#somehow i felt bad that I found no gifs or photos of it on here though.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Epilogue

Warnings: SMUT!! and also BAD WRITING!! TYPOS AS WELL PROBABLY!! BUT MAINLY THE SMUT!!!

Word Count: 21.5K (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 159 pages single space of reading.)

A/N: Here it is. The finale of my heartfelt daydream, laid bare for you all to see. I hope you've enjoyed the ride: the road ends here.

GIF: @gavidaily (i've been waiting since part 1 to use this mf gif)

Previously on Just Pretend

"Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises."

~

"You're late. It's 6:45." "Good morning to you too, Gavira."

~

Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else.

~

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."

"I don't hate you. I think."

~

Gavi stopped thinking. He acted on impulse only. He tugged the wrist that was in his hand, pulling you in. Your head met with his hard chest, and you felt one arm circle your shoulder. You remained like this for a long moment: up against Gavi, his arm pressing you into his chest, his shirt soaking up the wetness on your cheeks.

"'m sorry. I won't let him talk to you that way anymore."

~

"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.

"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

~

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

~

"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."

~

"My heart, doctora. When I give it to you, please keep it. Forever."

~

Now...

"Miss y/l/n, due to the... historic lack of women in the club, we do not have internal policies regarding relationships between players and employees. We just use the ones that La Liga as a whole have put in place. Those are quite forgiving, in my opinion. You can enter a romantic workplace relationship as long as it is appropriately disclosed, and you cannot be terminated as a result of that relationship ending. I saw the photo of you being pulled onto the field during the final of the Supercopa. Do you mean to tell me it was not with romantic intent?"

You had never experienced more severe whiplash in your life. First, you had been reprimanded for being too close to Pablo, for showing what Xavi classified as 'favoritism', as it hurt the team dynamic. Then you had been ridiculed by staff and players for allegedly sleeping with Pablo, and had been told you could be fire for doing so even if it was a bold faced lie. And now, months later, you were being told that it was not only okay for you to be in a relationship with Pablo, but you literally couldn't lose your job if you did? Someone in the family must have been praying for you. Or for Pablo. Was Pedri religious?

"Dr. Gonzalez, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Gavi and I are just friends. Not even - we're just coworkers that get along well! There was no romance happening anywhere on the field."

And it was true. Well, sort of. You couldn't speak for Gavi's intention, but you would bet that he hadn't meant to do anything that could be perceived as romantic. Not only was he incredibly shy when it came to anything to do with his private life, but moreover, you had started to toy with the idea that maybe you were wrong about Pablo. Maybe you had misread the signs. Maybe Pedri's stylist, who you now also so lovingly referred to as naranja, had only fed into your delusions instead of delivering the hard truth to you.

"He's in love with you, stupid."

That's exactly what she had said to you when you answered the question 'so are you close to Pedri?', stating that the things Pablo did for you were far from the actions of a friend. And she was right. Friends didn't need to be physically touching in order to have a peaceful night of sleep. Friends don't feel the need to always be near the other, unable to focus if one wasn't near. Friends certainly didn't imagine each other in compromising situations: shirtless, panting, trying so hard to control his throbbing- no. Friends certainly didn't imagine such scenes. Most of all, friends didn't find themselves in these intimate moments, the air thick with anticipation, where lips were centimeters from meeting, and seconds away from saying something that would change the dynamic forever. Well, at least that's what you thought. Maybe Naranja would be your friend long enough to see if these were truly just normal hallmarks of friendship (although Pedri might be a tad upset if the two of you started sleeping together). You're glad she offered her cellphone number to you.

But this was not the only opinion that was presented to you. You had been sitting on your couch one night, a rare evening when Gavi had promised to accompany Ansu to one hangout or another, his absence felt greatly. It had been weeks since you had a moment that wasn't filled by Pablo's voice, his laughter, his breathing as you completed an assignment while he scrolled through TikTok. There was an eerie silence to the house now, and you needed something to take your thoughts off of your maladaptive daydreams of Pablo laying on your couch, looking up at you through long lashes with a tender gaze. It was almost as if you could run your hands through his messed up brown locks, watching his eyes close as you massaged his scalp, feeling him lean more into your touch.That's all you wanted. Not even for Pablo to come to you with a grand confession of love, but just to be with him with no boundaries, no fear, no awkwardness. Just love and safety and the freedom to exist as you were. Together.

But there was no idle chatter or TikTok sounds to fill the silence, and so you had to do so yourself. You made yourself a delectable cup of tea, favorite mug warming your palm as you tried to balance your plate of snacks in the other. The camp nutritionists had been testing recipes all week, and had sent you home with some of the best food you had ever had, including a tupperware of cookies that could give those little Nestle birds a run for their money. Comfortable on the couch in that same black hoodie with the embroidered '6', you qued, rather ironically, He's Just Not That Into You (a great romcom, but not for people doubting if they're deserving of being loved). Your phone had lit up with a familiar name that you hadn't seen in months now.

"Angelika! How are you? How was fashion week? I saw the collection on Instagram. It looked stunning!"

Since her announcement about moving to Paris, you hadn't heard a peep from your 'best friend'. A mutual friend you ran into at the market had told you her move had been delayed until after the collection had shown at fashion week since the creative director had surprisingly quit, so everything was on ice until he was replaced. You had seen her collection on Diet Prada, not questioning why you hadn't seen the posts that she had made celebrating her work.

"Oh it was fabulous, and Alessandro just got replaced so Paris must be coming soon. I would have invited you, but I only got 6 invitations, and you're always so busy. Didn't want to have an empty seat."

She knew she had made a mistake when she saw your face on the screen drop. You had been the main supporter of Ang's career since you met her, and yet she didn't even bother sending you an invitation or seeing if you might be able to attend.

"Anyway, how have you been? What's new with you?"

You spoke briefly about school and work, before taking a deep breath and opening up the gnarly can of worms that was you and Gavi's current situation. You had no other people with enough context or who you felt comfortable enough with to reveal all your thoughts on the matter. All your hopes and dreams that he would sweep you off your feet. All your insecurities and fears that you had created something unhealthy, something that would dissolve into worse than nothing. No matter how you spun it, it was nice to have a friend, even if you had to ignore that you were walking a mile to see an inch in return.

Angelika listened rather silently to the entire series of events, asking one or two clarifying questions, but for the most part allowing you to monologue. When you finished speaking, you sighed rather dreamily and fell back into your couch, pulling your (Gavi's) hoodie closer around you. Sometime you forgot how much he had bulked up, until you were drowning in the shirts he had donated to you. Maybe there was something there. Now that Dr. G had confessed he thought you two were already in a relationship, the only missing piece was Pablo. You had tried to hint to him that, if he felt even the slightest affection towards you, he should go for it. Make the shot. The goal was empty - hell, the goalie would even guide the ball in for him. Had you been too subtle with your affections? Or had he purposefully ignored the brush of your lips on his throat in order to preserve your pride?

“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit delusional?”

Angelika’s statement was like a splash of ice water on your warm and fuzzy form. You looked at the FaceTime call like the woman on the screen in front of you had grown horns from her head.

“I’m … what?”

“Delusional. I mean it seems like you’re reading too much into his actions. So he what? Used you as his driver and let you keep a hoodie he got from the staff for free? Nothing super special.”

“But… but it wasn’t just that. He-“ She hadn’t even let you finish your sentence, not so subtly rolling her eyes, like she was so utterly bored with your story.

“Yeah, yeah, he punched your ex boyfriend who cheated on you. But I mean, cmon, you like, refused to fuck him. This is the second guy to cheat on you. Maybe it’s you, ha. And Gavi is literally just a raging teenager who has been looking to hit someone. I don’t think you should fly into your princess fantasies because he he finally lost his shit. And now you’re sleeping next to him every night and he’s waiting for you to give him some pussy. Better melt up quick, ice princess, before he gets tired of waiting.”

There it was again. The nausea. The head pounding. The vision blurring and room spinning. The sinking feeling that you were being betrayed by someone you had let in again. If you squinted your eyes a little, she might have even slightly resembled Martin.

“You… think he’s only being nice to me so that I’ll sleep with him?” You asked, voice soft and slow to hide the shake desperately wanting to emerge.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like there’s much else there. Now you look upset, but don’t be. I’m just telling you the truth so you don’t get hurt.”

“No, you’re just being a bitch.”

Your response seemed to have caught the both of you off guard. Your face had gone red with frustration, hands trembling with rage that you were desperately trying to quell. What a funny thing, rage. Feminine rage to be exact. The rage of men is common place in society - sort of like bullets. Everyone has heard a gunshot or seen what a bullet can do, in their personal life or on a screen. Male rage and fury is a normal part of life that everyone expects and respects. People bite their tongues hard enough to draw blood before they dare lash out at a man, fearful of sharp words and blunt fists. But feminine rage wasn’t a real threat. Oh no, it was more of a concept. A black and red Pinterest aesthetic in red and black, with pinups and devil horns and swirling script. It was only a danger to the self; a threat of implosion with no shrapnel to hit anyone else. A star dying, a mind shattering, as entertainment to those around. There was never an expectation for her to lash out and defend herself against those who poked at her until she bled. But should a cornered lioness cower in fear rather than attacking?

“What… what the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, what the hell is wrong with you, Angelika? All I’ve done since the day I met you is try and be there for you. All I’ve done is support you through everything - relationships, family drama, you’re entire fucking career! You had professors tell you that you would be a generic designer for H&M, and I was there for you. I was the only person with you at three in the fucking morning telling you that you could do better, that you could be amazing. I was a pincushion, a mannequin, a personal chauffeur to the fabric store. And I didn’t ever do these things because I wanted something in return. I genuinely cared about you and just wanted to see my closest friend succeed! But you couldn’t even pretend to care about this obviously one-sided relationship. All I ever was to you was a person to use when you needed and thrown away when you didn’t. I was preparing for my dream interview, my biggest career goal since I was a fucking child, and not only did you ‘forget’ to give me one word of encouragement, you asked me to be your fucking ride home! And you know what? I made my peace with it. I came to terms with the fact that you thought I was incompetent at my job because everyone seems to think I’m a physio ditz. But for you to call me the nickname people called me in college to objectify me, and then say all I’m worthy of is sex?!”

Angelika was now teary eyed and red in the face. She was shaking her head, unable to respond, acting like the spitting image of a deer caught in the headlights. She was now stumbling over her words, unable to string a complete sentence together.

“That’s … thats not true I didn’t say that.”

“No, that’s exactly what you just said. Don’t be a liar on top of being a shit person. You just said it was my fault I got cheated on by my last two partners. And now I’ve still decided to give you the benefit of the doubt after you straight up admitted to me that you didn’t think of me as one of the top six people in your happy moments. I’ve poured my heart out to you and you don’t even have the decency to lie! You either said that to purposefully hurt me, or you never cared enough to listen when I spoke. Either way, you’re just the last in a long line of people who I have let walk all over me.”

Your expression was steeled and icy. You hadn’t even raised your voice once during the entire exchange, remaining calm and level headed despite the deep cuts you had made in Angelika’s self-confidence. Your lips were downturned and brows knitted together, looking at her with all the loathing she had caused you to feel for yourself. It was hard to be alone, but it was better than being surrounded with people who convinced you that you would never be enough if you didn’t fit their mold. The girl on the other side of the FaceTime call was clearly experiencing every stage of grief all at once, unsure how to respond. She had gotten through the denial, and was knee-deep in the anger. But anger did not spark eloquence, sparking the simple response of,

“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”

And you could swear you saw genuine fear in her eyes as a bright, beaming smile spread across your face. Maybe you had never seen love, but you had seen friendship. You had seen that there were people ready to carry your entire world on their shoulders. And no matter how slowly, you were working to believe that you could be loved, even by yourself. The rage had evaporated and recrystallized as content. So you smiled sickeningly sweetly at Angelika, and gave her a heartfelt response.

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

Pressing the bright red button to end the call was one of the most satisfying things you had ever done in your life. The headache and nausea and ‘I want to die’ feeling that you usually had after a confrontation was nowhere to be found. Quite the opposite, actually. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your entire chest felt like it had more room for air. Was this what every day was like for people without anxiety? How glorious. Pressing play on Gennifer Goodwyne’s best work, you made a mental note to speak to a therapist the following morning. This felt amazing. You were genuinely smiling at… what exactly? The loss of a friend? No, no - liberation from someone’s foot on your neck. What new and exciting things could you do with this new found freedom, this fresh lease on life? Naturally, you did your favorite activity: picking up the phone and texting Gavi.

Gone were the days of Pablo wracking his brain for any excuse to email, text, or call you. It was almost funny how much he had to talk himself up, looking at his reflection and reiterating how much of a 'cool, suave guy' he was before typing out a very intelligent and eloquent 'hi'. Watching a series that he had no interest in initially just to have something to talk to you about that wasn't one of his leg muscles (no interest initially - now he was patiently waiting 4-6 weeks for his neon sign in the shape of the House Stark sigil). Now it was you who couldn't leave Gavi alone, using your messages to him as a pseudo journal, spewing your entire stream of consciousness into little blue bubbles.

[You]: PABLO

[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID

Locking your phone and resting it on your chest, you refocused on the chick flick illuminating the darkness of your living room, the device vibrating against you less than 30 seconds later. As much as you would like to pretend it was surprising to receive a response so quickly, this was the normal routine the two of you had created. One needed merely call out, and the other would come running.

[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small

[Pablito]: bcs pedri doesnt have a lot of space fr bodies in his car

There it was again: the giggling, the lip bite, the stupid half smile that made you look less like Cindy Crawford and more like the Grinch after Christmas was destroyed. But it was the natural way your body reacted to Pablo - like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boyband member in a brightly-colored magazine. Lord, how were you supposed to be normal around him? Oh how wonderful it would be to have even one inkling that Pablo reacted this way when he heard from you. But in your head, he was still Pablo Gavi with capital letters, who was standing ever so coolly with a beer in hand as he laughed with his other hot rich young athlete friends. You could never picture him as he truly was, shy and puppy-like, beer not even touched as he held his phone in one hand and twirling his hoodie string in the other. He bit down on his lip as well, eyebrows together as he waited for a response. Despite the relationship that had grown for the last six months, he still held his breath slightly when he saw the three little 'typing' dots float on his screen.

[Doctora]: i don't think i can convey the full force over text

[Doctora]: i can come over and explain it to you in person tho

"Guys, I think I need to leave." Pablo said abruptly, looking up at the group of boys, causing a record-scratch moment that abruptly ended the conversation. The heated conversation over whether the Drake curse was real had screeched to a halt, and now all four of the young Barca players were staring in disbelief.

"You haven't even been here for an hour. Where the hell could you need to be right now?" It was Alejandro who spoke up, the only one of the four who was not acutely aware of the fact that Gavi was borderline prepared to give up his entire career for you. He only had a mild inkling.

"Um... one of my friends is coming to my house and I'm going to meet them.''

"Who? We know all your friends. Who is coming over?" Ale asked, draping an arm over fellow La Masia baby Ansu, who smirked at the Sevillano as well.

"Yes, Pablito. Who is it? Ilias?" Ansu asked, obviously enjoying the bright red that seeped into Gavi's face.

"Or maybe Alvaro?" Ale seemed to be enjoying this too much, smiling brightly as Pedri tried to sip his beer without suffocating due to laughter.

"If it's one of the boys, then maybe we should come with you! Beers from the convenience store are cheaper anyways."

Pablo was sweating bullets. How could he say that he wanted to run home to hear what might possibly be the most mundane story about keeping houseplants alive?

"No, no it's... someone from back home. You guys wouldn't know her-HIM! You wouldn't know him." That may have been the worst save Pablo had ever made in his life, including the time his friends made his 5'0 self play keeper in a pick up match. Pedri finally lost the battle and spit out his beer, laughing loudly with the rest of the boys.

"Bro, why can't you just admit your massive crush on the doctor already. It's honestly getting a little tiring at this point. You've been in love with her for like three months now-" Ansu started, moving towards Gavi and clapping him on the shoulder before being interrupted by Pedri, who corrected,

"More like six months actually."

"Ah! There is no way!" Now Pablo was being ping-ponged between his two school friends, trying to keep himself from imploding from embarrassment.

"Why haven't you told her yet? Seriously now." Ale asked, pulling up a chair for himself and Pablo, the group sitting back down, conversation topic having changed into something juicier.

"You forget that he like stopped hating her and then she directly got a boyfriend, right?" Pedri said, signalling for another round of stellas to be brought over to the table.

"I don't think we should order another round. I was going to-" Pablo started, trying to nervously get up. Would he be able to find a taxi? Or should he just order an Uber? Neither possibility was explored as Pedri stuck his arm out and pushed him back into his seat, where he was now firmly locked in.

"Spill your guts. The quicker you talk, the quicker you can tell her to come over. I'll drive you home."

"Should you really be driving if you're going to be drinking?" Pablo asked cautiously as the four beers were placed on the table.

"oh, no, I'm done for the night. Two are for Ale and Ansu, and the other two are for you. For, ya know, confidence."

[Pablito]: u wnna met me at my hosue in an hours

The six minute pause between the 'Read' notification and the response from Pablo had worried you slightly. It was just enough time for the anxiety to seep into your bones. Did he find your desire to see him overwhelming and (God-forbid) clingy? Was he showing the message to Pedri & Co., laughing at your desperation? The misspelling made you even more worried. The spiral of thoughts was taking a sharp turn in the downwards direction. Was he even looking at his phone while typing? You didn't want to be a burden to him during one of the rare nights he could enjoy himself.

[Doctora]: are you sure? i don't have to come over if you're busy

"See now she doesn't want to come." Pablo said, now two beers deep with one more to go so that Pedri would let him leave.

"You're so stupid, Pablo. She wants you to want her to come over." Ansu said frustratedly. Pablo was trying to say as quickly as possible in between gulps what was stopping him from confessing his feelings to you. It had gone along the lines of,

"Well, first I thought I hated her, then I realized I was attracted to her as soon as she got an awful boyfriend, then we became like friends, I guess? Then I just kind of never wanted to ever be away from her. I had a hard time picturing a future that she wasn't a part of. Like, it started to make me have this weird aching feeling in my chest. And now I want to tell her all of this but she like, sees me as a friend and has had a shit time with her male friends and I don't want to permanently traumatize someone I love."

There was definitely more beer spit into the air and on the floor than there was in anyone's mouth.

"What did you just say?!" His too schoolmates echoed loudly, while Pedri just stared at him in a shocked state.

Pablo's brain was swimming in beer bubbles, unable to connect any dots and make intelligent, let alone sit and explain the process and intricacies of figuring out that he was, in fact, in love with you. So he ignored the question, asking rather for advice as to how he could get you to come over to his house.

"I don't think she needs that much convincing, seeing as you guys literally sleep beside each other for the majority of the week."

"Pedri, please. Enough details. You're just going to sit here and casually tell us the doctor has been in Pablito's bed repeatedly and he has yet to ask her on a date? I might collapse if I hear another shocking piece of information." Ale exclaimed, one hand over his heart as he leaned over, Ansu above him in what appeared to be genuine distress for his cardiac health.

"Pablo," Pedri started, sitting up in his seat and placing his elbows on his shoulders, obviously meaning business. "Now it's time to exercise that one petite little romantic muscle in your body."

"Isn't every muscle in his body petite?" Ansu braced himself for the punch in the arm that he received, but it was softer than previous attacks. Maybe the alcohol was really hitting him.

"Does it bother you that she asked to come over?"

"No!" Pablo responded quicker than his teammates thought possible. "I always want her to come over. She doesn't even need to ask. I would give her a key to the place if she wanted. Hell, I would sign the house over in her name. Do you think I could ask her to move in with me as friends?" His foggy brain registered the laughter, but didn't quite understand it. He would love for you to be in his house, walking through the door with you every evening, eating on the couch, fighting over the comforter and cuddling in the cold.

"See now that's... kind of a lot for a girl who doesn't know you have feelings for her. Which is a whole separate issue of oblivion that we can address later. Let's edit it down. Hand me your phone."

[Pablito]: never too busy for you. see you in an hour ;)

You stared at the wink on your screen with wide eyes. Had Pablo's phone been hacked? He had sent emojis before, but usually when he was making a cheesy joke or mocking someone else. This was ... well you actually couldn't say. Calling this behavior 'weird' would really make everything you two did, like cuddling and sleeping over and trauma-dumping, seem 'weird' as well. The only time he had ever been so outwardly flirty with you was when...

[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?

[Doctora]: I'm coming over to kick ur ass

"I think I got you in trouble." Pedri said, sheepishly handing back the device. Pablo groaned, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more strongly, head spinning and stomach churning at the thought of getting scolded by you. But something in him also burned at the idea of you getting worried about him when you weren't being paid for it.

"Alright boys, let's head out so Romeo can get back to the castle on time." Pedri ushered the three tipsy boys to the car, Ansu and Ale hunched over and giggling in the back, and Pablo slumped with a cheek pressed up against the passenger window.

"Wait! I just thought of something really important!" Ale practically yelled, leaning against the car in front of his place, Ansu waiting by the door to be let in for their own sleepover and gossip session (which may become a breakfast and gossip session given their current state).

"If the doctor tries to kiss him, will Pablo have to get on his tiptoes?"

The uproar of laughter was so loud it could be categorized as a public disturbance. Ale stood, mind foggy but genuine, watching Pedri clutch both the steering wheel and his ribs. Ansu was worse for wear, falling to his knees and gripping the sidewalk for dear life, all while Pablo gripped his head in pain and embarrassment.

"Ale, please, please open the door. I'm going to piss myself laughing from the mental image. Please, Ale."

"I'm actually taller than she is, just for everyone's information." The rebuttal was coupled with crossed arms and a pout.

"With or without shoes?" Ale's follow-up question set off another round of rambunctious laughter. Pablo was now properly tipsy and overly sensitive, and was ready to go home. Ale finally let go of the coop, preventing Ansu's public urination, and Pedri could finally make his way to Pablo's place. The green vehicle pulled into the driveway, and you followed just minutes later.

"Pedri, I'm worried."

The Canarian stared at the boy beside him. That's still what Pablo was. At his young age, he was bearing the back-breaking pressure of being the best right out of the gate, and soul-crushing weight of being in love. It was more than Pedri knew himself and many of his friends able to withstand. And though he understood the sentiment clearly, he asked anyways.

"What're you worried about?"

Pablo was many thing when he had a few drinks. He was noticeably louder, more vibrant and talkative. His usual shy self loosened up, and he was much more vulnerable. He did whatever he felt like: danced, flirted with women, made bets - anything he could imagine that would make him feel alive before the liquid courage wore off and he was back to silencing the bickering voices in his head.

"I'm worried that I'm going to say something stupid and scare her off."

"Ignore what people say online, hermano. You're not actually that scary." The giggle in return allowed Pedri to breathe a little easier. He tried to push away the twinge of guilt that reminded him he had been the one to pressure Pablo to drink, and he had been the one shoving this relationship forward at a faster pace than the participants may have liked.

"No I mean... even if the 1 in a million occurs and she gives me a chance, what if I come on too strong and kill it instantly? Can you come with me?" The request and the puppy-dog look both worked to catch Pedri off guard.

"Come with you to hang out with your girl?"

"You don't have to sit with us. You can fire up the PS5 and do whatever you want. But I won't tell her I want to grow old with her like the couple in The Notebook if you're in the house."

"You want to live out the plot of The Notebook with the doctora?"

"How did you know that?" Pablo asked with wide eyes, fully convinced that the older had read his mind.

"You just told me! How much alcohol did you actually have?" Pedri was now concerned. Could he not count? Pablo had only had three beers. He didn't remember him being such a lightweight, but it probably would explain a lot.

"Ugh, see! Pedri please, I need you. Just come with me!"

Before Pedri could protest again, a small knock was heard on Pablo's window, causing both the Barca boys to jump slightly.

"Ugh, fine. But only because your gameshock controller has never been thrown into a wall."

As the two stepped out of the car, your nose was instantly assaulted with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Pablo looked at you with a red face and slightly unfocused eyes.

"Doctora! Hey!" As he moved in to give you a hug, you stepped back from him, covering your nose with the sleeve of your (Gavi's) hoodie. You looked harshly at the boys, glare flipping between the two boys.

"I can't believe you asked me to come here while you're wasted. And you! What the hell do you think you're doing driving drunk?" You yelled, and Pedri ran forward to prevent the neighbors from hearing your misconception.

"I'm not drunk! I had one beer and waited more than an hour before driving. Pablo had three beers. We smell like shit because a waitress spilled a tray full of shots at the table. Let's continue arguing inside."

You looked at them skeptically, trying to find a smidge of deceit in either of their faces. Pablo approached you and draped an arm around your shoulder. Pressed up against you, it seemed like the smell of liquor dissipated, replaced by the last traces of his cologne and his own signature scent. Leaning down slightly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your nervous system.

"Come on, Doctora. You know I'd never lie to you. Come inside now. I need to get in the shower."

Speechless and wide-eyed, you were helpless to do anything but nod your head and be lead back inside the house that you had come to know so well.

~

"I'm going to get in the shower. I think it will help me sober up a bit. And help me stop smelling like Kettle One."

"Oh."

"Don't seem so disappointed, Doctora. I'll only be gone for five minutes. You can wait for me on the balcony; you won't even miss me. Or if you really can't be without me for a single moment, I have a very large shower."

You had stared at Gavi in shock for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to process how he was being so... unadulterated with you. It reminded you of that very first night in the club, when he had stared you up and down and commended Angel on his ability to pick girls.

"Wait you have a balcony?"

That's what lead to your current situation: sitting with your knees pressed to your chest, breathing in the early April Catalan air, and staring at the beautiful view from the window. The street was illuminated in a soft yellow glow, people roaming with hands held and laughs exchanged. The moon was full, shining its beauty down onto the street, painting everything a soft silver color that contrasted with the hazes of gold. It was one of those moments you wish you could trap between plates of glass and visit at a moment's notice. One of those moments that reminded you how far you had come. That dream, that life you had worked, cried, and prayed for - you were in it right now.

The glass door slid open behind you, ending the trance as Pablo stepped out with more blankets over one arm and two mugs in hand. You took them from him, hands warmed as he draped a blue and red blanket (his favorite, unbeknownst to you) around your shoulders. He wrapped himself in a pale yellow one and took his seat next to you, legs also by his chest as he retrieved his steaming mug. Taking a sip, the thick liquid coated your tongue, sweet and rich and reminiscent of childhood.

"So you can't even boil an egg correctly, but you know how to make perfect Chocolate Caliente while tipsy? How does that make any sense?"

Turning to you, he took a pause. The wind gently pushed your hair back, allowing the moonlight to fully illuminate your eyes, and his already hazy mind struggled not to just let himself drown in them. He was beginning to sober up, but it was nowhere near how he wanted to be in your presence.

"It was my favorite breakfast as a kid. My dad used to take Aurora and I to have them for breakfast on the weekends. When I came to Barcelona, I didn't really have anyone to take care of me like that anymore, so I learned to make it myself." Pablo hadn't meant for this to be a sad story, but apparently his tone came across as such, demonstrated by your scooching over to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. No matter the cause, he accepted the invitation to lean against you, sharing your body warmth.

"Must've been hard for you, moving here alone." Your voice was far off, as if spoken to a different person and in a different time. Flashes played in your mind of teary goodbyes and security gates, only one of your parents caring enough to drive you to the airport.

"You know what it's like," Pablo responded. "You did the same thing." He wanted to life his head and look at you, but you move first, resting your temple against his, slotting perfectly together like a teacup that had found its saucer.

"Yeah but I was 18. You were what? 11?" Your voice is still heavy with a burden that Pablo can't understand. His parents had gone with him when he first moved - and you knew that. They had only gone back to Sevilla when Gavi, shy and petite little thing that he was (and remains) told them he was fine to stay in the dorm. He had made friends quick and been praised for his football skills quicker. His parents were only two hours away, and visited semi-frequently. Life at La Masia had been Disney Channel-esque. So why did you speak about it with the same somber tone as old war stories?

"I hate that you say 'I was 18' like it was a thousand years ago, Doctora."

Pablo could feel your cheeks form a wide smile, and wrapped an arm loosely around your waist as you leaned deeper into his orbit. Of all the times the two of you had been cuddly, this was quickly becoming his favorite. Because he wasn't holding you like a secret, in the dark of night when all you wanted to do was pass out. He could see you, here in his arms of your own free will, not running away, but rather leaning in. He got to sweep the hair from your eyes, and if he focused hard enough, the dull beat of your helping the tension dissipate from his bones.

It was moments like these when Pablo knew that he was wholly and completely in love. His heart didn't race around you anymore. It wa quite the opposite now: only when he was around you could his heart beat like it was intended. It felt full. Otherwise he was walking around with this tugging in his chest, begging him to drop everything and run to wherever you were. And once he arrived, he would tear the beating organ from his chest for you upon request. It was your property, anyways.

"But I was 18 like a century ago. I'm old and withered now Pablo. What you're doing now is taking care of the elderly."

His laugh in response made him fall forward, burying his head in your lap as you blushed profusely, laughter light and breathy as to not draw attention (or get him to move). His face pressed against one of your thighs, giggling a bit too hard at a very generic joke without a singular care in the world. He leans back slightly and places a kiss to your thigh, so quick and delicate you almost missed it.

"I'll always take care of you, Doctora. As long as you let me."

You couldn't bring yourself to speak at that moment, opting to instead bring a hand up to play with his hair. Gently, you wove your fingers through the locks, softly scratching at his head like the sleepy puppy he resembled in that moment.

Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.

"Remember the first time we met?"

"Vividly." The response came quickly and honestly from you, and you were banking on Pablo's slightly incapacitated state to prevent him mocking you. But it was one of those moments seared into your memory. The lights, the sweat, the deep urge to pull Pablo against you and kiss him until that perfect pout disappeared.

"You didn't think I was 18 then. It was a hard blow to my ego. I didn't want a pretty girl to think of me as a child. But now, I'm glad we met when we did."

Soft music floated in the air towards the balcony, the performers a few streets over finishing off the night with something soft and romantic to tug on the heartstrings of passing couples in hope of separating them from some Euros. Gavi lifted his head, body following shortly as he stood. He held out a hand to help you to your feet as well. "Come and dance with me." Rising, Pablo never released your hand from his, pulling you in as close as possible, keeping you pressed to him with one arm. He began swaying and you followed his lead, now your turn to rest your head on his shoulder and simply enjoy the euphoria of being in his arms. His breath was next to your ear, raising the flesh on your neck with every exhale, before finally saying,

"Because in the future when we're real senior citizens, I get to tell people I've known you my entire adult life."

You faltered slightly, stopping Gavi in his tracks as he met your eyes. God, those eyes. If only you knew the power they had over a certain Sevillano.

"You think I'll still be around when you're an old man?" You asked, trying to stay light and airy and nonchalant as your heart hammered against the confines of your ribcage.

"Of course, Doctora. Where else would you be other than beside me?"

This was it. This was the moment. You were dancing on his balcony in his hoodie as he told you that he never wanted you to leave his side. This was the time to agree, to jump and have those strong arms catch you as you said those three words that could show you the gates of heaven or the depths of hell. You traced shaking fingers down one of his biceps, eyes meeting as with ragged breath you began.

"Pablo..."

The response was the sound of the glass door being shoved open, causing the two of you to jump a foot apart. Pedri stood there, cheeks flushed like when Xavi played him all 120 minutes.

"Pablito!! You had a case of beer in the fridge to reward me for being the DD!" This man was on another planet, bringing you back down to earth.

"You should get him to bed. I need to get going anyways."

"No!" The protest was louder than anticipated, startling both you and Pedri, who had gotten bored of playing sober FIFA and may have over-indulged when Pablo's balcony date with you entered its second hour.

"I mean, I'll get him to bed. You haven't told me your story yet. I would hate for you to leave without finishing the reason why you came. Wait for me on the couch, I'll be five minutes."

There was a pause, almost a reluctance from you to break the strong eye contact. He knew that there was something else you wanted to say. There was always something left unsaid between the two of you. He watched your form disappear down the stairs as he guided Pedri to his room (he didn't want his soon-arriving sister to sleep on dirty sheets). "You have the worst timing imaginable, hermano." Pablo muttered out, blood boiling at how the evening had gone from 200 back down to zero in a matter of seconds. When did he even put a case of beer in the fridge? Neither of you were drinkers. His fridge was always stocked with every delight and craving you had mentioned in passing.

"You told me to make sure you didn't say anything stupid." Pedri responded, making Gavi squint at him in suspicion. He must have not as been as out of it as he let on.

"Yeah but I think she- nevermind. Go to sleep."

"Calm down Pablito. It's not like I interrupted your first kiss."

Forcing himself to take a deep, self-soothing breath, Pablo turned from his inebriated friend and shut the door.

Making your way to the living room, you once again filled your senses with the boyish football decor of the living room. Checking to make sure he wasn't coming down the stairs, you sped over to the front door. The pictures on the wall remained as they were previously: childhood, family, football. Your heart sank slightly at the thought of your Christmas present sitting ripped and crumpled at the bottom of his club-issued backpack. You turned back into the living room, making your way to the couch.

Flopping on the soft material, you kicked your feet up on the table, glancing over to look at his obnoxiously large Barca book. And there, sitting on top of it, was a simple black frame, slightly dented in one corner like it had been dropped. The frame held the two of you, angry and standoffish and forever frozen in that moment before the floodgates had been irreversibly opened. He had framed it. Pablo Gavi, the busiest boy in football right now, had decided you were worth the frame and the position front and center on his favorite book.

"So, what was so groundbreaking you needed to see my reaction in person?" His question snapped you out of your trance, and you sprung up from your place on the sofa, needing to get the photo out of your field of vision for your own sanity. Making a B-line to the fridge, the cold was inviting to your flushed face. Fruit, bread, cheese, cold cuts - no Spanish boys here. Just the comfort of food.

"Do you want a sandwich?"

~

"There's no way you said that to her! Who are you and what have you done with the Doctora I know?" Despite his reprimand, the beautiful boy before you joined in the fits of giggles that had taken over you. Having deprived yourself of a decent meal for the last week due to work (they had finally handed over all of Antonio's medical notes and they were in shambles), you fixed yourself and Pablo the most impressive sandwich you had ever conjured in your adult life. After filling his arms with every possible accompaniment, he plopped himself beside you on the couch, crossing his legs so his knee rested against yours. Before he got comfortable, he jumped up, stating he had forgotten something.

"I got these for you." The jar he placed on the table was filled with green liquid, and as you leaned in closer to inspect the label, your eyes lit up.

"You... bought me a jar of pickles?"

"Yeah. Remember one time you said you liked them so I got these. They look like the same jar." That's when you let yourself burst into tears.

The hour following had been you and Pablo in various states: his arm around you as you cried into his shoulder about how shit the people in your life had been, then hunched over plates stuffing your faces and joking around, and finally the current one of eating pickles and chips and whatever else was on the table as you recounted your demonic phone call.

"I did but like I've wanted to say it to her for months now! You don't understand, Pablo, because you're friends with the amazing, caring, thoughtful being that is me." More giggles as he shoved a pillow into you, smile so bright it could light up the entire first floor. He was never afraid to be like this around you: silly and playful and just comfortable.

"La la Doctora, ladies shouldn't use such foul language." It was your turn to shove his shoulder, probably causing you more damage than him due to the rock-solid muscle.

"Thanks papa, appreciate the advice. But like seriously, she asked me to drive her to Madrid one weekend - as in like Madrid five hours away - to go to a specific store. You know what she bought there? Buttons. 10 hours of my life and a hell of a lot of gas so she could get buttons! And it's not like I expected anything in return-"

"No of course not. It's just when you do nice things for people and are kind to them, you want them to act the same. Treat others how you want to be treated." Pablo bit his tongue there, scared he would sound immature or stupid. You were several years his senior in age and education, and the last thing he wanted was for you to water-down your feelings because you thought he wouldn't understand.

"Right?! See, you get it! And I just, ugh, I feel kinda bad because like she didn't really do anything directly. Like yeah her show and stuff but there wasn't really a moment or like a fallout." You moved towards Pablo, leaning on his shoulder as the moment took a more serious turn.

"But that's the whole point isn't it? That she didn't do anything, she was just kind of there and reaping all the benefits of friendship with no effort. And-"

"Doctora, can I interrupt you for a minute?" You felt Pablo's shoulder dip slightly, and disappointed as you were, took the sign to lift your head.

"Sorry I didn't mean to take over your personal sp-"

"Ay shut up about my personal space. I'd handcuff you to me if I had the chance." He quickly looked away from you, processing his comment after he had said it. Nice one Gavito - real friendly. He moved some of the cushions to the end of the couch by the arm rest, kicking off the more decorative ones and leaning down. Honey eyes looked at you between thick lashes, and patted the narrow sliver of space beside him. Rolling his eyes at the confused raising of your brow, he verbalized his request.

"Come lay next to me while you rant."

Oh. Oh. Had he ever asked you outright to cuddle with him? The first time, you had been the instigator. You had taken that leap off the bridge - no, the cliff - and yet there he had been, warm and welcoming, catching you with grace. Ever since then, there had really been no words. Talking about his desires and feelings didn't come naturally to Pablo, and so he steered clear of them all together. It was always something unspoken: he would be at your apartment and just follow you down the hall when you declared it to be bedtime. Or when you had spent too much time at the Gavira house watching reruns of the same telenovela, and Gavi just switched the TV off and guided you up the stairs. No matter the location it was always the same. Him on the right side, you on the left, but both magnetically drawn to the center and one another. You slotted into his side, head on his heart, and stabilized by his embrace. Sometimes he wore a shirt - most times he didn't. He hugged you a little closer whenever you were in his clothing, trying to dispense his scent onto it anew and make sure you would think of him whenever there was a breeze. But there were never words. Only feelings and longing gazes and that same settled silence.

"You want me to?"

"Why would I ask if I didn't want you to? Last time you fell asleep on my shoulder you almost broke your neck. Now if you fall asleep you will only be semi-sore in the morning. I mean you don't have to if you-"

"No. I mean yes. I mean no I don't not want to do that."

"Is your Spanish getting worse or did that make no sense?"

You sighed in defeat, laying beside Pablo on the couch, sinking into the fabric and into him. One of his arms was acting as your pillow, and his hand made its way upwards to softly play with your hair, an instant soother. Body turning inwards toward him, your arms were up and palms gently pressed to his chest.

"Am I too close?" You asked, Pablo's previous comment about wanting to be physically attached to you seemed to have evaporated from your mind. His second arm fell around your waist, pulling you closer in. Your thigh was now pressed between his legs, and you both seemed to hold your breath for a moment. The alarms went off in his brain while his eyes held yours. He just stared at you. That's all he ever really wanted to do nowadays. He unfroze and shook his head before prompting you to continue your story.

"Oh, right - where was I?"

"She never put any effort into the relationship."

"Oh, right." You sat up to grab one of the blankets, draping the warmth on the tangled mess of limbs, and laying back down. It was not lost on you that Pablo, despite all the jokes, had listened intently to every word you had said. Nothing Pablo did, from the way he shifted his misaligned hips to his soft breathing to the way his fingers traced shapes in your side, was ever lost on you.

"So..." and on continued your rant for about an hour. It was a different kind of catharsis to speak about your pain and receive empathy in response. To be told that the feelings poisoning your spirit were ones that had been planted and could be weeded out. It was a relief that also brought about a tiredness, where once your emotions were freed, your eyelids grew substantially heavier. But the fingers remained soothing against your hair, twisting and smoothing the locks. He pushed a few stray pieces from your face, smiling at the sleepy state on your face.

"Excited for this last month of the season?" The short international break had allowed for the season to be neatly wrapped up by the first week of May, with the Champions League final and awards ceremonies following directly after.

"Mhm," you hummed back, eyes now fully closed and cheek pressed against Pablo's warm skin. "But it's not really a month for me. It's more like a week left of the season. Copa Del Rey in three days, then you score a screamer in the net at home to win La Liga three days later. Once the season is decided, I'm back at school for practical exams." The vibration in his chest reverberated throughout your entire being, and your semi-sleeping form nuzzled deeper into Pablo, which neither of you thought possible. Fingers tightened around the semi-exposed skin of your waist, and he felt a sensation akin to weilding fire at will. Knowing full well the flames could engulf him in a torturous inferno, but oh how beautiful to hold and let dance at the tips of his fingers.

"So we have two more matches with you?"

"Three if you choke again and let the other borderline relegation team score three goals." He tugged lightly at your hair as a reprimand, your smile spreading against his neck.

"I wasn't even on the field for the full 90 minutes last game. Don't worry, we're bringing home both trophies this week. And you're getting that screamer of a goal. Make sure to record it so I can gloat forever." A gentle nod and a hum, but the sleep was slowly seeping into your senses.

"So after that, what? What's next?"

"Well you already know that Xavi offered me a permanent position for when I graduate next year. So I'm at the club on automatic placement renewal. He he I was the first one in my class to get it."

"Of course you were, Doctora. You're the best there is." Warm cheeks yet again. Pablo must think you're a natural furnace, not realizing that his sticky sweet compliments were always triggering the "Heart Overheating" alarms in your mind.

"You think too highly of me. I'll see you when you come back for preseason medicals and training. They might let me run it this year. Oh, and at the Bondor. I'll be there, too."

"At the what?"

"The Bondor." You repeated, unaware of how much you were mumbling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Slow down for me, Doctora. One word at a time. Where will I see you?"

"Ballon. D'or." You repeated for the third time as slowly as possible. It was too hard to stay awake now, and let yourself slip fully into the depth of relaxation, tangled in a web of warm Pablo, basking in this moment where you could just rest contently.

Pablo on the other hand was now on high alert. There had been a lot of commotion in the club when the nominations were announced. Pedri had pulled up the livestream on the projector, the entire squad waiting with baited breath for the categories of interest. There mutters all around about how the whole ceremony was a scam and had royally screwed over Robert, but who was going to turn down the honor? You had seen the stampede (led of course by Luca, who was always at the head of any effort to get out of doing his job) and followed quickly, afraid someone else had passed out. The players had been pushing themselves to stay miles above Madrid in the league, and it was taking a real toll. You looked up at the ceiling as you speed-walked, praying that everyone (especially Dembele) was okay. You would really like a calm week.

"Now, the nominees for the Kopa Trophy, awarded to the best player under 21 years of age..."

Ansu caught your eye as you entered and waived you over, instructing you to sit with him and the other young Barca boys. Gavi had been given a seat in the middle, the throne of the meeting room, as the murmurs circulated once again. You hadn't been aware that Pablo was a contender for this award - not surprised, but your schedule didn't allow you to keep on on Twitter as you once had. You wrung your fingers, heart hammering as the presenter spoke with that slow TV drawl that made everyone want to commit arson.

"Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Bukayo Saka, Eduardo Camavinga, Gavi-"

You were sure there were other nominees, but the shouts of joy and thunderous claps on Gavi's shoulders prevented any more information from entering your ears. The coaching staff and older players commended him on the achievement, and you had to wait until the room was essentially cleared to stick out your hand and offer a congratulatory message.

"Are we doing handshakes now?" He asked, eyes flitting between you and Pedri's gossip circle occupying the far corner.

"It feels more professional. This is a professional achievement after all."

""I haven't achieved anything yet." He said shaking your hand firmly and lingering much longer than was appropriate for the workplace (and 'friends').

"What are you talking about? You've been nominated! That's huge in itself given that a lot of your teammates also qualify for that award."

"Yeah but Pedri snatched it last year. They won't hand it over to the same club two years in a row."

"Doesn't Messi have like 27 Ballon D'ors in a row?"

"Please don't use Leo as an example. I am just a regular human being." As the two of you made your way into the hall, out of the line of sight of Pedri's tea spilling team, the laughter and teasing died down. You turned to Pablo, bringing one hand to rest on his arm, smoothing the fabric of his training jacket with your fingers as you looked up at him.

"You're a brilliant player, Pablo. One of the best this club has ever seen. You are incredible and have the brightest future ahead of you, and I just hope I get to be a part of it. That award it yours - I can feel it. But even if it isn't, don't sell yourself short. You amaze me every day."

This was the best news since his promotion to the first team. He had been pushing the Paris trip to the far recesses of his brain, a bout of nausea and anxiety striking him every time he conjured the thought of walking down that carpet or speaking on stage. But now you were going to be there. You would see him in the finest suit D&G would lend him, hair perfectly gelled down (he would need a trim). And he let himself ever so briefly entertain the fantasy of you watching him win. Of the announcer calling out his name, the crowd rising to their feet in deafening applause as he accepted the trophy from Pedri. He would look out into the crowd and see you there, sending a wink your way before thanking everyone who helped him achieve this, especially the medical staff. He drifted off to sleep replaying this scenario in his head, a trophy in one arm and the girl of his dreams in the other.

Pedri woke up with a minor headache in the morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows directly into his eyes. He would be buying Pablo some blackout curtains for Christmas. Descending from his place, he walked across it: a real sight to behold. You and Gavi were tangled together on the couch, legs an absolute mess with the blanket pooled around them. Your head was on his chest, face nuzzled upward into his neck. Your hands were fisting his shirt, as if afraid someone would rip him from your clutches. Pablo wasn't much better. He had his arms wrapped around you, one on the back of your head and one around your waist. He had managed to pull you on top of him in the night, his back flat on the sofa and your weight pooled on his chest and bringing him tranquility. His lips rested against your forehead, his face perfectly positioned with yours. He held you tight against him, and your unconscious form rose and fell with each of his deep and even breaths. Despite his best efforts, Pedri couldn't stop himself from snapping a picture of the moment. Thank God his ringer was always off. He did have enough self restraint to prevent him from sharing the photo with his group chat with Ansu, Ale, Eric, and surprisingly Robert (he just likes to be included). The name had changed numerous times in the last several months, and was now simply called "friendship" my ass for obvious reasons. He knew this would be a picture Pablo and you would look back on fondly when one was finally courageous enough to just let go. But until then, it sat safely in his hidden folder, and he tiptoed out the door, sparing one last look at the pair of you, sleeping more deeply than well-fed toddlers. The tension in Pablo's face was gone. Pedri hoped it would stay that way.

~

"And we are just minutes from kicking off what could be the league-winning match for Barcelona here in Spotify Camp Nou! Set to be an exciting game against Atletico Madrid, and the crowd is absolutely on fire."

"Just as well, Peter. I mean Barcelona have the ability to make this an incredible three trophy season right here today. They're coming off a massive win against Sevilla in the Copa Del Rey final, at home for what could be the league winner, and the performances we're going to see today are going to be full energy full power now that the Ballon D'Or nominee list has been announced."

"That's right we have Robert Lewandowski shortlisted for the titular award after two incredible seasons at Bayern Munich. We also have Pedri potentially passing the 'Golden Boy' torch onto his fellow midfielder Gavi, who has had an absolutely stellar season."

"Who can forget about that performance in the Supercopa, Peter. Three goal contributions in a Classico no less, the likes of which we haven't seen since Leo Messi stepped up to the plate, and we all know how that played out. He's really been putting in amazing performances week after week, and the most surprising thing is the level of health Barca have been able to maintain. For a team riddled with injuries all of last season, it is a miracle turnaround. Kick off right here after the break."

The tunnel was always busy right before kick off, but today it was quadruple-fold. You weren't sure if Barca was just extra confident in a victory today, but the media passes had tripled, and everyone was eager to get candids of the young blaugrana boys. You were pushing through people's shoulders, 'excuse-me' shifting very quickly into 'get out of the way' as you made your way to the players line up to adjust resistance tape and back braces. You were in the official physio uniform today, Nike jacket hugging your skin and tucked neatly into your trousers. The entire staff had been gifted with a new pair of cleats with the date on one side and a number of their choice on the other.

"I'm assuming 6 for you?" You had been caught off guard by the assumption from the brand rep.

"Why would you assume that? Have other players been telling you things about me?" You must have looked genuinely afraid and shocked, as the rep raised his hands in innocence, face going pale.

"No no no. I have absolutely no idea who you are. You have a 6 on your hoodie, so I thought you would want something to match."

It was discreet, a small black number on the back of your heel, and yet it was the only thing that Gavi could see as you worked to adjust Frenkie's shoulder. Did all of you have numbers? Were they in order, yours just happening to fall in the 6th position? Were there even 6 people on the physio team? His eyes stayed on your shoes until they were in front of his. He looked up to meet you raised brow.

"Why are you staring? Your shoes are nicer than mine."

Turning around, he let you test his hip alignment as he allowed himself to speak away the nerves buzzing throughout his system.

"Think we're going to win?"

"I always think you're going to win. I'm just waiting for that incredible goal you promised last week."

"What, the three goal contributions in the Supercopa weren't enough for you? You have high standards, Doctora."

"Of course. That was back in January. It's April now, Pablo. I want you to make my last game good." As you released him from your grip, he turned to face you, putting both hands on your shoulders. A few players turned their heads, but only for a cursory glance.

"If I score today, you let me pick you up as a celebration."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Who's going to stop me?"

"One of your fangirls might dive onto the field and tackle me."

"I have faith in you, Doctora. You seem like a fast runner."

"Always nice to have your unwavering support. Deal. Better be a good goal."

"A screamer."

You moved onto Pedri, who was next in the numerical line up, and his eyebrows did all the talking for him. You muttered a quick 'good luck' before continuing your duties in the remaining minutes before they walked out for the match.

"What a friendly little deal you've made, hermano." He leaned over and said, but the players began walking before Pablo could respond. Post -anthem, you took your place on the sidelines, jittery from the electric energy ricocheting around the stadium. No Joao for Gavi to shove around, but Griezmann was going to be a problem. The first half was rough and fast-paced, but remained scoreless. As the players came off for half time, you were instructed to help out the ones with high muscle tension. Passing Pablo, you placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear, quick and soft: "Looks like I'm staying seated all game."

Pablo turned just in time to watch you scamper off, a smirk on his lips. Pablo loved a challenge, and it was all the better to have it come from you. He had a couple opportunities during the first half, but he was scared of getting fouled too early on. Now was the time were he was able to push, with the anxiety from the beginning of the game shaken off. He tuned back into Xavi's pep talk and instructions for the second half, lips still upturned.

The media was always puffing up players, but it was true that Pedri was a magician with the ball. There was something captivating about the way he calmly danced between players, maneuvering skillfully. A pass to Araujo, then back to him. The roar of the crowd was dulled by the thrum of your heart and the snapping as you bit at your nails in anticipation. The boys had been pressing hard, and a score seemed eminent. Pedri lifted his head, looking for his striker. Lewa was locked up on the right. It seemed the moment to move back, alleviate the press and recalculate. But then a flash of blue and red streaked across his vision and his foot reacted faster than his brain. Minute 85, a scoreless game, and a ball crossed high and fast towards the menace that was Gavi. His foot connected in the far left corner of the box and there it went, screaming past the goalie's fingertips before nestling in the top corner of the net.

An explosion. You were the slowest person to react, slack jawed as the other physios shoved and shook you in celebration. Hands coming to his chest, he gripped the crest like it was a crown jewel, looking right as you as he brought it to his lips, kissing it with a force and passion that had flowed in him since he was 11 years old. He ran towards you, teammates following swiftly, and suddenly there were arms around your thighs as he lifted you. He bounced you in the air as his teammates clapped him on the shoulders, congratulating him and showering him with the well-deserved praise. You looked down, hands rested on Pablo's shoulders. His gaze was locked with yours. you wanted to tease him or commend him but there were no words. He released you, pointing at ou before taking his position.

They lifted the trophy shortly after, the players looking like children as they danced and sang in a circle. The players all took their turns squeezing the living daylights out of you.

"Doctora!" It was Dembele who called out to you, waving you over. Under the watchful eyes of his coaches, Gavi was more careful not to get too close to you (even though he had just Lion-King lifted you during the game).

"Come take a picture with all your patients and their trophy!" The request was made with laughs all around as you stood behind the trophy, Ousmane on one arm and Pedri on the other. Balde and Ansu got into the photo as well, arms all around each other.

"Gavi! Get in here! You're the one with the most clinic hours." Ousmane called out to him as well. He blushed as he walked (waddled) over, stopping to pick up the trophy and dropping it into your hands.

"This is your achievement too, Doctora. You should be proud." Pedri shoved him in beside you, claiming it helped 'balance the photo'. The flash went off twice. Once with Pablo paying attention to the camera, smiling brightly having just won MOTM in their league decider. The second was almost identical, but his head was turned to you. The smile was softer, the eyes kinder. He looked at you like the ultimate prize. As he said his goodbyes to you, promising not to miss you too much in the month you would be seperated, he realized one thing: he was going to need more frames.

~

@gaviraconcubine: ok i thot it was stupid but maybe gavi is actually w his physio???? just look at them

1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies

@blaugranaboy: if you FEMALES knew anything, you would know barca has had shit physios and is always getting injured. since she came on staff they staying healthy. i would pick her ass up to

@barbiebalde: @blaugranaboy *too. Sexist AND bad english? pick a struggle

@88rizzing: ok but theres also pics of her out with pedri at a prada store so idk anymore???????

@gavitaylorsversion: her instagram is private :( can someone drop clearer pictures of her

You had been through some difficult situations in the last ten months, but these practical exams were the biggest challenge you had faced in your existence. 8am to 8pm lectures for two weeks, followed by a week straight of performing concussion protocols, lifting stiff boards, and demonstrating a whopping 6 different types of sutures had finally come to an end. It was May 5th, the final day of your exams, and three days before your flight to Paris for the ceremony. Your phone had been discarded for practically the entirety of the month, logged out of all social media and having your focus set to only let through emergency calls (and, of course, texts from Pablo). They had been less frequent given his understanding of your schedule.

[Pablito]: i know you have stitches today. Good luck <3

[Pablito]: Kounde asked about you today. He hasn't realized you've been missing the last two weeks. He really isn't on this planet

[Pablito]: the finale of our show came on last night. I recorded it so we can watch it together after your exams.

And now the most recent one had come through:

[Pablito]: Congrats on surviving the epic battle of your practical exams. I sent you dinner. Have a great night!

The doorbell rang in some scary accurate timing, and you graciously accepted the package from the delivery driver. Sitting on your couch to watch any comedic show that would help you decompress. The bag was huge, and seemingly filled to the brim with containers. Pasta, pizza, two types of bread, fried chicken, and three slices of cake (chocolate, cheesecake, and tres leches). There was also a bottle of sugar-free soda, for balance apparently. As you picked up your phone to ask Pablo if you were meant to feed the whole building, another text popped up on your screen.

[Santa Naranja]: Hi! I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the stylist who worked with Pedro for his Prada shoot? I got this number from him. You should yell at him for giving out your number so easily.

[Santa Naranja]: Anyways, I just got the list for the Ballon D'Or ceremony and I saw your name on there. How exciting! My company is styling Barca for the event, and I wanted to reach out personally to see what you would be interested in wearing.

[Santa Naranja]: Because I'm assuming you don't want to be in a suit? But I could be wrong.

You replied instantly, telling her how grateful you were for contacting you. You had been planning on wearing one of your old wedding-guest dresses, not having the time to go pick up something else. The two of you arranged to meet tomorrow at her studio, and you went back to your original mission: snapping a picture and sending it to Gavi.

He opened the message instantly, feeling all warm and fuzzy staring at the food spread on your lap and his old shirt hanging off your shoulders. You hair was up, face bare, and he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss you on the forehead.

[Doctora]: thanks for the food, pablito <3 see u in paris

"Ouch!" He yelled out, taken out of his daydream by a needle shoved into his wrist. "Pedri! Tell your friend to be gentle."

"First of all, we're not friends-"

"We're not?" Pedri asked the stylist, the smoke practically rising from her ears. She glared at him, looking extra menacing with the pins between her teeth.

"No. We're not. You're only allowed to be here if you're silent, remember? And second of all we are tailoring your suit sleeves. You're going to get stabbed if you keep moving your arms! Now hold still. She's still going to be there in 15 minutes for you to gush over."

"How did you know who I was talking to?" Pablo asked, genuine shock and curiosity across his features.

"Oh please, for the love of God, don't tell me you think you're being subtle?!"

~

"Hi! Come in come in! I didn't even realize it was raining."

Santa Naranja was, as you had recently discovered, not just Pedri's stylist. She wasn't even a Prada stylist. She was now a senior assistant stylist for Style Di Fortuna, a global firm that worked to style celebrities for different events. Since Herno and D&G started dressing the club, management had received official notice regarding their event attire.

"You should have seen the letter they sent. It was like a scolding from the school principal. 'Players must be formally and professionally styled during all official events as to avoid conflict in brand image and the tarnishing of the brand's respectability. Can you imagine dressing so poorly that you could ruin the reputation of an entire brand? Although I shouldn't expect any less. Pedro's jorts could bring about doomsday."

It was the other girls in the office that had given her the nickname 'Santa' for her saint-like patience in dealing with Pedri for... reasons. She was a completely different person when his cheshire cat smile and bushy brows were not in the room. She was calm and fun and humorous. She scurried around the workshop, pouring you a cup of cinnamon tea loaded with sugar, before running back into a warehouse closet and throwing about twenty garment bags over her arms.

"Did you have anything in mind for your look? I know that the club must have given you some basic guidelines, but what about your personal style?"

"Oh yeah, they came with the invitation. Long skirt, no slit, no trains, no plunging necklines, no open backs, no beading or gems, no appliques, and no bright colors."

The poor stylist stopped in her tracks, returning virtually every dress she had in her hands.

"Okay, let's go to the nun section of the closet. What colors would you like? Keep them boring and muted." You giggled at the remark, rattling off a list of colors. She either hummed in agreement or gave a slight pause, allowing you time to retract the wrong choice. Green, red, and white were all off the table, seeing as the wags had already claimed them.

"What's Gavi's favorite color?" She teased, shoving a garment bag at you and ushering you behind the separator to change.

"Haha, very funny. I'm not going as his date."

"You can add the 'unfortunately' to the end of that. I won't judge you."

"Sure. It's unfortunate I'm not Pablo's date in the same way it's unfortunate that you're not Pedri's."

"Please don't speak such wicked thoughts about me and Pedro into the universe."

After cycling through about 15 dresses, the weight of the event and the pressure of traveling in two days was beginning to weigh on you, a tightness settling into your chest and disrupting your breathing.

"I'm going to look so stupid at this event. Nothing looks good." You huffed as you resisted the urge to face plant into the million euro pile of fabric on the floor. Your companion huffed as well, racking her brain for any guidance on how to dress you without making you look like a churchly sister or a plastic bag.

"Okay. Do you know anything about fashion?" She asked. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a kindergarten teacher asking a poor 6-year old if they knew how to tie their shoes.

"I try and keep up."

"If you could pick any look from the last like 10 years on the runway that you would wear to this event, what would it be?"

"I can't afford-"

"Not telling you to buy it. Just imagine. If you could wish a dress into your hands right now, what would it be?"

You sat and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since you separated yourself from the imposed masculine nature of your job. Your hair stayed up, your nails stayed short, your face always painted naturally (you had gotten dress-coded for winged eyeliner once). It had been years if not a complete decade since you allowed your thoughts to be pink and flowery. You had put girlhood on pause, allowed it to hibernate for the harsh winter war of professional success. But now it was spring, and the blossoms emerged once again. You weren't a physio going for a meeting. You were a princess preparing for her magical night in Paris, your fairy standing before you. This was one of those moments where you just had to take a pause. You had worked to hard to make it here. Now that you were here, enjoy it.

"Well, Viktor and Rolf had the most gorgeous tulle dresses ad fashion week. They were all strapless and tight at the top, and they had these beautiful full skirts and velvet ribbons. If I was a wag or a footballer accepting my own award, I would wear that." You said, still allowing the rose color of your imagination to tint your reality. You entertained the thought briefly that this is the first time Pablo would see you properly dolled up, and it made you want to squeal and kick your feet like a girl waiting for prom.

"Oh my God you're so smart!" She yelled, running back into the dark passage of the closet. She returned a moment later with a black fabric bag, gold filigree embossed onto the material. She hung and began to unzip, unveiling the most beautiful dress you had ever seen in your life. It was a pale nude, almost the color of beach sand, with a fitted corset top that came down to the top of the hip bone. It then flares slightly into a layered tulle skirt, the color solid except for one band of pale blue that wrapped around the skirt, the waist accentuated with a velvet bow in the same dusty blue. You reached out one shaking hand to smooth down the fabric, almost afraid it would disintegrate in your touch. (dress inspo for those interested)

"Bouguessa just sent us this. It's more subtle than the Viktor and Rolf ones, it goes with gold and silver jewelry, won't draw too much attention, and follows that ridiculous novel of rules." She said, hands on her hips behind you.

"I can't wear this." You said, trembling at the very thought of spilling a drop of... well anything really on this dress.

"You can and you will. We had it shorted for some actress wearing it in Cannes later this month, so wear nice shoes. Nothing too tall though - Pablo is 5'7 after all." You turned to her, and the face she had expected to smile back at her held eyes welling with tears. You pulled her against you, too fast for her to process, and let the tears stream down your cheeks.

"I have never had anyone be so kind to me. I can't thank you enough."

"I'm just letting you borrow a dress," she said, arms wrapping around you as well. "Do you not have friends?"

"Let's not open that can of worms."

~

"Hi, Dr. Gonzalez. You wanted to see me?" Your head peaked in ever so slightly to catch his hand waving you over. Despite knowing on a deep psychological level that he respected you as a professional, he still scared the bejeezus out of you.

"Yes. I forgot to give you your passes for tonight's flight. You'll be able to use this to get directly into the lounge and then on the jet we have chartered this evening."

"The... what?"

"How were planning on getting to Paris exactly, Miss y/n?" He took off his small glasses, a gesture to emphasize how stupid you were being at the present.

"I was going to take the train in tomorrow?" You responded extremely unsure of yourself.

"Take the train in the morning of the ceremony? Oh this generation. No foresight. You'll meet the team in the lounge at exactly 8pm this evening."

"So what I'm hearing is... I'm going on the private jet with Xavi and the squad?"

"Yes."

"And my accomodation..?"

"You will have a room in the hotel on the same floor as the rest of the team. Any other logistical questions? Do I need to explain what the Ballon D'Or is?"

"No, no, of course not. Thank you so much Dr. Gonzalez. I'll be sure to represent Barca well as an organization that loves women!" You got up hastily from your chair, exiting the office with Dr. Gonzalez yelling behind you.

"We didn't send you because you're a woman! Don't say that to any reporters!"

The Barcelona airport was, in your opinion, nothing special. That was until the woman at the check-in desk saw your badge and personally guided you past security and into a private Air France lounge. The room was decked out in plush sofas and chaise lounges, soft spa music bouncing between the walls. Enough food to feed the entire terminal had been laid out on stone and marble platters, and three girls in matching dark blue uniforms strolled around the room, waiting to be flagged down for assistance. This was nice. Maybe gold digging was really the best choice. It's a miracle that not everyone on the quad had Ferran-sized heads if this was the treatment they were used to.

"Ay look who finally made it." The voice greeting you belonged to Xavi, who was the first to stand up and embrace you. You greeted the rest of the group and introduced yourself to both Xavi and Robert's wives, thinking it more appropriate to sit with the other women on the trip. You chatted with them until it was time to board, at which point you could no longer exercise self control. You walked up to Pablo, tapping him on the shoulder.

He couldn't suppress his smile when he saw you, and Anna whispered to her husband how you had not introduced yourself as Gavi's girlfriend.

"Well, they're not together. She's a physio at the club."

"He looks at her like he's in love."

"Yeah. Everyone has noticed except the two of them."

Fighting the urge to stuff you into his hoodie so you could never disappear for a month again, Pablo opted to instead put one arm around you, embracing you in a tight side hug. You two walked onto the plane together, effectively abandoning Pedri, while catching up on everything that had gone on since your last meeting. He sat beside you on one of the couches, spinning around to lay with his legs on top of you, which were swiftly pushed off. The two of you now sat side by side, eating from a bag of sour gummies.

"I missed you." He said softly as you watched Barcelona grow smaller and smaller beneath you. You turned back to him resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. A lot more than I thought I would." There was no more talk after that. No mention of feelings or trophies or anything really. Just sour bears and that telenovela finale he promised to watch with you.

The clock in the hotel lobby read 11:44pm as you fought with Pablo to try and carry your own bag in. Well, fought is a vague term - you tugged on his bicep while he dragged you and your suitcase inside.

"We're only here for two days - what on Earth could you have brought?" He asked, letting out an exaggerated huff as he set it down on its wheels.

"Makeup is heavy, my dress is heavy, my shoes are heavy - society's beauty standards are just weighing me down at every turn." He smiled back at you, your fingers itching to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the tip of his nose and tell him that he had a smile that could bring cities to their knees.

"Pedri! Gavi!"

You turned around to the source of the voice, watching Pedri embrace a very tall and very familiar Spaniard. As he made his way over to Gavi, he gave you a once over that indicated his brain was still trying to figure out who you were. As his hand connected with Gavi's, it was like the electricity had switched back on.

"Oh, hey! You came and interviewed at Chelsea. Convince her to stay then, hermanito?" he clapped Gavi on the back of the neck.

"No, I didn't have to say anything. She spent an afternoon with you guys and came running back to the better club." You smiled shyly, feeling a little awkward at your once potential club interacting with the one you had chosen to stay at. You stepped to the side, noticing Perdi deep in conversation with someone else. Tan, tall, and beautiful, he turned to you, smiling wide and approaching.

"Ah hello again." You were in a hug before you knew it. You reciprocated, wishing one of the boys would take a photo so you could send it to ever girl in your high school.

"Joao! Great to see you again. How have you been?" He pulled away, hands still on your upper arms as he ranted to you about his difficult second half of the season had been. Pablo sat back, loosely listening to the exchange between Pedri and Kepa, with most of his energy focused on seething at the sight in front of him. Joao had talked to you for what? An hour? Why did he feel so comfortable touching you like this? His tongue found purchase in his cheek, his arms crossed over his chest. Xavi tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the key cards for your three, giving him a perfect excuse to break up your conversation.

"Here you go, Doctora. This one's yours. Doing well Joao?" There was an obvious hint of animosity in his voice that was evident to the both of you. Nevertheless, Joao released you to shake Gavi's hand.

"I saw you on TV the other day getting picked up by this one. Twitter went crazy speculating about you two dating. You guys.. aren't dating, right?" Joao directed the question to you, now fully turned away from Gavi, whose body temperature had exceeded 100 degrees.

"No, no. We're..." your eyes flashes to him, "just friends".

"I guess anyone would be grateful to have someone like you caring for their wellbeing. A shame that you didn't come over to us for this season. But I may get the privilege if I can get Xavi to place a bid on me." Pablo let out a laugh that was too loud and enthusiastic to be polite. If Joao had been offended, he didn't let it on.

"Oh, Mason is here, too! We're going out with him and his friend Jude for drinks here at the hotel bar. You should come with us! You can come too, Gavi- oh wait, are you even old enough to drink?" The question was punctuated with a smirk, an obvious rebuttal to Gavi's humor at him joining the club.

"I'm flattered but I need to get some rest for tom- wait Jude as in Bellingham?" You asked, eyes wide.

"Of course. Know any other Jude's being nominated?" You heard Gavi breathing loud and heavy beside you, taking this as your cue to call it a night. Before you left, Joao grabbed your wrist, taking a look at your card.

"Floor three. Same as us. Maybe we'll see you around." He hugged you once more as a good night, then headed over to Mason, who waved at the group of you with Jude beside him. You made your way to the elevator with Gavi and felt embarrassed. You hadn't even done anything but be polite, but in some way you felt like you had committed a sin in talking so freely with Joao. Engrossed in thought, your face met Gavi's back as he suddenly stopped in front of a door.

"This is my room. I'll see you tomorrow." You stopped him in his tracks, one hand preventing him from crossing the threshold.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked, voice soft and even, trying to disguise the hurt.

"I- no, of course not, Doctora. Just nervous. Didn't think I'd be seeing my competition tonight." You pulled him into a hug, hands around his waist and your head on his chest with his above it. He let out a shaky breath, and all his fears with them. Joao had invited you out and yet you were still here, in his arms and in front of his door.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Before the 'big show'?" He asked, keeping you against his chest, just for a moment longer.

"Staff aren't allowed on the carpet so I'll see you inside the theater."

"Don't sit next to Joao tomorrow." He said with a slight pout, and you wanted to just pull him down and kiss him so hard he lost consciousness from the lack of air.

"I don't think they'll let me sit next to the players. Not important enough."

"You're going to be one of the most important people in that room. And just, don't sit next to him."

"I won't Pablo."

"Promise?" He said, sticking out his pinky. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your finger around his, bringing your conjoined hands upwards. You twisted them so that your thumb was facing him and vice versa. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the skin of his hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed audibly.

"What are you.. what was that?"

"You have to kiss it to seal the promise."

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, looking at you once more for any objection, before closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles.

"You have soft lips." You said looking between his lips and his hooded eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm two rooms over. Good night, Pablo. Good luck."

He watched you walk down the hall and enter your room, only returning to his when the door clicked shut. He pressed his back to the wood, allowing it to cool the sweat pooling under his hoodie. He was so thankful that he wasn't sharing a room with Pedri, because the feeling of your lips on his skin, soft and plump, had made him so incredibly hard.

~

"We are here live from the red carpet of the annual Ballon D'or ceremony, and the stars of the football world have come out in full force. On the carpet now Xavi Hernandez and his wife Núria, as well as Ballon D'Or contender Robert Lewandowski and his wife, champion in her own right, Anna. These are the veterans of football, and they should be shortly accompanied by the young trailblazers leading the New Era of Barcelona football."

It was three minutes until Gavi was supposed to step onto the carpet, and he was panicking. His breathing was shallow, his collar felt like it was suffocating him, and he was sweating bullets under his suit.

"Pedri, I can't do this." He said, genuine fear swimming in his eyes as he looked to his friend for comfort.

"Yes you can, hermano. All you have to do is walk and smile. Maybe answer some questions. You can absolutely do all of those things."

"What if I make an ass of myself?" He said, hiding behind Pedri as their handler signalled 30 seconds until they walked.

"You are here being told you are one of the best under 21 players in the world, and then you get to walk into the theater and see the best person in the world."

"I do really want to see her in a dress."

"I was talking about Leo Messi." Pedri deadpanned, and Gavi was shoved on the carpet genuinely laughing, a million bulbs flashing to capture his joy. He was here. He was 18 years old and on his way to shake hands with greatness. He was walking the carpet with his best friend in the world in a five thousand euro suit. He thought to his younger self, eleven years old and hiding behind his mother on his first day at La Masia. All the dreams he had were now the blueprint for his reality. Barca first team player? Check. Goal scorer? Check. Trophy winner? Check. Beautiful girl to share every euphoric moment with? Pending.

He took a few steps forward, waiting for Pedri to be photographed before he walked down to the end of the carpet, taking a group photo and heading to the microphones.

"Gavi! You look wonderful this evening. Are you excited for your first ceremony?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's something that I always dreamed about and now that my dream is a reality, I am just trying to enjoy every moment."

"Well you have had an absolutely stellar season playing with the reigning Kopa winner here, Pedri. Is it something you're thankful for, to play with him and to play with Barca?"

He looked over at Pedri, whose eyebrows were wiggling causing his serious demeanor to break.

"I'm absolutely so pleased to work with this guy here. He's just incredible on the field and we work well together. Barca is my lifelong club, and I am grateful to play there, to have them take care of me and keep me healthy." The reporter gave a thumbs up, and the boy stepped to the side to allow Pedri to finish his interview, wanted to have company as he entered the theater.

"Taking care of you and keeping you healthy, hm? Why didn't you just say her full name?"

The theater was glorious, all gold ornaments and plush red velvet, giving it a timeless and glamorous look. He craned his neck, looking around for those familiar eyes and inviting smile that had made his life so much worse and simultaneously so much better.

"Pablo." The voice came from behind him, and when he turned around, the world moved in slow motion. Your dress, pale nude and powder blue, made you look like a Greek deity. You could give the entire Spanish royal family a run for their money with the way the bodice seemed to mold against you, flaring out into a beautiful cascade of material. It ended at the bottom of your ankles, your feet hugged by blue heels, an anklet handing off that Gavi couldn't quite make out. Your jewelry glinted in the lights, the necklaces sitting between your collar bones drawing in the eye to the expanse of your chest and neck, and he had to try so, so hard to tear his eyes from this. He focused on all these details because looking at your face made him go slack-jawed.

Your hair was cascading freely, front pieces twirled away to show off the beauty of your feature. Your makeup was simple - glowing skin with rosy cheeks, black liner framing and highlighting your eyes, and glossy pink lips. Pablo knew nothing about makeup, but he knew for certain that if he got his hands on you, he would destroy whatever you had painted on your lips to make them shine. You batted your long lashes, and smiled shyly as Pedri let out a low whistle.

"Wow, who knew you were hiding all of this? Were you looking for husband tonight? This is the way to get it." He offered a hand, spinning you around so he (or rather Gavi) could get a full look, the blue bow in your hair flowing beautifully.

"You're too sweet, Pedri. I just didn't want to embarrass the club."

"Embarrass?!" They both exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

"You're on track to upstage us. They pay you enough to afford Prada?" Pedri asked again, pointing to your shoes.

"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."

A friend of Pedri's came up to whisk him away to another group, leaving you standing with Pablo.

"So, what do you think, Pablo? Too much?" You were nervous, resisting the urge to clench your dress in your fists and scurry off. You smoothed your clammy palms down the fabric as well.

"Doctora, you know I'm not super smart like you. I don't even know the words I want to tell you right now. So I'll use one I know: you look breathtaking." He practically whispered out the last word, causing your head to snap up, eyes meeting. "I think you might be the prettiest girl in the room right now." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing back his nerves and pride. You were absolutely stunning, and no friendship or professionalism would stop him from letting you know.

"Thank you, Pablo. You have no idea how much that means coming from you." You moved forward, adjusting his bowtie as an usher came to guide him to his seat. You moved to the back with other team staff members, waving to him as he walked off. You were independent and a girlboss and all that, but it felt good to have him think you were pretty.

~

"And the winner is... Gavi."

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clapping so loud it was deafening. Pedri smiled from ear to ear, watching as his friend came up to the stage to take his place as Europe's shining star, their Golden Boy. Gavi had been frozen in his seat for a second before Robert pushed him up, clapping him on the back and congradulating him. As he placed his hands around the trophy, his peripheral vision registered the people moving from their seats, standing and clapping for his success. Pedri was smug in his congratulations, reminding Pablo he never had a doubt he would be handing off this trophy to him. And as Pablo took his place at the podium, the gold statue adorning his side, he saw you. In the third to last row of the theater, you stood, by yourself in a row full of staff, clapping excitedly for his achievement. Your smile was bright, teeth on full display to convey the level of genuine joy you felt in that moment. You almost looked happier than Gavi himself. And as the applause died down and people retook their seats, he watched you sit back down, hands crossed over your chest in pride and admiration. He looked straight at you, a point of comfort in the large crowd, and only then did he allow the unbridled joy of being the very best to fill him.

"Thank you. I am so proud to have achieved this, to have won such a prestigious award in my first full season with Barca's first team. Thank you to my family for standing by me in the good times and the bad, and for believing in me. Thank you to the club, who gave me every opportunity to play and show my skill this season. A huge thanks to my coach and teammates for helping me succeed. And finally, I want to recognize and thank the Barca staff, especially the physio team, for all their hard work this season. I wouldn't be here without their dedication. Once again, thank you very much for the honor. Visca Barca."

All he wanted was to run off the stage into your arms, to ignore the questions about his season and his success, but there would be time later. You, on the other hand, were trying to recover from the shell shock of Pablo recognizing you specifically during his acceptance speech. Your phone buzzed in your lap at a mile a minute, text messages flooding in from friends and family telling you they had watched Gavi's praise of you on TV. You sat in that same shocked state until the ceremony ended.

~

Why on Earth did so many people want to talk to Gavi? Sure, he had just won one of the most important awards in football, but they had already played his highlight reel. What else could they want to know that wasn't on YouTube? He still smiled politely, congratulating Luka and Robert on their awards before he was able to catch a spare moment alone at a far table, Pedri pulling up to his side shortly after, also fatigued from small talk. His trophy was in hand, a little less shiny now that every person who greeted him had asked to hold it, the luster dulled by grease and fingerprints. The two stood in a comfortable silence, exchanging remarks about the room or the guests at the function every once in a while.

"Pablo! There you are!"

He looked up at the sound of your voice, but not nearly fast enough as you came barreling into him, arms thrown around his neck and embracing him so tight he thought he might pass out (not that he was complaining).

"I'm so, so proud of you." You whispered in his ear, squeezing a little tighter before releasing him, smoothing the soft material of his blazer to release the wrinkles you caused with your attack.

"I'm so glad all your hard work had amounted to this, and I hope I'm around to see how amazing you'll be in the future." You said, emotion making your voice crack slightly. There was something about Pablo that convinced you, deep in your soul, that you were two halves meant to come together. He was young, passionate, ambitious - a reflection of yourself. And to watch him succeed? To see him soar to heights previously thought impossible? It was something you wouldn't trade for the world.

Gavi's heartstrings were so tight they were ready to snap. He had prayed to hear so many different things from you, but never realized that this recognition, this pride expressed so freely, would be the most meaningful. This was it. This was the moment. Suit on, trophy in hand, this was the moment to express how much needed you in his life in a different way. How much he needed to keep making you proud.

"Y/N! There you are."

Joao's built arm was wrapped around you, smelling slightly of whiskey and Dior Fahrenheit. The anger vein in Gavi's forehead began to make a reappearance.

"Mason had to see you and introduce you to some of the boys." Mason greeted you as well, and called over his 'friend Jude' to be introduced. Jude Bellingham was an absolute sculpture, holding a glass of God knows what in such an effortless manner, his tie also abandoned in favor of leaving his first two buttons popped.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jude. I've heard about you from this one - thinks you're a medical Godsend." He ended with a wink. Pedri could feel the heat radiating from Gavi's side, and apparently so could Jude, who looked up and offered a wave.

"Congrats, mate. Brilliant speech." He said, raising a glass to help bridge the language barrier. You turned your head, quickly translating the sentiment.

"Oh, you're with them? The super special physio that's gotten praised in his speech? I should've known I was in the presence of greatness." You laughed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

"I'm really nothing special."

"Oh, well, that can't be true. I'll see for myself when I'm in SPain next year." A wink. Pedri grasped Pablo's arm to prevent blows. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some of the boys and the staff from City."

You quickly turned around, finding Gavi and Pedri whispering to one another.

"Pablo! He wants to introduce me to some people. I'll come find you!"

Thirty minutes later, Pablo was at a table with his trophy and a scowl, moping on what should be a happy night. After his second turn around the room, Pedri joined him, hoping to alleviate the burden.

"Hermano, are you-"

"Why would she just go with him? Like, I understand not being able to turn someone away when they're in your face, but to go with him?! Why would she do that?" He asked, sounding more and more small and child-like as he continued.

"She was just networking, hermano. Trying to meet people and make connections."

"Connections. Look what her connections have got her. Other guys coming up to her, trying to flirt in the most obvious ways possible. None of them know her like I do. None of them will ever - can ever - care about her in the way that I do. She needs to realize that no one will ever want to treat her right the way that I long to."

"Maybe you need to realize that it's not always the best guy that will get the girl, but the boldest one."

"What?"

"How many opportunities have you had, hm? To tell her you wanted her, to profess your love, to kiss her in her car or under street lamps or in front of the whole world? But you just stay sitting on the sidelines waiting for her to come to you. You know what's happening during that time? A Joao or a Jude or a Martin is taking the risk of telling her she's amazing, and she's going to accept. She's going to accept love that's less than yours because someone else was willing to give it to her, proudly and confidently. And you'll be sitting next to me, twenty years from now when we're both retired, talking about how the love of your life slipped between your fingers. She's here, right now, and you are still waiting. Either take the shot or let someone else shoot."

A fear shot through Pablo that he had never felt before. The idea of you, right now, falling in love with someone else made the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch you be with a man who thought you were anything less than the entire universe. It was him. Pablo Gavi was the one meant to have you, to hold you, to protect you from every evil and show you every joy. You were his soulmate, and he would move heaven and earth for his lover who was written for him in the stars.

He stood, scurrying to where Jude and the others had congregated. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen y/n?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and free from the terror threatening to consume him. He couldn't see your form anywhere in the ballroom.

"Oh," Kepa was the one to reply as the official Spanish speaker, "she went up to her room a few minutes ago. I think Joao took her up."

Pablo nodded before speed walking towards the door, breaking into a full sprint towards the elevators. Please. Please no. Please not Joao. Please not anyone. The ding when the elevator reached the third floor made his blood ripple, and he speed walked to your door, muttering under his breath.

"Please don't be in love with someone else."

He reached the door of your room, paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he would implode and self-destruct if he didn't do something.

He lifted his fist, took a breath, and knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, you opened the door, still in the perfect shape he saw you before, but now barefoot on the plush carpet of the hotel.

"Pablo?"

He peered over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Please, tell me he's not in there."

"Who, Pablo?"

"Anyone. Please tell me that there is no one in there now waiting on you. Please tell me," he pleaded softly, moving toward you and placing his hands on your shoulder, moving one down to rest right above where your heart beat. "Please tell me there is no one else in here. I have never begged in my life, Doctora, but I'm here now to beg you: tell me who is the one you're reserving a place in your heart for. Because I know, more than I know anything else in this world, that my soul is yours. Everything I could possibly give, I am asking you to take it without a second thought. And I have pretended, for months now, that I don't need you like the very air I'm breathing. But the more I pretend, the more clear it becomes: I have never loved anything as strongly as I love you. It is overwhelming and all consuming the way every heartbeat and breath is just for you. So just tell me how long I will have to wait. Days, months, years - tell me how long it will be until I get to love you, wholly and completely. Until I get to love you as you deserve. Because there is no other choice. There is no moving on. Every angel in heaven knows that I would struggle in vain until my last dying breath trying to get over you."

There were no words. Hell, there was no air. There was only Pablo, breathless and shaking before you, his fragile heart in your hands. Your hands moved to cup his face, and the urge to cry didn't consume you. You pulled him in, lips finally connecting with his, and the electricity that jolted through you could have lit up all of Paris. His lips were slow to react, and as you pulled away he followed, reluctant to stop kissing you in fear he would never start again.

"You, Pablo. My heart is yours. I'm yours. I always have been."

This time it was Pablo who pulled you in, his arms around your waist lifting you into him. He basked in the plump flesh of your lips, the way it felt to hold you in his arms, a million times better than he could have imagined. It was as if your hearts were racing in sync, thumping the same beat that reverberated around the little bubble the two of you were in. You shifted hands from his face to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You had craved this, to be so close and connected with Pablo. The kiss was slow, passionate, the kiss to say 'I have waited for you for so long' and the one in return to say 'I'm here to stay'.

Pedri had gone upstairs to look for Pablo, scared he had committed manslaughter, and found the two of you there, kissing in the hallway, arms enveloping each other and lips locked in a soft and tender embrace. He placed Pablo's trophy (his whole reason for finding him on the ground, turning to leave before stopping and performing his duties as a friend: taking a picture. Maybe he should buy Gavi a whole pack of frames.

You finally pulled away, face flushed and lips pinkish and swollen from the liplock. You kept your arms around Pablo, turning your face to hide in his shoulder. You spotted the golden statue on the floor and smiled as you moved to pick it up, stopped by his strong and unfaltering embrace.

"Your award, Pablo."

"You're my real prize of this evening."

"Ugh how corny." You laughed, finally freeing yourself to go and pick it up. You carried it before turning from Pablo to unlock your room door, timidly standing in the entryway.

"Do... you want to come inside?" You asked, cradling his trophy in your arms.

"Do you want me to come inside?" He asked, heart threatening to break his sternum. He had never thought of going so far so fast.

"I mean if you don't want to-"

"No I want to, preciosa. God I want- but I don't want to make you feel like you have to."

"You're not. I want you Pablo. All of you." You opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Dale, campeon."

~

You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.

"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.

"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.

"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.

"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.

"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.

"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.

"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.

"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.

"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.

"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.

"Pablo it's too good."

"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."

He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.

"Open up, pretty girl."

"Pablo, want you. Want you please."

"I'm right here, baby. All yours."

You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.

"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."

He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.

"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.

"Pablo. I..."

"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.

"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Please don't leave me after we have sex."

He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.

"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.

"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.

"Pablo," you whined.

He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.

"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.

"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.

"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.

"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."

You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.

"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.

"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.

"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.

"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.

"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"

You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.

"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."

"I love you more, Pablo."

"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."

He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.

[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano

~

The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.

"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."

His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.

"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."

There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.

"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."

"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.

"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."

"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."

"I hope you never stop."

~

A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.

*~*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 @sideeblogsstuff @halaxxx @berriesaren

[sickeningly-sweet-letters]

Can a request a yandere fashion designer x reader ?

thank you for requesting, anon! i struggled a little with this one but i really hope you still enjoy it! also you never specified what type of fashion designer so.. ufufu

i want my fashion designer to specialize in lolita fashion 👉👈 but feel free to imagine any kind of fashion!

🌻 yandere fashion designer x gn reader!

- a well known fashion designer who was renowned for their high quality clothes in their online store, yet they lacked one thing.. a model! they’d been modeling their clothes themselves but having an actual model would be ideal. the only problem was.. they were incredibly picky with who could wear their clothes. thats why you were so surprised when they suddenly contacted you to work as their model..

- but you just had.. something.. some unique charm about you! they needed to have you. they’d pay any price, just name it! you were oh so captivating, you’re the perfect model! it doesn’t matter if you’ve never worked as a model, please just let them design all of your clothes!

- you finally accepted and you were called to an apartment instead of like.. a proper shooting location. they were treating you like a guest instead of a employee.. but when they finally asked to measure you, they seemed to take a bit longer than expected and getting way too close.. they said they wanted to be sure they measured you properly but was that really the reason why?

- they were acting super familiar. complimenting you, making comments about every small detail they found cute.. the conversation went from clothes to just you. as it should! you made even their worst designs look like their magnum opus! huh? oh right! you were here to model, haha! here, they already chose some outfits! why don’t you let them help you change- oh okay..

- getting their camera ready, some of the shots they wanted to take were.. they were just for reference! this was completely normal! they just wanted to see what angles worked best! they definitely didn’t want a separate, private album full of photos of you! not at all! ahaha! what gave you that idea? ..it didn’t? oh, nevermind then!

- once you were done with modeling, it seemed like a lot of the clothes you wore were part of matching couple outfits? thats surely a coincidence though! its not as though they’ve been meticulously planning an outfit that will suit the both of you! alongside your payment, they insisted they give you the clothes you wkre. its fine! they’re all about your size anyways! don’t ask how they got your estimate sizing though, just take them! make sure to show it off to everybody!

- it was odd how some clothes never seemed to show up on their website but.. don’t stress the details, doll face! they just finished about.. maybe ten or so designs and they want your opinion! these would be tailored exactly for you, after all. well, they’ve been tailoring clothes specifically for you for a while, this is just the first time they’ll be exactly fitted to your measurements.

- hm.. maybe you should come see them in person! its better that way, doll face. just come on by and you can discuss it together over tea! doesn’t that sound nice? you could even model a little for them! so don’t worry about a thing! just enjoy the strong aroma of freshly made tea.. this is what you always order at cafes, right?

- they finally dropped the act when your eyes started drooping, catching you before you fell over. they seemed even more infatuated with you somehow.. you have pretty eyes, my little doll! ah.. they wanna style your adorable hair so badly! don’t worry. they finally let you visit their new and improved studio, isn’t this so exciting? it’ll be just the two of you from now on!

- by the time you woke up, you were in what looked like a warehouse filled with clothes. your dear fashion designer had been quite busy from the looks of it. the sound of a photo being taken was heard and they finally showed up.. they felt bad for tying you up but it had to be done! what if their doll got hurt if you tried to run? please bear with it for a little while!

- they had already taken a few photos of your peaceful sleeping face.. at last, they were free to take as many photos of your cute face! and in whatever outfits they wanted! you had indeed been changed into different clothes and now you two were matching, just like a couple! now, little doll. its time for the final photoshoot to begin! just the two of you.

come on, you signed up for this! didn’t you read the contract? it clearly said that they could call for you at anytime for photoshoots and you had to stay for its entire duration! you’re going to be such a cute little doll for them, aren’t you? they’d hate to hurt their precious model after all!

[fallenartistwitch]

Hiya I have a fluff/angsty request! One night the readers accidentally stayed at Dew’s room but decides to finally go back to their room even tho Dew tells them that they could just stay the night with him n when they walk back to their room they get attacked by another ghoul, somehow either Dew or another ghoul helps n Dews terrified he’s going to lose the reader (but they don’t die)

hope you like it! constructive criticism is welcome also sorry for the bad english :,)

Terrified of Death

dewdrop x reader

summary: that ghoul, he was gone, and yet he was in front of you.

Warnings: fighting, blood, wounds, mention of death

---------------------

We finished to watch a film on dew's computer and without noticing it was already late so i decided to finally go back to my room.

"you can stay here with me tonight if you want to" said dew hugging me tightly placing his head on my chest. His back was resting on the backrest of his king size bed, and i was sat on his legs, wrapping my arms around him playing with his hair.

"don't worry it's ok" i answered standing up and leading to the door." you sure?" he stood up too getting near to me, i hugged him tightly and he hugged me back.

"i'm not a child you know? i can sleep by myself" i stated in a proudly and childish tone. "i have doubts about the fist sentence but anyway, we will meet tomorrow morning then?" he said hugging me tightly .

"Of course darling" i respondend placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

---------------------

I was walking trough the empty silent corridors of the ministry, everyone was already sleeping in their own room.

Those corridors were so scary at night but what made theme even scarier was the bad feeling i had that night.

I felt like something- or someone was following me.

I finally i gathered enough courage to turn around, i stopped and turning around ready to find someone there.

No one was behind me, i let a sigh of relief , i turned around ready to keep walking towards my room.

"AAAaa-" i put my hand on my month to try to suffocating a scream.

So my bad feeling was right, there was someone , but it wasn't behind me, it was in front of me. A ghoul. But not like the ghouls i know he was dressed in black with a hood that let only visible a black mask that reminded me the plague mask.

I only saw him in a photos a founded in Copia's office, i asked who he was and he explained that it was one of Secondo's ghoul « Omega thats how he called him» But Secondo's ghouls were gone now and yet one of them was there. In front of me. Staring right into my soul.

Instinctively i stepped back , a shiver run trough my body when the ghoul grabs my wrist preventing me from taking further steps backwards. I was paralyzed from fear. What i was suppose to do?. You looked around. Think smart, the corridor i was in, was one of the corridor you find yourself in after crossing the garden. The only thing i could was screaming as loud as i could hoping that dew, or the other ghouls could hear the scream but their den was across the garden, maybe a sister a sin would hear the scream? but they are all in their rooms on the other side of the ministry.

You were trying to think on how to escape and yet you did something stupid. You left yourself vulnerable.

a sharp pain brought you back to the reality, you moved your gaze from the empty corridors tho the font of the pain. Your wrist. You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't realized the ghoul had sunk his claws into your skin. You started to feel dizzy, tears filling your eyes, drops of blood starts to drop on the floor. You looked up, those blue yes were staring at you, but they weren't sweet dew's eyes.

Those eyes were empty and yours were fill with dread.

He raised his free arm, his sharp claws were ready to sunk into the skin of your face for then moving to your neck. you were trapped , you closed your eyes and moved your face to the side ready to accept you're fate. You gasped when you heard a shattering sound. The ghoul had hit the wall. Now that might be the only possiblity you had to run away. You have freed yourself from his grip, immediately you began to run towards the garden trying to ignore the pain.You could hear the ghoul chasing after you.

You were almost at the fountain in the middle of the garden. "AAAAAAA" You let out a scream in pain when you felt his claws slash at your leg. This time, you knew you were hit. You slowly walked forward for then let yourself falling on the floor leaning on the edge of the fountain.

You felt his claws lacerating the skin of your back. "AAAAAAAAaaaaaa" You let out another loud scream that slowly turned into sobbings of pain. Your vision begin blurry .

"Y/N!" someone screamed your name, you raised your glaze , four indistinct figures had left the den now running towards you. "dew.." you mumbled weakly the pain that you felt turned into a dull ache not sure if it was a good thing. Your vision went dark, your body fell on the cold ground.

Three of the ghouls crouched next to you as they reached your numb body, dew standed in front of you, his glaze on the artificer of your wounds. The omega ghoul walked away, dew was to terrified of losing you to say or do something, he crouched in the pool of blood next to your body.

"Y/N! WAKE UP PLEASE ... say something please..." tears filled his eyes, he useless shakes your cold body.No responds. "oh no oh no.. oh no ...oh no.." Still no responds, no sign. " we have to bring them inside dew" said swiss standing up, the other two ghouls did the same thing. Dew picks you up bridal style, and they start running back to the den. Dew was behind the others.

"Don't you die on me y/n. Don't you die"

-------------------------------

Is this how death was like? Why me? What did he wanted from me? Am i dead? Really dead? but i can hear my thoughts ..... Am i a ghost..? ..... i want cookies.

You open your eyes and find yourself in a room you've never seen before. It was a sickbay? You got out of the bed you were in . "Ouch" your whole body hurts so much, you slowly walked to the door and opened it. You founded swiss in front of you. “OH you’re still alive thanks to satan” swiss came near to you and hugged you paying attention to not touch your wound, you hugged him back. "where's dew?" you asked, swiss pulled back from the hug, his hands were placed on your shoulders. "he's um in his room" swiss looked worried "swiss, is dew alright?did something happened to him? is he hurt?" "dew is um ..." there was a pause "you've been ""sleeping"" for a little while and he um..." another pause " well let's just say he went trough almost all the stages of grief you know what i mean tight?"

i've been sleeping for a little while?

"i understand it's better if i go check him up" you said "alright but please don't force yourself your wounds are still healing" "don't worry swiss i will pay attention "

you passed by him heading to dew's room. You knocked on the door "i already said that i don't want to see anyone" "not even me?" in the fraction of a second the door opened. "y/n.." his voice was low, his blue eyes were wide open staring at you, at your body, your face, your bandages , like he wasn't sure if the person he had in front of him was really you or just a ghost. "thats meee" you opened your arms, he didn't lost a second and pulled you back in a big hug closing the door behind you. "i though ..." his voice breaks " i though i would lose you..." i could hear tears falling from his eyes "you've been in coma for five days and i-" i pulled away from the hug, my hands were on his shoulder and looked at him. " I 'VE BEEN IN A WHAT FOR HOW LONG?" you're reaction made dew giggled and that made you smile , you missed his laugh. "you haven't lost your attitude uh? " he giggled wiping the tears off his face " you had doubts? you were afraid of me losing my beautiful attitude?" "i was afraid of losing you." he became serious and pulled you in a kiss. Hell how much have you missed this. You pulled away to catch your breath. "but here i aamm, now, mind carrying me to the kitchen? mi leg hurts but i want to make cookies" "you just woke up from a come, your body is full of wounds and what you want to do its making cookies?" "yes." "alright let's make cookies then"

----------------------------------------

dew went trough all the fives stages of grief denial anger bargaining depression and acceptance

but let's add one more.... revenger.

--------------------------------------

Masterlist

[multifandom-worlds]

Still Under Your Spell

Genre: Spicy but not smut

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: N/A

Authors Note: This is a part 2 of @holdmytesseract's fic Under Your Spell feature model!Tom Hiddleston. Give that a read if you haven't yet!

It has been months since I got my Calvin Klien photoshoot done by her, and she has been on my mind since. Many people have photographed me throughout my career, but none like her. I found every waking thought to wander back to her; how is she doing? Does she think of me too? Should I be reading more into our interactions, or was it strictly professional on her end? Was I the only one feeling these things? On impulse, I booked another session with her for today.

I walk up to the door, palms sweating. I have no idea why I'm so nervous; I've been here before, and I've been photographed millions of times by now, but this photographer just makes me feel some type of way. 

Sam was there to greet me again. 

"Back again, I see. You're not the first model to return for my little shutterbug. Go on in; she's just finishing up with another model. I didn't tell her it was you coming back." She spoke before ushering me back to the studio. I wanted to get some photos done for my own personal collections and some to send to my family - at least, that was the reasoning I used. 

I stroll back, watching her work. She was professional and dignified, not the stuttering, flustered woman I had met months ago. Leaning against the doorframe, my thoughts begin to drift, wondering what her lip would feel like, wondering what kissing her would be like. Would she be receptive and let me lead her? Would she take the lead? Would her hands be around my neck or in my hair? Would she even let me kiss her, or does she have a partner? These questions plagued my mind as I watched her.

My thoughts turned less savoury as she crouched down for a shot, her jeans pulling tight against her ass, accentuating the delicious curve. Thankfully, she stood up shortly after; objectifying her like that felt wrong. I tried to shift my thoughts to more benign things, but all I could think of was her and feeling her body beneath my hands. I want her so bad; I almost walked out to prevent anything from happening, but just as I was leaving, I caught her eye, and she blushed. It looks like I’m going through with it after all.

She finishes up with the other client before hurriedly him to the front of the studio for Sam to finish up with, leaving her and I alone. She bites her lip before nervously greeting me. “H-hello again, Tom. What brings you back?” She questions, fiddling with her camera. 

“I loved our session last time; I want some more casual photos done to send to my family,” I said, hands in the pockets of my jeans. I could see her eyes trailing down my body before flicking back up to meet my eyes. This is a common occurrence for me, but I can’t explain why with her, but it feels different somehow. 

She shifts some furniture around while I head back to the changing room to change and freshen myself up. I pop in a mint to freshen my breath while throwing my hair back into a bun and exit the room to see the studio switched around. The bed that was there is now returned into a couch, and several artificial “walls” and doorframes were erected. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. She is an impressive woman; my infatuation with her grows stronger the longer I am in her presence. 

She goes over some basic ideas she had for the shoot before we get started. She took a few shots before coming to me to get my opinion. I decided now would be as good a time as any to test the water to see how receptive she would be to my advances. I look over her shoulder, gently brushing my hand against her hip. She blushed, swallowing hard before trying to focus back on her camera. 

I return to the couch, sitting on the back of it with my feet on the cushions, looking at her intensely, hooking my tongue piercing against my teeth. That got a reaction out of her. “You know,” I spoke, standing up and slowly walking towards her, “I’ve heard kissing someone with a tongue piercings can be quite the….experience.”

She shutters slightly, meeting my eye. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed someone with a tongue piercing before,” she replied, biting her lip. I could see her nervous excitement as she looked between me and the door to her studio. I made it to her before placing my hands on her hips, pulling her roughly into me, our hips colliding. “Would you like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing? And a lip piercing on top of that?” I question, leaning in until our lips were only a hairsbreadth away. What happens next depends entirely on the following words that leave her perfect, painted lips.

“Y-yes…”

I closed the distance between us the second the word left her lips. Her lips were incredibly soft, much softer than I imagined. She didn’t hesitate to return the kiss; the way her hands trailed up my arms before coming to rest on my shoulders gave me goosebumps. Her touch so so gentle, but the implications behind them were so heavy. I pull her closer and carefully walk her backwards until her back slams against the wall, but her lips never leave mine. I ran my tongue across her lower lip, curious if she would give me entry and to my surprise and delight, she parted her lips slightly. 

All thoughts in my head disappear as soon as our tongues start battling for dominance, the low moans that bubble in her throat, the way she arches her back, pressing her hips into me even more. Breaking the kiss to catch my breath, I take in her appearance, committing it to memory. Flushed cheeks, smeared lipstick, I could so quickly get addicted to this, to her. Letting go of her hips with one hand, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before resting on her cheek. Her already-flushed face deepened, and she cleared her throat.

“No one has kissed me…like that.” She mutters, her eyes downcast. Was she embarrassed? Did she not like it? I drop my hands before attempting to step back, but she gently pulls me back, her eyes meeting mine. “Do…can you do it again? I liked it..”

That was all the confirmation I needed.  "With pleasure," I spoke before returning to kiss her, slipping my tongue back into her mouth and continuing my exploration. She tasted so fucking good; I can’t get enough of her. My hands roam downwards slightly before coming to rest on her butt. I needed more; I craved more.

“Jump; I can hold you,” I ordered between heated kisses. She jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist without breaking the kiss, clinging onto me as I walked her over to the couch and carefully dropping her onto her back. “I can’t get you out of my mind,” I growl in her ear, kneeling over her, hands skimming her body and watching for any signs of discomfort. All I saw in her beautiful eyes was a desperate want, a want I was more than happy to give into.

I quickly pull my hair out before returning my attention to her; I want her to realize how a woman like her should be kissed and worshipped. I want her to be mine and mine alone. Her fingers tangle in my hair as our lips collide again, her desperate need palpable. She was enjoying herself, and that’s all I needed to keep going. I will give her every inch of me if she asks, right here, right now. 

She was the one to break the kiss, breaths heaving as she looked up at me. She was about to say something, but Sam’s voice was calling from the doorway, interrupting her. “Shutterbug, your next client is here!”

I quickly stand up, offering her my hand to help her to her feet before wiping some of the lipstick off her lip with my thumb and pulling out a piece of paper from my pocket. “Here’s my number; I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, outside the studio, that is..” I say before handing her the paper and walking towards the door connecting the studio to the lobby before turning back and winking at her. “Thanks for the great session, Shutterbug; I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

[thatlovinfeelin]

Flightless Bird | two | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X OC

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk)

“Penny, my dear, a Bud for me and whatever this lovely lady here would like,” Jake flashed his award winning smile. 

Penny, the woman behind the bar, raised her eyebrows before leaning against the counter, “Does Phoenix know you’re out here?”

“Oh no ma’am, I have no claim to him like that,” Jose nearly laughed, “I just have the immense displeasure of knowing him since we were in diapers.”

“Well then, what can I get you to drink?”

Jo smiled softly, “No alcohol for me, just a soda and cran please.”

Jake turned to his old friend, taking a small swig of beer, “You aren’t drinking?”

“I can’t, actually,” She said slowly, “You asked what happened. Why I’m out here all of the sudden, and where Michael is?”

Josephine took a deep breath before reaching into her purse and pulling out a small white envelope. She slowly slid it to the man next to her, nodding at it, “Go on, you can open it.”

She smiled at Penny who set down a mocktail in front of her and then turned her attention back to her friend. He looked worried as he pulled out a small pile of pictures, staring at the fuzzy black and white images. Jose somehow felt detached from them, still not believing any of it was real. She kept waiting to wake up in her bed in New York and have it all be a weird dream. Part of her wished it was just a dream and not the reality she somehow found herself in.

“I don’t-”

“It’s an ultrasound, Jake. I went last week,” She took another deep breath, getting ready to force herself to say the words, “That’s my blob, or whatever, you’re looking at.”

“Josephine, if you’re pregnant, then where the hell is Michael?”

She sighed and leaned back in the bar stool, sipping on her drink. It took great effort to not flinch or throw up when he said the word pregnant. She caught herself wishing it was something with vodka, instead of club soda. She was sure she would be wishing things like that for the next nine months, or at least she hoped she would. So many things could go wrong, maybe that’s why she couldn’t bring herself to be the least bit excited yet. Maybe she was still in too much shock. Maybe seemed to be her new favorite thought.

“Michael never wanted kids. He told me it was either him or…,” She shrugged, “Easiest damn choice I’ve ever made.”

“Look, I’m glad to see you Jose, really I am. But why come here? Why didn’t you just go back to Texas?”

“To my bible thumping mother that believes divorce is as bad as murder?” She questioned with a laugh, “Not an option.”

It was his turn to sigh, leaving back in his chair. Jake was still looking at the ultrasound photos, even if he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was really looking at. But this was Jose, his Jose. The girl he always looked after, he always kept her safe and made sure she was okay at home. He stood up for her when various ex boyfriends tried to start rumors about her, even beat a few up over the years. They lost their virginity to each other on prom night, in the back of Jake’s pickup, simply because they trusted the other with their lives.

“I have a spare room,” He told her, “You’re staying as long as you need. Whatever you need, just let me know, okay? I mean it.”

“I didn’t come here for you to bail me out, Jake. We aren’t in high school anymore,” She reminded him, toying with her now empty ring finger.

“I’m not bailing you out,” He argued softly, “I’m giving you a safe place to land.”

He slid the photos back into the envelope before handing it back to her. They stayed quiet for a while, sipping on their drinks and just listening to the music filling the bar. After a few minutes, Jake got a small smile, like he thought of something that made him so happy he couldn’t contain it.

“What? What’s that smile for?” Jose asked him. 

“Uncle Hangman,” He laughed slightly, “I’m going to be an uncle.”

“Hangman? Is that what they call you?” Jose’s laugh filled the whole bar, causing people to turn to look at her, “My child will be calling you Uncle Jake, not Hangman. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

He was still smiling at her as he dropped an arm around her shoulder, “Yeah, we’ll see Jose. You’re in Fightertown now.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket and smiled even wider, “How do you feel about meeting my um..my-”

“Your girlfriend, you can say it,” Jose laughed, “It won’t ruin your reputation, tough guy.”

He gently shoved her shoulder instantly feeling like no time had passed with them. Despite not seeing Josephine for nearly ten years, he could’ve closed his eyes and thought they were still in high school.

“I can sneak you out of the back if you want,” He shrugged. 

“Jakey, I’m going to have to meet her eventually,” Jose shrugged, “We can probably bond over those awful boots and hat to match that you still have hiding in your closet.”

“You don’t know that I still have them,” He snapped back. 

“Jake, you refused to take them off that year that you got them,” She laughed, “I know you well enough to know that they’re waiting in the corner of your closet, begging to be worn.”

“Like you still don’t have that mum I gave you for homecoming,” His smile made Jose want to hit him. 

“Shut up.”

“What’s a mum?”

Jake shifted in his chair. His smile changed, became softer somehow. Jose knew that smile well, it was the smile he gave to someone he loved with his whole being. Meaning the small dark haired woman had to be Phoenix. 

“It’s a Texas thing. I’ll explain later,” His hands found her waist as he pulled her closer to kiss her. 

Jose forced herself to look away, instead focusing on the drink that was becoming watery in front of her. She had someone who looked at her like that. But even without the recent little development, things hadn’t been right with her and Michael for a long time. He stopped looking at her like that long before a little pink plus sign showed up in their lives. 

He was doting and adoring in their early years of marriage. He likes to wake her up with breakfast or flowers. They went on date nights that could have been right out of a movie. But all of that stopped so slowly, Jose didn’t even notice it was gone. The romance, the love…it vanished a long time ago. 

“Babe, this is Josephine, she’s now the second most important woman in my life.”

“Jakey, you best say I’m the third before I call your mother,” Jose joked, swatting at his shoulder, “It’s really nice to meet you. Feel free to call me Jose, or whatever you want really. Just not Josie, I hate being called that.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Natasha, more commonly known as Phoenix these days though,” While Jose expected the other woman to shake her hand, instead the woman gave her a tight hug.

Jose tensed, freezing up as Phoenix's arms, just for a moment before seeming to completely melt. Jake watched the way Jose’s whole body seemed to release every ounce of tension. Jake knew that feeling, somehow Phoenix could put anyone at ease.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, what’s a mum? One of those flowers?”

Jake groaned and gestured to Jose to explain, knowing it was a much bigger deal for the girl than the boy, “Well, no, it’s a special Texas tradition. They’re more or less a button with a bunch of ribbon and charms attached, the guy always gets them for his homecoming date. But, considering it’s Texas, they’ve gotten a lot bigger and more extravagant since we were in high school. Used to be, you’d just pin them on the dress or whatever, but now they’re so big they have to be worn around the girls neck and it damn near covers her whole body.”

“Well, I’m going to add that to the list of things I don’t understand about Texas,” Phoenix joked, taking the seat next to Jake.

“Jose is going to stay with me for a while,” Jake told his girlfriend, “Just keep her out of trouble.”

“Like I’m the one you need to worry about,” Jose snorted.

Loud voices filled the bar as a group of people filed in. The sudden noise made Jose jump in her seat. Truthfully, all she wanted was some quiet so she could sort out everything that happened over the last few days. But she wouldn’t ask Jake and Phoenix to leave. She would stay there for as long as they wanted, she felt like she owed it to Jake. She felt like she owed him everything. 

“I’m going to go say hi to all of them,” Phoenix told them. 

“Just keep them away from Jose for a bit,” Jake requested, kissing Phoenix before she walked away.

Josephine waited until the other woman was on the other side of the bar before she turned to Jake. There were certain things she knew he would be able to understand without much explanation. 

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” She said loud enough for only him to hear.

“Then no one else needs to know,” He shrugged simply. 

“I just- I don’t even know how I feel…hell I didn’t even know I could get…I didn’t know this could happen for me until two weeks ago. I mean it’s…I-”

He gently put a hand on her shoulder, cutting her off, “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go outside and get some fresh air, okay? I’m going to let Phoenix know that I’m taking you home and putting you to bed, because you’re exhausted. Okay?”

She nodded slowly, letting Jake help her off of the bar stool before heading towards the door. Jose didn’t realize that she felt like the air was being forced from her lungs, or that the walls were closing in on her. She didn’t even realize the weight from the last few weeks was finally starting to crush her. 

The second she got through the front doors, she started gasping, trying to draw in as much air as she could. It took less than two weeks for her entire life to be in shambles, everything she thought she knew…all of it. 

She turned around, resting her forehead against the wall of the bar. Every part of her wanted to cry. Jose felt like crying was all she’s done since those two stupid pink lines showed up on that piece of plastic. She wouldn’t cry in public, not surrounded by who she assumed were probably friends and coworkers of Jake’s.

But at the end of the day, Jose was still pregnant with a husband that didn’t want her or their child. Michael all but kicked her out onto the cold Manhattan street when she told him that she wanted to go through with the pregnancy. She had to go find a friend to stay with until she could get back to the apartment and get her things when he wasn’t there. Without Jake, she would be all alone. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” A deep voice asked from behind her. 

Jose jumped, spinning around to face a man standing a few feet away. She didn’t even hear anyone walk up, and she certainly should have heard a man like him. He was tall and solid and everything she needed to stay away from.

“I’m fine, thank you. Just waiting on my friend to take me home,” She responded quickly, “They’re inside saying goodbye to a few people.”

Jake seemed to pick that exact moment to come bursting through the front doors, automatically making his way towards Jose, “Alright Darlin, you ready?”

“Seresin is your friend?” The other man questioned, looking between the two people.

Jake, who had his arm around Jose already, squeezed her tighter, “Bradshaw, I see you’re back from your trip with Maverick. And yes, this little lady and I have been friends since childhood, and you and the rest of the boys are going to keep away from her while she’s here, understood?”

The other man just gave a small smile, looking at them from over his sunglasses, “Loud and clear, Hangman.”

Jake gently pulled Jose, “C’mon let’s get you home.”

Jose had to force herself not to look back at the other man, Bradshaw or whatever his name was, as they walked away. Something about his voice felt comforting, it was deep and soft all at the same time. But she made a promise to herself the second she decided to leave Michael, this baby was her main priority. Even if she couldn’t say she was pregnant out loud. This was her choice. She was going to be a mom one way or another, and she wanted to be the best one she could. Even if that meant going at it alone. Because she wouldn’t allow anything to distract her. And she certainly wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone for that matter, further complicate the situation.

[witchersmistress]

Simmering Rage

Hello my darlings!! you are in luck today!! ive got a couple of chapters for you, typing this out on a cellphone wasnt the best but i made do with what i had.

Trigger Warnings: Anger, Rage, Blood and violence, and self hatred

Word count:4.3 K

August pov

 My phone chimes with a notification on the seat beside me. I check the screen. Lo again. I haven’t seen her since my car . After I found out what Harper did, I was in a bad place for a while. I don’t remember much of the rest of the mission. The monster operated in my place, holding space for me until I was ready to come back. When the mission l ended, and I had time to think things through, I stopped thinking about what Harper had done and finally looked at the facts behind it. Of course, my mind went straight to the one person who could have told her about Hockington—Gloria Walton.

They’d gotten close, thanks to me, and I fucking paid for it. For letting a Darling into my life, letting her get in with my friends. That’s what I get for letting anyone close to me. Still, it’s a dick move on my part not to at least give Lo a chance to defend herself. If she wasn’t the one who told Harper, I cut her off for nothing. Harper could have bribed someone who worked there, seen me leaving with someone and tracked her down, rooted through my stuff or Dad’s when she was at our house and somehow put it together. It’s better this way, though. Better not to have anyone around me who knows shit about my life. When Lo found out about room 504, it felt safer to keep her close, to give her a reason not to tell anyone. Even if we never talked about it, never talked about our families the way I did with Harper or any real shit, our friendship was real. 

But letting people into my life is a mistake. People blackmail and betray. And if it was her, if she told Harper… Well, Preston can fucking have Gloria. When my phone rings a minute later, I sigh and pick it up. We can talk once. Just to clear some things up. I’m not going to give her a ride anywhere, like I used to when she didn’t have gas money. My car smells like a swamp from all the times I’ve dropped my muddy boots and rubber coveralls in here this summer. Gloria would ask questions, and I’m not about to answer. “Hey,” she says. “I figured you’d ghost me again.” “What’s up, Lo?” I ask, my voice sounding weary. “Do you use the OnlyPics app?” “No,” I say flatly, bristling at the insinuation. “Why would I?” “That’s not—I didn’t mean you’d put stuff up.” “Why?” I ask. “You don’t think people would pay to see my dick?” “No!” she says quickly. “I mean, they would, if you wanted to put it up. That’s not why I was asking, though.” “So, you don’t want to see my dick? That’s not how I remember it.” I’m being an asshole, but she’s basically calling me a whore. She knows better than to ask if I use an app that’s basically a sex worker platform. I don’t get paid for sex, and I don’t need to sell pictures of my body for money. The OnlyPics app was supposed to be a companion to OnlyWords, which is a texting app with, as its name implies, only words in the messages. Everyone likes OnlyWords, but it has no photo sharing capabilities. So the same company made OnlyPics but it was basically a knock-off Instagram where you can’t use captions and the hashtags are hidden, only used by the algorithms to know who to show them to. It probably would have died a quick death if it weren’t for the sex worker industry, who cashed in on three key features—the ability to add a link to profiles, where they added their payment link; the fifteen-second video limit, which let them put up teases to get people hooked; and the private chat feature, which let them send someone the rest of the video for whatever fee they wanted to negotiate or even video chat for a live show.

 I don’t use the app because I’m not an amateur porn star, and if I want to watch porn, I can do it for free like everyone else. If I need a live feed, I have a phone full of numbers of chicks who would be happy to put on a show for me, and I can do more than watch and jerk off. I’m not interested in that any more than I am this app. “Okay, let’s try this again,” Gloria says. “You remember how Harper  disappeared off the face of the earth when you dumped her?” I stiffen in my seat, yanking the wheel to pull off at the nearest exit at the last second. The car behind me lays on the horn, but I ignore it. The noise is almost drowned by the pounding of blood in my ears. “Yeah, what about it?” I ask Gloria. “Well, I think I found her.” “On a porn site?” I ask, hoping like hell someone just uploaded the video of her sucking someone’s dick from last year. It fucks with my head to think that one year ago today, I didn’t even know the name Harper Avery. It was another month before I would see her giving head in the parking lot behind the tampon factory. “Hey, don’t judge me,” Gloria says. “Your brothers have been out of town all summer, and you’ve been ignoring me. I’m having a dry spell.” I could tell her the twins are back, but if she ran her mouth to Harper, I don’t want her around my house, running her mouth to my brothers. So I point out the obvious. “There are more than three dicks in this town.” “Once you go Walker, you never go back,” she says lightly. “And anyway, I only saw it because she sent it to Dawson.” I’m glad I pulled over at the exit, because I’d probably run someone off the road right now if I were still driving. I grip the steering wheel with one hand and close my eyes. My voice comes out so normal you’d think I was just a guy who dumped a girl and didn’t give a fuck about what happened to her since. “I’m afraid to ask, but… Does your brother always share porn with you?” “No, you weirdo,” she says. “Someone DM’d him, and I’ve been obsessing about her all summer, so he showed it to me. He thinks it’s funny as shit.” “Why are you obsessing about Harper?” I demand. 

What the fuck. Maybe I should have kept in touch with Lo. She could find out shit, maybe even the truth. “I don’t know,” she says. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she just… Vanished? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not worth going off the deep end over, or that you couldn’t eviscerate her heart so completely she could never love again. She liked to play it cool, but she really loved you, August. Like, the kind of love that eats you alive, and you’re never the same again.” “Put that shit on a ninety-nine cent Valentines card. You could make real money.”

“Keep playing, you didn’t feel it, too,” she says. “But y’all broke a lot of hearts when you broke up, not just your own. Everyone figured you’d get back together.” “What’s your point?” I snap. I don’t need a fucking lecture about how much I disappointed everyone. She can add it to my fucking tab for all the times I fucked up and pissed off everyone who matters. “My point is, even if Harper was devastated beyond repair, she’s not the kind of chick who would let a breakup destroy her. She’s stronger than that. You may be irreplaceable even to her, but you’re still a boy. And it would take more than one boy to break Harper.” Maybe not one boy. But one boy who shared her with two more against her will? A broken hand and a rope she couldn’t get free of, a swamp full of snakes more poisonous than her? Yeah. That could do it. “Then it obviously had nothing to do with me,” I say. “Maybe she got hooked on Lady Alice or Pearl Lady or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now, and she’s selling herself to pay for it like a regular junkie. Hell, her mom basically said as much.” “It did blow up the scene right around that time…” Gloria muses. “Maybe she’ll tell you for the right price,” I say flatly. “That’s all she’s ever cared about.” “August…”

 “What?”

 “Look, I don’t know everything that went down between you, but I know what it’s like to walk away from love. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean your heart wasn’t decimated, too.” My laugh is brittle, like stepping on glass. “You’re funny, Lo.” I could ask her, just come right out and be blunt, like King. But I can’t acknowledge that much aloud. The hotel is its own world. When we leave, we don’t mention what goes on there. I don’t tell the school that Gloria is a scholarship kid. I elevated her. And she never tells anyone that I get a room there every few months. Would she risk telling someone, knowing she could lose it all? Even if she hates me, she loves her status too much to risk it. What would make her turn on me like that? Harper didn’t tell that creep where she found out the information. But it has to be Lo. No one else knows. So, I hung up the phone, letting her think this is about a breakup.

 That it’s not about a murder, not about a girl coming back from the dead, a ghost dragging her broken body from the swamp and crawling back into my brain to fuck with it even more. I open my email, the one connected to the OnlyWords and OnlyPics apps by default because it’s all made by the same company. I barely remember thumbing away the automatic notifications I got when someone sent me a message this summer. I ignored them all, knowing they were porn spam. My chest is hollow as I open one from my spam folder. It tells me I have twenty-four new messages on OnlyPics. I follow the link and open my direct messages. The first one is a thumbnail of a video, sent this evening. If it’s from Harper, she changed her handle from BadApple. For a few seconds, all I see is a closeup of part of her tattoo. I take it in, examining it until I realize it’s her hip crease, and pressed along the back of her thigh, an expanse of pale skin. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing. Whoever she’s fucking, he’s got her folded in half like her legs are over his shoulders while he nails her into the bed. There’s no caption, and there are no words even on the messenger, so I have to click on the profile to find an explanation. Apple Cream Pie, $1k/min. Time seems to skip. Some caveman part of me must take over, because the next thing I know it’s five minutes later, and I’m five thousand dollars lighter, and I’m slamming my phone against the top of the steering wheel over and over. I feel it crunch and snap, but I keep pounding it until there’s nothing left in my hand, and the pieces of it are scattered across my lap and the floor. Time skips again. I’m in my driveway at home. Blood is dripping down the steering wheel and into my lap. 

I open my hand and find pieces of glass jutting from my palm in a dozen places. And all I think about is that day my car was bombed, and Harper tried to pick the glass from my face with her tiny, careful fingers. I climb out of the car. There’s a black Jaguar parked on the gravel, a tall figure leaning against it. I walked up to him. Something in me seems to have been knocked loose, and I think I might fucking kill him, even though it’s just Oliver Finnegan, who never goes inside. He doesn’t approve of the family business. “Hullo, August,” he says, his Irish accent distorting the words. Or maybe it’s the ringing in my ears. “Am I in your spot? I can move the car.” “Don’t worry about it.” He cocks his head, his weird, pale eyes taking in the blood on my pants, my hand. “You alright, mate?” I shrug and head for the house. Just as I’m about to step inside, his brother steps out, a black duffle in one hand, probably full of cash or those fucking pearls everyone’s on about. Colin Fucking Finnegan. My eyes narrow, my fists clenching until I can feel the glass biting deeper, piercing through my skin and into the muscle and sinew. “Was it you?” I grind out. Part of me knows it’s impossible, but maybe he sent the photo on his way here, or maybe he took it earlier. I need Baron to find the date signature on a video, if it’s even possible. For all I know, Harper’s dead, and she took those videos herself while we were together. If she’d sell my dignity for a scholarship, why wouldn’t she sell videos of herself fucking 2other guys when she was with me? “Whatever it was, I bet it was me,” Colin says, flashing me a knowing grin that shows off his chipped front tooth. “Are you still sore about that beating you took last spring?” “You know what it’s about.” “If it’s not that, you’re pissed you didn’t get a cut of this,” he says, jiggling the bag. “Don’t fucking push me right now,” I warn. His creepy eyes go smug. “Or… You still on about that whore? I figured that’s what set you off last spring. Everyone in town knows I fucked her first. Are you just finding out?” “Where is she?” I demand, grabbing him around the neck and slamming him up against the wall. “Where the fuck do you have her, you cum guzzling, festering wad of infected dick cheese?” A cocky, defiant grin stretches his lips. “Aww, did you catch something off her?” he asks. “Wasn’t me, mate. I popped that cherry when there were barely three hairs on her pussy. Haven’t touched her since.”

I don’t know exactly what happens next. I don’t see Colin Finnegan in front of me anymore. All I see is red. The next thing I know, my brothers and Dad are holding me down on the steps, and Oliver and their uncle are holding Colin back while he curses and struggles and spits. The white gravel is painted red like the day the Darlings vandalized our house, but this time, it’s blood. “Let me up,” I growl, shoving off the step and wrenching free of my family. I stalk toward Colin, who writhes like a cat getting a bath. I can feel blood trickling down my face, the jagged edges of a few broken teeth, and the throb of one eye that’s already swelling shut. But I don’t feel pain. The other thing that lives inside me has swallowed it, and I can’t feel a thing. “Come on,” Colin yells, dancing in the grip of his brother. “Let’s do it again. I can go all night. Whoo! I feel alive!” I stop in front of him, ignoring my brothers, who have rushed up behind me to grab me if I lose my shit again. But I’m calm now. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I say to Colin. My lip is broken and swollen so thick my words come out slurred. “If I find out you’re the one who sent those videos, you won’t be alive much longer.” I turn and walk inside. I don’t know why I care. I watched two guys fuck her. I gave them permission. I made sure to watch, so I knew I could never want her again, never think she was mine. I broke her on purpose, but piece by piece, I’m the one falling to pieces.

Harpers POV

“Are you Mr. D?” I demand, standing in the Phantom’s bedroom, my whole body quaking. I hold the tag in between my finger and thumb, waving it at him. He just walked out of the shower, his body all steamy, a towel around his hips, mask over his face. He shrugs. “What about it?” Anger seethes through me. “That’s how you knew where I was that night. Isn’t it?” He opens his dresser and pulls out his underwear. I know where he keeps them. I know where everything in his apartment is. But I didn’t know his name, have never seen his face. I come when he calls, practically live here two days a week, like a goddamn whore. He promised he’d fuck me one day, and now he has. I don’t know why it matters suddenly. I never cared before. He nods vaguely toward the windows. “I keep an eye on things.” “On me,” I say, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “You keep an eye on me.” “I told you, I can be anyone you want me to be,” he says with a haughty little smirk. “As long as you’re you, Miss A.” “As long as I’m August’s fuck toy,” I correct him. “That’s why you take those pictures, isn’t it? To send to him and show him what you’ve done to me.” “What I’ve done to you?” he asks, turning to face me after pulling on a pair of sweats. They hang low on his narrow hips. Above them, the ridges of his abs are carved deep and sharp. His body is a finely chiseled sculpture. I’ve never noticed, but he’s beautiful, even without a face. “What about what he did?” He paces forward, stalking, his voice laced with fury that makes me shrink back on the bed, as if he could hurt me more than I’ve been hurt. As if he could take something from me that he hasn’t been taking all along. “You changed me,” I whisper. “I saved you.” I stare up at him, feeling guilty for feeling anything but gratitude. He works out, takes care of himself, wears exquisite clothes to work at his standing desk with three monitors, an ergonomic keyboard, and a fancy Mac computer. I’m the one who should be ashamed. I don’t take care of myself until he tells me to. He tells me to shower, puts me in fancy clothes, makes me look like a girl who could be, in some fairytale in his mind, deserving of him. And he treats me like I am.

 He cooks me fancy dinners and buys me everything I need or could want without me having to ask. He even took care of my mother. I don’t treat him half as well. I don’t cook or offer to help clean up. I don’t even talk to him when I come over. While he cooks, I sit curled on his fine leather sofa, sipping his fine wine. The only thing I do for him in return for everything he’s done is spread my legs. If he’s made me a whore, I’ve let him do it. The first day he bought me something, the phone, I could have said no. But I didn’t. I let him dress me up like a doll, treat me like property, and fuck me like a whore. If anything, he’s shown me he values me more than I value myself. He bought me fucking diamonds. A girl like me, I have no right to even hope for this kind of man, this kind of treatment. I’m lucky to be his whore. But for the first time in months, I want to speak, to voice my desires. “You’re right,” I say. “You’ve treated me well. But I’m done being your whore.” “You’re not—” He breaks off, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s not how I see you, Harper.” “How do you see me?” He stares at me a long moment. “I just wanted to take care of you,” he says at last. “I saw what they did to you. You’re not the only person…” He shakes his head again. “And yeah, I wanted to fuck you to piss off August. I’ll admit that. But I never saw you as a whore. I only gave you what you needed.” “Like these?” I ask, upturning the jeweler’s bag. The box falls out, the lid askew, one of the diamonds dangling out the side like something obscene. “Fair enough,” he says, moving across the room and sitting heavily on the bottom of the bed. “Maybe I had selfish reasons. But I never thought you owed me.

 I know you won’t believe me. I know what I look like. You think I can’t get laid unless I buy a girl diamonds. And you’re right.” “What about your girlfriend?” I ask, my voice thick. He scoffs. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Look at me.” “So you dressed me up and pretended you did,” I say, feeling like some weird blow-up doll. I’ve acted like one. I haven’t been a whole person since before the swamp. I’ve been a doll, broken into a million pieces, and he’s pieced some of them back together—at least on the outside. But he can’t fix me inside. He can reach in, but he won’t find anything to piece back together. I’m hollow. “I never pretended to be a good guy,” he says. “Don’t act shocked that I’m exactly who I was all along.” “But you never told me who you were,” I point out. “You never asked.” “I did.” We sat side by side for a while, neither of us speaking. “You don’t want to know who I am,” he says. “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become.” I could say the same thing. 

 When I tell Mr. D I’m not coming back, he doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t get ready to take me home as usual. I ask if he’s taking me home, and he says no, but he doesn’t stop me when I take his keys. I keep waiting for him to come after me, but he just studies me, his face behind that infuriating blank mask, his one good eye watching me leave. In the garage, I climb into his truck. I’m sure he’s going to come down and stop me. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely get the key in. I open the garage on the bottom level of his building, and I drive out. I keep checking the rearview, sure I’ll see him coming after me. But he lets me go. Some sick part of me deflates when I turn into my driveway and he’s not there. Not even Mr. D thinks I’m worth hunting down. I climb out of the truck and go inside. Nothing has changed. But everything has. Without the Tuesday and Thursday excursions, I stop leaving the house. I ignore the staff that comes in and cleans my house on a weekly basis. I don't care where they came from or who hired them.

 There’s no point. I Don't even return his truck. It sits like an oversized monster in our driveway, drawing attention from anyone and everyone. I hide the keys inside a tear in my box spring, I sleep with a switchblade in one hand for the nightmares that plague my every waking moment, as if my fall from grace has given them permission to terrorize me, maybe they can smell my brokenness, my weakness, the way I can smell alcohol on Duke’s breath. And even though I was sure I felt nothing all those months, now that I don’t see the Phantom, there’s an ache left inside me that he once soothed. 

When I wake myself up croaking feebly, from a dream where I’m gagged, silenced as I try to force sound from my strangled throat, there are only blankets to wrap around me instead of his strong, salient arms. I stop leaving the house, stop doing anything. I can’t remember why it mattered to be clean, to eat, to live. One evening, as I’m lying corpse like in my bed, a tap sounds at my grimy window. I’m so startled I sit up before my brain can kick in and say what it says about everything—it’s not worth it. It doesn’t matter. Turning my head I see a crow pecking at the shiny part of my window. Standing up and making my way into the bathroom, I turn on the lights avoiding the mirror. I don't want to look at the girl in the mirror. I just can't.Turning on the hot water in the sink letting it fog up my mirror, I scoop the water with my hands and splash it on my face.

  I know I should care but I can't summon the energy. My sponsor is gone. There’s no way out. I’ve given up, accepted the fact that I’ll be just like my dead beat mother. Turning off the water and raising my head, reluctantly I look back at my reflection, I meet my soulless eyes and stare. I should want to rage against this weak girl that I've become, to become the monster those boys wanted me to be.. Turning off the lights and walking back to my room. Dropping back down into bed, I looked out the grimy window and let out a deep sigh, I can't stay like this broken doll. But I just don't care anymore..

A while  later, lying in my bed, I think maybe it’s time I did.

[multifanlol]

Hello! I have another request if you don’t mind think you could do a Yandere Calamity trio headcanons kidnaps the reader but the reader either escapes or they’re friends come to rescue them? You can do them separately if you want

Hey! And yess I’ll do them together as it sounds interesting-

Tw: Kidnapping, yk the usual yandere stuff

Calamity trio kidnapping there s/o together but the reader escapes

After Amphibia

You hated this

You hated everything you hated them

You knew you didn’t even mean hate at that point you didn’t know what you thought of the three girls…..Anne, Sasha and Marcy

Your childhood friends

You met the friend group a little later (2nd grade) but you were still welcomed in with open arms

You couldn’t separate us when we were kids even as we aged

When we became teens though you began to notice some…..slight change of habits

You honestly felt stupid for not noticing especially since the red flags were there when we were only little kids now thinking about it they were always a little…..possessive

You noticed how they were your only friends that sticked around long enough, all your other friends suspiciously started ghosting you or just full on said they didn’t wanna be your friend…..

That’s another red flag you should of saw but you can’t blame you right? I mean there was no obvious signs they had anything to do with it…..

You almost didn’t notice there sly smiles when your friends walked away from you

As it went on they became worser but you didn’t bother leaving them as they were your only friends at the time…..

And when you did realise there wasn’t anything you could do they practically had control over you….

Sasha was like the ring leader at the time, lead whatever messed up thing they were gonna do to someone looking at you the wrong or “right” way aka showed some form of “interest in you, Marcy was like the brains forming the plan on how it’d work and stuff and Anne just…..followed along i guess you could say she talked to the person first but…..she didn’t really do much at the time

Although little did they know you actually did make a few friends only a few you met them before Amphibia how did they not find out? You weren’t even sure they usually knew your schedule but this time instead of going to school you ditched it and went to the park instead, call it dumb but with how unbelievably creepy your only friends have been getting you wanted to be away from them…..till they somehow found you at least

You ended up meeting two people there, bonded and over time you trusted them enough and became friends with them

You made sure to never and i mean NEVER make sure the girls found out that’s probably the only smart thing you did….

You remember noticing how weird they’d act whenever you’d mention a slight nice thing about someone that wasn’t them and if you told them you gained a friend? Yeah you weren’t gonna deal with that

Honestly you thank them as there probably the reason you realised how unormal the stuff the girls would do were I mean you grew up with them so you….kinda normalised it

During Amphibia you missed them although it did open your eyes a load of how they were…..too bad now there even worser I mean, they know combat now-

After Amphibia you thought Marcy would of moved that you honestly…..didn’t know how to feel sad or happy? You had no idea-

Although for some reason she didn’t move?

Like did she convince her parents or something? Maybe you should have been looking into how closely the other girls were getting to you…..

Next time you woke up it felt normal…..till you heard something on the news

It was a photo of…..you

And they were talking about you…..dying? Dying during the frog things attempting to take over the world what-

“Just putting this in here-oh your awake! Guys she’s awake!!”

“What..?”

“What is it Mar mar-oh your awake!”

“What is it guys-oh your awake….finally-“

You still remember the absolute shock and panic of your childhood friends turned into all being insanely in-love with you now kidnapping you and leaving you……you don’t even know

Like none of there parents even suspected anything, they still went to there house while one looked after you or something.

You didn’t even understand it and didn’t want to

You didn’t know how to react them telling you that they faked your death so nobody can “hurt you” or something like that and it’s for your own good

Instead things were different glancing at them first there just three teenagers, after knowing them for like a day you’ll learn these girls stopped a whole frog war i mean including you but it’s like they don’t even realise it

This time Sasha was still sorta the ring leader but she was still open to Marcy and Anne’s ideas as even though she was still an insanely obsessive person she still changed with not being controlling and manipulative anymore

She still has major anger issues though

And well the usual Marcy was the brains, and Anne was the heart this time it was all towards you

Deciding what needs to be locked up after every attempt of you escaping and failing, as an example Sasha thinks of ways to stop you from getting out, Marcy helps with that and Anne “lectures” you

You tried to escape, multiple times it just got harder and worser with every attempt you didn’t forget the time they nearly lost it with you after them giving you “everything” let’s just say you stopped trying afterwards

At least that’s what they thought

You didn’t even message your friends they just knew knowing your death had to be false in some way so they were ready to rescue you they just had to wait

Believe it or not you did actually consider just giving up and giving into them but one night Marcy was watching you but fell asleep after assuming you were asleep as you were actually a good faker after always having to do it so the girls would leave you alone you ended up getting a suspicious knock through the window, because believe it or not you still had windows, you needed air after all as they wouldn’t let you out but they were heavily boarded up

You just assumed it was some animal or something and tried to ignore it but it kept on knocking so you checked it out and nearly screamed then and there….

“OH MY-“

“SHH-“

You stopped quickly turning your head and seeing Marcy still in a deep slumber and then grabbing a plushie assuming it was you i guess

They showed you a note which read

“We’re gonna get you out of here y/n, just wait a little longer and don’t make them suspect anything we promise we’ll help you get out of here”

And just like that it begun

And here you are now it’s been months and all you’ve been doing is playing pretend with them and letting them treat you like how a little girl is with there dolls

You honestly felt like months was a little too long

You knew they were trying but you were becoming impatient so until you got a response from them you were observing different ways to escape

You ended up figuring out a way to beat them at there little “game”

You needed to defeat the three keys, brains, strength and heart

Whenever you’d usually escape they’d always be three steps ahead of you, literally

Marcy would have observed the place and see what was tampered with to show that your trying to escape, and would make it look more easy to get out of so that you’d find it believable

Sasha would be the one that stops you from escaping like easily holding you down, doesn’t matter how strong you are she IS meant to represent the strength word itself in the show

Anne would be the one to walk in the room acting like she didn’t know your little plan maybe getting you to tell her something pretending she’s gonna let you go…..she’s not manipulative she swears-

So you had it all figured out….

It was definitely more easier now as you had more privileges it still wasn’t totally easy as Sasha felt that she’s not sure if you totally gave in yet as she feels like it’s “too easy” or something like that

And just like that you got a response from your friends

It was all ready now….

And just like that you were about to jump out the window, it felt a little too easy….

“What are you waiting for, jump y/n!”

“I don’t know it just-nevermind”

“S/o, stop!”

Oh no…

“You don’t have to do this….just don’t jump out the window and we can just talk….”

“There just strangers s/o there clearly just manipulating you”

You had enough of this

“There not strangers…..there better friends then you at least…”

You noticed they had something behind them and you honestly weren’t just gonna stand there

“Goodbye….old “friends”

And just like that you were gone

“S/O!”

You couldn’t return back to your parents for now as you knew it wasn’t a very believable story and it was too risky as that’s where they would assume you’d go first

They never got over you escaping, they looked searched and even told everyone you were alive if they had to

I don’t think they’d ever stop looking

Anne would be heartbroken that you escaped after them being nothing but nice to you….

Marcy would feel stupid but be sad, stupid you outsmarted her sad that well….your gone

Sasha would be angry, would probably punch a wall at least twice a day when you escape, she would also cry while being angry

I guess it’s obvious they’d never stop looking…..not till they found you and if they did well……

Yeah 🙃

And well that’s it tell me more stuff like this you wanna see!! And hope you have a good day/night!

[taiblogcomics]

Just Plane Crazy

Hey there, dulcet tones of science. We'll be half done this series by the end of today's review! Isn't that exciting? I think it's pretty neat, anyway. Let's get into it~

Here's the cover:

Yeah! America! (Please read this ironically.) …That's about all I've got for this one. The covers have been gradually ramping up in interest--standing to running to riding a motorcycle--but it's not exactly the most attention-grabbing thing in the world. I do recall hearing back in, like, the Silver Age, covers with motorcycles and gorillas would sell better. Do you suppose that's still true nowadays?

So, Air Force pilots Dick and Mutt are sent to pursue a drone called War Pig One. The drone bathes them in rainbow mist, which causes them to undergo some bizarre transformations: Mutt fusing with his dog, while Dick develops complicated speech patterns and anger management issues. On the lam from their own military, the pair try to contact their General, which goes south. Things continue going south as they watch the news that night, witnessing the president use a cartoon mallet to bludgeon a senator. As if that's not completely normal in American politics~

So we open at the White House, definitely a first for this blog. The President and his entourage are discussing the previous night's events. The President did indeed bop a senator on live TV, though personally he's pretty regretful about it now. He found the mallet in his desk, and somehow just felt compelled to do so. As if it was the most natural impulse in the world. Ah, well, we've all been there, haven't we? Usually our impulses don't put our number one political opponent into a coma, but we all understand that urge, at least~

Nonetheless, the President seems insistant on pursuing the day's agenda as if nothing's changed, to the shock of his aides. Further shock ensues when his speech begins picking up some oddly familiar overly-descriptive patterns--and then when a photo-realistic coyote and roadrunner suddenly burst into the Oval Office and begin tearing around the room. The President gets more and more red-faced, yelling about the situation as the Secret Service chase the displaced desert wildlife around the room, while his aides do their best Joe Schmo impression.

We cut to what's essentially the same image as the cover without the heavy American symbolism. Just our heroes on their stolen motorcycle. Here's the big plan: they've got to get back to the US to talk to their superior, General Harrier, so they're going to steal a plane. Oh boy, this can't possibly go wrong! Like, even under the best of circumstances, flying a plane from Germany into US airspace seems like a bad idea. Worse if you're already a known fugitive from the military and have to steal a plane to do so.

Meanwhile, speaking of the General, he's called in two of his best to give them the special mission of hunting down the real villains behind War Pig One: Dick and Mutt. Longman and "Zee" Zabarowski are horrified at first, particularly Longman who considers the duo his wingmen, but their tone changes when the General shows them classified photos of the guys shot full of cartoon holes last issue, declaring this to be the direct cause of Dick and Mutt's actions. This kind of ignores the guy who was actually using the gun, but that kind of perfectly tracks with American gun policies anyway, hmm~?

Dick and Mutt put their plan into action, stealing the best plane they can find. They can't quite get far enough to take off, however, and Mutt thinks they're sunk. As Dick desperately scans the dashboard, however, he finds a big cartoony lever and button. Unable to think of anything else, he decides they should embrace the horror of it all and throws the lever. The plane sprouts huge monster-truck tires, enabling it to run over the cars surrounding them, then sheds them once it takes off. Mutt's mostly stunned that they're really doing this, and that such cartoony events seem to follow wherever they go…

Over in the US of A, the President is trying to simultaneously enjoy his daughter's harp recital while also on the phone with General Harrier. Seems the General was the one who signed off on the original Unstabilium experiment that led to the explosion some days ago that got this whole thing started in the first place. The General protests that they shut down the experiment due to veto, but before he can go further, the aides come in to tell the President he's been relieved of duty due to his erratic behaviour. Rather than go quietly and be taken alive, the President runs right through his daughter's harp, slicing himself to ribbons.

Now, while in pursuit, K. Longman and L. "Zee" Zabarowski go over their history with Dick and Mutt. Nothing seems abnormal with them until Longman notes Zee's crush on Dick, which suddenly puts her in a tizzy, screaming "HAYULP! Who's going to save little ol' me??" in an exaggerated accent. At the same time, Mutt notices something Dick shouted while they took off: "Dastardly and Muttley coming through!" He starts to press Dick on who that's supposed to be, only to stop short noticing two things. One, Dick's moustache has grown out rather exaggeratedly. Two, Longman and Zee have located them and fired a missile. Three, the comic's over for this issue~

So far, this seems to be another one of those instances where my recap can't do the comic justice because it is very dialogue-heavy. Additionally, due to how American comics are written now--i.e. geared toward being read as a complete story, or "written for the trade", as it's known--it's hard to react to an individual issue in the middle of the story like this. I have a lot to say about this story as a whole, but less so about the individual parts that make it up. Maybe that makes it a poor choice to review in my style, but here we are~

[mynamefreak]

slams card on table for anything with taeju and angst

Dream

Pairing: Jung Tae-ju x reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: After an argument with your boyfriend, you feel a bit lonely. That's why you decided to look for him. And soon you found him.

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: angst, death, blood, suicide

A/n: MY HEART ;-;

-------------------------------------------------

- I'm trying to solve the problem like an adult! But you obviously can't. - Tae-ju said in a raised voice.

- I can't? I'm worried about you idiot! If you can't respect what I'm doing for you, there is a door.

He looked at you with a cold, sad look. He scoffed which really surprised you and he went to get his things from his room. It was really happening? You have been together for so many years. He has a pretext and is getting out?

You opened the window and lit a cigarette. You were supposed to quit this crap, but this situation was a little overwhelming for you.

A small tear ran down your cheek and you quickly wiped it off so as not to look even more pathetic. You finished a cigarette and you went back to the room where he packed his things efficiently.

- I don't want to believe that it comes to you so easily...

- Easily? If it weren't for you, this conversation wouldn't have happened at all.

He left the room with two large bags and looked around the house.

- I'll come back for the rest later.

You let the tears form in your eyes. His smooth expression, perfect features. It was driving you crazy. You knew Tae-ju and you knew that despite his expression, he hid different emotions under his face. You knew it had to be that way too. But the thought of that unwavering face... you couldn't bear it.

He put on his coat and looked at you one last time.

- If you need me... you know where I'll be.

- Sure, go suck your boss's dick! I'm sure you care more about him...

From the door, his gaze fell on you. He wanted to say something.

- Go.

The tension receded and he left, surprisingly not slamming the door. You closed them quickly, and fell to the ground, knees to your chest. You ran your hands around your knees and rested your head on them.

You let more tears flow from your eyes. You just got rid of the biggest problem and the most important person in your life. You wailed, thinking how much you lived with each other. Thinking how much has happened in your world because of him. Now you were just gritting your teeth, feeling a sharp pain in your heart. You felt sick.

You had some harder quarrels with him. It happened once before that he had moved out. However, after some time, he finally returned. Even though he hadn't had any contact with you all week, you had to hold on somehow.

However, despite the attempts, it was not that easy. Many times you ended up sitting at night looking at photos of you and him. You spent many nights thinking how lonely your bed seems without him. And how dark your life seems without him.

More and more you started to torment yourself and want Tae-ju's presence to give color to your life again. No wine, beer or whiskey was able to let you forget or feel better. Only his presence was able to help you now.

So you were looking. You could check the places where you felt reluctant to be. You could have looked for him in his favorite parts of the city. But deep down you knew where he could be right now.

- Tae-ju!

No answer.

- Tae-ju! Are you here?

You entered the room turning on the light. You dropped your phone to the ground. Tae-ju in a white shirt, slightly disheveled hair lying in the middle, with a knife stuck in his stomach. Dead.

You walked over to him slowly, trying to convince yourself that it was just a bad dream. That this was not happening. That the mind is playing hard with you. You bent over him and after a while you fell to your knees.

It wasn't a dream. You knew very well it wasn't a dream. You looked at the unconscious man with tearing pain in your chest. Looking so peaceful. So calm with a knife stuck in the stomach.

Regret and inexorable despair tremble in your body. Think you will never talk to him again. You will never go for a walk in the evening. You will never be able to hold his hand in a difficult moment. You will never help him heal his wounds. You will never be able to practice self-defense with him. You will never have the opportunity to stand in front of the altar and say "yes" to the only man you loved.

Tears stream down your eyes as you clenched your hands on his shoulders. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be fucking happening! You felt uncomfortable looking at his dead eyes. Dead, cold gaze drilling a hole in the ceiling.

You fell to your knees, the salty drops spreading more and more over your face. You haven't even had a chance to say goodbye to him. The last words were intended to kick him out of your house. You would be willing to pay an unimaginable price to live with him again. So that you could listen to his lousy arguments and even argue. If only he was with you again.

You placed a gentle kiss on his still quite warm lips. It must have happened recently. But it didn't change the fact that the man was no longer alive. One of the tears fell on his cheek as you stared at his calm, lifeless face. He won't come back. Never.

You were kneeling over his body. You sobbed. You couldn't help yourself. Bitter tears streaming down like a waterfall. Your vision glazed more with each moment you looked at your unconscious lover. Happiness rotting like stale food. A heart that is overgrown with moss and rock, closing itself to the whole world. At that point, nothing mattered anymore. You've been lonely for so many years. Then you met him. The man who completely changed your life. You were together so close that you became very close to him. Too hard to forget about him now. Too hard to live without him now. You could have tried to go on living with therapy, trying to forget. But it didn't make sense. Life without your Tae-ju... had no color anymore. And nothing will give it to it. No dream has been able to be so beautiful that it can cure your despair.

You had your handy knife with you, which you always carried in case something happened to you. If someone had told you a month ago that this knife was going to take your life, you wouldn't have believed it. And now. The only thing it could do was cut your throat.

The blade touched the soft skin, gleaming with a gleam of despair. Hesitation passed through your head. Yet seeing the guy of your life lying dead in front of you shattered your inhibitions. Swallowing hard, you gripped the knife and pulled it boldly. Pain mixed with a slight shock filled your body. Yet the pain was no match for the despair because of a dead lover.

You lay down next to the man's dead body, sobbing. Blood spurting freely from your throat, staining the floor. You stared blindly at Tae-ju with teary eyes, as if waiting for a miracle. But it was too late. For both of you.

As time went on, the waning of blood took its toll on you more and more. With the last of your strength, you grabbed Tae-ju's still hand while looking at him. A gentle smile forms on your face. Unusual hurt smile. And your eyes didn't change direction even for a moment. Now it was just you and him and certain death. A death you couldn't avoid. A death you didn't want to avoid. Death was approaching every second. Two bodies covered with dark red, lying limply on the ground. His eyes were on the ceiling and yours were on him. And the blood continued to flow. Like your tears, like a waterfall. The whole thing was accompanied by despondency that pours the chest. Now you could only dream of seeing him alive again. To dream to laugh in his company. Dream to hear the last I love you. To dream that this would not be the end. But these are only dreams. Dreams that had no right to exist. However, you didn't have to dream about being with him in the last moments of your life. It wasn't a dream anymore. It was a reality that, like your life, began to blur. The only thing you could regret was it wasn't all one big dream.

~MNF

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.  

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.  

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.  

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?  

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.  

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XVIII. Seven Nation Army (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 6040

Chapter Warnings: Language, Not full-on nsfw but QUITE SPICY, Some canon divergence.

"You're good with 'er." Daryl said, like the words had just slipped from his mouth without him realising.

You held Judy in your arms, cradling her against your chest as she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. Daryl seemed equally as mesmerised by the baby, as he stroked his thumb over her supple cheek and watched her give him a gummy smile in return.

You glanced over at the man, leaning against him where he stood. "So are you." You told him, but he shook his head in response.

"Nah I ain't." He muttered, his gaze still resting over Judith like she was the most precious thing in the world.

You hummed back, not wanting to break the moment you were having by arguing with him. You wished that things would stay like this forever - that Judith wouldn't cry, and the governor would never come, or that Daryl would not have to leave.

"Where are you going?" You asked the man, as he took a few steps away.

He held up a hand, gesturing for you to wait, and offered a warm smile to reassure you of his return.

"Jus' gimme a minute." He mumbled, walking towards your shared cell.

You raised your eyebrow, watching him disappear behind the bars, before turning your attention back to Judy. You thought that she had Lori's eyes, as they stared up at you in childlike wonder. You continued humming your song to her, now that the man was out of earshot and wouldn't tease you as you sang it. Daryl had suggested sticking the walkman headphones on her every time she cried, but Carol had scolded him for even thinking of the idea. You giggled, remembering the exchange, and how you just watched the two of them get along like old friends whilst you sat in the corner bouncing Judith over your lap.

Daryl came back not even a few minutes later, dragging his rucksack over the floor. He didn't have many possessions to begin with, so you cocked your head in his direction - confused about what could possibly be in there. He returned to your side, resting his arm around your shoulder as he hovered over it to make a face at Judith. You giggled, wondering what the others would say if they had the pleasure of seeing Daryl like this. Though, at the same time, you almost wanted to be completely selfish and not share that side of him with anyone.

You watched as the man fumbled around in the backpack for a bit, before pulling out a familiar, child-size sheriff's hat that couldn't possibly fit on his head. He grinned at you, taking in the way your eyes lit up in response.

"Said we'd give it to lil' asskicker, didn't we?" He teased, before placing the hat gently over the baby's head.

The sight made you want to melt. Daryl began to call Rick over to see, but you slapped his chest and hushed him before he did, wanting to enjoy the moment for yourselves just a little while longer. Daryl narrowed his eyes at you, but his expression soon softened as he noticed the way you stared down at Judith, who was staring right back. You felt like you were holding the future in your arms - and that future wore a sheriff's hat and went by the name of Judith Grimes. What you wouldn't give for a camera; you wanted so desperately to take a photo of her with her brother, and gift a copy to Rick as a surprise.

Daryl had his hand resting over the small of your back. It had hovered there at first, uneasy as usual, but it seemed like he'd forgotten his shyness for a brief moment as he watched the pair of you. You felt like a makeshift, adoptive family, and you wouldn't want it any other way. The hat started to slip down Judith's head, still too big for her yet, and Daryl tipped it back up gently with his knuckle. It was like an impromptu version of peek-a-boo. Everytime the hat fell and covered her face, Daryl would prop it back into position and the baby would smile. You weren't sure you could take it anymore; the entire exchange felt too adorable to keep from the rest of the group any longer.

Just as you were about to call for them, Judy grabbed onto Daryl's finger with her entire fist - which still wasn't able to close all the way around it. You laughed softly at the man's expression, as he stayed perfectly motionless in fear of making her let go.

"I think she likes her uncle Daryl." You whispered, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in your attempt to unstick the frozen statue.

To that, you could see a faint blush spread over his skin, but this time you decided not to tease him about it.

The two of you made your way to the communal area after a few more minutes, and the others quickly gathered around to get a look at Judith before they left. It was a nice break from the tension in the atmosphere, and it helped you forget, too. Rick gave his daughter a kiss and headed outside to test the vehicle they'd be driving. 

Soon, the meeting with the governor would be taking place. Andrea had set it up, like she'd promised, and so Rick, Daryl and Hershel would be heading out under the guise of diplomacy. However, you couldn't say for sure that you believed in the plan very much. As you'd all established before, the governor just didn't seem like the type of man who'd let both sides co-exist peacefully.

Carl had taken his sister from you at some point, and you watched as he compared their hats and made Carol laugh with his antics. Behind you, the Greenes were bidding goodbye to their father and reminding him to be careful, and Daryl approached you under the amused eye of Merle.

"Rick says it's time to go." He told you, affirming the words you'd been dreading to hear.

You put on your best, bravest face and shot him a smile that only faltered a little. He caught it, though - he always did. He pulled you into a hug, and you leant your forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat there.

"Be safe." You murmured against him. "Come home this time or I'll kill you myself."

The man chuckled, which you felt rumble through his torso. You looked up at him with a playful smile and he caught your lips, giving you a quick kiss there when he thought no one was looking. In moments like these, it was refreshing to get a glimpse of the old, shy Daryl - never wanting to be in the spotlight. You nudged him gently with your elbow, sending him on his way with a teasing ruffle of his hair. Perhaps you were being too nonchalant about the situation, but you didn't want to dwell on it - or you'd become a crumbling mess like the last time.

You stood next to Beth as the rest of the group filtered out, and the others returned back to whatever they'd been doing before. The girl smiled at you, watching the way your eyes followed Daryl's back as he left the cell block.

"I'll never get used to that." She said quietly, looking between the two of you.

You thought that she'd perhaps seen the exchange take place, but you couldn't really say that you minded.

"Me neither." You confessed, and Beth giggled in response.

You remembered the jokes you'd shared with her, back at the farmhouse. You'd made a promise to talk to her about boys whenever she was sad, and let her laugh at your misfortune in return. Yet, things hadn't exactly played out like that. Daryl was a world away from those bad experiences you'd once recounted to her, but you somehow seemed even more nervous to talk about him in their place. Perhaps it was because you wanted to keep the man all to yourself, just like earlier - as though the very act of speaking about him would disclose some kind of secret you weren't willing to share. Daryl Dixon was yours, but you felt almost too shy to admit it.

"I used to think that Daryl would be the last man standing." Beth confessed, startling you. "Out of all of us."

You nodded back, letting her words sink in.

"I can see why. He's like a one-man army." You replied with a smirk, thinking back on all the times he had proved himself so.

Though Beth shook her head, seeming to almost disagree with herself. You stayed silent, awaiting her response.

"But I don't think that anymore." She told you, like she was completely certain of herself. "It'll probably be you."

Immediately, you raised an eyebrow, wondering if you'd misheard her. Beth's expression didn't change, so you let out a snort in disbelief - amused by the seriousness of it all.

"Me?" You repeated, looking over at her like she'd gone mad. "Why's that?"

The youngest Greene bit her lip, as if deliberating whether to tell you her next words. Eventually, she gave you a light-hearted smile, as though having finally decided to reveal a secret.

"Because there's no way Daryl would let you go down before he did."

You spent the majority of your time waiting in your cell, trying to keep yourself busy by cleaning it up. Daryl had hauled his mattress into the room, and the two of you had abandoned the bunk frame in favour of pushing the two beds together on the floor - creating a makeshift double. You'd also stolen an extra sheet from the laundry room and hung it over your doorway for some privacy. It was still a far cry from the decor of Hershel's farmhouse, but it was starting to feel more comfortable nonetheless. Daryl had given you some thin rope from his rucksack, too, so you'd been able to replace the fraying string from which your polaroids had been strung up. It still wasn't a home yet, but it could be. 

The last few days had been tense, so you couldn't blame yourself for slumping down onto the mattress and staring up into a starless, stone sky for a while. You followed the cracks on the ceiling like you were trying to create patterns there, and eventually you felt your eyelids grow heavy as sleep overcame you easier than it had done for as long as you could remember.

When you woke up, the room was dimmer than it had been before, and you thought that it had to be late evening. You'd roused to the sound of footsteps approaching, echoing over the catwalk as though the person wore thick, heavy boots. You smiled to yourself, instantly recognising who they belonged to. The metal doorway squeaked open, and some light filtered in as Daryl lifted the sheet hanging there, letting it fall back down behind him as he entered. You greeted him, but he was wordless in response. He shrugged his leather vest off and let it fall to the floor, not even bothering to place it anywhere.

You raised an eyebrow at the man, debating whether to scold him for making the cell messy when you'd spent your whole day trying to make it nice for him when he got back. Yet, you took one glance at Daryl's face and decided against it. The man looked exhausted. Probably not physically, you realised, but definitely mentally. He seemed to have a permanent scowl tacked onto him, and you could make out the frown lines over his forehead even in the poor lighting. So, you said nothing when the man tugged off his boots and flung them at the wall - where they fell with a thud into a pile.

Sitting up on the mattress, you plumped your pillow against your back and rubbed your eyes. You could almost feel the stress radiating off Daryl as he paced back and forth, so you patted the spot beside you and pulled back the covers to invite him in. He eyed you for a second, as if considering the offer, before taking a seat there. Though, he didn't allow himself to lay down or make himself comfortable, and instead stayed sat over the edge of the mattress with his back to you. Slowly, you crawled over to him, before perching on your knees and resting your head on his shoulder. 

"How'd it go?" You whispered, but knew you could probably guess the answer.

Daryl's back was tense; you could feel it. Tentatively, you began to knead your fingers over it, trying to work out the knots in his muscles. Instead of flinching like he usually did, you felt the man relax into you as you pressed your knuckles along his spine.

He growled, but the sound became lost in his throat as you rubbed along his shoulder blades. "It ain't gonna work out." He muttered, eyes closed as he said it.

You hummed in response, more preoccupied with the sounds the man was letting out than his words. It reminded you of being back at the farm, and those days where he'd try to relieve the tension built up in your stiff arms and neck from learning how to shoot.

"Why?" You asked, feeling the deep breath he took underneath your palms.

"Jus' ain't." He replied, but his voice came out strained. 

You ran your thumbs down his spine in tandem, all the way from the top of his neck to his lower back, and you felt him shiver slightly under your touch.

"Okay then." You said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Daryl opened his eyes and glanced back at you.

"Tha's it?" He questioned, like he'd expected something more from your response.

You hummed back, returning to pressing over his shoulder blades. Though, the man turned around this time, bringing his legs onto the mattress as he looked over at you.

"I trust you. And I trust Rick." You explained, meeting his questioning eyes. "Whatever we have to do, we'll do."

Daryl frowned, and looked at you like you didn't understand in the slightest. You did, but you didn't want to burden him any more than you had to.

"We gotta gear up for war." He told you, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to convince you of his words - or wait for them to sink in.

You nodded at him, reaffirming that you understood.

"Then we better start loading our guns."

Daryl seemed to break at your words, shaking his head like you'd answered him in the way he'd least wanted. This time you didn't understand, and ran your thumb over the back of his hand to try and coax out an explanation. The man sighed, and took your fingers in his palm as he pressed a kiss over the tips of them.

"Don' wan' ya to have to fight." He admitted quietly, but knew he didn't have a choice.

You shuffled forward a little, so that you were almost sitting in between the man's thighs. His head was low, and he couldn't quite meet your eyes until you spoke.

"That's not up to you to decide." You said, but did so as gently as you could. "It's not like lil' asskicker can hold a rifle yet."

His eyes flickered slightly at the mention of Judith, and you understood that completely. He realised that as much as he wanted to keep you safe, there were now other people who needed his protection more. 

"I'm not worried." You reassured him, and pressed both of his cheeks under your palms until he pulled a face that made you laugh.  

"I'll be fine because you're here." You told the man, and watched as his expression seemed a little lighter than it had done. "And you're all that I need."

He pulled you into his chest and fell back against the mattress with you in his arms, and you giggled as your noses pressed together. You moved your knees so that they rested either side of his hips, not wanting to crush the man as he squeezed you tight against him. 

"What I do to deserve ya?" He mumbled into your hair, and it tickled your ear.

You sat upright, so that you were looking down at him and watching as your hair trailed over his cheeks.

"Hmm, I don't know." You said with a grin. "Bribe me with pretty flowers and music players?"

He smiled back softly, and took the ends of your hair between his fingers, playing with them where he lay. You felt a bit exposed, practically sitting on the man's torso and straddling him as he just stayed perfectly still, content beneath you. For once, you felt like the shy one, as he rubbed over your thigh with his hand - tracing shapes over your jeans. You thought about his question once more, and decided that he deserved a serious answer, too.

"When I first saw you trying to haul yourself up that cliff, you gave me a purpose." You admitted smally, catching his attention like you hadn't even realised you'd lost it. "I think that's reason enough."

Daryl let the small wisps of your hair fall from his fingers as he looked up, focusing on you completely.

"A purpose?" He asked, like the word was foreign on his tongue.

You nodded, trailing your fingers over his chest absentmindedly.

"Even if it was just to get you back to your camp at first." You mumbled, almost like you were talking to yourself as you voiced your innermost thoughts. "Before that, I was just living day to day." 

You smiled at the memory, thinking that it was perhaps your favourite one. You'd felt so young back then, but at the same time so old. The world had really had its way with you before you'd stumbled upon Daryl and his group. You might have only been in your mid-twenties, but those few months after the collapse had aged you more than you cared to admit. It wasn't until you met Daryl that you remembered how it felt to be young again.

"One of the first things you asked me back then was why I helped you." You recalled, letting your nails lightly run across his chest, sliding upwards to the exposed skin of his neck. 

He stayed silent, like putty in your hands as you spoke.

"I remember finding it a really hard question to answer." You whispered softly, like you were revealing a secret to him. "I ended up saying that I only wanted the chance to be a good person."

Daryl's skin was warm as you ran your thumb along his jawline, surprised at how docile he'd become under your touch. 

"But I think that was a lie." You smiled, and the words felt almost devious to admit. "I'd forgotten what it was to even be a person before I met you." 

You leant down to press a kiss to his lips, and pulled away before he could kiss you back.

"Thank you for reminding me, Daryl."

You looked down at the man sweetly, like you'd just poured out your entire heart to him. And, he decided to give you his in return.

Suddenly your world spun like clothes in a washing machine as the man flipped your positions, and you snorted rather unflatteringly as your back hit the mattress. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, but now he kneeled between them - with your thighs either side. Your laughs soon trailed off as you noticed Daryl's expression, and you suddenly became quiet without having even realised it.

He leant down to capture your lips, but pulled away before you could deepen the kiss - just as you had done.

"Ya can't just go sayin' shit like that an' expect me not to do nothin'." He growled near your ear, and you quickly realised how dangerous your situation had gotten. 

You looped your hands around his neck and pulled him back down, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag along his scalp. He rested one of his palms over the mattress as he hovered above you, but the other one came to your cheek as your lips met again. You could distinguish Daryl's kisses so easily by now; you knew the soft morning ones from the emotional ones with trembling lips, or the teasing pecks that made you laugh - and that's why you could easily tell that this one was needy. 

He bit your bottom lip between his teeth and you immediately whimpered against him, feeling your head spin at how fast everything happened. You'd gone from the washing machine to the dryer without even realising it, and you felt yourself get equally as hot and disorientated.

"Daryl-" you mumbled against his lips, hooking your ankles together around the back of his torso. 

He moaned in response but said nothing, letting his thumb trail from your cheek to your neck, where he rested it over your quickly beating pulse. You had your palms pressed flat against his chest, rubbing over the area and feeling the warmth radiate from him. You wanted to take the shirt off, and feel his skin over yours, but you were too preoccupied by his lips on you to do so. He kissed you with more pressure, and you whimpered again as you felt yourself becoming more lost to his touches. You'd thought that Daryl Dixon was a shy man, but recently he seemed adamant to prove you wrong

You unintentionally squeezed your thighs tighter around him, as you felt your head being pushed back further into the mattress. Your jeans rubbed against his uncomfortably, and you felt the buttons dig into your hips and chafe your skin every time you moved. You pulled away for a brief second to catch your breath, and took in the dangerous sight of Daryl Dixon. 

You realised that perhaps you'd made a mistake - when you looked at him, that is. His lips were swollen a blush red, and his pupils were blown as he watched you, watching him. You looked away first, feeling shy under his gaze. You wondered how this had happened - when it had happened. You hadn't thought of yourself as the nervous one, but you were made nervous for him. 

Without meeting his eyes, you tugged at the hemline of his shirt - making it clear what you wanted. He kissed your forehead gently, and you almost got whiplash from how quickly the man could switch from giving you deep, intense kisses to leaving sweet pecks over your skin like he was afraid you might break. He moved back from you, sitting up so that he was kneeling in between your legs, and pulled off his shirt without you having to ask.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of his barreled chest and toned muscles as he threw the shirt over his shoulder for it to get lost somewhere in the sheets. You didn't get too stare long, because he was back on top of you in an instant - almost like he'd never left. Though, you didn't mind much, because now you could feel the warmth of his skin pressed against your own chest. Softly, you gasped just from the intensity of it, but Daryl quickly caught your lips and silenced it. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the ridges of scars and the contours of his muscles as he held himself up. You allowed your nails to dig into him slightly, enjoying the way he moaned against you as you did.

Even inside the walls of a prison, Daryl's voice sounded so good up against your ear, as he left your abused lips to focus his attention on your neck, instead. You immediately turned your head to the side in response, feeling your cheek press into the pillow and muffle any noises you made there. You tried to stay quiet, but it seemed like Daryl was intentionally out to make you fail. His tongue ran along your neck and you scratched him particularly hard on his back, stuttering out an apology as you removed your hands and clenched the sheets instead. 

It didn't seem to bother the man, however, as he continued to work his way down until his teeth grazed over your collarbone and made you cry out. You quickly shot him a warning look, and he glanced up at you for a brief second before he did it again. It felt utterly euphoric, so you moaned under him unintentionally before you felt him chuckle against your skin. 

You would have scolded him, or pulled a face, but your words felt so far away that you doubted you'd be able to form a complete sentence even if you tried. One of Daryl's hands had wandered to your waist, and then dipped lower to your hip. His thumb ran over the bone there, and it sent shivers through you as he gripped your skin tighter. You ran your palms over his bare chest in response, still not entirely used to the feeling. He stopped what he was doing, probably leaving some marks over you without you noticing, and ran his finger along the oval collar of your vest.

"Take it off." He mumbled, his lips still pressed against the skin just above it.

A whine left your mouth before you'd even realised it, and you didn't think Daryl Dixon even knew how he sounded right now. He pulled back to look at you, cheeks all flushed and eyes glossy where you lay beneath him, and you nodded.

He helped you shrug the vest over your head, and left it lying next to you on the pillow. You turned away from his eyes almost instantly, feeling more exposed than you had in a while. He had trusted you, and you wanted to be able to give him your trust in return. Yet, you couldn't help but feel shy under a gaze that intense. You reached your arms over your chest, like you were trying to shelter yourself from the cold - despite being incredibly hot. 

The man narrowed his eyes at you, not happy with your decision in the slightest. He leant down so that his lips hovered just above your stomach, and you expected him to place a kiss there in hopes of coaxing your arms away. Except, he didn't. He blew a raspberry against your skin and you all but screamed as you wriggled beneath him, and flung your hands out to push him away. 

"Stop!" You yelled, but it had come out strained between a mixture of giggles. 

You felt the man smile against your stomach as you panted deeply, in utter disbelief about what he'd just done. Your arms rested either side of you, hands tangled in the sheets just like he'd planned, but you weren't happy at the cost you'd had to pay. You glanced down, ready to chide him, but stopped when you noticed how quiet he'd gotten.

Daryl's eyes were fixated on your waist, and he ran his thumb gently over the small scar there - as though afraid to press too hard and hurt you. Your eyes softened when you saw his expression, and the way he chewed his lip between his teeth. You knew that guilty look from a mile away, and you wouldn't let him wear it any longer.

"Don't." You said into the silence, lifting his hand away from the little indentation there.

You brought his knuckles to your lips and left kisses over them, offering him one of your best smiles in hopes of coaxing one out of him in return.

"It was worth it." You told him. "I'd take another bullet for you if I had to."

Daryl let his forehead drop against your hip, like he was completely exasperated by the response, and muttered something below his breath.

"Why's everythin' that comes outta yer mouth so damn sweet?"

He crawled back up the bed and kissed your lips as if to prove his point, and you moaned against him - having missed the feeling. You were chest to chest, skin pressed fully against each other as you arched your back to try and get even closer. Your fingers trailed lightly over his arms, and you could almost make out the rhythm of his heartbeat as your chests heaved together in time. He reached a hand down to the button of your jeans, and pulled away from the kiss to wait for your response.

Nervously, you glanced over towards the entranceway of your cell, only covered by a thin sheet draped there.

"What if someone hears?" You whispered, suddenly aware of how loud you'd perhaps been beforehand.

Daryl dotted some light kisses over your neck, trailing them down as he spoke between each one he gave.

"Don' care." He mumbled, reaching your sternum.

"Don' care if Rick comes to tell us Randall's gone walk about." He said, and tickled your stomach with his lips.

"Don' care if Carol knocks to say the governor's here with an army an' wants his fuckin' walkman back."

He got to your hip, and this time noticed the tattoo that just about peeked out over the top of your jeans. He raised an eyebrow, and you smiled sheepishly in response.

"Don' wanna wait anymore." He said softly, and neither did you.

He sat up and rested his palms either side of you, looking down at your face with the most affection you'd seen from him yet.

"Okay, then." You whispered back, and interlocked your fingers with his. "I'm yours."

You woke up to warm, morning light streaming in through the pale curtain of your cell, and landing on your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered, and it took you a few seconds to adjust to the brightness - feeling the tears well up as you did. You hummed into Daryl's chest, lying over it with your palm resting there. You'd slept so well, but you'd woken up even better. 

His bare skin was warm against yours, so much so that you didn't feel the need to pull the sheets up higher to cover you. You rubbed at your eyes, finally opening them to notice that the man was already awake. You'd been tucked in the crook of his neck, your head just over his shoulder, but he'd been looking down at you as you roused from sleep. Shyly, you smiled at him, and hid your face back into his skin. You felt his laugh rumble there, low and groggy.

"You been up long?" You asked, the words coming out thick as you said them.

You felt him shake his head, but weren't too sure if he was telling the truth. His arm rested over your waist, and you had only just become aware of the weight of it as he rubbed his thumb over your hip beneath the covers.

"What is it?" He murmured. "Didn't ask ya 'bout it las' night."

It took you a few seconds to realise what he meant. You shrugged back the sheet, looking at the part of your body he was referring to. 

"I think you were a little preoccupied." You teased, and he pinched your skin there in response.

The ink stood out strongly against your paleness, dotted over your lower hip so that it was concealed even when you wore low-rise jeans. You recalled that night back at the Greene farm, where you all shared secrets over the campfire and the group had seemed surprised to discover that you had a tattoo. Nobody else had ever seen it; Daryl was the first.

"It's a rune." You told him, feeling his calloused fingers trace over the lines so carefully. "They were one of the things I studied before all this."

A small blush worked its way onto your cheeks, as you suddenly felt embarrassed under the man's intense gaze.

"Looks like an arrow." He noted, inspecting it closer.

You hummed in response, not having thought of it that way before.

"I guess it does, doesn't it?" You chuckled, thinking how appropriate it was for the archer to have been the one to notice.

"It's the symbol of the Norse god Týr." You explained, and he watched you talk passionately without interrupting. "Have you ever heard of the story of Sigurd?"

Daryl shook his head with a small smile, already knowing that you were going to tell him no matter how he answered.

"In the sagas, he slays the dragon Fáfnir and carves the runes of Týr into his sword." You said, excitedly. "They're meant to be the sign of a warrior. To ensure certain victory."

Daryl seemed perfectly content, gazing down at you as you spoke with so much life in your voice. It reminded you of that first night where you shared a bed together in the Greene's spare room. Even then, having barely known you more than a day, the man allowed you to ramble whilst he listened in silence. He'd made out like he was ignoring you, but every small detail you'd given during those early morning hours he'd seemed to recall - even a few weeks later. But now, you thought it was slightly different. He made no attempt to pretend like he wasn't interested in your stories, or that you talked too much for him to stand. He looked at you like your words were law, but he'd somehow ended up in a prison anyway.

"Tha' why ya weren't scared 'bout facing the governor?" He teased, once you'd finished your brief lesson. "Certain victory?"

You snorted, having only just realised the irony of it all.

"No." You admitted, slapping his chest lightly as you laughed.

Maybe it was the rune, but it was more likely the one-man army at your side who assured you of that victory. 

"I think this tattoo would be much more suited to you than it is me." You confessed, tracing its shape over the back of his hand. 

He watched you make your invisible markings, and remained wordless as you did so.

"I got it just after I started teaching. To remind myself to be brave." You told him, and this time he was the one to laugh.

"So teachin' students was as hard as slayin' a dragon?" He questioned, and you could practically hear the smirk through his voice.

You raised your head from his chest to look at him in mock offense.

"If I had a student like you, then maybe." You teased, and the man grabbed the sheets and bundled you up in them tightly as you struggled against him.

The two of you lay there for a while, not quite yet ready to face the day. You knew the inevitable would be coming soon, and you wished you could just pause this moment as easily as you paused the songs on your walkman - immortalising it in an old, labelled cassette. 

"A lot of the time I don't feel very brave, but I've decided to trust it more recently." You mumbled, feeling the edges of sleep start to return.

Daryl questioned you, before realising that you had carried on with the earlier conversation - seemingly by yourself. You felt him trace over your hip again, but your eyelids were too heavy to look at him.

"There anythin' ya don't know?" He grumbled, but it was too playful to be considered so. "Yer too smart for yer own good, Sunshine."

You hummed against his chest, wanting nothing more than for the morning hours to drag along slower, and for the night that followed to stand still.

"I could tell you stories of dragons and knights, and speak to you in languages that have long since faded away." You told the man, but it came out half-hearted and muffled against his skin.

"But there are still many things I don't know, Dixon." You admitted. "Like what I did to deserve you, too."

A/N *mic drop* Ok but for real, who let me have alcohol whilst writing this??? Tipsy me gets WAY TOO SPICY WAY TOO QUICK- The chapter plan had way more in it, but I accidentally threw the plot out the window because I got preoccupied *cough*...

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[perrywander]

Chapter 2

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! And, as always, stay weird my lovelies!

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why don't you buy me a coffee?

Link to Table of Contents

Gregory climbed out of the vent as quietly as he could, keeping a lookout for both the security guard and the murderous rabbit lady. When neither woman immediately made an appearance, the brunet snuck past Chica’s room in order to reach Monty’s.

The gator had pulled the curtain open enough to peer out, the tension in the animatronics monstrous frame melting away upon seeing Gregory approaching from the other side of the barrier.

The Faz-watch vibrated in warning before Monty’s voice filtered through the speaker.

“I was wonderin’ what was takin' so long. Get lost?” The gator’s casual drawl was unmistakable, but Gregory was looking right at Monty and the animatronic’s mouth didn’t move as the snarky comment rang out.

Which, creepy.

“No. Shut up.” The brunet grumbled. So what if he might’ve gotten distracted by Chica shredding on her guitar? Monty didn’t need to know that.

“Well get a move on, kid. Closin' time 's in thirty minutes.” Monty urged, the gator stepping away from the glass. The darkness of the room swallowed the animatronic, only its glowing eyes remaining visible through the gap in the curtains. Gregory hurried around the corner and stopped in front of the door, but nothing happened.

“Uh... Monty? It’s not opening.” The brunet haltingly spoke into the Faz-watch, eyeing the barrier with growing trepidation.

“So ya don’t got a photo pass then. Shouldn’t have assumed ya did seein' as ya weren’t registered. My bad, kid.” The gator didn’t sound upset or angry, which was strange considering how hostile it was earlier while trashing its room.

“Is there a way that I can get a photo pass?” The brunet asked and there was a beat of silence, Gregory fearing the worst. But it turned out that the animatronic was just leafing through its data bank to find where the needed pass might be, which was a relief.

“There’s one at the nearest convenience counter. It’s close by so ya shouldn’t have any trouble findin' it.” Monty relayed and the brunet sucked in a fortifying breath, turning away from the door to scan his surroundings for something that might give him a hint as to where said convenience counter might be. “There’s a slightly open door near the end of the hall. Go in an' the pass should be in front of a Freddy cutout.” Monty added and suddenly Gregory felt a lot less alone.

“Okay. Thanks.”

The brunet took off, crouching behind numerous objects whenever he started to get too twitchy about being out in the open. His Faz-watch remained silent as he found the mentioned door, ducking under the partially raised metal shutter to get inside. He saw what Monty had been talking about almost immediately, hurrying over to the present and hastily cranking the handle on the side until it popped open.

“I got it. On my way back.” Gregory made sure to keep the gator updated on what was going on, making his way back toward Monty’s room after the animatronic responded with an affirmative.

The brunet arrived without incident and waved the barcode on the pass over the scanner, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Gregory squinted into the darkness beyond as he stuffed the pass into his front pocket, anxiously looking for those burgundy eyes to no avail.

“'M right here, kid. I jus' put on my shades.” Monty drawled, the brunet leaping back with an inelegant squawk as the animatronic suddenly emerged from the shadows within. The brunet placed a palm over his racing heart with an exasperated sigh as the gator came to a stop in front of Gregory with a smug aura.

“You suck.” The brunet muttered petulantly, the insult drawing a laugh from Monty. And, true to the animatronics word, the gator was now wearing a pair of star-shaped sunglasses that concealed its eyes.

They would look tacky on anyone else, but Monty somehow pulled them off.

“Let’s rock an’ roll!” The gator declared before -to Gregory’s surprise- his stomach hatch dropped open, the brunet’s brows furrowing in confusion.

“But I thought you said that it wasn’t safe in there?” Gregory tentatively reminded, puzzled as to what might have changed Monty’s mind about that particular method of transportation. The gator tilted its head as it gestured to the empty cavity with a clawed hand, patiently offering an explanation.

“Not only would we move faster this way, but that lady who’s after ya won’t be able ta find ya as easily if you’re hidin’ in here.” Monty reasoned and the brunet relented because that actually made sense, so he clambered into the available space with the gator’s diligent assistance and got into a more or less comfortable position before the hatch door sealed him in. 

A minute or so into their journey, the quiet started buzzing in Gregory's ears and the air seemed to thin. His throat clicked when he swallowed, reminding himself that the walls were not closing in on him and he could breathe just fine.

“So... where are we heading? The main entrance?” The brunet broke the silence, not liking how unsteady his voice sounded to his own ears. Though he didn’t have to worry because, if the gator noticed how strained Gregory’s question was, the animatronic didn’t comment on it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s probably what the lady who’s after ya ‘s anticipatin'. You’re gettin' out through an employee exit, it’s safer.” Monty scoffed and the brunet shrunk back, curling up in order to make himself impossibly smaller.

“Right. Sorry.” Gregory mumbled and the rhythmic steps paused, the brunet only having a second or so to wonder if he was supposed to get out because they were at their destination, before the gator started walking again.

“Ya don’t need ta apologize for wantin' ta know the plan, kid.” Monty grunted, tone low and gentle in a way that no adult ever was with him.

Gregory blinked owlishly, something in his chest clenching uncomfortably at the kindness that this so-called ‘unfeeling machine’ was extending to him. The familiar ache stole his ability to speak, but the gator didn’t push him to, so the brunet decided that it was okay to have this moment of weakness.

“This’ll be a bit loud, kid.” Monty warned before the sound of metal being mauled rang out. Gregory braced himself as best he could when the ride became considerably more bumpy, the gator descending down what he assumed to be the staircase that would lead to the maintenance tunnels underneath the Pizzaplex.

They were a few flights down when they heard a woman call out, the brunet recognizing her as the blond security guard that was searching for him.

“She’s down here! We have to go back!” Gregory smacked at the hatch, a lump of fear lodging in his throat when the gator didn’t immediately heed his demand.

“You’re safe with me, kid. She’s not gonna getcha as long as I’m around. Promise.” Monty vowed and the brunet could hear the animatronic’s hand briefly pat the compartment that Gregory was tucked in, the sound of plastic on plastic unmistakable. The brunet sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm because freaking out wouldn’t help.

“Alright.” Gregory said on an exhale, significantly more calm but no less nervous about continuing on now that he knew that the security guard was nearby.

Soon enough, they hit flat ground and the brunet sighed when he was no longer getting uncomfortably jostled with each step.

“How much farther-”

Gregory was cut off when the gator’s voice box produced a strange hiss, the brunet quieting more out of incredulous confusion than anything else.

“Hush, kid. I hear somethin'.” Monty murmured and Gregory strained his ears in an attempt to catch whatever the gator had picked up on, but his weak human ears came up with a whole lot of nothing other than his own breathing and Monty’s steady footsteps.

Although the silence didn’t last long, the concrete below crumbled as the animatronic ground to a startled halt before jerking back like the gator had been surprised by something. The brunet quietly shifted, pressing his ear against the hatch door.

“What are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be in your room.” The security guard demanded, sounding equal parts bewildered and frustrated.

Gregory flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut because he was sure that this was going to be the moment that Monty’s programming finally kicked in.

“Last I checked, stickin’ your nose in what I do durin’ my free roam time was above your paygrade, Vanessa.” Monty sneered, an alarming amount of animosity dripping from his words.

So… did that mean that the animatronic wasn’t going to hand Gregory over to the woman?

“Whatever, I don't have time to argue with you. There’s a kid running around the Pizzaplex and it’s fifteen minutes till closing.” Vanessa huffed, tone colored with irritation.

“So?” Monty growled, sounding just as annoyed with the whole conversation as the security guard.

“So keep a lookout for him, let me know if you see anything or I’ll make sure you get scrapped.” Vanessa barked, losing her temper. But the gator merely laughed, not intimidated in the least.

“You wish.” Monty snorted, the tension in the air stifling as the animatronic leaned forward a bit. Not enough to cause problems in the hatch for Gregory, but enough to probably get into Vanessa’s personal space.

“But know that if ya ever threaten me again, you’re goin’ ta have a real nasty accident.” The warning was filled with barely-restrained rage and the brunet couldn’t imagine having such wrath aimed at him, especially if it was Monty.

“What? Like Bonnie did?” Vanessa retorted and there was a loaded pause, Gregory waiting for something -anything- to happen with baited breath.

“Exactly.” The gator snarled before he smoothly sidestepped where the brunet assumed the security guard was standing and stormed further down the hall. Gregory stayed quiet until Monty tapped what sounded like his knuckles against the hatch, signaling that the coast was clear.

“She’s kind of a bitch.” The brunet blurted and the gator chuckled, the sound making Gregory’s mouth split into a wicked grin. The ache flared up in his chest again, but it was easy enough to ignore the sensation now that he knew to expect it.

“So it’s not jus' me who thinks that. Good ta know.” Monty huffed and the brunet was relieved that the animatronic appeared to be back to his usual self, the last of the remaining hostility dissipating.

“Where are we now?” Gregory asked, itching to get out and stretch his legs. The brunet knew it was a bad idea to ask since Vanessa might still be snooping around in the area, but maybe talking to the gator would distract him.

“We’re in those utility tunnels that I mentioned earlier, they connect all the attractions.” Monty hummed, indulging Gregory in a bit of pointless conversation. Chatting with the gator was... nice.

“We can go anywhere in the building?” The brunet was amazed by the mere concept of accessing anything and everything at a whim, but Monty didn’t seem nearly as impressed as Gregory was.

“That’s the idea, kid.” The gator drawled lazily, the duo taking more turns than the brunet could keep up with.

However, their progress was brought to an abrupt halt when Monty suddenly stopped dead in his tracks without warning, posture stiff.

“Wait, what? How's my power low already? I should have hours of charge left.” The animatronic’s confusion at the discovery was palpable, dread sinking in Gregory’s stomach like a heavy stone.

“Low power? Are you going to shut down?” The brunet timidly asked, fearing the answer.

If Monty deactivated, Gregory would have to navigate this place all on his own, being forced to try and find a way out of this nightmare completely and utterly alone.

“Not if we find us a chargin’ station. Sorry kid, but we’re gonna have ta turn around.” The gator sounded more regretful over the fact that they would have to backtrack than worried about the whole shutting down thing that was looming over the animatronic’s head.

“That’s fine, your wellbeing is important too.” Gregory’s mouth formed the damning words before he could stop himself, the statement betraying his steadily growing attachment to the robot.

“Hang onta somethin’, kid.” Monty warned and the brunet braced, the gator tearing back the way that they had come with a speed that no human could ever hope to compete with. They hit the stairs at a full sprint, the gator thundering up them four at a time in order to reach the nearest charging station.

Suddenly, there was the sound of metal scraping against concrete before Monty’s pace slowed, indicating that they had made it.

“Okay, kid. Hop on out. It should only take me around twenty minutes ta get back ta full power, but ya can’t be in there with me.” The gator explained as the hatch folded open, the brightness of the lights outside causing the brunet to squint as he climbed out.

“I’ll talk ta ya on that fancy watch of yours, keep track of ya.” Monty assured, reaching out to ruffle Gregory’s hair. The brunet frowned as he crunched the numbers, hands curling into fists.

“But the Pizzaplex closes in just a few minutes... I’ll be gone by the time you’re charged.” Gregory murmured and the gator’s hand stilled, merely resting on top of his wild mop of brown locks.

“I know.” Monty said simply and the brunet bit his lip to stop the way it wobbled, eyes burning because he actually liked the gator. Monty had been nothing but nice and helpful and honest where others had only stabbed Gregory in the back.

And even if Monty was merely programmed to be kind to children, that was fine because it was still genuine seeing as he had assisted the brunet without expecting anything in return.

“I... guess this is goodbye then.” Gregory managed to choke out, holding back a dam of emotions using pure willpower alone. However, it seemed that Monty was more observant than one might think because his shoulders slumped, mouth opening and closing a few times.

“Yeah, guess so. Take care, Rockstar.” Monty settled on at last, moving over to the charging station -with Gregory helplessly trailing after the animatronic- and stepping inside.

The door closed once the gator entered, separating them. Monty stared down at him through the circular glass window, offering a lackluster wave farewell. The brunet returned the gesture with matching enthusiasm before shifting back, forcing himself to turn away from the charging station and exit the nearest set of bright red double doors.

Gregory didn’t look back, didn’t allow the tears to fall until the doors swung shut behind him.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 20

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 Hopefully you’ve guessed by now that is my “Billy Russo Deserves Real Love AU” as I totally refuse to accept what happened in S2! The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

You’d just realised that - despite his little caveman episode earlier on - you didn’t ever want any man except Billy in your life.

Still gazing into his dark chocolate eyes, you heard yourself saying, “I think I’ll have that ring, please.”

You really wished you’d had your phone in your hand to take a photo of Billy’s face, because it was what they call ‘a picture’.

Never had you seen his mouth drop open so wide. He gaped at you for what felt like minutes, until he stuttered, “Th... the ring???” You nodded, “Yeah.”

He grabbed your hand and stood up, moving quickly out of the booth and dragging you along with him. Glancing at the waitress, who was looking very surprised, he said happily, “Sorry, miss. We’re gonna have to leave. Sorry ‘bout that.” She shrugged and turned away as Billy rushed to the door, you in tow.

Once outside you huffed, “Billy! Slow down! And what about lunch?!” “Nah, nah, nah. Lunch’s gonna have to wait!” “But I’m starving!” “Angel, I’ll get you lunch soon, I promise ya. Right now? I need to get you back to the apartment. Get that ring on your finger ‘fore you change your mind!”

He continued moving along the sidewalk at speed, gripping your hand tightly almost like he thought you’d try to get away. You were beginning to pant slightly as he was going at such a rate, his long legs eating up the sidewalk, and you laughed breathlessly, “Seriously, Billy, slow down!” He dropped back ever so slightly, “Nearly there, angel,” he grinned at you.

Eventually you arrived back at his apartment, Billy throwing open the door and then slamming it behind the two of you. Just as well he doesn’t have neighbours up here, you thought, otherwise they wouldn’t be very happy.

The next second, Billy’s mouth was on yours in a fiery kiss. He broke away, “Wait there, wait there!” He almost bounced over to the kitchen table and grabbed the ring box. Meanwhile, you were smiling at his goofy schoolboyish enthusiasm. Then he was back in front of you and dropping to one knee again, but this time looking happy as a clam. The ring box was held up towards you, open on this occasion, and its occupant sparkled at you as it caught the light.

A bit out of breath, he said your name in a serious tone before continuing, “....I’ve said all this to you before, but I’ll say it over and over again. As many times as you need me to say it. I want you in my life.... I’ll always want you in my life, angel. I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t be without you.” The dark eyes stared intently into yours, “Will you marry me? Please?”

This time you reached out and stroked the hand which was holding the ring box, “Yes, Billy.... I will.”

The smile which appeared on his face would’ve put the sun to shame. He leapt up, fumbling a bit as he took the ring out of the box, taking hold of your hand and sliding it onto your waiting finger. It fitted perfectly. How’d he manage that? you thought.

But when you met Billy’s eyes they were full of tears. You immediately reached up and stroked his face, “Billy.... you’re crying.” He sucked in a big breath and wiped a hand across his eyes, pulling you into his arms and just holding you close.

“Thank you,” he whispered next to your ear. “I really hope you don’t feel like I pressurised you into this, angel. It means so much to me that you said yes. But just ‘cause I wanted it so bad doesn’t mean I ignored what you said before. Hey, we can still get to know each other while you’re wearin’ that ring on your finger. I just wanted something that said to the world you’re mine.”

“Big sap,” you smiled against his chest. He chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve already admitted I am,” before tipping your chin up with one long finger. His lips hovered over yours, “You’re my fiancée now.” You nodded, “Yes I am.” His mouth gently met yours and he kissed you... softly, slowly, with love.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a prolonged and passionate kissing session on Billy’s sofa, you two finally made it back out for lunch. Which mightily pleased you, as you were absolutely starving by now. Billy had your hand in his and he was happily swinging both your arm and his backwards and forwards as you two walked back to the same diner you’d been in earlier.

He’d asked if you wanted to go elsewhere, but you just couldn’t face going even a little bit further away - you were sure you’d faint from hunger if you did.

The same waitress looked round from where she was leaning on the counter as you and Billy went back in, and tracked you over to the same booth you’d occupied before. Whipping out her notepad and pen, she was once again drinking in Billy with her eyes and ignoring you so a bit pettily, you picked up the menu with a flourish so that the diamonds in your ring flashed as they caught the light.

Her eyes were drawn to it - as you’d expected them to be - and widened quite noticeably. Billy was smirking at you, as he knew exactly what you were doing. He repeated almost the same thing he’d said earlier, “And my fiancée will have.....”

You hid a grin and ordered steak and chips, and Billy smiled “I’ll have the same,” at the waitress, before switching his gaze back to you a millisecond later. She looked at you, her mouth set in an irritated line and turned on her heel without another word. “And two beers, please,” you called after her. “Okay,” she said over her shoulder. You grinned over at your fiancé - your stomach leapt as you thought of him as that for the first time - “Y’know, if she worked for me, I’d fire her.” Billy nodded, smirking, “I know you would, angel. And not just ‘cause she’s got the hots for your fiancé.”

You swiped the menu at his his head, and he ducked out of the way with a joyous chuckle. You could tell that Billy was almost incandescent with happiness, and you felt glad that you’d made him really smile again.

While waiting on your food, you had a ‘brilliant’ idea. With Billy watching on with an amused smirk on his face, you took a photo of your ring and sent it to Karen.

About 10 seconds later, your phone rang and you answered it to a long loud shriek of “Ohmygod-Ohmygod-Ohmygod!” “Hi Karen,” you replied, holding the phone away from your ear and smiling at Billy.

She took a breath before saying, “So you did it! What happened to slowing down and waiting a little bit, then?!” You laughed, putting the phone on speaker, “I came round to Billy’s way of thinking.” You heard a chuckle from her, then Frank’s voice in the background, “Whass goin’ on?” Karen filled him in on the new development, he yelled something unintelligible and then suggested you all meet up for a celebratory drink. “Did you hear that?” asked Karen, “Wanna meet up for a drink?”

You looked over at Billy with a raised eyebrow, he nodded, so you said to Karen you’d meet the two of them at a bar halfway between the two neighbourhoods.

After consuming your late lunch faster than the speed of light, you and Billy headed out from the diner (you couldn’t resist giving the waitress the brightest smile as she frowned over at you while Billy paid) and walked to the bar to meet your two friends. Just as you approached it, a body slammed into you and two arms got you in a bear hug. Initially freezing in shock, you relaxed as you heard Karen squealing into your ear.

You managed to extricate yourself and as you did so, she grabbed your left hand, pulling it up to her face and squealing again, “Oh...! oh my god, it looks so good on you!” Grinning, you replied, “Why thank you,” as you made your way into the bar. Heading to an empty table, Frank went to the bar and ordered a bottle of champagne, returning to the table with it in an ice bucket. “Didn’t really see Frank as a champagne kinda guy,” you whispered to Karen. She and Billy grinned as Frank said. “I heard that!” and you looked at him apologetically, “C’mon, Frank, when was the last time you drank champagne?” He smiled, but a bit sadly, “At my wedding.”

Oh no, you thought, feeling instantly guilty. However Frank laughed now, “But if this isn’t a good time to take my second hit of champagne, I don’t know what is!” He glanced fondly over at Billy, who seemed to have a permanent smile on his face, then back at you, shaking his head and smiling, “You two.... I can’t keep up with you!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After several pleasant hours of drinking, chatting and laughing, you’d all eventually left the bar and gone your separate ways. Billy was now mildly tipsy, and insisted on walking down the street with both arms wrapped right around you. Which was fine until you met people coming in the other direction, meaning you had to dodge round them in an awkward dance, pulling Billy this way and that while he just clung onto you like an extra-large koala bear.

Back at his place, you were amused to see Billy’s eyes beginning to close drowsily, so despite all the filthy promises he’d been whispering into your ear the entire walk back, you two ended up just falling into bed and going to sleep.

You weren’t sure how many hours later, but you started to surface from your deep sleep as you suddenly became aware of hands on your breasts and something hard between your legs. Your eyes slowly opened to see Billy’s big dark eyes looking down into yours and then his hand found its way to your ring finger, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Billy had somehow managed to part your legs and manoeuvre himself between them while you were sleeping on your side. Realising that Billy was already inside you and beginning to thrust, you whispered, “Billy, you cheeky big devil!!! I’m not awake yet,” but you only heard a low laugh from him as he carried on making love to you.

He was nuzzling into your neck, kissing and licking so you decided to take what was yours and grabbed two handfuls of his hair, pulling on it. He laughed out loud, “I guess you get to do that whenever you like now,” and thrust extra deep, making you gasp. “Definitely,” you managed to say as he rolled you over onto your back and pulled your knees up. His lips moved to your breasts, and your head went back onto the pillows as his tongue did its best work.

Suddenly he hit your sweet spot, and you hauled on his hair like you were trying to rein in a runaway horse, hearing an answering “Ow!” from him. You were just smirking to yourself when your climax hit you, and your mind went blank as you became completely immersed in it. Billy kept up his fast pace until you felt him shudder and release into you, his mouth biting down on your shoulder.

He moved onto his back, but somehow managing to stay inside you for the moment even as he softened. “Sweetheart.... you know I’m happy that you like my hair, but I truly don’t wanna be bald!” he laughed as he tried to get his breath back.

“I’ll buy you a wig!” you replied, “...sorry, Billy... not gonna stop pulling your hair, you know I’m not.”

Billy smiled lazily over at you, eyes staring into yours as he pulled slowly out of you, saying happily, “Yeah, angel, don’t worry... I know you’re not!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After breakfast, which involved a certain amount of kissing as well as the food items, you said to Billy that you needed to go shopping. You were just finishing a catch-up text with Jake, and noticed Billy reaching for his jacket. “No!” you blurted out, and he looked over at you in confusion and with a slightly hurt look on his face.

Billy seemed to need to be physically attached to you right now; he couldn’t stop stroking, touching, hugging, kissing you (with some licking thrown in there for good measure), so he looked really disappointed that you were insisting on going on your own. “I’ve just got a couple of extremely boring things to pick up, poppet and I don’t want to inflict that on you,” you soothed, going over to him for yet another long kiss.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he grumbled, “...how long you gonna be?” You stroked his face, “Not long, I promise.” A slightly happier look on his face, he sprawled out on the sofa and switched on the TV, so you sang out, “Bye!” and made your escape, a satisfied little smirk on your face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Twenty minutes later, you were in Harry Winston’s Fifth Avenue store. The sales assistant was looking at you as if you’d been let out of a psychiatric unit for the day. You’d just handed her a ring made of out of a sliver of Post-It note, rolled up and sellotaped together. She took it from you, holding it between two fingers as if it might bite her.

You sighed, and decided to explain the situation to her as otherwise you didn’t think she’d take you seriously. “Look, my fiancé got me this ring....” extending your rock-laden finger towards her, “... but it was a complete surprise.” She now gave you a warm smile, recognising one of their very expensive engagement rings.

“And I want to get him a ring,” you carried on, “...and I want it to be a surprise for him too. Had to pretend I was just idly wrapping scrap paper round his fingers while I was watching something on Netflix.” It did look like something a kindergarten kid might’ve made, but you were quite proud of your improvised way of finding out Billy’s ring size.

Now she was really getting into it, leading you to a display case of big chunky men’s rings. “I’ve got something in mind, but I’m not sure you’ll have it in stock yet.” She gave you a quizzical look, and you described a ring you’d noticed recently in a fashion magazine; a fairly thin matt black titanium band, with two ultra-thin strips of platinum running round each edge. You knew that one of those chunky ones just wouldn’t look right at all on Billy’s long, slim finger.

She gave you a huge smile, “We’ve just launched some new collections, and that’s one of them! - our Midnight range. Please wait here, madam, and I’ll be right back.”

Soon you were on your way back uptown to Lenox Hill, and this time you were the one with a ring box hidden away out of sight.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

As you let yourself into the apartment and hung up your jacket by the door, you noticed that Billy had dozed off on the sofa. You loved watching Billy sleep, so perched on the edge next to him and stroked back a couple of strands of hair which had strayed onto his forehead.

He awoke at your touch, smiling sleepily up at you, “Angel, you’re back...”

You took hold of his left hand, and scrabbled around in your bag for the ring box. “Billy.... you remember you said you wanted something to show the world I belonged to you?” He gazed back at you warily, as if he thought you might’ve changed your mind while you were out. “Uh... yeah?”

“Well, snap!” you said, finally finding the box, opening it and then sliding the black band onto his ring finger.

Billy’s eyes widened, and mouth opened in surprise. “Wow!” he said, sitting up and looking at it closely, “I love it!” You breathed a sigh of relief: some guys didn’t even like wearing their wedding bands, never mind an engagement ring. “So you’ll wear it?” you asked. He nodded, “Uhuh, course I will, angel!”

He turned his hand this way and that, and you admired how good the slim band looked on his finger.

His dark eyes met yours, and he gave a low chuckle, “Ha, see...? Now you’ve got me on that leash, sweetheart!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Scandalous(2)

An infamous Influencer that is known for getting into drama befriends ImAllexx, George doesn’t trust them one bit. 

Gif cred. @sdmngifs​

Pairing: George Memeulous x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k+

Pronouns: They/Them

______________

A few days had passed since George and Alex had talked about Y/n coming to the UK. Only in an hour or two, George would have to go out with Alex and a few other friends to meet Y/n for the first time. There was no point in lying, George was still a bit nervous about them, how could he be sure Y/n wasn't going to try and pull something on them? 

The brunette found himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, a faded mark sat on his old school Vans, he had tried to get it off when it first appeared, but only had it fade so the mark had become not as noticeable as it used to be. George had just spent the last thirty minutes working on his appearance, if he was going out for drinks, he wanted to look good. And with a touch of cologne, George made his way out into the living room. Alex sat on the couch scrolling through Instagram, he had messed with his hair, making it look a bit neater than usual. 

The blue-eyed male made his way over to the side of the couch,"Are we going soon, or not?" A denim jacket was tossed over the arm of the piece of furniture, he picked the item of clothing, beginning to put it on.

"Yeah, I was just waiting for you," Alex tucked his phone away into his pocket as he stood up.

"Do we have to pick up Y/n, or are they going to get to the bar on their own?" George made his way over to the front door as his roommate had turned of the last light that had been left on. 

"They said they'll just Uber to the bar, so we won't have to worry about picking them up."

The car ride to the bar was quiet, George had gotten lost in his thoughts as he stared out of the passenger's window. The dumpster fire could only happen so soon, Y/n wasn't a good person. He had seen their name in too many scandals, if they somehow ended up dragging him or his friends into something that could end their careers, he'd be absolutely livid. 

As soon as they had entered the bar, both of the boys had received a text from Will, telling them he could spot them from the table. After taking a moment to have his eyes glaze over the scene, Alex's eyes landed on Will and his girlfriend. They sat at a decent-sized table, there would definitely be enough room for everyone.

Once George had taken a seat and started a conversation with his friends, the problematic YouTuber had disappeared from his mind. It felt good to get out with friends again, it had been a while since the last time he had been out. Just then, George had noticed Alex was on a call. Maybe he was talking to Y/n. If he was talking to them, a million different things could be happening. George had flickered his eyes away from his roommate, trying to keep him from noticing he was watching. 

"Yeah, no problem, I'll be out in a minute." George could hear Alex faintly as the music in the background almost drowned out his voice. Just as the brunette turned to George, Alex placed his phone into his back pocket. "Hey, James is outside with Aria. He dropped their keys so I'm gonna go and help them out. Watch my beer." He now raised his voice, making himself loud enough for George to hear him.

"Alright, I'll keep my eyes on it," George flashed a small grin. Part of him was a bit happier knowing Y/n wasn't here yet, but the other half of him knew any minute they could show up.

As soon as Alex had disappeared from his sight, it had only taken a moment before Will had spoken up. "You ready to meet them?"

Pulling his gaze away from where he last saw Alex, George turned back to face his other friend. "Not at all, I'm just gonna try and keep my distance for the next couple of days."

"Hopefully they don't end up screwing us over," Will took a sip of his beer, taking a moment to look around for any sign of Y/n.

"Exactly why I'm going to try and stay as far away as possible from them," the blue-eyed man replied, he began to stare off into nothing. 

"I've heard Y/n has slept with plenty of people," Will shook his head as he placed his beer back down. "I hope Alex is stupid enough to end up in bed with them."

"I doubt Alex would do something like that, he's smarter than that." George's eyes landed on a pair of familiar faces approaching the table. James and Aria had finally entered the bar. 

"Hey guys," James grinned as he came into earshot of the table.

"Hey, is Alex with you?" George had noticed his flatmate hadn't followed Aria and James in. Or maybe George just hadn't seen Alex yet in the crowded building.

"He's still outside, Y/n showed up."

This was the big moment,  he was finally going to meet the scandalous influencer. He could tell he had become a bit more nervous. It felt as though something in his stomach tied up into a knot. 

"I stole a glance at Y/n before walking in and they're much prettier in person. They looked like a model," George overheard Aria speak to Mia. He continued to keep an eye out for his flatmate, waiting to spot him anywhere.

His blue eyes finally landed on a 5'7 man walked alongside someone else. Y/n and Alex were approaching the table as they smiled, each spoke to one another as they were already close friends.  As their head turned, Y/n's eyes met George's, and just for a short moment, Y/n smiled at him and waved. Y/n was quite attractive just as Aria said, but George knew he had to be wary. 

'They're only here to screw us over,' George averted his gaze from Y/n as he thought to himself. 

"Hey guys!" As soon as Y/n came into earshot of the table, they spoke with a smile on their face. One by one, they introduced themself to each person. A handshake to Will, a hug to Mia, a side hug to James, a hug to Aria, and George... Y/n stuck her hand out with a smile, only for him to hesitantly shake her hand with a small, fake smile plastered on his face. As soon as introductions were over, Y/n took a seat between Mia and Alex, sitting across from George. 

Once again, they made eye contact. Something shot down George's spine this time when he looked Y/n in the eye. 'They've seen your identity, you're gonna have to hang around them for the next couple of days... what if there's any chance Y/n snaps a picture of him?' George took a sip of his drink, his mind starting to race with thoughts as he tried to find some way to distract himself. Staring up at the ceiling, he had started to pay so much more attention to the roof decor.

But as the night rolled on, George had continued to steal glances at Y/n. he found himself worrying every time they pulled out their phone. Every now and then, Y/n would make eye contact with George, only to give a small wave and an awkward smile. One thing George noticed was how Y/n hadn't bothered to consume one drop of alcohol. They had started the night off with water, only to get a virgin margarita at some point. 

"you're acting like a nonce with the way you look at them." Will had leaned over, making sure to whisper in George's ear to keep Y/n from overhearing him. "Y/n doesn't seem that bad as people make them out to be. Relax, George." 

You've only know them personally for 2 hours," George scoffed quietly. Y/n's gaze turned to the pair of men sitting across from them.

"You alright, George?" 

"Just peachy," he replied, taking a sip of his beer as he looked away from Y/n. 

"Just stop acting like a hardass, try and be more open and nice to them. You're the only one acting bitter at this table."

George had been handed a cell phone, Y/n stood in front of him with a sincere smile. "Hey, I was hoping you could take a photo of me with the group? I thought it'd be best if I asked you, after all you are hiding your identity..."

"Uh, yeah. Sure," George took a step back as he lifted the cell phone. Quickly he snapped a few shots of the group before handing the phone back to Y/n. 

"Wow, thank you. These are really good," Y/n smiled down at their phone as they swiped through the few photos George had taken. 

"George did great," Alex had snuck a peek of the photos from over Y/n's shoulder. 

"Hey, Y/n can you send some of those to me?" Mia spoke up before taking a sip of her cocktail.

"Me too!" Aria added on.

Eventually, one by one everyone made their exit. Mia and Will had left together, so did Aria and James. Y/n had decided they would just uber back to their hotel after paying for their drinks. 

"You know, we wouldn't mind dropping you off," Alex spoke as the trio walked out of the bar.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time tonight."

"It's fine, Y/n. You're our guest, we wouldn't mind one bit," Alex replied, implying that he was speaking for both himself and George. George didn't say anything as his flatmate continued to speak.

The car ride was quiet. Y/n sat in the back of the car as they stared out the window. Something inside Alex was worried Y/n had found the silence awkward, when really they found it peaceful.

"How does the time difference feel for you, Y/n?" Alex broke the silence as he looked through the driver's mirror at the other influencer for a brief moment. 

"It definitely feels different. It's only like 3 pm in LA at the moment." Y/n turned to look at Alex, "But I still need to get to sleep, I don't' wanna be sleep deprived tomorrow while we're doing stuff."

Soon enough, the car had pulled up to the Mandarin hotel. Stepping out of the vehicle, Y/n had thanked both George and Alex for a wonderful night before heading towards the entrance of the building.

George watched as Y/n disappeared behind the doors, leaving Alex to begin driving away from the building. As soon as they were out of the parking lot, Alex began to speak. "So what do you think of Y/n?"

"They seem fine, I'm just worried they'll fuck us over."  

"Y/n isn't as bad of a person as people make them out to be, George."

"You cannot be that stupid, Alex."

"You shouldn't be the one to talk, George. Have you been talking to them for months? Have you developed a good friendship with them? Why would they put so much time towards developing a friendship with me if they had planned to show up and screw me and my friends over?"

"You cannot know someone from only texting and FaceTiming."

At this point, Alex had nothing to say to George. The car ride back to the flat had been filled with tension for the rest of the time. As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Alex got out of the car. George sat there for a moment as he thought to himself. He had begun to massage his temples for a brief moment. He just needed to recollect himself and apologize tomorrow.

Cardigan had played as Y/n found themself dancing around their suite in a bathrobe. Of course, they made sure the music was being played at a respectable tone, they didn't want to upset anyone. Y/n had just got out of the shower, after a long night that was just the one thing they needed. But before they knew it, their music ended. Y/n looked over to where their phone had been placed on a table. 

Bretman was calling. Picking up the phone, Y/n took a seat on the edge of their bed before answering the call. 

"You interrupted Folklore."

"damn alright bitch, I thought you'd be happy I called you."

"I'm always happy to hear your voice, Bret," Y/n let out a chuckle from their friend's sense of humor. "How's it been back at home?"

"Same old, same old I guess. It's just been a bit more boring."

"I didn't think you'd notice my absence."

"N/n, I come over to your house like eight days a week, of fucking course I'm gonna notice my best bitch isn't there." Sass could be heard in Bretman's voice as he spoke, "But anyway, spot. any cute guys yet?"

"Wow, asking about the guys before asking how's my day been."

"Oh, I'm sorry, how was your day, your highness?"

"It was alright, when I got here it was like five pm, it took me the whole day just to get over here," Y/n smiled, remembering how quickly the day seemed to pass by.

"How'd that go?"

"Smooth, as usual."

"That's good to hear, anyways... back to the guys."

Letting out a small laugh, Y/n leaned back, laying down on their bed now. "Well I don't really think anyone caught my eye. Two of the guys I met had girlfriends already, and Alex is just a friend." That was a lie. There had been one person that caught Y/n's eye as soon as they saw him. It was Alex's flatmate, George. He did seem quite closed off, but Y/n couldn't help but find him quite attractive.  

Y/n absolutely didn't want any way for George's name to get tossed around. Yes, he had over four million subscribers so he was already pretty well known, but Y/n didn't want there to be any chance of other people trying to find his identity. They knew a lot of snakes, Y/n just didn't want to be the reason one of Alex's friends could get caught up in a scandal. 

"Dam, that sucks babe. I thought British guys were supposed to be hot."

"It's fine, Bret. Anyways, I think I'm gonna go to bed now. It's late here."

"Well it's only 3:30 for me, so I don't know how you're gonna fall asleep."

"I'll find a way."

"Please don't hang up yet, Y/n. It feels like forever since we last talked," Bretman had resorted to whining over the phone. He just wanted his friend to stay on the call longer.

"Bye, Bret," Y/n cooed softly. As they hung up, they could hear Bretman's whining being cut off.

After a few moments of getting settled, Y/n found themself laying in bed. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing London through their windows. Lights had been shining throughout the city, pulling Y/n's attention away from trying to rest. 

They just couldn't find themself going to sleep anytime soon, their head was full of thoughts. George was stuck on their mind, he was so cold tonight. Even if it only hurt their feelings a small bit, they didn't show it. Y/n didn't want to ruin the night by being in a sour mood from how George acted. They could understand why he acted the way he did by the end of the night. 

He probably knew about how Y/n had been caught up in quite a few scandals in the past, he probably thought they weren't a good person. They just wished there was some way they could break through to George, they weren't such a bad guy at the end of the day. Alex had talked about his flatmate, George always seemed like a loveable dork. 

Before they knew it, they had been romanticizing the thought of being in a relationship with George. Y/n needed to remind themself; it's not going to happen. George was an incredibly private person, he would never even consider dating someone like them.

Y/n was just an infamous influencer who would get attention no matter where they were. George was a smaller influencer compared to Y/n, someone who wouldn't even consider filming a video outside of his bedroom. 

Letting out a sigh, Y/n turned to their side, closing their eyes. Maybe if they fell asleep they could get all of this out of their mind.

[imagine-that]

Good for you

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: angst? Anger? Idfk, breaking things, rage ig.

( A part 2 to White Horse )

AN: I didn’t have this one planned as a part buttttttttt I heard the song and I had a Loki’s perspective idea for this fic and I just started writing it and now it’s finished andddddd I kinda like it even more than I liked White Horse 😊😊 here’s the song if you want to listen while you read or whatever ❤️❤️

Loki glared up at the ceiling, staring up at the art of a mural painted over the surface for what seemed like the thousandth time that day alone. He showed absolutely no desire to do much else lately, not unless visiting Heimdall counted as something to do, but he never did that just for the purpose of chatting.

Since you’d ran away, he was even worse than he was before. He was cold towards anyone who approached him, he snapped at the very slightest of things and he spent his days obsessing. Obsessing over where you were, what you did, who you were with. Essentially, if it had anything to do with you, he demanded to know even the smallest of details.

For whatever reason, he didn’t dare go down to Midgard to look for you. Heimdall believed it was because he only worried for you and somehow deep down he knew this was better for the both of you but he kept this theory to himself, not wanting to further enrage the god.

“Where is she/he/they now?” Loki barked as he walked through the gates, not bothering with a normal greeting.

“Y/n is just out for a coffee your highness, there is not much to say from the last time you asked.” Heimdall said simply.

Loki shakes his head with a cold laugh. “And? Who is she/he/they with then? Midgardians typically go for coffee in pairs. They use it as a date.” He sneers, glaring just at the thought.

“It seems that she/he/they is with another person yes.” Heimdall says, hoping it won’t send Loki over the edge to hear.

“Of course.” He mutters under his breath, storming away without another word to Heimdall, his brain flooding with an overwhelming amount of memories with you, making his jaw grind as it tightened.

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world

His thoughts were plagued with the idea of you with another, your hand held in someone else’s, your laugh being another persons treasure. It filled him with an envy as green as his cloaks, his blood boiling at the mere idea.

He stormed through the throne room, ignoring his fathers shouts of anger for the interruption, ignoring Thor’s cries of concern and heading straight to the only place he felt he had left of you; your room in the palace.

As angry as he was, he gently shut the door behind him rather than slamming it, not wanting to disturb the peace in the empty room.

To others, that was exactly what it would look like; an empty and vacant bedroom waiting to be used. But to him it was the last place he’d seen you, the last time he’d ever seen his one true love was in this room and he couldn’t handle the idea that it could be the last time ever.

He glanced at the photos you’d left decorating your dresser, the only sign that this room was ever once used for anything more than a guest room.

He stared at one of the photos with a blank stare, grabbing it off the dresser and looking down at your still smiling face intently, as though if he stared long enough, it would pull you right out of the photograph and back to him. But then he flashes back to the last night you two had been together, the way he’d been so blinded by his love for you that you’d managed to deceit him and he cried out in anger, tossing the frame across the room where it smashed as soon as it hit the wall.

He was breathing heavy, collapsing down to the ground on his knees.

He remembered Heimdall telling him that you had been seeing a therapist, coping much better with the trauma he’d put you through when you started seeing the professional. Despite his love for you, he was jealous beyond belief.

He was a god, he was good looking, he was a prince. He should be the one thriving without you, so he thought. But instead he was the one falling apart at the seams.

And good for you, I guess that you’ve been workin’ on yourself

I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

He cried out again, anger filling his entire body with a hot rage.

Thor slammed the door open, rushing over to his brothers side. “Brother, what is the matter?” He asked, crouching down beside him.

Loki laughs humourlessly. “What is the matter? WHAT IS THE MATTER? The one person in this world who has ever chosen me over all else, who has ever loved me unconditionally has ran off into the sunset, probably with a mere mortal. And I am at fault for it. That, dear brother, is what is the matter.” He growls, a sad smile painting his lips.

“Y/n will return brother, at which point you may apologize for the problems between you two.” Thor assures him.

Loki scoffs, looking up at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Dare not speak her/his/their name brother.” He warns, his jaw stiff again.

Since your departure, the only person who’d said your name was Heimdall. Not even Loki himself could bring himself to say it, the pain still too raw.

Well good for you

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“It will happen Loki. Give it time.” Thor says again, ignoring his brothers threat as he rises to his feet, patting Loki on the shoulder sympathetically.

Loki doesn’t move, stays in his spot planted on your floor, surrounded by his memories while Thor leaves.

He pulls himself up, but only to let himself lay on your bed rather than looking so pathetic and powerless on the floor, feeling he at least deserved that much dignity.

“Dearest I miss you.” He murmurs to no one, staring up at the ceiling once again, this time not quite glaring. The intricate golden and silver designs on your ceiling were more delicate, softer than the ones in his own or in any other room in the palace really.

“Loki I don’t need my own room in the palace. I have yours! That’s plenty enough for me.” He could practically hear your voice, your hesitation at staying in the palace officially due to the royalty part of everything fresh in his mind as though it were only yesterday and not three or so years ago.

Now you were probably off living your dream Midgardian life, something that was completely beyond him in your eyes apparently. He could almost see you, walking around in the streets on Midgard, savouring everything you saw, smelt, tasted. From what Heimdall had said, you were perfectly content being so ordinary.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

God I wish that I could do that

He hated thinking of you, every moment he did was a moment he had to spend missing your presence. In yet another fit of rage, he threw a crystal vase at the door, the shattered pieces spreading across the floor.

He forced himself to his feet, making himself leave your room, abandoning the broken items as he simply walked around them, slamming the door behind him. He’d already disturbed the peace in the room just by being there, he knew, and to think otherwise would be foolish and stupid.

“Prince Loki, are you alright? I heard something break and it sounded as though it came from your room.” A young maid asked as she approached him, worry apparent on her face. Loki recognized the girl as one who had been crushing on him for years, one who often made you bubble with jealousy whenever she was around.

He smirked at the girl, a new idea popping into his head, one that would surely have hurt you as bad as your leave had hurt him.

“I am alright, I slipped and knocked down a vase, that is all.” He explained, trying to regain his usual charm and confidence.

The girl nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I’m so glad.” She says, batting her eyelashes his way in a manner he was sure she thought was attractive to him. He ignored it, focusing on his goal.

He grabbed the girl and pulled her into his room, shutting the door and pushing her up against it, wasting no time as he attacks her lips with his own. She lets out a gasp of surprise but immediately returns the gesture, kissing him hard. He holds her at the waist with one hand, going to cup her face with the other but opens his eyes for a mere moment and is suddenly seeing your face.

He blinks harshly, until it’s the girl standing in front of him again, watching him with a confused pout. Just as she’s about to speak, more than likely to ask if he’s alright again, he pulls the door open, shoving her out and closing it behind her, his eyes wide as he runs a hand through his hair, breathing heavy once again as he falls to the floor, his back against the door.

“Loki she was staring right at you! She’s practically in love with you! And I’m standing right there and she still makes googly eyes at you!” You had scoffed whenever the maid was around.

He so badly wanted to be able to laugh about your jealousy towards a girl who meant nothing to him compared to you, whose name he couldn’t even remember. He wanted to caress the side of your face, the pad of his thumb to your lips while he reassured you that he was all yours, no one else’s. But he couldn’t turn back time, this he knew.

“My love I’d give anything to get you back to me.” He chokes, starting to sob into his lap.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

He spends the whole night there, leaned against the door, getting nothing but an hour or so of sleep. The next day, he uses a simple spell to make himself appear fine, not able to bear the embarrassment of others seeing him breaking down like this.

He ignores any castle staff onlookers, going on in his stride straight back to the bifrost, following his newfound unhealthy routine.

“Prince Loki I must advise you as to how toxic this is becoming for you.” Heimdall warns him, letting out a sigh as Loki holds up a hand to silence him, watching expectantly for an answer to his unasked question.

“Y/n has been settling into her/his/their new life. She/he/they is starting a Midgardian job today.” Heimdall finally explains, giving up on his attempts to preserve Loki’s feelings.

“I see.” Loki hums to himself, the gears in his brain shifting.

“Was that all?” Heimdall asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Send me there.” Loki says suddenly, looking over at Heimdall for the first time in all of his many visits. Heimdall looks back in slight shock.

“What do you believe that will accomplish your highness?” He asks, trying to fight Loki on the matter respectfully.

“I need to see my love there, happy. I need to see it for myself.” Loki responds simply. Heimdall glances at him once more, nodding as he knows he’d never be able to talk him out of this idea. He tells him where exactly he’d be able to find you reluctantly.

Heimdall opens the gates wordlessly, sending Loki on the way down to earth. Loki arrives, dusting off his clothes as he uses another spell to make himself appear completely different from usual.

Though he’d only spent a brief period on Midgard, he knew his way around well enough that he could find the address Heimdall had given him fairly quickly, walking through the streets of New York to find it.

“Of course she/he/they would pick New York.” He thought to himself bitterly, winding past other tourists until he reached the building he was looking for. He was about to enter when something caught his eye in the window of a small coffee shop next door. He saw a flash of y/h/c, the exact shade he’d seen so many times and froze, staring on at the source.

And there you were, with men and women and people all around you, chatting, laughing, drinking with them. He saw the warm smile on your face and his heart melted knowing he wasn’t the source of it this time. He couldn’t hear what was being said through the window but he knew it was important from the sole fact that it was making you laugh. He felt tears starting in his eyes, a wave of hurt hitting him again and again inside, drowning him.

But you’re so unaffected,

I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

He watched, unable to move from his spot, eyes glued to the familiarity of you. He wanted your warm embrace against his cold to the touch skin, your lips on his.

But he felt another wave, one of anger. You’d left that touch, that safety net, for this. For midgardians, mere mortals. How could they possibly offer you more than he could, he wondered.

He took a deep breath, stalking into the coffee shop and getting in line to order, wanting at least one thing to come out of this disaster of a thought to come to where you are.

“No no, my ex... he’s a good guy. We just weren’t really meant to be, I guess? It was... complicated.” He overheard you say, his eyes darting to you. He tries to turn his gaze away, realizing what he’s doing but you look up, your eyes meeting his. For a moment the both of you keep eye contact, Loki too scared to look away and you confused as to why this man you’d never seen has such a familiar stance to him.

You blink a few times, turning back to your group and continuing your chat, making Loki breath a small sigh of relief. He mutters his order to the poor barista, her swooning over him, even in his disguise. Once his order comes up, he storms out, not bothering to look back at you as you start talking about your new job, new apartment, your new life essentially. He frowns at the thought of you being in any place that would be unfamiliar to him, trying to think of how you might feel living without him.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Had your comment in the shop been a hint that you were miserable like he was? But he knew that neither of those would possibly be true. Your smile said it all; you were already moving on perfectly fine without him. It was as though you were almost trying to erase your history with him, from his perspective anyway.

Well good for you, I guess you’re getting everything you want

You bought a new car and your career’s really taking off

It’s like we never even happened, baby what the fuck is up with that?

Unable to bear the thoughts multiplying in his mind, Loki ducked into an ally, curling into himself against a wall, starting to cry again.

He groaned in frustration, his head in his hands. You were unraveling him, he wasn’t sure how and he didn’t like how it felt. He’d always been at least somewhat levelheaded but with you gone, his mind was always clouded, his thoughts were infected with you nonstop.

It was like a disease had overcome his entire body and he had no cure, no antibodies to fight it.

“What have I done?” He asks himself, sighing into his hands, staying in his position crouched on the ground for a quiet moment, seeking nothing but a bit of peace.

He’d only wanted to show you he truly loved you but instead he’d driven you away, into a new embrace.

He runs a hand over his jaw, willing himself up. If he couldn’t hear to see you, there was no purpose in him furthering his stay. He decided silently that the best option for him was going back and waiting for Heimdall to open the gates, to get him as far away from your soft features and glowing personality as possible before he did something he’d regret, like approaching you and outing himself as a stalker, not that he really cared anymore. You’d never see him the same as you once had, this much was clear.

Memories of the first I love you came to his mind suddenly.

“I love you Loki, and I know you love me too so stop acting so silly and just say it, please.” You had begged him. He had merely smirked and ran off, telling you you had to catch him to hear it back. You’d chased him around the gardens and the libraries and balconies of the entire palace until you’d caught up, out of breath as you’d grabbed his cloak and pulled him towards you and kept him rooted to his spot until he returned the words.

He’d been hesitant, merely to tease you but he’d said them back, said them multiple times while he had kissed you all over, overjoyed by the sense of protection and love he felt with you.

He shook his head with a bitter laugh to himself at the bittersweet memory, seeing as how things were for you now.

He trudged his way back to the gates opening, kicking a rock aggressively all the way there, trying to contain himself enough to not scream out in anger the way he had been doing in his room. But every time he managed to calm himself, your smiling face found it’s way into his brain, making him lose all feelings not involving anger.

He kept trying to remind himself that it had been your choice, that you’d left him without a goodbye or anything of the sort on purpose to make the wound sting more but it did nothing but make him feel agony for the hurt he’d put you through.

And good for you it’s like you never even met me

Remember when you swore to god I was the only person who ever got you

Well screw that and screw you, you will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

His rage was finally starting to blind him again as he marched to the gates, just how he liked it. The idea of you with another person was still what really set it off. Seeing you hurt but watching you thrive and move on was more, it was worse. It filled him with feelings he’d never thought he’d feel towards you in his life but he was and he didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would.

‘No one leaves a prince. Not unless they are absolutely crazy.’ He thought to himself smugly, waiting at the gates for Heimdall to open them. He gets pulled through, up to Asgard where he dusts off his smooth suit, relieved to finally be out of the disguise he’d chosen.

The smile on your face when he’d seen you with the Midgardians was glued to his brain, his focus flying all over the place at the memory. He couldn’t figure out quite what it was that was making him so agitated himself, knowing he missed you but suppressing the extent of it.

Asgard felt empty, superficial almost without you there to watch everything in such a natural awe that he’d so admired for so long. It was as though all the colours of the home he’d so cherished for so long were drained right down the gates when they’d opened and swallowed you whole.

He couldn’t bear that you’d managed to run off with not only his trust and dignity but his sanity along with it.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Loki stormed back to his own room, avoiding yours at all costs as he forced his doors open, slamming them behind him and grabbing anything breakable in sight, tossing it at the balcony doors. If anyone had walked in they would’ve thought he’d truly lost his mind but to him, that much was at least somewhat true.

Maybe I’m too emotional

But your apathy’s like a wound in salt

Your deceit was controlling more of his life, his thoughts, his entire being than he’d ever care to admit. He was consumed with a need for you, a thirst to be near you again and everyone could see it was driving him to the edge of a cliff, the only possible person to pull him back up being the one pushing him to it in the first place. Still, he knew it was all his own doing. That was how he knew part of his latest insanity was due to the built up guilt from so long.

Even so, he was enraged. With you, with himself, with the world. It was a mix of everything.

He could almost feel the gentle touch of your hand to his shoulder when he was upset, your lips pressed sweetly to his temple in attempts to cool him off.

“You can’t hold pointless grudges all your life Loki. You can try but I’m not sure it would be any fun.” You’d teased, making him smile despite his sour mood.

He cried out, throwing another priceless item from his hand, crumbling to the ground yet again. The stress was eating away at him.

Maybe I’m too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Thor heard the crashes and smashing coming from his brothers room and went running, pushing open the door with all his strength, his mouth agape as he was met with the sight of his brother screaming in agony.

“Brother, talk to me.” He commands, trying to stop Loki from throwing anything more. Loki thrashes against his brother, sobbing while he yells out, fighting his brother with all his might.

“Loki stop fighting me and tell me what is wrong!” Thor commands and Loki falls to the ground on his knees, exhaustion hitting him like a brick.

“I am fine. Everything is fine.” He murmurs, smiling at his brother easily. Thor shakes his head, not accepting the answer this time.

“Tell me.” He says again and Loki sighs, a hollow laugh choking out of his lips. He removes the spell he’d used, revealing his true self, in pyjamas, his hair an extreme mess, his face sunken in and pale, more so than usual. His eyes were bloodshot beyond belief.

Thor audibly gasped at the sight of his brother covered in his own blood, the shards of the glass having cut into his hands and his feet several times. Loki sinks in against the edge of the bed, looking up at his brother tiredly.

“There. Now you have seen the true me.” He mutters, not saying anything else as his mouth sets in a line.

Well good for you,

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“Loki... I had no idea it was this bad brother.” Thor said quietly, sitting down awkwardly next to his brother on the floor. Loki quickly pushed away, not wanting to face anyone’s pity for even a moment.

“Leave me be brother, I keep this disgustingly weak display hidden for a reason.” Loki growled, avoiding his brothers eyes, staring at the broken glass laying at his feet.

Thor stands, not wanting to ignore Loki’s wishes and leaves him with his thoughts, his brows still furrowed in worry as he shuts the already busted door behind him gently.

Loki runs both of his hands through his mess of hair, squeezing as though to rid himself of the memories locked in place, taunting him on an endless loop.

“You can never get her/him/them back. Never ever.” They seemed to whisper in his mind, the sound of silence in the room only amplifying their nonexistent voices.

He smacked his head harshly, trying to push them out, trying to get back to the quiet while tears rolled down his cheeks, wondering once again why he had ever done anything so cruel to you as he had.

“I am so very sorry my darling.” He whispered into the emptiness softly, hugging his knees to his chest.

Never once had he ever felt so broken down or lonely in his existence, never once had he ever felt so much remorse mixed with anger as he did right then, knowing it was too late to even apologize in the first place. A part of him wondered if you felt anything regarding him at all anymore. A deeper part of him wondered how long it would be til you purposely forgot him entirely, all emotions about him disregarded just like that. And he knew if you did he had to live with the fact that he deserved every moment of it.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath

Ignoring the blood drying on his hands and his feet, Loki went into the bathroom and splashed ice cold water onto his face, trying to get a more level head out of it. While the shiver it gave him did wake him up a bit, his mind was just as clouded, just as distracted.

He groaned, slamming his fists down on the edge of the sink, nearly cracking it with the strength used. Suddenly his room felt too solitary and confining. He put on his facade again, cloaking any form of injury or sadness with his powers. He walked into the gardens, nowhere else to stay away from others while not feeling claustrophobic, though sending him back in time for a mere moment.

“You know Loki, you ought to spend more time out here. These plants are so pretty. And the flowers all smell so good. How could you not just run away from everything in the world and hide out here from it?” You asked. He had chuckled, pulling you along the path and deeper through the enchanting maze of greenery until you had reached the bench.

“My mother took me here as a child. She said it was our place, for our escapes from reality. She told me to only show it to those I truly trusted or were truly enchanted with. You are both of those things to me y/n.” He had told you as he held you in his embrace, carefully picking a flower and handing it off to you, the first gift he’d ever given you.

He smiled slightly at the memory, thinking how ironic and poetic that he was now doing exactly as you had suggested that day and running from his responsibilities. He missed the way even the most mundane of things had been so easy for you to enjoy.

He laid in the grass, ignoring the stinging in his feet and the twinges of pain in his palms from his cuts, taking comfort in the memories he had. Those, he was thankful you couldn’t have taken with you. He felt pathetic. He felt weak and vulnerable and all the things he’d never wanted to feel in his life. And even worse, it was because of the one person he thought he could always count on to protect him from those terrible feelings.

He hummed absentmindedly to himself, feeling much more calm with the fresh air and sounds of nature rather than complete silence. He still didn’t feel quite like himself but he was unsure if he ever would again anyway. At least now he felt somewhat in control of his own mind.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

As he watched the sky, Loki thought of you, every mark, scar, line, feature of yours, drawing out your face in his mind, the most memorable moments with you playing like a film sequence. His smile fell a little as this day, his impromptu visit from earlier came to his mind.

Whether he was truly angry at you for leaving wasn’t the question anymore. Not really. The question had more so become whether you’d really loved him at all or if he had fooled himself into believing you did.

He silently decided on the latter, knowing you had too big a heart to ever put anyone through that level of hurt.

Still, he seethed with jealousy thinking of the boy who had been sitting the closest to you in the little coffee shop, the way he had looked at you the same way Loki always had. And it hadn’t seemed to him like you’d been too eager to pull away either, which only made it sting worse.

He closed his eyes in a small show of defeat to no one, knowing you were better off without him around to flip the world upside down for you. Deep, deep down he knew you needed a stability he wasn’t ready to provide yet, though he would never ever admit that to anyone, much less himself.

No, instead he missed holding what was his in his arms, making you feel safe and comfortable like he had for so many years. Anyone’s hands on you other than his made him feel a blind rage even on his best day and right then it was the worst day he’d ever faced, making the anger spread like wildfire through him.

The image stood at a standstill in his brain and he convinced himself that one way or another, he had to get you back to him.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

———————————————————————

Tagging: @peachybaes , @wolfish-trickster and @writinguntilmyheartgivesout (thank you guys for the support on White horse, you have no idea how ecstatic they made me, my heart was very happy, I appreciate you, and all my other readers 💖💖)