apart?” You say with a sly smile and he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “This was supposed to be the other way around….” He commented and you laughed.

“This is going to be your first time, right? Let me show you the ropes, rookie.” You say and you saw Leon visibly shiver. Suddenly, grinding was not enough for you and you fumble with the front of his jeans. He watches bashfully as you free him from his clothed restraints, his hot cock standing proudly against his shirt. You lick your lips at the sight. “Yes, I think this will do very nicely.” You tease and it was his turn to shove at you. You giggle as you wrap your hand around the base, a nice moan emanating from the back of Leon’s throat. “Hmmmm, let’s see~” You muse as you stroke him lazily, wondering just what you should do for his first time. Suck him off? That was tempting but didn’t he say that he wanted to be used?

“On your back, rookie.” You command and while he was a little confused he followed your instructions, you straddling his lap once more. “What are you-” “You want to be my fuck toy, right? Then be a good boy and lay there while I use your cock for my own pleasure, okay?” You say in a breathy voice and Leon was left in a stupefied state. “Yes, ma’am!” He practically squeaked out as he laid back against the cushions of the couch. You give a smile at him and begin to undo your own jeans. Slipping off both them and your panties in one go, the sight of slick connecting to the fabric made Leon’s hips buck up.

“Look what you did to me, rookie. Such a mess, huh?” You tease once more and Leon whines. “I’ll help clean up, ma’am. P-promise.” You hum in satisfaction and settle yourself over his tip. “Just one rule, okay? No touching - This is only for my pleasure, right?” You ask with a tilt of your head and Leon bit his bottom lip as he nodded. “Good~” And you slowly sank yourself down on him. Your head was thrown back as you were filled just right. God, past partners just couldn’t compare!

Meanwhile, Leon’s eyes had shut completely tight as a silent groan left his mouth. Fingers dug into the cushions below as you suddenly felt a hot gush of something within you. “Ohhh, baby, did you cum?” You wonder aloud and Leon wanted to die. “I-I can keep going! I p-promise-” He didn’t want to disappoint you, not like this and you shushed him with soft kisses. “Shhh, I know, my love. This pussy is just that good, huh?” You bite at his skin and heavy pants left Leon. “Mmmm, ‘s really good.” He managed to say, giving into the pleasure further now that he was sure that he hadn’t upset you.

Feeling a little merciful, you say,”Just let me know if it gets too much.” And you raise yourself once more, falling back down onto Leon as you feel his tip brushing the entrance of your womb. “Mmmm, such a good boy. Letting me use him like this~” You tease as you pick a rhythm that is both stimulating yet controlled. You knew that Leon was feeling oversensitive right now and if not careful you could actually hurt him and you could never do that to him. You were the one in control right now and that meant you had to be responsible. Make him feel valid even though he wants to be used like a toy.

He was very vocal with his pleasure, groans and moans leaving his throat as he tried his best to not grab at your hips. “[Y/N], please-””Aw, what is it baby? What do you need?” You ask in a sweet, saccharine voice. “Wanna t-touch you. Can I?” His fingers scratched at the fabric beneath him, itching to cause you even more pleasure. You hum in thought, hips gyrating instead of bouncing to tease Leon even more. “I dunno. Should I?” You ask with a lilt and Leon couldn’t refrain himself from letting out a frustrated moan. At that little display you tighten your walls and move in a way that makes both of you see stars.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease!” Leon said in a hurry, your ego receiving a nice fluff from the sight underneath you. “Oh, alright.” As soon as you gave the go ahead, one hand found its way to your clit while the other reached underneath your shirt and bra in one go. “Ahhh, so eager~” You say with a small smile, his fingers hungry in their assault to bring you close to your own climax. “W-want to you cum on m-my cock.” Leon looked at you with blown out eyes, the once blue hue being taken over by the void of his pupils. “Yeah? Make me, rookie.” You challenge and he was happy to accept.

Even though his touches were that of a novice, it was still Leons’; warm, loving, seeking - it was more than enough to bring you near your orgasm. Your bounces become sloppy and you give your own whine to which Leon couldn’t help but smirk at. “Gonna cum soon.” You warn and Leon starts to meet your thrusts with his. “Mmmm, Me too.” He says with a slur,”Gonna cum in you again. Make you a mommy.” He promises against your skin as those words seemed to be what brought you completely over the edge. You let out a delicious cry of Leon’s name and coupled with the intense clamping down on his cock, Leon couldn’t stop himself from coming a second time. His hands found their way to your hips, pushing you down flush against his pelvis so that he could aim directly into your womb.

“Such a pretty girl. MY pretty girl. Gonna be so full with my kids, fuck-” He started to babble to himself, holding you against his chest as he released inside of you. The feeling of hot cum spilling into you was far more pleasant than you thought it would be. You felt nice and marked, full with Leon and the possibility of having a little one with him. It made your heart swell. You give a small giggle and lean back, looking Leon in the eyes. “Now then, want to try to take the lead for this next one, rookie?”

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #subby!leon #sub leon kennedy

915 notes · View notes

gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

584 notes · View notes

reidreaders · 11 months

Text

Girl's Night Out

Poorly Kept Secrets: Part 3

Summary: Part 3 in which Penelope accidentally spills Spencer's secret (you) to JJ and Emily!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: kissing, use of y/n, established relationship, semi-secret relationship, not proof read, idk this is pretty much just straight fluff but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: I'M ALIVE BITCHESS I took some time off writing bc college is hard but im back!! I had so many requests for part 3 to this story so I hope y'all enjoy!!

Part 1 Part 2

Things had quieted down around the BAU in the weeks since Hotch, Penelope, and Derek found out about you and Spencer. The three of them had agreed to keep Spencer’s secret, seeing as how he wasn’t ready to share you quite yet, which was massively relieving to him. The team hadn’t been called out on many cases lately, meaning that Spencer had more free time than ever to spend with you. You and Spencer had only been dating for a couple of weeks, so you were still in the getting to know each other phase of your relationship, so it was tough that he was away fighting crime most of the time. All that to say, it was a nice change of pace for the both of you. You spent your nights taking turns cooking dinner and choosing which movie to watch, you spent your weekends introducing each other to your favorite hobbies (you had a new found love of chess), and lately, you had spent your mornings waking up next to each other.

You and Spencer had yet another dinner and movie date planned for that night. When he arrived home from work, you were already in his kitchen getting dinner started.

“Hey, Spence!” you shouted from the kitchen, as you heard the familiar footsteps enter the apartment.

Spencer rounded the corner into the kitchen with a confused look on his face, “Hey?” he questioned, “what’re you doing here so early?”

“I thought it might be nice to have dinner ready for you when you got home! Plus, I might have missed you a little bit.” you grinned as you moved to be closer to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he moved to put his hands on your waist.

“Well that’s really sweet of you,” he blushed, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t missing you today too.” he leaned in and closed the gap between the two of you. The kiss was soft and tender, yet full of passion.

Spencer pulled away with a puzzled look on his face, as if something had just occurred to him, “How did you get into my apartment without a key?”

Your eyes widened, guilt evident on your face. You had hoped that the imminent promise of dinner coupled with the fact that you were so excited to see him would be enough to distract him from the fact that you were seemingly breaking and entering. “Um…” you delayed your response, trying to figure out what to tell him, “I may or may not have bribed your landlord to let me in…” you winced, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad.

“Well, I’m gonna have to have a word with her about that.” He chuckled, leaning in for another kiss.

You moved back to the stove to finish up cooking dinner, while Spencer set the table. The two of you sat down to eat and began what had become your usual dinner table conversation. You asked about his day, which he welcomed the opportunity to ramble on about. You didn’t mind when he rambled. In fact, you enjoyed it, hooked on every word that came out of his mouth. He asked about your day, and to be honest, you rambled just as much, happy to have someone in your life who seemed to genuinely care about how your day went. Needless to say, you guys had gotten much more comfortable around each other than you were the first time you had been invited over. Of course, it didn’t help that the two of you had been busted by his boss in desperate need of a babysitter.

After you had finished eating, Spencer did the dishes, while you picked out a movie to watch with him. When you had first started dating, it quickly became very evident that Spencer had never seen any of the blockbuster movies you loved, nor had you seen any of the foreign films he held so close to heart. So, movie night became a tradition, taking turns showing each other your favorites. In the spirit of fall, you had chosen ‘The Fantastic Mr. Fox’, a childhood favorite of yours.

You had raided his closet before starting the movie, desperate for something comfy to wear. You had chosen a pair of soft, flannel pajama pants and CalTech sweatshirt that smelled just like him. When you returned to the living room, Spencer was already laying down on the couch. You snuggled into him, squished between him and the couch, with your head on his chest and an arm thrown around his stomach. One of his hands was lovingly rubbing your back, but made its way up to your hair as he got more engrossed in the movie. This was your sweet spot. Nothing could put you fast asleep quicker than someone playing with your hair. You began to doze off, and Spencer, exhausted from a long day of paperwork, wasn’t far behind you.

What the two of you did not know was that Emily, JJ, and Penelope had just finished up at a wild girl’s night out. The bar they had chosen was located conveniently close to all of their houses, and coincidentally, right down the street from Spencer’s apartment. The ladies had just begun their walk home when tragedy struck; JJ had to pee.

“Oh c’mon can’t you just hold it?” Emily asked, anxious to get home.

“Yeah, we’re so close to your house Jayje!” Penelope chimed in.

“Guys, no! I’m seriously about to have an emergency. Now, can we please just find someplace to pee?” JJ begged, clearly desperate.

That’s when Penelope had a light bulb moment. “Oh! Why don’t we just pop by Spencer’s place real quick? I’m sure he won’t mind!” She said, excited to have found the solution to JJ’s ever growing problem.

“Sounds good to me!” Emily said, followed by a “Thank God!” from JJ.

As Penelope led her friends to Spencer’s apartment, she had completely forgotten about the secret she had promised to keep. She wasn’t used to Spencer having girls in his apartment, after all.

When they finally arrived at Spencer’s place, JJ frantically knocked on the door, but got no answer. The two of you were fast asleep on the couch inside, with the movie drowning out any noise from outside the apartment.

After knocking for several minutes, and receiving no answer, Emily decided to take matters into her own hands. She pushed past JJ to the door and tried the handle, revealing that it was unlocked. JJ raced down the hall to the bathroom, not noticing what the other girls had.

“Oh no.” Penelope whispered to herself.

“Who is that??” Emily said a little too loudly for Penelope’s liking.

“Shut up! You’re going to wake them up!” Penelope whisper-yelled.

JJ had finally reached the bathroom by this point, slamming the door shut behind her. Spencer jolted awake at the sound, which in turn stirred you awake, too. He looked around for the source of the sound, but instead found two of his coworkers staring at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer said exasperated, as he jumped up from the couch.

“Spencer, I am so sorry. I totally forgot about Y/N and that she’s a secret and JJ really had to pee and we were right down the street so I brought them here and I’m really, really sorry.” Penelope spat out, practically at the speed of light.

You sat on the couch, barely awake and trying to process what was going on. You sat up to get a better look at the intruders and realized that you had seen them before in photographs.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to your dirty little secret, Reid?” Emily smirked.

“She’s not my dirty little secret. She’s my-she’s just-” Spencer was cut off. All of the sudden you were next to him, extending your hand to Emily.

“I’m Y/N. Spencer’s girlfriend.” You said it proudly, even if the two of you hadn’t entirely agreed on what you were to each other yet.

This statement elicited what was quite possibly a world record blush from Spencer. He was so happy to hear you call yourself his girlfriend that he had to restrain himself from grabbing your face and kissing you.

Emily and Penelope introduced themselves to you and the four of you made small talk while you waited for JJ. You were happy to get to meet some of the friends you had heard so much about, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

JJ finally made her way out of the bathroom and noticed you for the first time, “Woah, what did I miss?” she asked.

Spencer jumped into action mode, determined to spare himself from another awkward explanation of why he hadn’t told anyone about you yet, “Nothing!” he said quickly as he began to usher the girls out of the apartment.

You giggled under your breath at him. It was so endearing how determined he was to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes of his profiling friends, to give the two of you the space to figure out your feelings for each other, to spare you from yet another strange and unexpected encounter with his coworkers.

As Spencer walked them out, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You listened to the girls asking him all kinds of questions about you. It was incredible how much they managed to ask him between the living room and the doorway. Once Spencer had finally gotten them out of the apartment, you heard him speak. “Can we please just keep this between us. I really, really like this girl and I don’t want to put too much pressure on her by introducing her to you guys already.” They all agreed to keep his secret, solely because he did seem to really like you.

Spencer shut the door and made his way back to you, “I’m really sorry about that,” he chuckled, embarrassment evident on his face, “I seriously have to talk to the team about them showing up here like that.”

“No it’s okay,” you assured him, still swooning at what he had said to his friends, “It was kind of nice actually.” you smiled.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious about what you could have possibly enjoyed about that encounter.

“Well, I get to officially be your girlfriend now…” you said sweetly.

Spencer blushed again, thrilled that you were excited to put a label on your relationship, “Yeah,” He giggled, “I guess something good did come out of all that chaos, huh?” he said before leaning in to kiss you, your first kiss as an official couple.

hope y'all enjoyed! I had so much fun writing this one, so I think part 4 will be up sometime next week! ALSO my requests are open so send me something to write :)

MASTERLIST

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss

272 notes · View notes

xythlia · 10 months

Text

↳ THE FEVER

› HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR SICKO HUSBAND ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER <3

› satoru x stepdaughter!reader [reader is like early twenties bc it was easier to write with my own age in mind idk]

› word count : 2k+

warnings : dark content stepcest, voyeurism, male masturbation, possessiveness, inherent power imbalance, peeping, showerhead masturbation, yandere ish, he's just a mega perv if I missed anything lmk!

Truth be told Satoru never thought he'd be the marrying type, if it were solely his decision he probably wouldn't have but with the external pressure to marry and produce a child he ultimately chose the path of least resistance.

A readymade family so to speak, a cheeky loophole to those unrelenting demands he'd heard since he was in his late teens. Not that he didn't care for his newfound family, he did of course. The solid golden band around his ring finger, tangible proof of his commitment. A smart, lovely, accomplished spouse with a daughter already on her way to becoming equally accomplished, if not more so.

He'd only been introduced to you a few months before the wedding date, he didn't push you for any earlier interaction because your mother had already warned him you were surly about the whole thing, distrustful of him as a would be father figure. And yes, it was a slow road to minimal acceptance but you'd made progress in the time after the wedding. For instance you no longer glare and pointedly ignore his presence in the house.

A win is a win, after all.

But as time has gone by Satoru found himself plagued by thoughts, not of his wife, but of his adorably aloof step daughter. He couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you were, strikingly similar to your mother but with the dewiness of youth making you all the more enticing.

Maybe getting married wasn't such a bad thing.

At the same time it's become tortuous living in the same home together. Its a test of resolve, the way he can't help but stare at the way your sleep shorts have ridden up your ass when you blearily pad around the kitchen in the morning, grumbling about coffee. The way you routinely wear no bra in the comfort of the home without a second thought, although his every thought focuses around how it would feel to palm at your breasts, squeeze them and hear you whine in his hold.

All this early morning rumination comes to halt when he hears the gentle splashing sound of the shower from across the hall, pausing his endless train of thought as his cock throbs.

You're in the shower.

He can picture it: the way the water beads on your skin like rhinestones, the smell of shampoo and conditioner filling the room with the distinct scent of you, and the way soap would foam almost obscenely against the planes of your body.

If someone had the ability to print perfect snapshots of his thoughts they'd rival even the raunchiest porn publications in existence and his hand flexes against the satin sheets, fisting them in an iron grip as his cock throbs. His imagination isn't enough, the train of thought is veering into insatiable territory but it makes his pulse pound through his entire body. Lust and adrenaline mingling into a dangerous shot that he's already swallowed whole.

He has to see you for himself.

As he flings back the sheets and pads towards the bedroom door the tiniest sliver of guilt pierces the haze of desire wrapped around his brain like saran wrap. Of course he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be considering it. He's your stepfather and you're his stepdaughter, struggling to adjust to the upheaval of your life and finding your place in the brutal world you inhabit parallel to the normal one. Fuck, h should be helping, not daydreaming about-

His eyes catch you in the mirror first, back turned to him as you fiddle with a bottle of body wash. Satoru has to stop himself from gasping not just at the sight of you but at the flood of rapid fire thoughts that speed through his head.

Do you touch yourself? Surely you must, a woman in her early twenties is hardly unaware of self pleasure but do you finger yourself or are you partial to toys? Have you fucked someone? It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility, and he's seen you get dressed up for dates here and there before but it makes his blood rush thinking about some faceless nameless man getting to look at you naked, kiss that pretty pussy he's dreamt of, or god forbid be inside you.

The perfumed steam wafting from the cracked bathroom door makes his eyes flutter shut, hands flipping the waistband of his boxers down just enough to slip his aching cock out. He hisses as it springs free, lightly smacking against his abdomen. The pressure of his hand is only a bare, fleeting sense of relief considering he'd much rather see you soaking wet and on your knees in front of him, have your hands wrapped around him.

Spitting into the palm of his hand he wishes it was your mouth mapping the veins of his cock instead as he strokes himself, spreading saliva along the thick length of his shaft and his thumb swipes against his overly sensitive head feeling the warm precum leaking from his slit and it feels like he's made of hardened sugar that's now dissolving in the warm steam of the shower.

The pleasure is heightened both by the fact that this is beyond perverse and by the sick way his eyes can't move away from your reflection. The water rinsing down your body should be his fingers trailing burning paths over you, teasing adorable little noises from your lips and making you beg for him. The way your breasts look soaking wet is enough to make him nearly forget himself as his strokes become more frantic, panting in harsh, heaving breaths as his muscles scream to shove open the door and push you against the slick tile wall.

He can practically hear it, the yelp of surprise that he'd shush from you and the way you'd moan helplessly as his fingers swiped through your folds, tactile admiration of your pussy before stuffing you full of himself. It wouldn't be kind or romantic, not with the way you make him feel like a rotten dog, all starving neediness and if he sunk his teeth into you it's doubtful he'd ever be able to let go.

His breathing becomes so labored it's like a stone is pressing against his chest as he lets himself run wild, cerulean eyes blown wide but unseeing as the mental images over take him like a small vessel helpless against raging waves.

How would your hand look wrapped around his throbbing cock? Would you struggle at all, would it be new for you? Those impossibly wide, ravenous eyes are all devouring as he watches you run hands down your body. It's the sheer thrill of this entirely forbidden sight that has him nearly doubled over now, jaw clenched so hard surely his teeth would shatter if he were an ordinary man. His hand pumps his cock faster now, grip tightening as he swipes over his sensitive, weeping head and god would heaven be more than just a word if he could feel you around him. Would your eyes get that glassy, cockdrunk look and would drool slip shamelessly from the corners of your mouth as he fucks you senseless? What he wouldn't give to slap your cheek with his flushed cock, turn you into nothing but a taboo slut.

As you grab for the showerhead it nearly stops him dead.

As if you knew what kind of questions your unwelcome observer was asking.

So you do enjoy self pleasure. Seeing you adjust the jet of water and angle it just right makes his nerves feel like someone spiked fishhooks through them and yanked them impossibly taut. If only that jet of water was his tongue, lapping at your wetness and nudging your clit with his nose while your fingers tug on his alabaster hair. He'd have you on your back before you could blink, thighs squeezing his head and toes curling mid air from how thoroughly he'd work your pussy over. Fuck if only he could taste you-

The coil in his stomach snaps and he can't help the bone deep moans that escape his lips, thigh muscles trembling from the effort of keeping him upright as his balls throb and thick cum spurts in his hand. As he pants his ears ring, every sound as if it's coming through a cardboard tube pressed to his ears.

You'd look so beautiful with his cum splashed across your chest, your face.

Its not until Satoru feels goosebumps rise across the back of his neck that he remembers himself, remembers exactly what he's doing. Glancing up his eyes catch yours in the reflection.

Its damning, but he can't help being defiant against it. Grinning back at you, seeing your eyes wide with shock and your hand frozen poised above you as you were slotting the showerhead back in its holder. His heart hammers so hard against his ribcage it feels like surely it would break loose, splatter across the floor. Its a defining moment, will you scream threats at him or will you cower away?

You say nothing, do nothing but simply turn back around. Your slightly hunched shoulders glistening with moisture tell him enough, you feel exposed and vulnerable but lack the conviction to stand against the feeling. It shouldn't make him feel so elated but now he's got confirmation: you're weak in positions like this.

Would you be just as weak flat on your back?

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader smut

174 notes · View notes

cyxnidx · 2 years

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing well. I love your writing <3 If possible can I please request part 2 of “Don’t be shy w Tighnari, Cyno, Scaramouche, and Heizou? And or whoever else you’d like.

Also, can I be🧍anon if you have anons.

DONT BE SHY ! V. 2

Part 1 here

SURRREE omg idk why but this made me genuinely excited. You will now be known as 🧍 anon<3 im glad that you enjoy my work as well :)

characters: tighnari, cyno, scaramouche, and heizou

summary: things they would say to you in the bedroom~

warnings: reader is referred to as ‘mamas’ (cyno), reader is referred to as ‘darling’(tighnari) and that might be it. lmk if i missed anything

a/n: i was literally writing this when i noticed i had 300 followers..what a milestone🥰

TIGHNARI -- “i know, darling. just a little longer.”

tighnari was great with words of affirmation, both romantically and sexually, and he understood very well you needed to take it slow while he entered you. no matter how many times he ruined your hole, he had to put off some eagerness to help you adjust. he smiled so softly, watching as you welcomed his dick with a warm embrace. though, he couldn’t help but notice how you occasionally squirmed and let out a sigh. he felt so bad, but this was probably the best he was going to be able to do for you. “i know, darling.” he said, cupping your cheek as he placed his forehead atop of yours. “just a little longer, k?”

CYNO -- “youre doing so well mamas. i got you.”

you and cyno both had a bunch of favorite positions, one of his being cowgirl. he loved to see you bouncing on top of him, riding him so well. each and every time, he’d be supporting you through your high, watching as a white substance coated his dick. and this was one of those times, you felt so eager to chase after your high, but was ultimately tired. cyno being the supportive lover he was, helped you gain it. “youre doing so well mamas.” he said sweetly, hands gripping your hips as you finally reached the peak of your high, coming down to rest your head on his chest. “i got you.” he sighed, dick twitching in you from the sudden movement, seed filling you in the prettiest of ways.

SCARAMOUCHE -- “there it is. let me see how good i make you feel.”

when youre embarrassed, scaramouche couldn’t help but notice you’d cover your face or try to hide it. even when he told you about the little habit, you curled up in a corner, face buried into your knees. he found it a little cute though, so it wasn’t like he was mad about it. not that he’d tell you. and when you did it in bed? he most definitely loved it. he could never take the habit for granted. he’d purposely place a pillow or blanket near you, so when you’d try to hide he could have the honor of taking it from you. it fulfilled him beautifully. “don’t hide now..” he sighed, watching as you turned your head to the side and buried it in a blanket to hide your face. gently, he pulled it from you, watching tears perk up at the corner of your eyes. “there it is,” he said with a satisfied hum. “let me see how good i make you feel.”

HEIZOU — “mhm, just like that. use me all you want..”

heizou loved being able to be of help to you. he loved the fact he could be of use to his most favorite person. that being said, it made him so happy knowing you’d be willing to use him as much as you could. he didn’t care about overstimulation, or passing out. he was sure he’d have enough energy for whatever you had in mind, and didn’t mind overstimulation one bit. he loved seeing you make use of his dick, grinding and humping just for your own pleasure. every time he’d offer to help, you’d tell you got it yourself. you could handle it, but could he? the question always made him so tempted to thrust into you as hard as he could, having the possibility of sending you to your high. but he doesn’t. he wants to see you struggle. “you got it, baby,” his eyes livened up noticing he was near his limit, and you mightve been as well. “mhm, just like that baby. use me all you want..” he sighed, emptying himself into you, and one thrust later, you came as well.

1K notes · View notes

girlboybug · 1 year

Text

You Can Be the Boss

"he has a white corvette like i want it, a fire in his eyes no i saw it, he's bleeding from his brain and his wallet, he's sick and he's taken but honest."

or the one where you're javier's current favorite informant but steve doesn't quite trust you.

what’s playing 🎧 : you can be the boss by lana del rey

pairing : javier pena x reader x steve murphy

word count : 8k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, threesome, soft!dom javi, brat tamer! steve, rough sex, face fucking, blowjobs, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, good cop bad cop type beat, sir kink, dash of officer kink, use of cuffs, light slapping, degrading, denied orgasms, sprinkle of edging, unspecified age gap, references to anal but no actual anal, (sorry to my anal enjoyers), bisexual coded javi and steve ;3

a visual, for your viewing pleasure ;)

TRIGGER WARNINGS : dubcon (power imbalance), steve is a big ol meanie ;((, implied of infidelity, (?) if there's anything i missed pls lmk!!

a/n : once again need to state i am not caught up on narcos, my spanish is non-existent, timelines might b wonky, and idk if connie and steve get back together, but in this they're separated lolz, anyways pls enjoy!! <3

his hand feels warm when he rests it over your thigh, curling his fingers over your skin, rubbing his large palm back and forth. “can i get you something to drink?” he asks softly, keeping his words hushed and gentle.

you stare blankly ahead, nodding. he pats your thigh, rising from the couch before he disappears into his kitchen.

when he returns, he bends down in front of you, squatting just beneath your eye level, taking your hand in his. your eyes slowly drag down to him, watching as he molds your hand around the glass for you, running his fingers across your knuckles before his touch migrates to your chin, holding it with care.

“you’re okay.” he promises, and he looks like he means it, but you don’t believe it despite wishing with your entire being that his words were the truth. “javi, if they find out i’ve been telling you all this–” he unclenches your grip around the glass, setting it down on his coffee table and replacing it with his hand. his fingers lace with yours, allowing you to squeeze him instead.

“they’re not gonna find out. you’re staying with me for now, and i’ll work something out at the embassy, we’ll get you out of here, for good.” he murmurs, his words smooth and calm, caressing around the shell of your ears, trying his best to coax you out of the numb, scared state you’ve dwindled down into.

“what’s the use of leaving colombia if they’ll just find me in america?” your words tremble from your unsteady lips, and he sighs, leaning in to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

he kisses your forehead, trailing down to press his lips down the slope of your nose, stopping just before his lips meet your own. “they won’t find you, you have my word.” he forms his oath to you in a quiet breath, his words falling to your lips. you take them in, trying your best to let them resonate, in hopes that you’ll believe it.

you tilt your head upwards, just enough to reach the curve of his lips. you press them to yours, leaning in closer towards him, wishing you could just fall into him.

he’s quick to reciprocate, quick to catch you. he holds your cheeks in his hands, cradling you into him. your lips click and connect, the sound of your lips together, his warmth, the way he feels a part of you in this moment settles your swirling nerves back into a complacent, dormant state.

you hum a content sigh in his mouth, your shoulders dropping relaxedly when he kisses you deeply, letting you pour yourself into him. he’ll drink your worries, your fears, your anything into him, he’ll take it all from you if you allow him to.

if javi is anything, he’s consistent. consistent in always being the place you can go to forget about the whirlwind of shit you’re in. granted it’s temporary, but most good things tend to be.

the door pushes open and you gasp, jerking back from javier, instinctively moving behind him. he rushes to guard you, angling his body in front of yours. his shoulders droop with a sudden irritated deflation, huffing in annoyance while he watches his partner walk in, eyes following his casual movements as if he didn’t just give you an actual heart attack.

the tall blonde man drops his coat on the table, shutting the door with a push of his heel against the white wood.

he drags a tired hand down his cheek before he turns to eye you two suspiciously, well you suspiciously. “yeah sure why not,” javier shrugs, holding your knees towards him, keeping you still with his hand under your lap. “make yourself at home.” he mutters while steve paces over to your sitting figures.

you look up at him silently, his glare is fast to land on you. “oh yeah because i’m interrupting something super important here right?” he flicks a brow, scoffing when he loosens his tie.

“yeah actually,” javier nods, and steve rolls his eyes, his hands falling to his hips, looking down at you like an unbelieving teacher ready to scold his most troublesome students. “alright, what’s she doin’ here then, y’know, besides the shit you usually do with your ‘informants’?” you glare back at him, not understanding why he always seems to have a general distaste for your presence.

“she just gave me information we couldn’t beat out of someone,” and steve nods, his fingers rubbing at his stubble, tongue in his cheek, nodding with faux assurance. “uh huh. and what would that be?”

“she knows the route escobar’s gonna be using to his next hide out. she knows who’s accompanying him, she knows the times–steve,” his warmth leaves you when he stands to match his partner’s stature. “she’s got a shit ton of valuable info here, so why don’t you ease up on her?”

steve purses his lips, turning his gaze on you, and suddenly it feels like a spotlight is burning through your skin. “and how in the hell does pablo escobar’s maid know all this?”

“walls are thin. i hear them downstairs while i clean the upstairs, sound travels up the pipes in the bathrooms, it’s not impossible to listen in.” your explanations fall on uncaring ears, he’s already shaking his head.

“i don’t believe her. too convenient, and i doubt his men are that stupid to talk that loudly about their plans in front of the help,” he tilts his head at you, emphasizing when he says the help, and now it’s your turn to stand.

“fuck you,” you spit, surprising yourself when the words come out. javier moves in between you two when steve stalks towards you with a hard glare and a mouth fired and ready to remind you of your place.

“hey,” javier calls his attention back, steve’s eyes begrudgingly leaves your’s before he turns them back to his partner.

“if you trust me, you trust her.” he reminds and steve sighs longly, carding a hand through his hair. “also,” javier eyes over steve’s disheveled figure before looking back at him. “why’re you here?”

he drops down onto the chair beside the couch, legs spread, head rolled back against the cushion, his hand rubbing over his forehead. “connie. she wants an official separation.” your eyes widen in fake shock, shaking your head and looking away while he talks. “makes sense,” you mutter under your breath, somewhat satiating the hatefulness you want to spew at him.

“i’m sorry,” javier sighs, juxtaposing your unsympathetic reaction with a concerned one, coming over to press a hand to his shoulder. “we can talk about the routes tomorrow, we still have time. did you wanna…talk about it?” steve shakes his head, and you want to roll your eyes, praying javier sends him back home soon.

“no, it’s alright jav, just came by to see if you wanted to grab a drink but,” he’s looking at you again. “i see you’re busy.” javier smooths over his mustache, sighing quietly when he glances at you.

he wouldn’t mind going out with steve to some bar for a few hours, he can see the visible pain on his friend’s face, but your life is higher on his list of priorities, and he can’t get himself to leave you alone.

“i’m sorry murphy,” javier starts but steve shakes his head, holding a hand up to pause his apologies. “nah don’t be, i’ll get uh, outta your hair.” he gets up to leave and you feel like leaping into the air at your sweet success.

but javier cuts your joy short, immediately ejecting you from off of cloud nine when he stops steve from leaving.

he swipes the dust off his watch, checking the time before he looks over to steve. “look, it’s getting kinda late, why don’t you crash on my couch tonight? you can help yourself to the fridge, but i’m sure you’d raid it with or without my permission.” javi’s lip curls in tune with his joke and steve chuckles, easing away from his stress for the moment.

“yeah,” steve exhales, rubbing his knuckles under his eyebags. “alright,” he agrees.

javier nods, rustling steve’s shoulders with a grin. “i’ll grab you somethin’ you can sleep in, and y’know where the bathrooms at for when you wanna change.”

“thanks jav,” he calls out after him when he walks away, and you expel a breath of quiet annoyance, plopping down into the seat in front of steve.

he eyes you up and down, and you pull your legs together, resting your elbows on your knees, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

you hate him, you’ve never been more sure.

there’s multiple reasons why steve isn’t particularly fond of you. most reasons are arguably just his own projections. none of them are all that valid or have anything to do with the things you actually are responsible for.

for one, he doesn’t trust you. but someone else seems to. and to be fair, javi is a smart man who trusts those deserving of it, no disputing that.

however.

women are his weak spot, and if he were to get taken advantage of, it’d probably be by one. and he can’t shake the feeling that you’re doing just that.

maybe the information you give them is real, but then you could also be going off and warning escobar and his sicarios as soon as you get back to them, forever sending him and javier down an endless wild goose chase.

but then again, you do seem to be honest and genuine — at least your fear is when you stress how they cannot find out that you’re the rat amongst them.

that seems real.

and steve knows he shouldn't let that be why he treats you as rudely as he does. he additionally acknowledges the fact that you always smelling so annoyingly good that he can smell you before you even enter the room, is also not a valid reason to dislike you.

except, this?

this is a new, more realistic reason to not like you, he thinks.

you’re fucking loud.

he can hear your goddamn moaning through the thin wall separating javier’s bedroom and the couch he’s currently laying on. he’s starting to think there’s a chance you weren’t lying about hearing escobar’s plans through the walls while you cleaned.

he tosses and turns on the couch, trying to use the pillow javier gave him to muffle the sounds but god, it’s like you’re determined to make steve hear you.

all he can hear is your moans, your whiny mewls for javi, jaaavi, and he can hear his godforsaken partner, who he might request to be changed after this, groan your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect you are, calling you his hermosa — and it’s driving him crazy. in his descent into a sleepless delirium he begins to genuinely wish his hearing would go out, just for the night.

“what do you want?” javier breathed above you, your thighs on either side of his leg. his knee pushing right up against you there, teasing your clit.

you swallowed hard through heavy breaths, hands coming up to run down his jaw, your fingers brushing along his stubble. “i just wanna forget about what’s going on,” you responded, a sense of pleading under your breath while you spoke.

he kissed you, trickling his lips down your neck and chest. “puedo distraerte,” he murmured, his hands pulling your sweater over your tummy, replacing the wool with his lips.

his mouth was hot, and eager to latch over your clothed cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a drawn out cry from amidst your bitten lips.

it’s been 30 minutes? an hour? an eternity? and you two are still at it from when that all started, and steve thinks he’ll die, in fact, he hopes he does. he’s lost connie, his kid, and now his sanity from hearing his partner fuck his 100th ‘informant’ just a wall away from him.

“oh my god!” you squeal, and nope, that’s it, he can’t do this.

he rips the blanket off his body, his sock covered feet landing on the carpet, carrying his haggard, exhausted, irritated, body to the bedroom.

he pushes open the door, cringing when you yell, avoiding looking at you while you grab the sheets to cover yourself. “steve what the fuck?” you shout, and javier huffs, lifting the sheets from off his head, moving away from the place between your thighs.

“do you fucking need something?” javier grits, and steve folds his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw when he sees your bodies shine with a sheen coat of sweat from the moonlight peeking in. he clears his throat, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with javier.

“i need you guys to shut the fuck up, that’s what i need. ‘been hearin’ you two all night, i can’t sleep.” he sneers, and javier scoffs, his eyes landing on the bulge steve is sporting behind the borrowed pair of sweats, feeling smug in place of embarrassment.

“yeah, i’m sure that’s why you can’t sleep.” he tilts his head downward toward his crotch, and steve grows hot, standing up straight when he grinds down on his bottom teeth.

javier sighs to himself, eyes glancing over steve, then panning to you beside him before he speaks again. “i don’t usually share but, i can make an exception tonight. only ‘cause you’ve got shit goin’ on.” javier shrugs, and both you and steve gape at him

“what?” you smack javier’s arm, feeling your face get hot at the mere idea of such a suggestion.

“stop playing around and just kick him out,” you whisper yell, but steve’s way ahead of you, already turning on his heel, wondering if he’ll be able to hail a cab this late at night.

“m’not kidding. steve, i’m serious,” he calls out, halting steve mid step. he turns back around slowly, facing you both now.

javier leans down, resting his chin on your neck, holding your arms in his hands. “steve’s handsome baby, don’t you think?” he whispers, his fingers trailing up and down your arms. your breath picks up when you really look over at steve.

he’s good looking, in fact, that was the first thought you had when you met him, but it all quickly went away when he began being rude to you.

and despite that, you find yourself giving in, nodding meekly. steve’s chest gets tight when you agree, his cock betraying him and twitching behind his shallow confinements. “steve, she’s pretty isn’t she?” he says temptingly, his voice a deep, rich siren song that pulls both you and steve right into his grasp.

steve’s jaw wants to lock on itself before he can say something he can’t take back, but it's too late, his logic and reason is slowly depleting from him just like the air in his lungs the more his eyes flicker between you and javier.

“yeah,” he croaks, and a ghost of a smile graces over your lips when he admits to your attractiveness. “you wanna show him how pretty you are quierda?” he whispers in your ear, and you nod a hypnotized yes, allowing him to hook his fingers under the sheets, slowly pulling it down to reveal your bare chest.

steve gets weak, his cock throbbing painfully in his boxers, he’s sure you can see it now, but he’d rather you feel it instead.

he wants to let his hand drift down to his cock, to ease the strain he feels but no, he won’t give in, he won’t seem weak, not in front of you, and definitely not in front of javier. he’d never hear the end of it.

he closes the door behind him and your heart picks up, clenching the bedspread beneath you when he starts to move in towards you both, eyes pointed at you like a hawk.

he forces your gaze on him, his finger under your chin, craning your neck upwards. his eyes bounce into yours and you feel small under his hold and stare, struggling to maintain the downward look he’s shooting your way. it lays over you heavily.

he pushes his thumb between your lips, watching you suck on it, teeth grazing the tip, a semblance of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth when you stare back up at him.

steve already feels debilitated and he hasn’t even touched you yet. he doesn’t like that. he refuses to let you have this much control over him.

he’s going to make sure you stay in your place.

“alright.” he breathes out, pulling his thumb from you, turning to look at javier. “she listen well?” and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly when you lean back into your preferred agent of the two.

“‘course she does,” he says proudly, rubbing your arm affectionately, sending a fluttery feeling to your lower stomach at the praise.

“think you can listen to me?” he murmurs to you when he leans down to your level, knees dipping into the mattress. you test the waters, eyeing him while he inches in closer, slowly erasing the space between you two breath by breath.

“what if i don’t feel like it?” you ask, words quiet amidst the air betwixt both your parted mouths. he chuckles something dark under his breath, eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes. “if you wanna cum tonight i think you’ll listen to me.”

your breathing pauses in your throat at his statement, and you have no witty response to shoot back. you’re quiet.

finally, steve thinks, lightly snickering when you respond with nothing.

javier shifts around, sitting upwards and leaning into steve’s ear. “she likes it when you touch her like this, f’you wanna give her a reason to listen, do this.” he whispers, before moving back down to where you rest in his bed.

steve watches as javier moves the sheets, exposing your bare lower half. steve exhales sharply when his eyes focus on you, scanning the sight laid out for him.

you feel shy, your body being feasted on hungrily by the wandering eyes of two men who want nothing more than to devour you.

javier’s hand makes its way to your thigh, running the palm up and down slowly. “part your legs for me, quierda,” he says softly, and you do as he says, spreading yourself for both of them to see.

his fingers trace over your clit, running circles over it, keeping the pressure tight, focused, right where you need it to be. your breath picks up, your hand tightens around his wrist, your eyes falling shut at his touch.

steve stares at the way javier unravels you, taking his time to make you feel good. he knows what he’s doing, and he’s impressed by what he sees.

he wonders if you’d react the same way if it were his fingers. he wants to find out.

steve gets closer, he brings his middle finger to your lips, and you take him in with no need for verbal instructions, your tongue swirling around the digit while you push your hips onto javier’s fingers.

he slips it from out your lips, bringing it down to your cunt.

he breaches your entrance, dipping into you, and you gasp, eyes opening wide when you feel his finger, long, and thick, traveling into you, joining javier in the ministrations on your cunt.

you feel spoiled, with javier kissing your neck, whispering about how wet you are, and steve, his face just a single pull of air away from your’s while he curls his finger right where you crave to be touched.

his lips just barely brush your skin, occasionally gracing over your parted mouth when your head turns side to side from the steadily increasing pleasure that burns your skin.

you feel too proud to ask for a kiss, instead you try leaning into him, but he moves back just a little when you do. if you want something, you ask for it.

“steve,” you whisper breathlessly, chest heaving, pebbled nipples poking him through his white t shirt. “what?” he asks, and javier peers over at you two, feeling his cock twitch when he glances down, sight joining the sound of your soaked cunt taking their fingers.

you swallow away your pride piece by piece, it’s a painful feat but the rising need inside you is starting to override it.

“kiss me? please?” you hushedly plead with him, praying he obliges. javier sponges kisses across your shoulder while steve eyes you for a moment, visually tracing the curve of your lips, feeling a pair of hands restrain him away from taking your lips into his own. he wants to, but fuck, connie.

“gonna keep her waiting?” rings through his ears from javier, and he breaks from his trance, realizing that he’s already in too deep, connie’s gone, and kissing you won’t change that.

he lurches forward, kissing you hard, almost angrily. you nearly topple backward, but javier’s right there, he’s got you.

you whimper into his mouth, struggling to keep up with the way he moves against you. your hand strokes the strong arm belonging to javier, the other coming up to cup steve’s jaw.

his hand, big and strong, comes to your throat, keeping you in your place when he kisses you.

his teeth ghosts a bite on your bottom lip, his tongue running across it to smooth the tinge of pain away before it travels into your mouth, tasting the hint of something sweet on your tongue.

he groans in your mouth, the sound pulling a shiver from the depths of your spine. “make him feel good, quierda,” javier whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his mustache tickling your sensitive skin.

you nod mindlessly, silencing the whine that begs to come out when they shift away from you, withdrawing their hands from between your thighs.

you lean forward towards steve, fingers hooking under his sweatpants nervously while javier moves behind you, his warm hands panning over the curve of your ass, one of his favorite sights.

steve stares you down while you tug down the sweats along with the plaid boxers that rest on his hips, his lips curling up at the way your mouth falls when his cock springs up, hard, his flushed pink tip glistening with precum.

he’s just slightly longer than javier, cock not having as much girth as him but in no way, shape, or form, are either men small.

this is going to be quite the exploit.

“gonna stare at it or are you gonna suck it?” he half scoffs, hand traveling behind your neck, and you glare up at him from under your eyelashes, lowering yourself down to him. “just remembered why i don’t like you,” you grumble, your complaining cut short when you feel javier’s tongue back on your clit.

you whine, pushing back on his face when you sink your mouth down onto steve’s cock.

he hisses upon immediate contact, your mouth is hot, wet, perfect.

your moans vibrate around his cock from the way javier’s tasting you, his fingers pushing deep into your fluttering hole. he palms himself, running his thumb over his leaking tip when he peers over and watches the way you take his partner’s dick into your mouth.

you bob your head, rising up only to sink downward, eyes squeezing shut, trying your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can but his length is not making it easy on you.

your tongue runs along the base of him, coming around to swirl over his tip when your lips encase it. he groans, head falling forward, eyes lowering beneath the bush of his brows at you.

javier can’t take it anymore, your little whimpers eliciting from the flick of his tongue, the way your hole squeezes around nothing, just begging to be filled, and the slick sound coming from your mouth when you suck over steve’s tip is too much, he needs you.

he rests back on his knees, aligning himself with your entrance before he pushes in, feeling a heavy sense of pride settle into his chest when you let out a drawn out moan of his name.

you slide your lips off of steve’s cock, replacing it with your hand when you turn over your shoulder to watch him put it in. “javi,” you croon through a tearful moan, eyebrows strung in an earnest curl.

he runs his thumb across your bottom lip when he’s fully inside you, a look of adoration screwed with pleasure casting over his face.

but steve’s hand is guiding your attention back to him, javi has enough of it anyways, and he’s pulling your jaw back onto him.

it’s hard to focus on trying to keep your pace and rhythm on steve’s cock when javier’s fucking you with everything he’s got, his cock nudging deep inside you, filling you out so good it makes your eyes roll back.

steve almost feels a little jealous, feeling like he deserves the same amount of acknowledgement you give javier. he holds you by the back of your head, making you give him more attention.

you gag, sliding off his cock, resting on your palms, jerking forward into his hips from javier’s thrusts, struggling to catch your breath. “uh uh,” he shakes his head, pushing you back down. “not gonna let you stop ‘til you suck it right sweetheart,” he mutters, and your face gets hot, ashamed at how his orders make you clamp down around javier’s cock.

javier groans at the way you’re gripping him, and he leans forward, pushing in even deeper, feeling pride fill him once more when you whine around steve’s cock.

“don’t be too rough with her,” he grunts, semi opposing his own words, rolling his hips in unbearably deeper, abusing the sensitive spongy spot inside you with the fat head of his cock.

steve dryly laughs, tilting his head at his partner before glancing down at you working him down your throat, eager to please him, eager to finally earn some praise from him.

“looks like can handle it. in fact, i think she likes it,” steve proves his point, pushing his hips in deeper, and you gag, but you tighten around javier at the force of action and he exhales humorously, pursing his lips.

he bends down, kissing your shoulder blade. “quierda, quierda, taking us both so well,” his voice careens around you like the drag of his palm over your skin.

“s’right, take it,” steve murmurs, his hand just behind your jaw, thumb running across the tears that stream down your cheek.

your eyes shutter closed, body content with being filled front to back so wholly, the men who occupy you grunting with primal approval.

javier’s fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the little soaked button as a reward, and you cry around steve’s cock, hands gripping tighter onto the sheets at the stimulation. the way his cock prods into you, paired with the swirl of the pads of his fingers over your clit feels earth shattering.

steve’s eyes drift over to javier, his broad shoulders adorned in scratches from presumably you, the downward pull of your nails across his skin was probably created moments before he came into the bedroom. his cock twitches inside your mouth at the thought.

javier’s eyebrows are pulled together, eyes narrowed down at your body, hips pulling back only to ram back into you at full force with a certain precision that has you crying around steve’s cock.

he’s fucking you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and steve can’t help but watch.

his thrusts pick up speed inside your mouth, the itch you’re satiating just grows and grows and he can’t stop chasing the relief you provide him.

javier’s gaze that follows the way you bounce from each thrust he pounds into you shifts into an upward stare back to steve’s intent eyes, and he exhales heavily, jaw clenching tightly.

the men watch each other, the sound of your moans and gagging mixed with their low and thick grunts and groans is something that will float back into your minds when you all separate, forever haunting you in the wake of silent moments.

steve finds his eyes landing over javier’s lips, watching the way his tongue darts out and drags across his bottom lip and he swallows back the thick groan that wants to leave.

he falls forward, his cock pushing in deeper between your lips, his head resting on javier’s shoulder while he grinds into your mouth.

he inches his hips back, keeping his cock down your throat but still allowing you some leeway to pull off for air while he finds refuge on the broad expanse of javier’s shoulder.

their shared groans of your name fall into each other’s mouths and you whimper, pushing your ass onto javier, mouth sucking around steve fervently, desperate to please both men.

steve’s mouth drops open when you suction your lips around the head of his cock, teasing him with the fat stripe of your tongue and he shivers, his teeth baring down against javier’s flesh.

he winces at the pain, but he likes it, he accepts it, welcomes it.

“she feel good?” steve drones in a low groan, and javier holds your hips, pulling you all the way down on his cock, making eye contact with steve when your sobs rack around his cock, watching the way his eyes screw shut. “feels amazing, squeezin’ me so good,” he grunts, his hand coming down to lay a hard smack over the fat of your ass.

you yelp at the rough affection, the little squeaking sound coming out muffled from the activity currently preoccupying your mouth, prompting a cocky breathless chuckle from steve when he leans back, eyes falling over your pretty face.

“if i knew she could put this mouth to use other than runnin’ it i would’ve had her on her knees sooner,” he relents airlessly, heavy pants leaving past his lips. javier laughs hazily, leaning in, his cock shoving itself deeper inside you while his hips mold over your’s like broken pieces reconnecting.

his hand wraps around your throat, lips sponged gently to your ear. “i think steve just paid you a compliment, hermosa,”

you look up at steve, doe eyed with long wet lashes, blinking appreciatively, feeling warm all over when he taps your cheek with his palm, not hard, but not gentle either. you take whatever you can from him.

steve rolls his head back up to javier, twirling his finger to the side, motioning for the pair to switch. he wants a turn inside you.

“why don’t you ask me nicely?” he says through a soft gruff breath, leaning in closer to his face, his hips clasping tightly over yours, his cock burying itself so far in your cunt it burrows in your tummy.

you whine around steve’s cock, his hand coming to the back of your head to pacify you while he scoffs at javier.

“‘scuse me?”

“i said, why don’t you ask me. nicely?” javier repeats, his head tilting to the side.

asshole.

steve’s jaw hinges forward with irritation, his eyes falling down to where your ass and javier’s hips meet, his chest settling into a deep pit of desire, slowly plucking away his inhibitions of trying to seem like he’s in control.

“please,” his voice shakes a little, the desperate plea beneath his hushed words.

javier’s brow flicks up, lips pursing with satisfaction and he pauses inside you, prompting your swollen lips to roll from off steve’s cock, turning into a disappointed pout when you look at him from behind your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” you rasp, and steve takes in his bottom lip, his top lip perking in smugness at your voice.

“are you okay with us…switching?” javier asks, running his hand along your hip softly. the nerves in your tummy tighten like the strings on a corset, sucking you in and stealing your breath at the thought of him fucking you.

you turn back to look at steve, before you’re swallowing away your pride, nodding in agreement.

a grin spreads across his face, and he pats your cheek, whistling when he twists his finger in the air once more. “get over here an’ turn around for me,”

your eyes start to roll at his orders, the action cut short when the loss from javier makes you wince. “yessir officer sir,” you joke dryly through a breath, a part of you not wanting to let on how excited you really were for this.

steve’s cock twitches at your joking, unaware of how much he really liked that.

javier lays further into the bed, arm behind his head while he watches you crawl towards him. an excited glint shines for a passing second in his eyes when he watches the way steve stares down your every movement, eyes following each and every little sway your ass makes before him.

your hands rest on javier’s thighs before they’re slipping off him, panickedly grasping for the mattress when steve’s pushing you into the bed, shoving your face beside javier’s knee and hoisting your ass up for him.

he breathes out a heavy, content sigh when his palms encase your ass, your glistening cunt just weeping for him.

it’s steve’s turn to be greeted by your face craned behind your shoulder, cute little features contorted in a curious pleasure, eyebrows pulled together, bitten lips pouted while he cocks his head at you.

he grabs your wrists, letting your cheek shift and fall to javier’s thigh.

javier graces his hand behind your neck soothingly, silently making up for his partner’s rough actions.

steve’s cock grazes against your cunt and you shiver, feeling him press up onto you, his hips flush to your ass while he wrangles your wrists together. “hands behind your back, hermosa.” his mustache tickles at your ear, your lips trembling against the hot skin of javier’s thigh. he taunts you with the pet name, reminding you he’s heard your pathetic mewls and moans you so graciously gave to javi.

it was his turn to earn some of that graciousness.

“s’bout time you show me some goddamn respect,” he mutters in your ear, flicking his head up towards javier who’s watching intently, his cock aching at the sight.

“you got your cuffs?” he asks and your back stiffens.

uh oh.

javier’s lips curl evilly and he chuckles below a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “yeah. need ‘em?” he responds knowingly and you crane your neck up at him, eyes peering at him pitifully.

javier purses his lips at you with faux sympathy, running his thumb across your lips before he’s looking back at steve for confirmation.

steve nods and javier doesn’t argue.

he opens the first drawer on the nightstand beside his bed, his hand returning with a pair of silver handcuffs.

he tosses them to steve and he catches it dutifully, unlatching them before he puts them around your wrists, seconds away from locking the cold metallic constraints tight and in place.

you’re turning back to look at steve, imploring with him desperately to not use the cuffs on you. “no no please, sir i don’t want the cuffs,” you whimper against the flesh of javier’s thigh, your sounds traveling straight to his cock.

steve didn’t even have to tell you to keep calling him sir, you barely even realize what you’re saying at this point, it all just feels like babble coming mindlessly from out your bitten lips.

steve’s throat gets tight at your pleas, the title of respect you’ve given him without even realizing what you’ve said makes his cock throb against your soaked cunt, itching to just push inside you.

“too bad. you can earn your way outta them.” he offers, running his hand across the curve of your ass before he speaks again.

“you’re gonna be fuckin’ good for me like you were for him, you hear me?” he orders, the air in his words thick with authority. you nod feebly and he smacks your ass, the sheer force from his hand pushing you further onto javier’s lap. you cry out, the pain vibrating through your flesh.

before you have time to speak or think or breathe, he shoves himself inside you, no resistance from your needy, drenched hole. he groans when he forces himself in all the way, your cries from his cock floats around in the thick air like music to his ears.

you lower your mouth down onto javier’s cock, trying to busy your mind away from the intense feeling of being rocked forward endlessly by the fluid motions of steve shoving his cock into you.

he’s fucking the length of his cock in your little hole, molding your cunt to the extent of it. his cockhead kisses your cervix with each rough thrust he impales you with.

javier’s head rolls back when your tongue curls around his shaft the way he likes, the tip of it running along a vein of his, his breathing starting to falter all over again.

it’s harder sucking javier like this, you can’t rely on your hands to please what you can’t reach, your drool dribbles down the base of his cock, the place where your hands would normally be, but javier doesn’t mind, he could almost kiss steve for giving him the gift of watching you struggle and gag around his cock like this, drooling like a fucked out slut.

steve’s lost in his own physical realm of pleasure where nothing exists except for his cock burrowed in the wet tunnel of your cunt, his cock head ramming into your sweet cervix uncaringly, cruelly.

he relishes with his head fallen forward at the way your sobs come out muffledly from the sound of his partner’s cock down your throat, because of him. it’s because of his cock you’re crying out like this.

his blonde hair falls limp with sweat in his eyes, but he doesn’t mind it, his lids fall heavy with blinding pleasure, his hand pressing you down by your lower back, forcing you to arch further on his cock.

the two men find endless pleasure with you, you’re the gift that keeps on giving, and they will happily keep on taking.

javier’s head rolls towards you, chin resting low while he stares down your bobbing head that struggles to fully lower down onto him.

but it’s just so cute the way you struggle, he loves watching you try to be so good for him and take him as far as you can into your mouth.

you’re definitely his sweetest informant to date.

“fuck,” he breathes out, the crown of his head falling back to his headboard, your suctioning lips sucking the head of his cock too well, that it makes him feel lightheaded.

his hands, on the edge of callousing, come over the curve of your ass, gripping the fat of it, pulling you apart to sneakily look at your little hole, feeling his cock throb inside you when he imagines the other things he’d like to do to you.

the things connie would never allow, which is okay, he respected that.

but you?

he’s sure you’d do just about anything he or javier asked of you. and he’s willing to bet with enough sweet words from javier and sternness from himself, they could get you right where he wanted you.

he tilts his head, rolling his hips into you deep and hard, enjoying every little jolt forward you make onto javier’s cock while he thumbs over your hole, wondering if maybe you’d let him have you that way next time.

fuck.

will there be a next time?

he really, really hopes so.

you shiver when you feel his thumb swipe over that part of yourself, mouth sliding off javier’s cock to catch your breath and shut your eyes at the feeling.

javier’s cupping your face, a sharp exhale from his nose replacing whatever jumble he was about to say when your tongue flicks over his tip, enveloping him down your throat once more.

steve’s leaning over your body, his cock traveling in too far inside you, naturally pulling a drawn out cry from around javier’s cock. javier pants, head falling back at the vibrations between his thighs.

“fuckin’ tight,” steve groans, his forehead resting on your shoulder, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to peer up at javier.

his brown hair has fallen damp just under his eyebrows, tickling his lashes, his mouth is drawn open, wispy murmurs of your name pouring out like a chant amidst a ritual, holy and sacred.

“for a whore,” steve adds, and javier chuckles through a breathy moan, the way you clamp down around his cock at his comments is not lost on him. his fingers find your clit, and you tense, your back immediately falling into a deeper arch, desperate to feel more of him.

you come up for air, needing a break from the soreness trickling along your jaw, your gaze now ascending towards javier, looking up at him with big watery eyes. you instinctively leaning into his warm palm that comes to cradle your face while your stare lingers over him.. “i’m so close,” you whimper and just like that, steve’s fingers withdraw from your clit and instead go back into digging into the plump flesh around your hips.

javier looks up at steve, joining you in your confused stare. “steve please,” you plead, struggling to look at him through the rough jolts from his hard thrusts. “c’mon,” javier’s honeyed tone calls his attention and steve looks over at him, tilting his head. “i don’t think she’s earned it,” he looks back down at you, brings his lips to your ear and grows smug when you cry out from the way his cock intrudes into you even deeper. “if you wanna cum you better work for it. girl.”

javier’s cock twitches in your grasp at the way steve talks to you, and you’re just about pulsing around him, eager to prove you deserve to cum, you’re hungry for it.

your mouth is back on javier, watching the way his eyes screw shut and his brows furrow once more when your tongue drags all around him, trying to also greedily take in as much of steve as you can, pushing onto him, wanting nothing more than to be fully enveloped by him.

his fingers tease your clit, gracing you with fleeting touches that make your skin prickle over into a fiery heat only for it to be immediately extinguished when he pulls them away. you’re trying your hardest to continue to make javier feel good, and your efforts are definitely not for nothing. his breathing grows more staggered, his thrusts into your mouth lose their pattern, he’s holding you by the back of your neck, forcing himself to lean forward and watch you take his cock down your throat.

“fuck, fuck, take it, take it yeah, shit,” he pants, fucking your jaw through his orgasm, his hips hitting your chin with every rough piston he makes. you’re squeezing your teary eyes shut, trying to take both him and steve abusing your holes the best way you can.

he slides his cock out from your lips, gently wiping away your sweaty forehead while you fight to catch your breath. each gasp of air is pulled away from you by the rough impaling by steve’s cock that hits you deep over and over.

“did so good for me querida,” he whispers to you softly, juxtaposing the way you’re getting fucked by his partner. you just whimper at his praises, wriggling your hands around in your cuffs. javier doesn’t ask steve before he acts, he just grabs the keys and unlocks you, feeling slight guilt when you wince and sigh in relief when you’re finally free from your constraints.

steve glares at javier and he ignores it, rubbing your wrists soothingly while steve slows his thrusts.

you almost panic, worried he won’t let you cum at all now, you bring wrists behind your back once more for him, and the purest and most intense form of pride blooms in the depths of his chest at your little actions. he grips your wrists together in one hand, making eye contact with javier while he speeds up his thrusts inside your soaked cunt.

javier’s spent cock throbs and he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling heavily. “sweet isn’t she?” javier utters, watching the way steve’s hips pull and push into your’s. with a side perk of his lips he shrugs, running his free hand over the curve of your ass. “yeah. when she feels like it.”

javier chuckles, bringing his fingers to your clit, keeping the pads of his digits still. you look at him, wordlessly pleading with him to override steve’s rules and let you cum. “you make him feel good quierda, an’ i’ll make sure you get what you want.” and with a kiss to your forehead, that’s all you’re left with.

he drinks in your moans, his lips falling to yours, keeping your face tucked into his palms while steve chases his orgasm inside you. he’s lost in you, you’re all encompassing, the way you’re gripping onto him, your cries for him getting drowned out in javier’s mouth – fuck, you’re too much.

you break apart from javier’s lips, unable to keep going like this without cumming. after all, you were never the patient type to begin with. “please steve, feel’s so good, i need to cum, please let me, promise m’gonna be so good,” you’re near tears, ready to beg and plead with steve for however long it takes. javier looks at him along with you, his cheek resting on your forehead. “let her,” javier orders instead of suggesting, and steve doesn’t have it in him to argue or deny you any longer.

his fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the sticky little button in the way you need, and you sob in relief, your cheek falling onto the mattress, letting your body be overtaken by the older man, your fingers intertwining with his while he pounds your orgasm into you. “thank you thank you thank you,” you cry through a series of shaky drawn out moans. you gush around him, panting loudly, losing all the air in the room while you cum. your body feels like it’s going to explode and honestly, it just might.

steve assaults every single sensitive spot inside your body, his fingers on your clit staying put, your legs in return turning into jello, trembling hard with erratic shakes.

“bet y’don’t think i’m that bad now huh?” he whispers in your ear, and you shake your head dumbly, resting your head on javier’s lap while steve continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

he’s getting sloppy, he’s close, he can feel it. “i wanna cum in you, jus’ like this, gonna let me? as a lil’ thanks baby?” he grunts and javier runs his finger across your cheek, lowering his voice towards you. “gonna let him querida?”

your words barely find you, all you can feel is steve’s cock buried deep in your tummy, words don’t even seem real in this moment. “cum in me,” you manage to murmur, your sore clit tingling at the thought of his cum pouring out of you.

steve didn’t need to hear anything else, your meek words of permission played on a loop inside his head while he holds on tighter onto your hips, pulling you down on his cock, his hot cum spurting deep inside you. he groans, his head falling back, mindless utterances of how good your fuckin’ pussy feels, dissipates into the thick air.

he pushes in a few more thrusts until his cock softens, and he tucks himself away into his boxers. he eyes your spent, sweat coated body before he lays down beside you. javier pulls the sheets over your bodies, letting you bury your face into his chest. steve gets stiff, is he overstaying his welcome?

you seem to read his mind, because you’re pulling his arm around your side, keeping him close to you. he smiles to himself, and clasps his front around your back, glancing up at a pleased looking javier.

javier winks at steve before his attention returns back to you. “you okay querida? feel alright?” he asks gently, and you nod sleepily in his arms, yawning tiredly. “mhm, just really sleepy,” you mumble, and javier shushes you, kissing your hairline. “s’okay, you can rest now.”

steve kisses your shoulder, surprising himself by the gentleness in his actions. he’s too tired to analyze anything right now, he just lets himself rest beside you. “night murphy.” javier hums and steve chuckles breathlessly. “yeah, night javi.”

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #pedro pascal #steve murphy x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #steve murphy x you #javier pena x reader x steve murphy #narcos netflix #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction

439 notes · View notes

caffeiiine · 8 months

Note

I read the tags on your Kunikida post… go ahead and explain, my liege

JUST SAW THIS SOMEHOW ABYWAYS TYYY

OKAY so probably going into detail about how kunikida can be considered passively suicidal since i have the most coherent thoughts on that aand warnings for stuff of that nature under the cut :D + length

[also small disclaimer, i have been procrastinating reading dazais entrance exam and so far have only seen the anime adaptation which apparently left a ton of stuff out so feel free to correct me on inaccurate details and/or missed examples or just downright incorrect information]

[note: idk if passive is the correct term bc i was thinking about it and hes not exactly like oh i hope this kills me yk, so whatever that term is lmk <3]

This stuff also sorta ties in with his ideals and their potential self destructive-ness. they tend to cause him to either negligently often risk his life with there being an apparent “other way”, or just outright risk his life with barely a second thought for his ideals.

so kunikida has very strong morals and that’s the core of his character. the main ideals referenced in the show being his infamous “ideal woman”, “how to make dazai ideal”, and the ideal that basically tells him to save people. [i forgot what that one is referred to as]. If we’re talking timeline wise i think one of the first examples of his ideals causing him to negligently risk his life would be in Dazais Entrance Exam, or The Azure Messenger arc if you’re an anime watcher.

First example off the top of my head in dazais entrance exam would be when him and Dazai first see the hostages, specifically the ones in the room

after the gas came down dazai has to actually wrestle kunikida away from the room because otherwise hes gonna die. kunikida repeatedly shouts about how “people shouldn’t die like this”. This might be a bit of a tangent but later on in the episode he remarks how he “may as well ahev set the bomb off himself” when Dazai asks about Rokuzou’s dad, implying he blames himself for Rokuzou’s dad’s death. This is of itself isn’t enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s passively suicidal” so moving on to the main manga where there are several other instances of his tendencies to throw himself directly in harms way.

[there may be examples before this i just skipped to chapter 40] and starting off strong we have the thing with Aya. This could be written up to circumstance but he had the opportunity to avoid death himself so im counting it. he’s basically hugging death. that’s all i have to say for this.

of course he ends up surviving it because of deus ex machina yosano. After the fact, Aya asks him what he would’ve done if Yosano wasn’t there. To which he replies basically he would’ve done the same thing he just did except died and basically would have been fine with the outcome as long as she didn’t die in front of him. [he would’ve been dead as well and not had to deal with the guilt] i should point out as well, he does this because of his ideals. he specifically cites his ideals around these parts usually. The not letting anybody die before his eyes is one of ideals and the most common one he uses.

[im pulling that from the fact he had no backup plans or anything to actually stop the bomb aside from Yosano, since his words could imply he would’ve tried to save Aya. and the guy with the bombs was using the fact Kunikida holds his ideals very close to him, taht he wouldn’t have allowed Aya to die if he could’ve prevented it.]

aaand i think our last example and best example for tonight

context for the scene: they’re in the getaway helicopter and tecchou is trying to take it down via his sword and Kunikida decides to take matters into his own hands and take down Tecchou. First off, HE DID NOT HAVE TO, CHUUYA IS RIGHT. THERE. HE LITERALLY SHOT TECCHOU WITH GRAVITY BULLETS EARLIER.

HE DID NOT HAVE TO RISK HIMSELF BUT HE DID. also additional context, in this arc and the previous arcs, he’s been faced with situation after situation where his ideals have failed him and he’s been unable to exercise them and save the people he thinks he should.

point being, he feels like complete shit! he probably is thinking like if he should do anything then, it should be he makes sure he gets his friends out of there. regardless of whether he’s dead or alive because he jumps out of the plane and full body tackles tecchou while being in direct contact with fucking chuuya.

chuuya “has to stay out of the fights and arcs half the time because he’s too good at his job” nakahara.

chuuya “just shot tecchou and did a decent job at keeping him back a few pages before” nakahara. you see my point.

oh and then he just attempts to blow the both of them up.

he does not care for his life at all here. not one bit. also he did not need to blow the both of them up. he could’ve made a fucking stun gun or anything else that wouldn’t KILL the BOTH of them??

my whole point is he does not care for his life here and it’s gets worse the more you progress through the manga.

anyways anyways ending off, kunikida repeatedly puts his life in danger either for his ideals or neglectfully and/or without need. this has been a ramble. this man is not okay.

also kinda funny is he’s partners with dazai of all people, actively suicidal princess bungou himself. i really enjoy their differences and how similarly different they are.

^ not actually related to anything but i almost started laughing so hard with my family in the room at this piece, junichiro looks so concerned

101 notes · View notes

allfoolsinluv · 2 years

Text

Crave - Part One

Pairing: Eventual Joel Miller x f!babysitter!Reader x Tess Servopoulos; Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos Summary: Tess and Joel throw you for a bit of a loop when you come over to babysit. Word Count: 6.7k Rating: Explicit, 18+. Minors DNI. Warnings: oh boy here we go... modern AU (no apocalypse, Sarah's alive, Tess has a son + Ellie is her niece 😌) established relationship (Joel + Tess), age gap (reader's in her 20s, Joel & Tess are in their early/mid-40s), mutual pining, teasing + flirting, kind of unresolved sexual tension, food + alcohol mentions, imagined m/f/f threesome, dirty talk up the wazoo, unprotected p-in-v, switch!Joel vibes, dom!Tess vibes, f masturbation, use of a vibrator. i thiiiiink that's everything idk, lmk if i missed anything a/n: WELCOME TO MY BRAIN this is all i have been thinking about since Joel + Tess graced our screens last month <3 big thank you to @pedrito-friskito for enabling this nastiness and for reading this over for me 💗 and for helping me give this thing a title LOL, which is taken from the new paramore song of the same name. love u bby! dividers here.

main masterlist // series masterlist // taglist

You really shouldn’t be staring.

Tess is talking, something about new bedtimes and soccer practice in the morning. You’re half-paying attention, nodding along when appropriate, giving noncommittal yeahs and okays when you need to. But it’s so fucking hard to really focus on anything that she’s saying when she’s standing in front of you looking like that.

Her black dress hugs her body perfectly, accentuating her curves. The neckline dips just enough to tease her cleavage, and the little teardrop diamond necklace she’s wearing draws your eyes straight to it. She looks beautiful, and the only thing you can think about while you should be paying attention to her instructions for the evening, is just how badly you want to strip everything she’s wearing off of her.

“I think that’s everything,” she says, clapping her hands together. The sound pulls you from your reverie and you have to blink a few times to bring yourself back down to earth. When you meet her eyes, you find that she’s already looking at your face, a faint smirk on her lips and a slight raise to her brow. The way she’s looking at you makes your cheeks heat and you have to clear your throat before you can respond.

“Got it,” you say, your voice wavering a bit.

“Don’t be afraid to call or shoot one of us a text if you have any questions,” Tess adds. She approaches you, the sound of her heels against the kitchen tile echoing in your ears. She stops just in front of you, close enough for you to reach out and touch her if you wanted to. And oh, how you desperately wanted to. She beats you to it, though, reaching out to gently brush her hand over your shoulder and down your arm, giving your bicep a light squeeze. “Just in case, ya know?”

You freeze at the contact, your whole body going stiff. Your eyes drop to where Tess is still holding onto your arm. She squeezes you again, a bit harder this time, and you suck in a shaking breath. When you look back up at her, she’s got that same smirk on her face. It makes your heart pound and your stomach flutter. Unable to find your voice, all you can manage is a nod.

“I’m ready to go whenever you are, honey,” Joel says as he steps into the kitchen. Tess lets go of your arm and takes a step back from you, turning to look at her partner. The space between you two allows your body to relax somewhat, and you’re able to finally take in a normal breath. Your eyes flick over to Joel, and it’s like all of the air has been punched out of you again.

He looks incredible in his white button-up, black blazer, and dark-wash jeans. His dark curls are combed and slicked back, still damp from the shower. You can smell his cologne from where you’re standing, and the scent makes your mouth water.

God, you are so fucked.

Joel gives you a warm smile when he sees you. He says your name in greeting and asks, “How’ve you been? How’s school?”

You blink at him a few times while trying to force your brain back online. You’re so focused on pulling yourself together, you miss the knowing look Joel and Tess share with each other at how long it’s taking you to answer.

“Uh, good! I’ve been good, thanks,” you finally manage to respond with a nervous laugh. “School’s… alright, I guess. Keeping me busy. And stressed.”

“I’ll bet,” Joel says with a laugh. “But you’re managing it just fine, sweetheart.”

You can physically feel your knees go weak at the pet name. It takes everything in you not to collapse to the cool tile floor right then and there.

“Well, I think we better get going,” Tess says, taking a hold of Joel’s hand. “You and the kids should be all set for the evening. Remember, lights are out at ten. Everyone’s got some kind of practice early tomorrow morning. Oh, and if any of them give you trouble over that damn Switch, you can remind them that it goes in the trash if they don’t put it away when you tell them to.”

That gets you to chuckle, knowing how serious Tess is about that. There’ve been more fights between the kids over that thing in the three months since their Uncle Tommy bought it for them than there have been in the entire year you’ve been babysitting them.

“Got it,” you say with a giggle. You don’t catch the way Joel swallows at the sound or how Tess’ mouth forms a soft o.

The three of you stand in silence for a moment before Joel clears his throat and says, “Okay, then. Follow us out so you can lock up?”

You nod your head and follow them out of the kitchen and towards the front door in the living room. On the way to the door, Joel stops at the couch, bending over the side of it to place a kiss on the top of Sarah’s head.

“Bye, baby. Tess and I’ll see you later. Mind your sitter, understand?”

Sarah looks up from her book and gives her dad a smile. “I will, promise.”

“I know you will,” Joel grins. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Sarah looks over at Tess and gives her a wave. “Bye, Tess! Hope you guys have fun.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Tess smiles. She turns to the stairs and calls up, “Ellie! Micah! Joel and I are leaving!”

You can hear two sets of feet scrambling around on the second floor. A door opens, and another slams shut. Ellie and Micah are bounding the stairs a second later, squabbling the whole way over who was there first.

Joel rolls his eyes at them, but Tess lets out an amused chuckle.

"Bye, mom!" Micah says as he steps on the landing, running straight to Tess. He tackles her in a big hug, the force making her wobble a little in her heels.

You find yourself reaching out to steady her at the same time Joel does. Your hand grazes his at the small of her back. Quickly, you pull your hand away, shoving both of them into the back pocket of your jeans. You pretend not to notice the way his eyes follow your movements.

Tess leans down to press a kiss on her son's head. "Bye, kid. Behave, you hear me? No arguing over that Switch."

Micah sighs but nods his head as he pulls away. "Yes, mom."

"Good," she smiles. Tess turns her attention to her niece next. "And you, missy. I don't want any trouble from you over bedtime, understand?"

All three of the kids groan at the word bedtime. Their indignation makes you giggle—it's the same song and dance every time sports season comes back around.

"Bedtime?" Ellie complains. "Really? We're not babies anymore, ya know."

"Hey now," Joel says gruffly, his eyes narrowing at the young girl. "You watch your tone with your Aunt. And you know as well as I do that if we left you kids to your own devices, you'd be up all night and miss your practices in the morning."

Ellie looks like she's about to argue, her mouth opening with a retort on her tongue, but she thinks better of it. With a sigh, she nods her head. "Fair enough, I guess."

"Fair enough," Joel huffs under his breath, a small smile creeping up on his face. Ellie laughs and swats his hand away as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. They finish saying goodbyes, and after one last threat from Tess to the kids to behave, you’re following them to the door.

“We’ll text when we’re on the way back,” Tess says as she and Joel step outside. She stops on the front porch, turning back to look at you one last time. “Thanks again, sweetheart.”

How is it possible for a nickname to get you so damn flustered? First from Joel, now from Tess. You were honestly surprised you were still standing at this point.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” you manage to stammer out. “Hope you two have a nice evening.”

“We will,” Tess winks at you. Winks. The woman fucking winks, and you can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. “Bye now.”

You watch them as they walk out to their car. Joel holds the door open for Tess, holding her hand as she steps inside. When he closes the door, he turns and catches your eye. He watches you for a moment, a knowing smirk on his face. You can’t handle the weight of his gaze anymore, quickly closing and locking the door before he can walk around to the driver’s side.

Once the lock is clicked into place, you rest your forehead against the cool wood of the door. Sarah’s gone back to her book, her attention far and away from you. Ellie and Micah have made their way back upstairs, the faint sounds of their arguing over who gets to play on the Switch next filling the house. You know you’ll have to go deal with that, but Jesus, do you need a minute.

You shouldn’t want them as much as you do. But you can’t help it—the way they make you feel, the things you think about doing to them, the things you think about them doing to you. They’re happy and in love, and you’re just the girl who watches their kids. They don’t want you the same way that you want them. Right?

“You shoulda seen the way she was ogling me in the kitchen before you came in,” Tess sighs, reaching over the center console to grab Joel’s hand and pull it into her lap. “I don’t think she heard a single word I said. God, the look on her face was so fuckin’ cute.”

“She looked like she was gonna melt into the goddamn floor with the way you were holdin’ her arm. What was that all about?” Joel asks, giving Tess’ hand a squeeze. He chances a look over at her, just quick enough to catch her shrug.

“Wanted to see her get flustered.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ menace, you know that? You gotta stop teasing that poor girl.”

“I’m the one who needs to stop?” Tess scoffs. “Says the man who nearly sent her into cardiac arrest by callin’ her ‘sweetheart.’”

“Oh, please. That was nothin’ compared to the torture you were puttin’ her through.”

“I was not torturing her, Joel. You and I both know that I could put her through far worse than that.” Tess doesn’t miss the way Joel tries to subtly shift himself in the driver’s seat at her comment. She continues, “That was just a little bit of fun. You know she liked it. Bet it got her all wet, ruined her panties.”

“Jesus, Tess,” Joel groans, squeezing her hand tighter. “You can’t say shit like that to me when I’m drivin’.”

“Why?” She asks, untangling her hand from his. She reaches over the console and plants her hand on his thigh. She digs her nails into his skin over the denim, smirking at the way it makes him hiss. “Don’t you like thinking about how much the babysitter wants to fuck us? How we can make her forget her own name without even having to lay a finger on her pussy?”

As she speaks, her hand slowly moves up Joel’s leg, until she’s cupping his bulge in her palm. She gives him a rough squeeze as she asks, “Isn’t nice to be wanted just as badly as we want her?”

“You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Joel says from behind gritted teeth.

Tess chuckles as she pulls her hand away. “Deny it all you want, Miller. I know you well enough by now to know you wanna fuck her just as much as I do.”

Joel doesn’t respond—can’t respond. He knows if he does, they’ll never make it to the fucking restaurant.

It’s nearly eleven when your phone buzzes with a text from Tess. Almost home, it says.

You huff a small sigh as you start to pack up your bag. Luckily, the kids didn’t give you too much trouble over their bedtime, and they were all fast asleep within a half hour of going to lie down. After they’d gone to bed, you pulled out your laptop and barrage of different pens and notebooks to work on an essay for one of your classes. You hadn’t made much headway on it, your mind occupied elsewhere—like on Tess and Joel and what they were doing and if they were thinking about you too.

You’ve just finished packing up the last of your pens when you hear the door unlock. The sound sends a flurry of nerves loose in your stomach. You'd practically made a fool of yourself before they left and then spent the whole night daydreaming about what it'd be like to share their bed—you don't know how you're gonna be able to face them now. Tess calls your name when she steps into the living room, prompting you to turn and face them.

They look just as good—if not better—than when they left. Tess’s hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, no longer pinned back like it was earlier. Her lipstick has faded from her lips, only a hint of the red color there. Maybe it wore off as she drank from her wine glass at dinner. Your eyes briefly flick to Joel’s lips—maybe he kissed the color off of hers.

Joel's lost his blazer, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. Your eyes follow the line of bare skin down to his hand. Fuck his hands are big. You can't stop the image that flashes across your mind, his hand around your throat while Tess lies between your legs. The imagined sight sends a small shiver down your spine.

Joel says your name this time, the sound startling you and pulling you out of your head. You realize they've been talking to you, and you've just been standing there staring at them like an idiot. If your cheeks get any hotter, they're going to burst into flames.

"Sorry," you laugh nervously, wringing your hands together in front of you. "Um… what'd you say again?"

Tess chuckles as she glances over at Joel. He's got a small smirk on his face as he nods back in your direction. She turns to you again and replies, "I asked how everything went. Were the kids okay, they give you any trouble?"

Duh, you scold yourself. Of course they're asking about their kids that they're paying you to take care of.

"Oh! Yeah, no, they were fine," you say. "Ellie was a little resistant to bedtime, but all I had to do was hold the Switch over the trash can and she took off upstairs to her room. I checked on her about fifteen minutes after that and she was asleep."

"Little shit," Joel shakes his head with a chuckle. "Good call with the Switch and the trash, though, sweetheart. I might have to try that the next time they're screamin' their heads off over who gets to play it."

You laugh at that, rocking back and forth a bit on your heels to hide how much hearing him call you sweetheart gets to you. You need to get out of their house now.

"Well, I better get going," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "I hope you two had a nice time out tonight."

"Thanks again for everything. We appreciate it," Tess says. She reaches into her bag for her wallet, pulling it out to pay you. As she's counting the cash, she asks, "How're you gettin' home? We didn't see your car out front. Someone picking you up?"

"Ah," you sigh. "My roommate dropped me off before her shift at work because my car's in the shop ‘til tomorrow afternoon. She's still working, though, so I was just gonna take an Uber home."

"Absolutely not," Tess says as she hands you the money. "You're not goin' out in an Uber this late at night by yourself. Joel will drive you home."

"No, no, it's fine," you say quickly. There is no way you would survive a car ride with Joel. "You guys just got home, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not askin'," Joel says, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're offering. And it's not up for debate. I'm drivin' you home."

You know you have no room to argue with them. This is happening—Joel is driving you home.

You’re fucked.

“O-okay,” you say shakily. “Thank you.”

After you grab your bag, Tess walks you and Joel out to the car. Her hand brushes yours as you walk side-by-side on the concrete path to the driveway, and you hope the chill of the night air helps explain away the shiver that goes down your spine at the feeling of her skin against yours.

“Thanks again for watching the kids,” Tess says when you reach the car. Before you can, she’s opening up the door for you, gesturing for you to enter the vehicle. You duck your head in thanks, sliding into the front seat and placing your bag down at your feet. She leans against the open door, her frame looming above yours. You have to look up to meet her eye, and seeing her look down at you makes you gulp.

“You have a good rest of your night, sweetheart,” she continues, nodding down at your bag. “Don’t work too hard. Relax, enjoy yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “I will. Thank you.”

Tess winks at you with a soft nod of her head. She and Joel say quick goodbyes before she’s shutting your door and heading back inside. As Joel turns on the car, you reach up to pull your seatbelt into place. You’re able to pull it out about an inch before it locks. You pull it a couple of times, trying to get it to unlock, but it won’t budge. You let it go with a huff, ready to give up on it.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Joel says. “Damn thing’s finicky as hell, been meaning to take it apart see what’s wrong with it for ages. Lemme help.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Joel’s reaching over the center to grab ahold of the seatbelt. His body leans over yours, your face leveled perfectly with his chest. Your senses are overwhelmed by him—the broadness of his body, his natural scent mixed with his cologne, the sound of his breathing in your ear. It all swirls together to steal the breath from your lungs. You feel dizzy, almost, completely surrounded by him.

You don’t know what he does to get the seatbelt to unlock, but he’s able to pull it out all the way. You expect him to hand it to you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slowly leans back towards his seat, taking it with him. He uses both of his hands to adjust the seatbelt in place against your body, reaching down to buckle it in for you. The click of the buckle feels deafening in the quiet car.

“There you go,” Joel murmurs, still close enough to you that you can feel his breath against the side of your face.

With a shaking breath, you slowly turn your head to face him. He’s so fucking close, your lips a hairs-breadth away from his. It’d be so easy for you to just lean forward and close the distance between the two of you, to put your lips on his. You couldn’t do that, though.

Could you?

Joel makes the decision for you, closing the space between you and kissing you with fervor. The force of it makes you moan, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as your hands reach up to tangle into his hair, gripping it and pulling him even closer to you. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating down your body and settling in your core.

He nips at your bottom lip, grabbing it between his teeth and pulling on it. The pain of his bite and the sharpness of the tug makes you whine. He soothes the ache with his tongue. Slowly, he plants one smaller, softer kiss on your lips before he pulls away. He plops back down into the driver’s seat, his eyes glassy as he looks at you. Your chest is heaving, your lungs not able to take in enough air. He says something to you, but the blood in your head is pounding so loud you can’t hear him.

Joel says your name once, twice, three times before the sound registers in your brain. You blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your head. When your eyes finally refocus, you’re mortified by what you see.

He looks normal. His hair isn’t messed up from your fingers, his lips aren’t shiny and kiss-swollen, he’s not panting for breath. It’s as if he didn’t just give you the best kiss of your life.

It hits you, then, that you fucking imagined the whole thing. Your eyes go wide at the realization, embarrassment shooting through you. You laugh nervously, avoiding his eyes.

“Sorry! I must have spaced out. It’s been a long day,” you attempt to deflect, your voice completely lacking the confidence you need to sell it. “What’d you say?”

“I asked for your address,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. God, he must think you’re an idiot. You wouldn’t be surprised if he and Tess found a new babysitter for the kids.

You rattle off the address of your apartment building and he types it into his phone. Once he knows where he’s going, he backs out of the driveway and takes off down the street.

The car ride to your apartment building is spent in silence. You’re too embarrassed to speak and Joel seems to sense your unease, respecting it enough to not try and force conversation. You’re grateful for that, knowing you’d only make an even bigger fool of yourself if you tried to talk to him right now. After about fifteen minutes, Joel’s pulling into the parking lot of your building.

Before you can thank him for the ride home, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. You watch him through the windshield as he jogs across the front of the car and to your door. He opens it and leans over you, leaving you to stare at him, dumbfounded.

“This is it, right?” he asks. When you nod your head yes, he continues, “Aren’t you gonna get out, then?”

Without a word, you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the floor. Joel moves out of the way enough for you to comfortably step out of the car, but the front of your body brushes against him as you do. You step away from him as subtly as you can while he closes the door.

“C’mon,” he says, nodding towards your building. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You nod, shouldering your bag and heading in the direction of your apartment. The walk to your door is quick, thankfully. Under different circumstances, you’d be thrilled to be spending this much time alone with Joel. Right now, though, all you want is to go inside and be alone.

“This is me,” you say when you reach your apartment. You turn to Joel and plaster on what you hope to be a convincing smile. “Thanks again for the ride home.”

“Anytime,” he says with a soft grin. “You head on inside, now. Enjoy your night.”

Your smile morphs into something softer, more genuine, as you nod your head. “Okay, I will. Goodnight, Joel.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

He watches as you unlock the door with shaking hands, waits until you step inside, and give him a shy, parting smile. You don’t hear his retreating footsteps until after you click the lock into place. You drop your bag to the floor and turn to press your back against the cool wood of the door.

“Fuck,” you say out into your quiet apartment. For the first time all evening, you feel like you can breathe. Finally alone, you allow yourself to acknowledge how uncomfortably wet your panties have gotten. You’re gonna need to take care of that before you can focus on anything else.

Joel takes the stairs up to the second floor two at a time when he gets home. He’s anxious to get to Tess, having made the fifteen-minute ride home in less than ten. He’s hard in his jeans, practically bursting through the fly. He needs Tess, and he needs her now.

When he enters their shared bedroom, he finds her reclined on the bed, a book in her hands. She’s already changed out of her outfit from dinner, replacing her cocktail dress with a simple blue nightie. He couldn’t care less what she’s wearing right now, though—it’ll be on the floor in a matter of minutes.

Tess smirks when she gets a good look at Joel. His cheeks are flushed red, his pupils are blown wide, his chest is heaving. She slowly sets the book down on the bedside table and asks, “I take it dropping her off went fine.”

“Fine,” Joel grumbles as he approaches her, working at the buttons of his shirt. When it’s open, hanging unbuttoned off his shoulders, he grabs her ankle, pulling her down the bed to meet him at the edge. He grinds his hard cock against her clothed center, the twin groans echoing through the room. “Does this feel like it went fine to you?”

“Jesus, Joel,” Tess whimpers, shifting her hips to try and get more friction. “What the hell happened?”

“I’ll tell you what the hell happened,” Joel huffs. His hands find the hem of her nightie, roughly pulling it up and over her head. He drops it to the ground without ceremony and shrugs his own shirt off all the way. He takes a moment to admire Tess’ bare body underneath him, how beautiful she looks with her hair fanning out against the sheets, the way her chest heaves with each excited breath.

He continues, looking back up at her eyes, “The fuckin’ seatbelt locked on her and she couldn’t get it out. Had to reach over and do it for her. Could feel her breathin’ on my skin. Took everything in me not to fuck her right there in the front seat. She spaced out, got that glassy look in her eyes, the same one you get when you come. Don’t know what she was thinkin’ about, but I could tell she wanted it just as bad as I did. Then I had to spend fifteen fuckin’ minutes in the car with her, alone, all while tryin’ not to finish in my pants like a goddamn teenager.”

“Fuck,” Tess breathes out. Her hands slide up Joel’s arms and over his shoulders before curling into his hair and tugging. He groans at the sensation, dropping his head to rest against hers. “Tell me what she looked like when you buckled her in.”

Joel continues to grind his hips down against Tess, uncaring of the mess she’s undoubtedly making on his pants. He’s relishing in the noises she’s making for him as she thinks of you. It makes him harder than it should, knowing his partner is getting off to the thought of another person. He answers her, “She looked so fuckin’ sweet. Her lips were parted, eyes blown wide. She was tremblin’, could it feel it when I situated the strap against her chest. Poor thing didn’t know what to do with herself.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess whimpers. She bucks her hips up into his, whining at the friction. It’s good, but it’s not enough. “Need you, Joel. Want you to fuck me while you tell me how we’d fuck her if she were here.”

Joel practically growls at Tess’ request. He pulls away from her just long enough to get his jeans and boxers off and onto the floor. He’s back on her in a second, pushing one of her thighs down on the bed to spread her open for him.

“Filthy fuckin’ woman,” Joel grumbles as he runs the tip of his cock over Tess’ soaked pussy. He taps the tip against her clit a few times, smirking at the whine it draws out from her throat. “Need my cock while we talk about fuckin’ the babysitter, huh?”

It happens in the blink of an eye. One second, he’s hovering over her, teasing and taunting her. The next, Joel’s laying flat on his back, Tess straddling his hips. He barely has time to register the change in position before she’s sinking down on him all the way. The feeling of her warm, wet cunt wrapped so suddenly around his cock forces a shout from his mouth. She covers his mouth with one of her hands, looking down at him with a glare as her chest heaves.

“I said talk, Miller,” Tess says breathlessly, lifting up a little before sinking back down. The movement makes Joel groan, the sound vibrating against her hand and sending a shiver throughout her body. “Not tease. Now, you’re gonna shut up and listen while I tell you what we’d do if she were here.”

Joel nods his agreement, the fire in his eyes dimming and turning glassy now that Tess has taken over. Her movements start out slow, letting them both adjust to the feeling of his cock being inside of her. Joel groans against Tess’ hand and she smirks down at him, rolling her hips faster over him, moving in a way she knows is going to get both of them to the end quickly.

“I know you’re just dyin’ to find out what her pussy tastes like,” Tess moans. “I’d spread her open for you, have her back pressed tight up against my chest, put my legs over hers so she couldn’t shut ‘em.”

She cuts herself off with a whimper as Joel’s hips buck up to meet the movements of her hips. They settle into a rhythm together, Joel fucking up into her every time she moves to sink down on him. She continues, “Let you bury your face in her sweet cunt while I play with her tits. You’re so good with your tongue, Joel, you’d make her come so hard.”

Joel lets out a muffled fuck, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines what Tess is describing to him. You, with your beautiful body on display for them, your legs spread open by Tess’, your pretty pussy wet and needy for his mouth. He wonders what kind of sounds you’d make—would you be loud, your moans rumbling out of your chest unabashedly? Or would you be quiet, soft whines and whimpers falling from your lips? He wouldn’t care—he’d want it all.

“I’d put her mouth to work next,” Tess says, breaking his attention from the fantasy. “Let her eat my pussy while you fuck her from behind. Would you like that? Do you wanna fuck her tight little pussy while she eats me out?”

Joel nods his head furiously in agreement. Yes, he very much wants that. He can see it so clearly in his mind—Tess writhing in pleasure while you lick at her cunt, your own moans vibrating through her while Joel takes your pussy hard and fast. He’d have the perfect view of your ass, able to see the way your skin ripples with the force of his thrusts. He could grab both of your cheeks in his hands, could smack them ‘til they were hot and burning. You’d take it all—you’d take everything from them. It’s that thought that brings Joel to his end.

His orgasm hits him like a storm, his hips stuttering against Tess’ as he moans brokenly behind her hand. His cock twitches inside of her, filling her up with the thick ropes of his come. She sighs at the feeling, moving faster to work him through it. She finally pulls her hand away from his mouth and he takes in a shuddering breath, watching with hooded eyes as she licks the pads of two of her fingers. Quickly, she brings them down to where she and Joel are joined, rubbing her clit in tight, wet circles. It only takes her a moment to come, too, the fluttering of her pussy around his over-sensitive cock pulling a hoarse shout from him.

Tess falls forward onto Joel’s chest when she’s come down from her high. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly against them as they both fight to catch their breaths. The weight of Tess’ body on top of his, the warm air of her breathing on his chest, helps to ground Joel back in reality. He can’t remember the last time he came that hard, and he almost feels guilty about the fact that it was because he was thinking about you.

He doesn’t feel guilty, though. Not when he knows talking about you got Tess off, too.

Tess pushes herself up on shaking arms and smiles down at Joel. “Told you so.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What?”

“In the car,” Tess says, her smile morphing into more of a smirk. “I said I knew you wanted to fuck her just as much as I did. The way you just came from me talkin’ about her proved me right.”

“Shut up,” Joel scoffs out with a laugh. He leans up to kiss her, entirely too soft and sweet for the way she’s still sitting on his softening cock, his come leaking out around the sides. She smiles against his lips, pulling away slightly to peck him a few times in rapid succession.

“Think she got off thinking about us tonight, too?” Tess asks against Joel’s lips.

He groans in response, his eyes falling shut. “You’re a fucking menace.”

You can hardly wait to lock yourself in your room after Joel brings you home to kick off your shorts and panties. You’re aching, desperate to make yourself come and hopefully clear some of the brain fog he and Tess have caused you this evening. You get comfortable in your bed, pull your vibrator out from your nightstand, and get to work.

Your orgasm comes easily. You’re already so close to the edge, all of your thoughts and fantasies of Joel and Tess—them together, separately, both with you and without you—blurring in your head as you work your vibrator over your clit. Within a matter of minutes, you’re coming, your back arching off of the bed and their names falling from your lips like a prayer.

You swirl your vibrator around your clit a few more times until the oversensitivity becomes too much. You click the toy off and toss it to the side. With a frustrated sigh, you bring your hands up to rub at your eyes.

It’s nearly painful how badly you want Joel and Tess. You thought that, maybe, if you could make yourself come to the thought of them just once, you’d be able to clear your system. That you could go back to functioning around them like a normal person. The dull ache that still remains in your pussy, despite having come already and being too sensitive to try for another one, only serves to prove your theory wrong.

You haven’t cleared them from your system. In fact, it seems like you’ve only made your desire for them worse. You can’t stop thinking about them, what it’d be like for them to take you to bed. You don’t think they’d be slow or sweet—or at least Tess wouldn’t. No, she’d tease you, work you up and bring you just to the edge, over and over, but wouldn’t let you fall. She’d keep you hanging until you were begging for it. Only then would she let you come, maybe on her fingers, probably on her tongue.

Then there’s Joel. God, what would it be like to fuck him? Would he hold you close as he sunk into you? Or would he push your face down into the mattress and haul your ass up into the air so he could fuck you from behind? Your read on him wasn’t as solid as your read on Tess, but fuck, did you like to imagine him any way you could.

The thought of Joel fucking you from behind while your tongue is buried in Tess’ pussy springs to your mind. It sends a jolt of arousal through your body and makes your cunt throb. You let out a pitiful whimper as you look over at your vibrator. Fuck it, you think, reaching for the toy again and clicking it on.

You don’t even try to muffle the moan that tears from your throat when you press the toy against your clit. You work it over your sensitive bundle as you continue to imagine Joel’s cock pounding into you, your tongue working over Tess’ pussy sloppily. You can practically hear the sounds they’d make, Joel’s rough grunts and Tess’ low moans. You’d whimper into Tess, the vibration traveling through her body. She’d grab your head and hold you steady, grinding her pussy up into your eager mouth. Both of them would take and take and take from you—and you’d be all too happy to give.

You feel like you might pass out then and there when you come for a second time. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your cunt tightens and contracts around nothing. Your thighs clamp shut around your hand as you ride out the waves of pleasure. With shaking fingers, you turn off your vibrator and drop it onto the bed beneath you.

You barely register the sound of your phone dinging with a text notification over the rush of blood in your head. You ignore it until your breathing has gone back to normal and your body has stopped shaking. When you grab it and open up your text messages, you nearly drop the device on your face at seeing Tess’ name on your screen.

Hey sweetheart! Sorry to bug ya so late, but wanted to ask before I forgot. Joel and I both have to work late on Monday and the kids all have their different practices after school. If you’re free, can you get ‘em where they need to be, then hang out with them out at the house til one of us gets home? We’ll pay extra since it’s so last minute, just let us know 😘

Fuck. You can’t do it. Not so soon after tonight. You wouldn’t be able to survive it.

Your hands are moving over your keyboard, tapping out a response before your brain even has time to catch up.

“I don’t have to work late on Monday,” Joel murmurs. Tess scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have to know that. Go grab a beer with Tommy after work or something. It’s just to get her over here again.”

As much as Joel wants to have you join him and Tess in bed, he’s unsure of her plan to test the waters with you. It seems risky, like it could maybe back you into a corner that you don’t want to be in.

“We’ll both get her alone,” Tess had said after they’d cleaned up together. “Flirt a little, see how she reacts. Maybe we can each make a little move on her. If she seems into it, we’ll talk to her about joining us.”

“Think it’ll work?” Joel had asked skeptically.

Tess gave him a mischievous little smile. “It’ll work.”

Tess’ phone vibrates before he can respond. She quickly unlocks it, opening up the text notification from you. Joel gulps as he reads it, Tess’ face breaking out into a wide smile as she does.

Of course! It won’t be a problem at all. See you on Monday 😊

Joel rereads the text over and over and over again. It’s a simple response, nothing out of the ordinary for your exchanges with Tess. But it ignites a—perhaps unfounded—spark of hope in his belly.

Maybe this will work.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x you #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller fanfiction #tess servopoulos fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

484 notes · View notes