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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

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rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without – Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come. OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

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Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits.

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang.

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle.

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on.

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights.

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will.

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor.

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him.

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down.

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window.

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.”

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world.

All in the time in the world – for what?

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell.

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?”

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.”

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men.

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again.

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet.

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable.

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare.

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again.

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.”

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword.

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm.

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.”

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.”

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.”

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.”

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too.

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight.

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with.

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand.

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.”

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm.

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . . say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?”

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.”

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way?

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.”

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart.

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.”

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar.

Fuck it.

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.”

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth.

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel.

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?”

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last.

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape.

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you.

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob.

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.”

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under.

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.”

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his.

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar.

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe.

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on."

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him.

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised.

“Unless you don’t want –,”

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest.

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places.

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword.

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress.

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed.

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him.

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh.

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor.

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.”

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both.

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips.

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils.

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm.

“Oh, oh, Pero—,”

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand.

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.”

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body.

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing.

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress.

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace.

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs.

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear.

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth.

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough.

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly.

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving.

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire.

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets.

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again.

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care.

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter.

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.”

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest.

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.”

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.”

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.”

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more.

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss.

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.”

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.”

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.”

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.”

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble.

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs.

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides.

“Have you had your fun yet?”

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.”

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.”

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips.

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest.

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks.

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted.

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it.

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known.

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart.

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you.

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

Text

saved you a seat - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x reader

word count: 3.1k of pure fluff

a/n: no warnings for this one except language, obviously. i just wanted to imagine having a fluffy little coach trip with jamie tartt so i hope there are others out there who want to imagine the same. requests are SO open for jamie/roy/sam/ted please do send some ideas <3

---

You weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to engineer this situation, but you were worried that if you thought about it too hard, you might end up losing it. Somehow, on a coach to Amsterdam, you’d ended up wedged between a window and Jamie Tartt and despite that being the stuff of nightmares only about a year ago, now it was something you couldn’t have hoped for in advance.

“I said I’d save a seat for ya, didn’t I?” he’d claimed proudly when you shimmied past him to sit in the window seat. He’d been smiling hopefully at you as he patted it when you’d walked down the aisle of the coach. You’d thought you’d be sitting with Rebecca at the back until he’d tugged at your wrist to stop you in your tracks.

“To be totally transparent, I thought you were joking,” you murmured to him once you were settled, bag tucked underneath your seat, “You also said the same to Roy yesterday, and I heard you saying it to Sam this morning.”

“Yeah, but I was fuckin’ with them,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Besides, we have a whole conditioner campaign to plan, right? Now’s as good a time to start as any.”

You tried not to let your heart sink a little. Of course it was work-related. You’d just have to be happy with the grin he was sporting as he nudged your arm.

“You’re on,” you grinned back, then, with a show of boldness, “But only if you promise not to complain when I inevitably fall asleep on you later.”

If anything, his grin grows wider.

“Shoulder’s all yours, love. I’m told it’s pretty comfy.”

“Who’s told you that? Roy?”

He rolls his eyes, but it’s too fond. You busy yourself trying to manoeuvre your laptop out of your bag, but a hand on yours stops you in your tracks. When you look up, Jamie’s face is soft and he’s tucking your laptop away again.

“Relax. The coach’ll take hours yet. We can get comfy first, yeah?”

“You’re right,” you concede, shuffling into the back of your seat again with a content sigh, “Don’t know why I’m pretending to be eager to work.”

He laughs and you join in. You want to tell him he’s got a downright infectious laugh these days, because its lighter than ever and always filled with genuine happiness, but you don’t. Too much. Instead, you push up on the back of the seat in front of you to tap Dani urgently on the shoulder, then sit down quickly and turn a fake-reprimanding glance at Jamie.

“What is it, amigo?” he directs his question towards Jamie who’s looking incredulous, “Or are you playing a cheeky prank?”

You tut and sink further into your seat as you shake your head at Jamie. He begins to point at you, but Dani is already ruffling Jamie’s hair and turning back around as he mutters happily in Spanish. Jamie turns to you, brows furrowed.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, eh?”

You shrug, as playful as you can manage with your heart beating a little harder in your chest. He narrows his eyes at you, then settles into his seat, and you know he’s plotting revenge. You can’t wait.

---

It’s been an hour and a half, and you and Jamie have been going back and forth almost the entire time, the very idea of doing any work on his new ad campaign buried in favour of having fun. Jamie had snuck your phone from your lap and prank called Ted who was sat at the back of the bus. You’d then somehow managed to do the same with Jamie’s phone, but decided to send a rather inflammatory text to Jan Maas, which was followed by a half hour argument between the two men that was incredibly entertaining.

Most recently, Jamie had made a terrible noise putting his mouth to his elbow and blamed it on you, but luckily Sam had seen him do it and you’d been able to clear your name. It had been a stellar effort though, so you were giving it some time before you found something perfect to retaliate with.

“Can I ask y’ something?” Jamie spoke suddenly, but his voice was softer than you’d heard it on the journey so far. You turned to him and nodded encouragingly, “I was jus’ sat here wonderin’ - and please don’t take this the wrong way - but why y’ decided to come with us? I’m happy about it, ‘course I am, but-“

“I get it, Jamie,” you said quickly, because you could see how much he was struggling. It was heartwarming how earnest he was when he’d said he was happy you’d come with them though, and you were fighting an urge to lean in and kiss his cheek to stop his rambling, “I’m not exactly essential personnel for a trip to Amsterdam.”

“Fuck, that’s exactly what I was tryin’ not to sound like - wait, y’ don’t really think that do ya?”

“Jamie, seriously, stop worrying! It’s sweet but so unnecessary. Hannah, you know the one that usually handles socials? She couldn’t make it so Rebecca asked if I’d fill in. I’m not one to turn down a free trip with some of my favourite people.”

His smile was genuine until the last sentence, where it morphed into something cocky as he puffed his chest.

“You wanna name any of those favourite people of yours?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you pretended to think about it. God, it felt like it would be so easy to admit that you’d jumped at the chance to come because you jumped at any chance to spend time with Jamie these days, but you couldn’t. There were hours of this bus ride left to sit in awkward silence if he didn’t take it well.

“Well, Ted’s gotta be right up there,” you began, shifting in your seat to look around the bus, “Sam, of course, and, god, Colin is a must. Rebecca, obviously-“

“No one who’s last name might happen to rhyme with a part of the body, or somethin’?”

You scrunch up your face in fake confusion. It’s easy to imagine doing this forever, just playing pretend with Jamie Tartt for the rest of time, and you’ll play along as long as he lets you.

“Ohhh you mean Jan Maas? Rhymes with ass, very clever. Didn’t know you were such a poet.”

“I dabble, me,” he deadpans, but neither of you can keep it up as you dissolve into giggles. Jamie pulls his cap further down his forehead to hide just how much he’s cracking up and you tuck your face down - no need to have the rest of the bus trying to get in on the joke. When you both calmed down, he turned, looking back up at you from under his hat, “Very quick by the way. Jan Maas, ass. You’re good, you are.”

“You’ve only just noticed?” you asked incredulously, intent on teasing him just a step further, but he takes his hat off to look at you properly when he answers, running his hand once, twice through his hair first, of course.

“Nah,” he replied, voice that soft whisper that you’d come to crave, “Y’ wanna know when I noticed?”

You swallowed thickly, leaning into him in the same way he had, all conspiratorial and close.

“I dunno. Do I wanna know?”

Jamie ignored you and continued, eyes flitting from your face to a thread on his joggers he was picking at.

“It was when I’d just come back to Richmond an’ everyone was mad at me. Rightly so, I know. But I was sat in me car, havin’ lunch cause no one would eat with me yet. You were walking past with Rebecca going to lunch and you waved at me, with this mad bright smile on your face y’know?”

“I may have a vague memory of that,” you said, as if seeing him alone in his car hadn’t broken your heart at that time.

“An’ then the day after, when you ate in your car an’ invited me to join. I knew y’ were only doin’ it for me, but I didn’t care. I jus’ remember being so grateful. So, so grateful. That’s when I knew you were…”

He trailed off, but he was stuck staring at your face. You could feel the heat sparking down the length of your spine as he seemed to search your expression for something. His own was unreadable.

“…good?”

It was like you had snapped him out of a trance and somehow you wished you hadn’t said anything.

“Good, yeah, that’s what I mean,” he murmured, then seemed to let that cocky mask fall back into place, “You wanna tell me when you realised I was good now so I don’t just sit here like a prick? Or, let me guess, you’re still waiting for it to happen?”

Despite the teasing tone, you somehow knew this wasn’t an opportunity to joke. There was a newfound vulnerability in Jamie that you were always careful not to tread on; it was such a welcome change after all.

“Nope, I know exactly when it was. I walked past the boot room one day, a couple weeks before we had that first lunch I think, and you were making sure things were tidy enough for Will to sort. There was nobody to watch you do it, either. I just knew that you were a different Jamie. That you were…good.”

Good didn’t cut it at all. You’d sworn then and there that you were going to help him find his way at Richmond whatever it took, and eating lunch in your car just so that he could join you a few weeks later felt like a good start. It had been. As Jamie worked to gain the love of his teammates, he had you as a constant sounding board, willing lunch partner and occasional movie night holder. He wasn’t invited over often, not wanting to seem too eager, but he’d never turned you down.

Yes, that was the moment you’d realised he’d changed, but there had been a million moments since that had turned him into the first person that came to mind when he’d asked you for your favourite person on the bus.

Now he wasn’t meeting your eyes at all, fully trained on that thread he’d been picking at. You sighed and flicked his hand to stop him ruining his favourite pair, and he finally looked up at you, wide puppy eyes that always made you melt when they showed up.

“You really mean that?”

Rather than replying, you hold out your pinky to him and watch his smile grow as he twists his own around yours. You let it linger then lean in to kiss your own hand and gesture for him to do the same. He does it so tenderly you think you’re getting lightheaded.

“Every word,” you assure him, settling back into your seat and untangling your hands from each other, “Now that I’ve been so nice to you, think I can cash in that shoulder offer from earlier?”

It was easier to revert to the easy banter than continue down this sincere path. And even though it was only just beginning to get dark, you couldn’t look at him any longer. Maybe if you were resting on his shoulder, you could grin for a bit without him wondering what was wrong with you.

He patted his shoulder invitingly and you snuggled down into it, until your cheek was smushed into his jacket and you could smell the cologne radiating from him. You threaded an arm into the crook of his elbow without thinking, just because it was more comfortable, but when you moved to take it away, he rested his hand on yours to keep you there. That same hand then came up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, staying to cradle your head for a moment.

You held your breath.

He quickly thought better of leaving his hand there, squeezing your head for just a moment before dropping his arm back to his side.

It took a while to breathe naturally again, especially knowing he’d feel every painstaking inhale and exhale against him, and it took even longer for your eyes to close and to finally drift off.

---

When you woke up again, you had to squint as your eyes adjusted to the almost total darkness of the coach. It had to have been a couple of hours. You wiped your mouth to ensure you hadn’t drooled on your very kind seat partner then risked a glance up at him without moving your head too much.

He looked asleep. His chin was tucked against the crown of your head, and his whole body was turned into yours in a way it hadn’t been when you’d fallen asleep. There was nothing that would make you want to move and disturb the moment, except for the unfortunate cramp in your neck you were simply going to have to stretch out.

You tried to gently ease your head out from under his but his eyes fluttered open immediately as he looked at you in concern.

“Y’alright love?”

That voice. Huskier and broader than ever in its newly woken state. You smiled up at him and whispered back, noticing that the rest of the bus were either asleep or resting as you stretched your neck.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry. You can have my shoulder now if you like, ‘s only fair.”

“Nah you’re alright. If you’re awake, I’m awake. What kind of seatmate would I be if I left you on your own, hm?”

“A normal one?” you offered, but he shook his head, holding a hand to his heart as if wounded.

“I will not have myself being described as anythin' but fuckin' extraordinary, please,” he insisted quietly, making you chuckle, “Did ya sleep well?”

“Very. Whoever told you that you have a comfy shoulder was annoyingly right.”

There was a note of jealousy in your tone that you didn’t expect to be there when you started talking. If Jamie noticed it, he didn’t say anything, even though you could have sworn you saw a smirk pass across his features.

“Well, I’ll let Colin know you agree with him,” he said matter-of-factly, and you wondered if he was telling you it was Colin on purpose. It was so difficult to second guess your every interaction with him, feelings getting stronger every minute you spent with him. Really, you were tired of it and tired in general and it was enough. Your usual caution had been left behind. You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe finally confess, but he was talking before you could begin.

“Actually, can I tell ya a secret?”

It took you a moment to recover from what you had been about to say and respond to him.

“Uh…yeah, of course. Anything, you know that.”

“I do, yeah. Yeah, that’s part of it actually,” he was so in his head, but he was looking at you like he had earlier, searching for something. Nowadays, he looked so soft all the time, but there was a selfish part of you that hoped maybe he was especially soft with you, “It’s about what we said earlier. I lied to ya, and I’ve been fuckin’ kickin’ meself for it ever since.”

“You lied?”

“Yeah. I said the day we had lunch in your car was when I realised you were good. That’s not true,” he admitted, as if he was saying something shameful, “I already knew you were good, way before I was done bein’ a full-time prick. Anyone could tell you were good.”

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, in your throat, in your ears.

“That day in the car park was actually when I realised you were just…fuckin’ incredible. Like, the most beautiful person I know. Not just fit, I knew you were fuckin’ fit, I’ve got eyes, but like- y’ were just somethin’ else. You are somethin’ else. Special, like.”

You felt frozen in your seat. It was hard to tell with how 'Jamie' the whole speech had been, but you were pretty sure there was a confession in there. It didn’t sound like something he’d say to any of his mates. Still, you had to be sure.

“Sorry, Jamie, I might be being thick here but are you saying you’re like…into me? Like, romantically?”

You cringed instantly at your choice of words but he didn’t falter. This time, when he laid his hand over yours, he kept it there, stroking a steady rhythm into the back of your hand.

“I’m saying I’m into you in like…all the ways y’ can be into someone. I’m fuckin’ mad about you, Y/N. The only one who doesn’t see it is you, but you fell asleep on me shoulder and I was in fuckin’ heaven so I’m telling ya. Look, I’m not expectin’ anything-“

“Well, you should. Expect things, I mean,” you cut him off, because you can’t go another second without reciprocating, “I thought you saved me a seat to talk about your conditioner campaign.”

He scoffed loudly then glanced around to check he hadn’t woken anyone as he lowered his voice again.

“I couldn’t give a shit about all that,” he said as firmly as he could whisper, “I give a shit about you. A lot of shits.”

You let out a breathy chuckle as you reply.

“God, I give so many shits about you, Jamie. Too many shits. Have done for fucking forever, I was just about to tell you.”

“What, before I did?” he said, making a face, “As if I’d let you steal my thunder.”

You take an opportunity and a boldness you can’t help but seize as you take his face in both hands and pull it towards yours until you’re both a breath apart. He closes his eyes and pushes towards you but you keep him just a moment away, stroking a trail along one of his eyelids.

“Well I think you’re fucking incredible too. Prick,” you mumble, without any venom. It sounds like the most loving pet name in the world, the way you utter it for his ears only.

“Yours,” he counters quietly, winding his arms around your waist until he can pull you fully onto his lap and you have to bite back a squeal. You both glance around for onlookers and find none, “Think the coast is clear, babe?”

“Crystal,” you insist, surging forward to press a searing kiss to his lips, gratified when he responds just as enthusiastically, pushing back into you, both hands clutching at you like you were about to disappear any moment.

There were still plenty of hours left on the coach, however, and you were content to stay exactly where you were as long as Jamie would let you.

And there was no chance of him letting you go anywhere.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you

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blueysobssesions · 1 year

Text

"Is that a Hickey?"

Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Albert Wesker, Jake Muller

You leaving a Hickey on his neck ;)

Leon Kennedy

- Leon adjusting his collar and said "Well, let's go-" he stayed silent when Ashley and Lewis/j were just gazing at him without saying anything. "Uhm, it's not the right time to adore me in this outfit..." He said "Looks like Amigo had his fun with his partner" Luis replied flirtatiously. Leon was speechless. He hoped that they won't notice how red his face is becoming. "I think you might need to look in the mirror" Ashley said giggling, pointing the mirror next to him. He hurried to the mirror to see what they were talking about and there, on his neck, he noticed a hickey. He can hear Luis and Ashley laughing maniacally behind him. He groaned "I told her not to leave a mark" touching the hickey on his neck. "It's a sign of ownership Amigo! She's putting her mark on you, saying that this on is mine" Luis teased. Leon stared at the hickey you created and he pondered... He grinned, "Well, I'm guessing I'm not covering it then?"

Chris Redfield

When he opened his eyes, he looked at the side and noticed that you were still asleep and... naked. When he looked down, he also saw himself naked. He sighed and sat up, giving you another glance before moving to kiss your forehead. He touched the ground with his feet with a sigh as he extended his arms... He dressed himself and walked downstairs. "Boo!" Claire startled Chris causing him to yelp "Jesus Claire! It's too early!" He complained "Haha, I'm Sorry!" He was patted on the shoulder as Claire chuckled "So, how's Y/n- Oh, I see you two had fun last night?"she winked at him. "W-what?" "Oh Don try to deny it! I can definitely see a hickey on your neck" He look behind her which there was a mirror, he noticed the hickey you left last night. "I'm expecting to be a niece!" A blush creeped out to his face.

Albert Wesker (Re5)

As Wesker walked through the hallways, he came across Excella. Excella has never been happy just to see him. He knows about her liking him. Despite knowing about her feelings towards him, Wesker remains distant and uninterested in Excella's affections. He sees her as nothing more than a tool to further his own agenda. You are the only person in his world in whom he is truly interested. Excella greeted him but was rejected. She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Wesker, please sit down so I can inject it" she suggested. Wesker walked towards her and sat down on the chair, rolling down his sleeve for the injection. Excella watched in silence as Wesker receive the injection. When Excella was about to put the syringe back, she notices something on his neck. Her eyes went wide when she saw a hickey on his neck "Is that a... Hickey?" she asked him. Wesker smirked and replied, "Your not the only one who's been busy, Excella," before he pulled up his sleeve. "Who gave you that hickey!?" Excella demanded as she noticed the love bite on his neck. Wesker chuckled and said, "It's none of your concern. Let's focus on the task at hand" He said standing up, he didn't actually planned to cover it up as if he wanted to know that he was yours and you were his. Excella raised an eyebrow but decided to let it go for now. She knew that Wesker was a skilled operative and they had a mission to complete. However, she couldn't help but wonder who had bitten him.

Jake Muller

"Ugh, why did you include him on the mission Captain?" Pierce groaned in annoyance. Jake only chuckled at his reaction "Relax, Pierce. We need him on this mission," Chris replied calmly, hoping to ease the tension between them. "Look, I can walk out of this room, you know? If that's what you want," Pierce glared at him, "Fine, but if anything goes wrong, it's on you" he spat. Jake smirked, and the room was quite hot, making Jake sweat slightly. Standing up from the chair, he removes his jacket. He then heard a chuckle from Chris "I didn't know you were in a relationship" Jake rolled his eyes and replied, "It's none of your business Chris" He spat before putting his jacket besides him. "Okay, Okay. I was just curious," Jake shook his head, and Chris then again spoke, "Well, there is something... On your neck? A hickey maybe" Jake looked at Chris with a surprised expression and asked "What? Are you serious?" He asked, reaching his hand out to feel his neck. He then realized that there was indeed a mark on his neck and blushed with embarrassment. Pierce laughed at his reaction, and Jake stared at him and said, "Shut up" he said and Pierce only rolled his eyes.

TAGLIST:

@momma-vi

@ssbptigers

@mnjxs

@dargoww

@re-njnx

@genshinimpactmemes

(want to be added? Just message/send an ask!)

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batwritings · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 23 - Threesome

Some lovely Mexican boys for day 23! Enjoy!~

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

There were quite a few nice things to be said about having childhood friends. They kept the best secrets, knew you like the backs of their own hands, and in some cases, more intimately than others. And that was just who Rodolfo and Alejandro were to you.

It wasn’t easy at first, oh no. Especially into your teen years when Valeria came into the picture. You welcomed the new girl into your friend circle at first. Yet her eyes for Alejandro always left you feeling odd, and you really weren’t a fan of it.

You’d confided in Rudy of course, him feeling the same. The secret of your shared feelings for Al was just that between the two of you; a secret. You never thought you’d be in a position where you’d ever tell him.

So here you were, both you and Rudy feeling a bit sheepish as you stood before Alejandro, colonel of the Mexican Special Forces. You two were the man’s right and left hands, nothing was ever kept under wraps anymore. Hence, your secret being so out in the open.

“Since childhood?” Alejandro asked, voice slightly incredulous. “How did I..miss that?”

“You and Val kinda…had a thing Al,” you said quietly. You knew the man hated having his old fling brought into things, but it was essentially the truth. “We…Rodolfo and I weren’t going to get in the way of that. What friends would we be then?”

The colonel growled quietly, but accepted the truth. “Amigo,” Rudy stepped in now, breaking his best friend’s racing thoughts. “Just because we both love you…doesn’t mean it has to be a me or Y/N situation. We can…all three…” He stops in his words and flickers his gaze between the two of you. “¿No?”

You smile fondly at Rudy; he was always eager to find a compromise, something that would work for the three of you. You turn to Alejandro, a hopeful look in your eyes. The colonel sighs but eventually smiles himself.

“I cannot deny either of you, not when you back me into a corner like this,” he chuckles. You all three share a small laugh. You’re the first to stand, emboldened by the adrenaline of having a secret let out and approach Alejandro first, kissing him square on the lips. He’s a bit shocked, but kisses you back with just as much passion.

Rudy wraps his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your head. His kisses trail down your cheek, then neck, over your shoulder. Your kisses with Alejandro deepen, earning soft groans from the both of you.

What you don’t see is the look Rodolfo and his best friend exchange. It’s a knowing look to be sure. They’d both had conversations of situations like this with you since they were teens. Regardless of Alejandro’s loyalty to Valeria as her partner, his mind often wandered back to you.

The next few movements are a blur, but what your slowly darkening mind registers is you and your two best friends on the floor of the room. Rudy and Alejandro each have their members out, stroking them gently while you strip yourself of your pants and underwear. Two calloused fingers trail around your hole, slick with saliva before the slip inside you to prep you.

Your mouth opens to lick and suck at Rudy’s member, the heady scent and taste all but intoxicating you. Both men are cursing for different reasons, but each curse is followed up with some sort of praise thrown your way. You can feel the pressure of Alejandro slipping his own cock inside your eager entrance, moaning around the one in your mouth at the pleasure.

Never in a million years did you think you’d end up spit-roasted on the floor of the Los Vaqueros meeting room. You thought even less that it would be by your two best friends, but you weren’t at all complaining. The two had a rhythm set and they both filled you beautifully, as if your bodies were made for each other.

You can hear the sound of both Rudy and Alejandro kissing above you. What you’d kill to see it, though with the secret now out in the open, it wasn’t like this would be the last time. God you could only hope and pray to whatever deities existed that this wasn’t the last time.

The coil of pleasure in your stomach was wound so damn tight you thought you may break. The push and pull from your two best friends and the way they were beginning to lose that perfect rhythm they’d built up told you that they weren’t far behind. Dull nails gripping at your hips and the hand in your hair may also have been a tell, but you let it slide.

“Please amor, please finish inside–” you hear Rudy plead with Alejandro. “Want to feel them moan around me.” This in turn has a long groan falling down your throat to vibrate along the man’s cock in your throat.

“Puta madre…”Alejandro growls, hips slamming into yours impossibly faster and harder. “You hear him querida, go on and come for us.” Thankfully for the both of them, you didn’t need to be told twice.

Your peak hits and you can’t help but cry out, muffled by the member in your throat. Your boys aren’t far behind as your mind absently thinks of how nice that sounds. “Your boys”, something you’d been dreaming of since you were all children.

You don’t remember when they both pulled out, cum leaking from your lips and now empty hole. Both of them were layering on the praise like you were some sacred being that blessed them. When water coated your throat, you began to think a little more clearly.

“Do confessions usually end in threesomes, or are we just special?”

#bat writes #cod x reader #cod smut #alejandro vargas smut #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo rudy parra smut #rodolfo rudy parra x reader

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year

Text

MC: *telling the story on how they got to Twisted Wonderland based on their own understanding*

MC: It was fine, sunny morning. I was in front of a stall selling tacos—

Jamil: Tacos? For breakfast?

MC: Amigo, let me finish my story. Okay. So, I was in front of a stall selling tacos, eating my second plate of tacos, when suddenly, out of the blue, two horses showed up with a carruaje. They came from nowhere!

MC: Us, Mexicans, if we sense peligro, we run.

Ace, Kalim, and Epel: *clapping and laughing*

MC: Those two caballos start to chase me down the street. I sacrificed my tacos, they didn't stop.

Jamil: What happened next?

MC: For a few seconds, I could hear my dead Tío in heaven,

MC: "Get up, pendejo. You're not dead yet." And I woke up.

Jamil, Kalim, Ace, and Epel: *wheeze*

Vil and Rook: *watching them*

Vil: Seriously, they all have time in the world, don't they?

Rook: Oui. But it's quite interesting listening to their stories.

MC: *meeting Malleus for the first time*

MC: You're so fine, amigo. How did you get that tall?

Malleus: Um.

Lilia: *cracking up*

MC: You should tell me your secret, amigo. By the way, you interested in dating a Mexican? We're born romántico. You can give me a shot.

Malleus: ...

Lilia: He is.

Malleus: I'm not saying anything, Lilia.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: But yes indeed.

#twisted wonderland #twst mexican mc #twst jamil #twst vil #twst rook #twst malleus #twst lilia

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assistant-of-drama · 2 months

Text

Assistant Noah's World Tour!

After Japan...

"I saw what you did with Harold." Noah said as he drank his coffee.

Alejandro smirks. "And I see that's your 3rd cup of coffee today. You really should drink that stuff less, amigo. It's not healthy for you."

"Caffeine is the only reason why I survived working for Chris this long."

"I thought it was because you're smarter than the other interns."

"Well, that too… So, now that Harold's gone, are you gonna flirt with Leshawna even more or eliminate her as well? Or is it a bit of both?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Seriously? That cliche? Fine then. But I'm not gonna tell anyone about your plans, if that's what you're worried about."

"What?"

"I'm not gonna tell anybody because one, they won't believe me cause of how likable you are. Two, you make the show somewhat interesting. Three, none of the people on this show are exactly innocent angels either, so if the guys are dumb enough to fall for your tricks and the girls let themselves be swooned by you despite having boyfriends, then they deserve to lose."

Alejandro blinks quite a few times at Noah's words. Then his smug smirk returns. "Well, well, well… someone has a dark side."

Noah looks away, trying to play it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're repeating what I said." Alejandro's smile turns playfully cheeky.

Noah glares right at him. "I will splash coffee on your face again."

"Why do that, when your clever words already burn people enough?" Alejandro asks with a wink.

Noah rolls his eyes, drinks his coffee again and says, "Whatever. I'm gonna be in first class. With the comfy, plush chairs."

Alejandro's eye angrily twitches at Noah clearly mocking him.

Owen happily waves a hand to Noah. "Hey Noah, you think you can get me a cookie from first class, little buddy?"

Noah sighs. "If I must."

"Oh! Can I have a cookie too, Noah?" Izzy asks excitingly.

"And me too!" chimes Tyler.

"Me three!" Ezekiel also chimes.

Noah sighs louder. "Fine."

"Can you give Al a cookie too? Since he's our team leader and all?" Owen asks with puppy eyes.

Noah turns to see Alejandro somehow looking even more arrogant, with his hands behind his head.

The Cassanova really has everyone wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?

It makes Noah's own eye twitch slightly, as he looks back at Owen. "… Do I have to?"

"Please?" The big guy's eyes get even bigger.

Noah facepalms and drags his hand down. "… Okay, fine. If there are any left for him."

"Gracias, amigo." Alejandro then kisses Noah's hand like before.

Noah was tempted to splash his coffee in the Charmer's stupid face again.

#assistant noah's world tour #assistant noah #total drama #total drama world tour #td noah #alejandro burromuerto #alenoah

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tea-plantz · 1 year

Note

Hello! I absolutely LOVED your yandere!Bill Cipher x reader headcanons! Can I please get a part two where the reader loves Bill back? I’m a huge simp for the Dorito man 💛💛

Si mi amigo, I can of course write that for you, love! I swear, I’ve gotten sooo many Bill Cipher request lately, so I just had to do some more Bill content!

Also, like mentioned in the request, this is sort of a part 2 to my other Bill hcs, so I would recommend reading that one first!

He/him for Bill

They/them for the reader

<Yandere! Bill Cipher x reader HCS, where reader loves him back>

The dream demon had kept you with him for quite some time now, always staying by your side. Now, you might have heard of something called Stockholm syndrome, which is basically when a victim starts forming and emotional bond, and starts feeling sympathy for their kidnapper. You can probably guess where I’m going with this.

You were well aware of the fact that Bill had abducted you, taken you away from everything you loved, but for some odd reason, you started… viewing him differently. The more time you spent with the triangle, the more you actually started caring for him, and in time, full on loving him.

When you first told Bill you loved him, he didn’t believe you. Of course he had told you that himself multiple times, and made you say it back, but you always sounded nervous when you did. Moreover, you’ve never voluntarily gone up to him and just blurted it out yourself so casually, without him demanding it. Naturally, he was suspicious. Was this an attempt to gain his trust to escape? Or perhaps you were just toying with him?

When Bill finally realized that you were genuine with your little love confession, he was absolutely over the moon! Bro was flabbergasted.

The person he loved and adored oh so much finally loved him back! And he didn’t even have to force you in any way! (At least not too much) Oh what a joyful discovery! He was so happy, floating around while giggling like a little girl.

——————————————————————————

After that, the dream demon showed you hella lot affection, we’re talking hugs, kisses, picking you up, petnames all day, playing with your hair, cuddles, constantly complimenting you, all that stuff. It was a lot easier too, since you didn’t push him away or act scared anymore, which just made him more enthusiastic. Thing is, in the start Bill loved your fear, but it got boring quickly. What he truly longed for was your heart (not literally), so when he finally got it, he was overjoyed!

When you suddenly returned the affection one time, he almost passed out. “Hey Bill, how’s it going honey?” “H-h-honey?!” *Bill.exe has stopped working*

You would expect someone to get less angsty and possessive once they got confirmed that the person that they care about shares the same feelings, however, this was NOT the case with Bill, per say. He got even more over protective than ever, if that was even humanly possible, craving to be by your side at all times, day and night.

The fact that you love him would definitely boost his already big ego A LOT! This man would feel like the most important person in the whole wide universe, including you of course~ He would also brag about his awesome and beautiful s/o all the time.

In my previous headcanons, I mentioned that Bill would play the piano for you. Well, now that he doesn’t need to force you to sit still, he would most certainly do music duets with you! Preferably with love songs. The demon finds them so enjoyable, plus you’re angelic voice drives him absolutely crazy! He craves to hear it at least once a day, and you can’t really say no to him, whatsoever.

——————————————————————————

Bill did ease off of the punishments, mostly because he didn’t really need to punish you anymore. Since your little escape attempts had finally come to an end, and you didn’t really cause that much trouble for him anymore, Bill felt no need to lash out at you. However, if you did do something he didn’t particularly like, he would still punish you, just less intense then the methods he used before.

The Dorito man would probably also get fewer anger tantrums. Don’t get me wrong, he still gets pissed of if you or somebody else rubs him the wrong way, but it’s a lot less intense then what it used to be.

He shows you off a lot to every single one of his henchmen, ALL THE TIME. Bill takes great pride in you, y’know?

Now that you have finally given in and stopped being so stubborn, you and Bill are able to rule together as king and queen/king/ruler of the universe for all eternity, at last. When the dream demon and his crew finally conquered Gravity Falls, he kept you proudly by his side, while showing of his powers to you *wink wink*. Bill even made you your own throne! And even though you hesitated a bit to actually sit in it (since y’know, it’s made out of actual people), he stared you down until you finally gave in. All with love of course! Bill really couldn’t wish for more, everything was just perfect! His dream finally came true, and better yet, it came true with you ruling beside him, just like he’s always daydreamt about!

Bill is definitely never EVER letting you go. If you thought he was a lovesick psycho before, he’s a literal monster now. All the affection that you provided him of, really made him lose it, and now he craves you more than ever. This triangle is going to keep you with him til the end of time, and there’s nothing you can say or do to get away. Not that you would really want to though, since Bill has finally managed to sneak his way into your heart! Forever…

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murdocksdaughter · 1 year

Text

Drinks And The Dance Floor — Pablo Gavi

a/n: i promised this yesterday and let’s pretend i did post this yesterday, yeah? cool.

warning: mentions of clubbing, drinking, and suggestive themes

word count: 1.7k

The club alive tonight, with music playing so loud you could feel the thumping of the beat in your chest. People danced passionately, cheered loudly, and drank like no tomorrow. y/n was enthralled by it all.

Watching from the booth in the corner she sipped her second vodka. She scanned the club enjoying the view of people losing themselves to the beat of the music. Highly entertained by the crowd of people she took another sip of her drink before having her gaze drift to the bar.

That’s when she saw him from across the club sitting at the bar, alone. The Pablo Gavi just alone at the club bar. This had to be a scene straight out of a rom-com. She had half a mind to just leave him alone, let him enjoy his night in peace. Watch him from afar.

But where’s the fun in that and she came here to have fun. And tipsy confidence started to take over.

This is the golden boy of FC Barcelona, one of her favorite youngsters of this generation. She could watch him from afar whenever she wanted to but the chance to even speak to him may never come again. Downing the last of her vodka sprite, a game plan formed in her head. She shook her shoulders a bit and made her way across the club to the bar, a small smirk forming on her lip.

She leaned back on the counter at the empty spot next to him, her arms propped on the counter holding her weight.

“Hi.” she greets him, her smirk becoming a sweet smile.

“Hey.” He replies back short.

She looked behind her at the bar then back to Gavi, “Are you-”, before she could finish her sentence he cut her off.

“Yes, I’m Pablo Gavi.” his voice became increasingly more distant. The girl could only laugh, smiling wider.

“Oh no I was going to ask if I could buy you a drink. But it’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Pablo Gavi.”

Gavi looked taken aback. Girls fawn over him, come up to squealing his name, then squealing again when he speaks to him. But she just laughed off his name. Treated him like a regular guy. It intrigued him to say the least.

Leaning back on his chair he finally met her gaze to find soft eyes and a coy smile draw her lips. Gavi noted her outfit first, dressed in a simple cropped shirt that rested right above her belly button with wide sleeves and flared jeans. It was a simple outfit but complemented her shape well. Paired with the dismissiveness of his name and the air of confidence around her. It was alluring.

“You want to buy me a drink? ¿Por qué?” Gavi asked with a raised eyebrow.

y/n shrugged her shoulders. “¿Por qué no? Gives me an excuse to talk to a pretty guy sitting by himself. You’d do the same with any girl, sí?” she replied, her tone laced with flirtatious intentions.

Gavi felt his face flush and thanked god the club lights obscured the color. She called him pretty and it made him flustered. He quickly composed himself.

“Well what can I get, hermosa?” he asked, smiling playfully matching her flirtiness.

“Whatever you want, my treat sweetheart.” she replied, pushing herself off the counter and making her way to the bartender. Gavi followed after quickly catching her pace.

“Hola amigo,” he called out to the bartender, waving him down slightly.

“Hi, what can I get you two?” the bartender asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder.

“I’d like a beer, por favor?” the bartender nodded then looked to y/n gesturing for her to order.

“For me I’d like a sangria and two shots of tequila, and also can you add it to this card?” She pulled out her credit card from the back pocket of her pants and handed it to the man.

The bartender nodded, taking the card and walking off to fulfill their order.

“Two tequila shots?” Gavi asked, leaning on the counter.

All the girl could do was shrug with a sheepish smile. “One for the both of us, it’ll be harmless fun. Then we can continue our night however we like.” Gavi laughed lightly with his boyish smile painting his lips.

“One shot won’t hurt anyone I suppose.” He responded, his fingers nervously toying with each other.

y/n noticed his nervous tick and offered her hand to him. Gavi grabbed her hand intertwining their fingers. The gesture was small and seemed subconsciously done, as if it was second nature for her to reach out and calm someone.

It gave him a sense of ease. Although he enjoys his nights out being just like any eighteen year old, all eyes on him outside of the pitch made his stomach turn and his heart clenched in anxious unrest. But y/n didn’t skip a beat in sensing his discomfort and offered silent assurance.

Gavi looked to their hands then up and into the sea of people surrounding them.

“So what do you do for work? When you said your name earlier it was as if I was supposed to know you?” y/n’s question pulled his attention back to her. It was hard not to giggle at herself and her small ploy.

“I play for the football club here, F.C Barcelona. I’m a midfielder,” Gavi replied. He shifted his weight and looked at his surroundings feeling a sense of awkwardness rise in his chest.

‘Does she even know what that means? God Gavi you sound so arrogant. Dios mios!’ he thought to himself.

“So…um..what– heh uh what do you do for work? Do you live here in Barcelona or…?” he asked, stumbling over his words. y/n stifled a laugh, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand. She could tell he felt almost out of place at the moment and awkward.

“I’m here for a vacation but Barcelona is a gorgeous city. I’m enjoying my time here.” She replied and Gavi felt something sink in his chest. It was an odd sense of disappointment but he shook it off. He’s Pablo Gavi and this was just one girl. He’s talked to loads of girls, this one leaving at the end of the night never to be seen again won’t be the end of the world.

“A beer for you señor and for you señorita the sangria and the two tequila shots. Enjoy your night.” The bartender set down all the drinks and y/n’s credit card on the counter.

y/n grabbed her card and slipped it back into her pocket then grabbed her drinks. Gavi followed her actions and grabbed his beer and his shot of tequila. He raised his tequila shot up, “¡Salud!”

y/n raised her own up and touched it to Gavi’s “¡Salud!” she repeated cheerfully. Both down their shots quickly, y/n started coughing slightly due to the burn at the back of her throat.

Gavi giggled slightly, “Too strong?” he asked before sipping on his beer. She rolled her eyes playfully and waved him off.

“Don’t tease, tequila doesn’t go down easy all the time.” She replied, taking a large sip of her sangria. Gavi laughed again at her teasingly as he slipped an arm around her waist. y/n leaned into him, raising her eyebrow.

“That’s a bold move would you say Pablo,” she teased flirtatiously.

“No more than anything you’ve said to me,” he flirted back.

The two sipped on their drink and swayed together on the edges of the dance floor to the various songs that played loudly. They continued to talk, further acquainting themselves with each other. But tenison started to grow between them. The longer they spent in each other’s presence it became more than just simple flirtations.

Then the familiar melody of Shakira’s Chantaje started to play, despite being an older song people cheered when the song started. y/n looked to the dance floor before setting her drink down on the bar counter. She moved to slip out of his hold and moved to the dance floor.

“Where are you going?” Gavi grabbed her upper arm gent and leaned into her ear so she would hear his question clearly. y/n looked up at him with a playful smile.

“I’m going to dance,” She winked at him before slipping out into the crowd. Gavi watched her as made her way to the dance floor. The girl moved her body to the beat of music, her hands moving down the sides of her torso as she swayed her hips to the music.

Following the beat she lost herself to the song, subconsciously singing along to the lyrics. Gavi continued to watch her, his eyes traveling her body.

Then She turned her back to him, continuing to move her hips and move her hands up her body. Finishing off his beer he took a large sip throwing his head back then left the empty bottle on the counter. Gavi immediately made his way towards the dance floor.

As y/n turned around to face Gavi their gazes found one another. A coy smile painted her lips as she put a hand our beckoning Gavi to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest.

“¿Por qué no bailamos juntos, hermosa?” He whispered against her jaw. His hands ghosted down her sides and rested on her hips.

y/n’s arms reached out to wrap around his neck. “Lovely idea, mi chico bonito.” she replied. Gavi smiled and started to follow the movements of her body. They danced together, their foreheads pressed together as and eyes looked at one another.

Gavi’s hands traveled back up body to her waist. He squeezed it as he leaned into the base of her neck to kiss it gently. y/n turned around his grasps and pressed her back against his chest. Her hips grinding back on him and head thrown back onto his shoulder. Eyes gazing into his and a coy smile drawn on her lips.

“Don’t play with me,” Gavi grumbled into her ear. She only laughed and brought up a hand to cup the back of his neck. Holding him closer to her body, his breath fanning on her neck.

y/n sooned closed her eyes and placed her free hand over his that was resting on her waist. They continued to dance with each other for a few more songs. Their bodies continue to grind against each other. Hand roaming each other’s bodies and whispering desperate flirtations.

Then y/n pulled away from Gavi’s grasp abruptly.

“Well it’s been a pleasure Pablo Gavi, but unfortunately I think it’s my time to go.” her hand dragged down his chest before she made her way through the crowd, disappearing from Gavi’s sight.

~~~

2nd a/n: part 2 with smut maybe?? idk tell me if you y’all want one :)

tags: @osferthsgf @footballerficsposts

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi imagines #pablo gavi oneshot #fc barcelona #fc barca #fc barcelona imagines #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x y/n

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hina-hina · 2 years

Note

Omg could u write headcanons of how alejandro takes care of an injured reader during battle/a mission?

Just him being so worried and reader trying to calm him down even though they're literally bleeding out?

Thanks in advance, if not, thanks for ur time tho!! Have a lovely day/night :))

This was such a cute request, I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! o(^▽^)o

Thanks to everyone for understanding about not uploading yesterday and for anyone that cares to know, I have passed all my finals/classes! I wish all of those the best of luck with their exams and to enjoy their time off! Love you all ❤

Also, big thanks for 300 followers! I'm so thankful you all like what I write and thank you for all your support!

|| Alejandro With an Injured Reader ||

Warnings: Some gore and blood, a little angst, non-graphic dipictions of injuries

Gender-Neutral!Reader // Romantic

For this request, I imagine your a relatively new member to Los Vaqueros

He was quite hard on you but that was because he actually did find you very attractive but he didn't want a situation like with Valeria to happen again

So he was often very cold and distant with you but that was just because he didn't want to get attached

So, when the two of you get seperated from the other Vaqueros, he knows he's completely screwed

The two of you duck into an old, abandoned house to hide from the enemy troops closing in

He was quickly trying to get back into contact with the rest of your team when he noticed your slow, sluggish movements and hand wrapped tightly around your middle

He knows the two of you are infinitely more fucked

"Are you hurt? Show me."

He is immediately at your side, supporting your weight as he lowers you down to lean against a nearby wall

With his urging, you pull your bloody hand away from the gunshot wound in your abdomen

"Shit..."

You glance down at the wound then back up at Alejandro, muttering with half-lidded eyes, "Colonel, you need to go and find the others before they find us."

"No," he says it immediately, pressing his hand onto the bleeding wound and trying to ignore your pained hiss, "No one gets left behind, vaquera/vaquero."

He quickly rifles through his vest, pulling out a stim shot

The voices of the enemy troops was getting louder and he knew they didn't have much time left

He drops his voice to a whisper, "This is going to hurt like a bitch, but you need to keep quiet. Here-"

He offers up his gloved hand, encouraging you to bite down before he gives you the stim shot

He uses a bit of cloth to pack into the wound and hauls you up off the ground

After the stim shot, your much more awake and aware, helping him take out enemy troops when he can

Eventually you make it back to the others, him immediately shouting out to them that you needed a medic

Others on your team began swarming you, pulling you away and he can't help the way his hands linger on your injured form

He watches as your helped into the helo to get further medical assistance from the medics

Rudy comes up and clasped a comforting hand onto Alejandro's shoulder, "They're going to be ok, amigo."

All he can do is nod as his gaze lingers on you while he loads into the helo as well

When they get back to base, he is immediately going to the medical ward to see you

Your sitting in one of the beds, rid of your tactical gear and in civvies

He tries to keep it professional, he really does

He strolls into the room, hands clasped politely behind his back as he watches the medic finish up bandaging your stitches

You perk up when you notice him standing by the door, "Colonel."

For once in his life, he doesn't know what to say as his eyes fixate on your bandaged wound

He settles for a respectful nod

The medic, noticing the obvious tension, looks between the two of you before excusing themselves

The two of you sit in awkward silence for a moment before you motion to the empty space on the bed, "You could... Sit? If you wanted..."

It frightens him how he doesn't think he would refuse anything you asked of him in that moment

He sits after a moment, quietly admitting, "I'm glad your ok."

"Thank you," You stare at him for a moment before biting your lip, slowly grabbing his hand in yours, "Thank you for not leaving me behind."

He is shocked

He doesn't understand because he had been so awful to you before

He likes it nonetheless

He looks at you and the two of you make eye contact

and he just doesn't care anymore

All the things that had been holding him back before crumble as he moves in slowly, one large hand coming up to rest against your cheek as he give you plenty of time to stop him

You don't, leaning up to meet him halfway as the two of you kiss softly

It was a small kiss but when he pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours and admits quietly to being scared of losing you

The two of you sit like that for a while before you eventually have to seperate

He promises to take you on an actual date and woo the fuck outta you when you feeling better =￣ω￣=

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holygrailimagines · 2 years

Text

Coach’s Daughter

Summary: Reader is a coach’s daughter.

Author’s Note: I gave Diego a random ass number lmao. Also, no hate to no sabo kids. Also, maybe a multipart series?

Your dad was a very valuable man in the football community, especially Mexico. Football and Mexico ran in his veins like crazy. His passion was unlike any other, which is why the Mexican Selection team needed him. Everyone was sure he would guide Mexico into a new season of triumph and success.

Unfortunately for you, that meant you had to leave everything you knew in America and move to Mexico. Sure, you had a lot of love for Mexico. After all, it was quite literally your mother’s and father’s land. But, America was your home, you had been here for two decades. All your friends and family were here, so you weren’t super excited to leave everything behind just so your dad could teach a bunch of men how to play football.

Your father sensed your sadness and decided the best way to make it up to you was to bring you to work with him. Maybe his love and passion would rub off on you and you would finally understand that this was a good thing.

“Hijita, por favor, I don’t want you to be sad anymore.” Your dad begged as he kept his eyes on the road. You sighed, staring out the passenger side window. You two were on your way to the team’s practice.

“I know papa, but you know I don’t even like football.” It was true, you weren’t interested at all. He sighed at your response as he parked the car.

“Okay but, please just be nice to my players. And don’t worry about speaking Spanish, they all understand English.” You nodded as you both exited the car and headed to the trunk. Your father passed you a few orange cones and he slung a mesh bag of dozens of soccer balls behind his back and you both made your way to the open field.

In the distance you saw a group of men and when they noticed your dad, they instantly cheered and ran up to greet him. They hugged him and shook his hand before turning their attention to you. Nothing is as uncomfortable as millions of eyes staring at you, especially when those eyes belong to the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen.

“Amigos, esta es mi hija, (Y/N).” Your father said in Spanish, introducing you.

“Mucho gusto, déjame ayudarte con esos conos.” A man with curly hair and gloves said, reaching out his hand. You noticed the number 13 on his uniform. (translation: nice to meet you, let me help you with those cones)

“Umm. Hello?” You said in an unsure manner, reaching out to shake his hand. If you were being completely honest, your spanish was horrid. You hated to admit it but you were a bit whitewashed. The man looked at you with furrowed eyebrows but smiled a little.

“¿Que, no español?” He chuckled, sending a look towards your father. Your father sighed, as if he was disappointed at your lack of bilingual skills. (What, no spanish?)

“Yes, about that. My daughter has spent all her life in America so please try to speak to her in English,” Your dad announced to the team as he placed both of his hands on your shoulder.

“Hopefully this time in Mexico will do some good for her Spanish, right?” He asked, looking down at you, shaking you slightly as you nodded in agreement. God this was so awkward.

Every football player took turns shaking your hand and greeted you in English. Well almost every football player except number 18. He shook your hand and proudly greeted you in spanish. He was absolutely beautiful. His caramel skin and hazel eyes left you red and flabbergasted.

The whole time you sat on the bench watching the team, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. When practice was over, you said your goodbyes to the team and began walking to the car with your dad.

“¡Espera, tus conos!” You heard a voice yell behind you. Your dad chuckled as number 18 handed you the orange cones you accidentally left behind. (Wait, your cones!)

“Gracias, Dieguito.” Your dad thanked him, Diego smiled at him and then at you. He flashed his perfect teeth, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“Si, gracias,” you said, trying your best not to present your American accent.

He smirked and before jogging back to his teammates he said, “You’re welcome, American girl.”

I literally wrote this in like an hour because I was so desperate for any writing posts with football players. Lord knows how feral this world cup is making me.

#diego lainez #diego lainez x reader #worldcup2022 #seleccion mexicana #diego lainez imagine

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didishawn · 1 year

Text

Dumb boy (Gavi x Reader)

Warnings: Gavi is an asshole to you because he hasn't grown up from his kindergarten-like flirting phase, still an asshole, you don't take his shit, he goes too far with his comments, enemies that somehow are still together after so many years, angst, not a good ending at all unless anyone wants a second part, I actually love Gavi even if by the nature of this fic it doesn't seem so, lots of Spanish

Masterlist

Pablo Martín Páez Gavira is the name of the boy you hate the most, unfortunately, it seems that your destiny will always be next to him.

You were kids when you met, age four and in the same class back in your hometown, he spent his days pulling on your pigtails and making fun of you. You shared the same classes and friends but never truly got along.

Unfortunately your parents did get along, becoming fast friends and with the ages, you two were forced multiple times to hang out.

You were most exited when you found out Gavi was moving to Barcelona, even if you unlike the others didn't quite see his talent, you were glad he was supposedly good enough for Barça.

Your joy didn't last long, though, as a couple weeks later your father too informed you of you family moving to the very same city.

You cheered yourself up by thinking maybe everything wouldn't be that bad, with Gavi in La Masía and you on your own school. But of course nothing ever goes good for you, with your parents still into forcing you two to hang out and you eventually meeting some of Gavi's teammates and friendships being formed.

"¿Qué pasa entre Gavi y tú que se odian tanto?" one of the boys, Ansu asks you one day. (what's the matter between you and Gavi that makes you both hate each other so much?)

"Es un idiota ese amigo tuyo, parece que no tiene nada más que hacer que molestarme" (that friend of yours is an idiot, has nothing better to do than bother me)

Ansu makes sure to keep that information on mind for later times, even if he has personally never seen Gavi being as bad as his usual self towards you.

It isn't until some years pass that he realises how cruel his friend can be when it comes to you.

Gavi has just debuted on the first team, a reason to celebrate. Not for you, but it was just your luck you both end up in the same house party, him with his teammates, you with a couple friends, inicially only approaching each other so you can greet everyone but him.

You are dressed in a short red dress, so tight it leaves nothing to imagination, that your friends forced you into.

"No puedes seguir llorando por el gilipollas ese. Tienes que salir y olvidarte de él por completo" one of them told you, her phylosophy on life is to go out partying to forget any broken hearts. (you can't keep crying for that idiot. You, have to go out, and completely forgey him)

Broken hearts like yours after that douchebag you used to call your boyfriend, the one you had been dating for year and a half, decided to cheat on you out of nowhere.

The boys, the ones you know and are friends with are quick to compliment you on you, appearance, making you blush, meanwhile Gavi rolls his eyes and glares at you. He looks you up and down, he hasn't uttered a word yet, he lets out a mean laugh.

"Ahora entiendo por qué el gilipollas ese te puso los cuernos" (now I understand why that asshole cheated on you)

All of you are wide eyed as you turn to him "¿Perdona?" (excuse me?)

"¿Me estás diciendo que no te parece normal que te pongan los cuernos cuando tú básicamente vas por ahí vestida como una puta? Probablemente tú hiciste lo mismo con él" (you are telling me you don't find it normal for him to cheat on you when you go out dressing like a whore? You probably did the very same thing)

"¿Pero que dices, payaso?" Ansu yells at him, hitting him on the back of the head, Pedri too glares at him. (the fuck are you saying, you clown?)

"¿Ustedes no piensan lo mismo? Por favor, poco más y lleva un cartel con: follame en la frente. Como si alguien fuese a querer con ella" (don't you both think the same? Please, she is one step away from having a sign with: fuck me on her forehead. As if someone would ever want something with her)

"¿Se puede saber cuál es tu puto problema?" you finally manage to say, trying your best to contain your tears. (what the fuck is your problem?)

"Ay, por favor, no te hagas la tonta. Es normal que el tipo ese te engañara, no entiendo ni como aguanto tenerte tan cerca durante tanto tiempo, si es que eres insoportable y tampoco gran cosa" (oh please, don't play dumb. It's normal that the guy cheated on you, I can't ever understand how he lasted that long with you near him, you are insufferable and your looks aren't good either)

Before Gavi has time to realise, his head is tilted sideways and there is a sting in his cheek, you are pushing against his shoulder, and run straight into the bathroom. He receives another push, this time from Ansu as he glares furiously at him, Pedri too looks disappointed.

"¿Se puede saber que coño te pasa?" Pedri shouts at him, his jaw is clenched, so is Gavi's. (care to tell us what the fuck is wrong with you?)

"No necesitáis defenderla para que se os abra de piernas, probablemente ya está ahí dentro esperandoos a ambos" (you don't have to defend her to get her legs wide open, she is probably waiting for you both already)

That night, Gavi arrives home with a purple eye given to him by Ansu Fati.

You two don't see each other in a long while, he believes you to be avoiding him, it bothers him. Meanwhile, you are glad your parents no longer make you hang out with him.

A month or two have gone by before you have to face him again, it's your father's birthday, his best friend is Gavi's dad, and of course they force the asshole to come too. You ignore him, and it annoys him a lot.

He manages to catch you when you try to sneak upstairs into your room.

"He visto que te has hecho muy amiga de Ansu, ¿o capaz algo más?" (I have seen you and Ansu are really good friends now, or perhaps something more?)

"¿De verdad vienes otra vez a tocarme la polla? ¿No te basto el otro día? Déjame en paz, Gavi, olvídate de mi existencia como yo estoy intentando hacer contigo" (you seriously come again to fuck with me? Didn't you have enough the other day? Leave me alone, Gavi, forget about my existence like I am trying to do with yours)

Gavi's usual stone cold gaze when he watches turns soft, sad "Yo no quiero olvidarme de tu existencia, me gustan las cosas como están ahora" (I don't want to forget about you, I like things like they are now)

"¿Tú haciéndome la vida imposible y dejándome en claro lo horrible que soy? Paso" (you making my life impossible and making it clear how horrible I am? Hard pass)

"Esto es lo nuestro, y/n, yo jodiendote y tu picandote, nuestro juego" (this is our thing, y/n, I bothering you and you hating it, our game)

"No, Gavi, este eres tú siendo un gilipollas y odiandome sin ningún motivo" (no, Gavi, this is you being an asshole and hating me without a motive)

You try to leave, he stops you.

"No te odio" (I don't hate you)

"Si, claro" (yeah, right)

"Me gustas, y/n, ¿tan difícil es de comprender?" (I like you, y/n, is it that hard to understand?)

You are incredulous as you watch him, you tear your arm from his hold.

"¿De verdad me estás diciendo que me has tratado como auténtica mierda porque eres un gilipollas con edad mental de niño de tres años? ¿Te piensas que por joderme la vida me ibas a gustar?" (are you seriously telling me you have treated me as if I were shit because you are an idiot with the mental capacity of a three-year-old? You really think that ruining my life would make me like you?)

Gavi knows it's a dumb thing to do, but still does.

"Escúchame bien, tú nunca me vas a gustar, así que olvídate de mi, Gavi. Si de verdad te pensabas que iba a ser una historia donde yo soy la tonta y te perdono años de acoso estás bien equivocado" (listen to me clearly, I will never like you, so forget about me, Gavi. If you really thought this would be one of those stories with me as the dumb main character that forgives you after all this bullying, you are so wrong)

"Haré lo que sea para que me perdones, pero por favor, no me saques de tu vida" (I will do whatever you wish me to so you forgive me, but please let me stay in your life)

"Ya es tarde, te digo que te olvides de mi, cualquier mierda que se te ocurra no será bastante" (it's too late, forget about me I tell you, any shitty idea you have won't be enough)

You do leave this time, leaving a broken boy chastising himself over his stupidity all throughout the years. He understands you hating him, he does too.

Part 2 (Bad ending for Gavi)

Part 2 (Good ending for Gavi)

#gavi #gavi x reader #gavi imagine #barcelona #fc barca #barca #spanish nt #spain national team #spain nt #ansu fati #pedri #gavi angst #football imagine #football player

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lykaios2 · 8 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write something? It can be a headcannon or oneshot, it’s up to you. Could you do a Rise!Leo x reader, and Leo introduces reader to Senor Hueso, since Hueso is kinda like a father figure to him? I don’t know I just thought it would be a cute idea!!

Thank You!🫶

gragaraaggagagagagarahhhah the ending is terrible but i worked on it so might as well ppst it idk im just drop it here

hope you enjoy ❤️

The Father I Never Had

rise!leo x reader (romantic)

“Thank you so much for coming, babe.”

It was a special day for Leo today. He had been very excited about this day, but also quite nervous. You and Leo had been dating for about a year now, and it was a good relationship. He loved you more than anything, you were his entire world. He told everyone about you. Especially his favorite restaurant manager and bone man, Señor Hueso.

Hueso was the father that Splinter never was. Sure, Leo loved Splinter and he was pretty sure Splinter loved him, but Hueso was there for him a lot more. He could tell him anything. And he did.

Hueso was very excited to learn that Leo was dating you. Hueso had been bugging him for a while now about if he was going to get a partner or not, so when Leo did, Hueso begged to meet you one day. But unknown to you, today was that day.

“Of course, Leo. What’s up? You told me to dress somewhat nice, so there’s gotta be something.”

“Listen, don’t stress about this but…I wanted you to meet my dad. My other…other one. We’ve been together for a little bit, and I figured you should get to know him a little, seeing as he’s so important to me.”

“Other than Splinter and Draxum?”

“Yeah…he runs the pizza place me and my brothers always go to. And the one where we went on our first date.”

“Woah, you know him? Oh…I hope he’ll like me.”

“Oh, come on, you’re perfect y/n! Everyone loves you. Especially me.”

“You sweet talker, you.”

It was a bit scary for the both of you. There was always the fear of disapproval, but you just put it in the back of your mind for now. Leo held out his hand to you, smiling, while his other hand was already creating the portal to Hueso’s. You took his hand, letting him lead you through. You popped out on the other side right in front of Hueso’s.

“Wait, isn’t he, like, working?”

“Oh, he’s been dying to meet you. I’m sure he can spare some time.”

“He wants to meet me?! Now the pressure’s really on…”

“Hey, don’t sweat it! He’ll love you, I’m sure of it.”

By now you were almost to the back of the restaurant. Leo was calling out to Hueso and looking around, before a seemingly annoyed Hueso appeared out a door somewhere. You had only seen him once before, so to see him up close was really a bit of a shock.

“Hueso! My favorite restaurant manager! How’ve you been?”

“Very peaceful without you here, amigo.”

“Aw, come on, you know you miss me. I liven up the place, make it a little more fun.”

“I may miss you, but I do not miss the chaos you cause. Now, who is this you’ve brought with you?”

“Oh, right. So, I know you’ve been bugging me to meet my partner ever since I met them…well, this is y/n.” Hueso was taken slightly aback. He was not prepared for this moment at all, and started fumbling around. He excused himself for a minute, and began hurriedly running around the back of the restaurant, trying to take care of a few things. You look concerned, but Leo just smiled and laughed. After quickly making preparations and ensuring that everything would be okay while he was gone, he rejoined you and Leo and asked you to follow him. Hueso led you through a door in the back, into a more quiet part of the restaurant. He sat at a table, inviting you two to sit with him.

“y/n, this is Señor Hueso. Hueso, this is y/n. You guys haven’t met before, right?”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well then, allow me to do the honors. y/n here is my lovely and amazing partner, who I would do anything in the world for. We’ve been dating for about a year now. I couldn’t be more grateful for them. They take wonderful care of me, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.” He praised you to no end, which only made you more and more shy and bashful. Hueso seemed pleased, he could tell that Leo truly loved and cared for you. “And we can’t forget Tio Hueso. Hueso…he’s always been there for me. After the Kraang invasion, he checked up on me all the time. He’d send me and my brothers dinner if we couldn’t make it for ourselves.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Hueso.” Hueso smiled.

“On late nights, I’d often go out on my own, and a lot of the time I’d end up here in this restaurant, just talking to him. He’s always listened to me…he’s always accepted me, no matter how I changed.”

“It sounds like you really love him.”

“I do. I couldn’t be more thankful for everything he’s done for me.”

Leo sat in silence for a minute. Leo was smiling at Hueso, almost as if he was recalling everything he had done for him.

“Well, it sounds like Leo loves you quite a bit.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Oh, sorry you two, I was just…thinking.”

“About what?”

“That’s not important. Come on guys, it’s too quiet in here! Start talking, it’s not like there’s nothing to talk about.”

You awkwardly started the conversation again. But soon enough, the three of you were talking the night away, taking turns talking about life stories, some more embarrassing than others. Surprisingly, Leo was the quietest. But he just wanted to sit there and take in how cool it was that two of his favorite people in the world were right in front of him, having a good time.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x reader #rise leo x reader #lykaios writes

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xjulixred45x · 3 months

Note

What unpopular opinion of yours in the fandom of sds/4koa?

Mmhm...dificult. lets see.

They ruined Jericho: this is pretty obvious, what was the need to turn NNT's best secondary character into a PEDOPHILE? other than she's super out of character from the Jericho we know and love. This especially hurt me as a Jericho stand.

Ban x Elaine (despite being super shady) is ironically NNT's best constructed relationship😑: this rather shows how low the standards were with Nakaba in his previous work. If Elaine looked like an ADULT, I think they would be a very pretty couple, but nowadays, it makes me kind of yikes to see them before the timeskipe.

Tristan is...boring: it's not bad!! not at all! It's just that his good-natured, do-nothing-wrong attitude (thanks to his loving upbringing) is a type of attitude that I can overcome to a certain extent, but if Tristan doesn't show REAL change in the story soon, he'll move down quite a bit on my list. .

related to that-

It makes no sense for Tristan to continue trusting Chion: LET'S SEE, even if he is his cousin, it is more than obvious that Chion hid information, attacked knowing that Percival was the child of the prophecy, separated from the group to go after Gawain alone and KILL HIM....and yet Tristan still sees him as a friend??! Tristan is kind of an idiot.

Arthur had the reasons to become evil: I know it sounds contradictory compared to the other posts I made, but let's put ourselves in a situation: Arthur was treated badly by his brother all his life until he became king at the age of 15, since he was A teenager was put in charge of an entire kingdom, with a selfish teacher who, more like a student, saw him as a possible tool. The kingdom that Arthur loves was constantly under attack by conflicts caused bc two assholes(yk who i mean) of other races and that ended up causing 1- HIS DEATH, that he will be left without an arm, that AN ANCESTRAL ENTITY WILL POSSESS HIM (because of his "master") and later 2- THE DESTRUCTION OF HIS KINGDOM.

Even if we all had wanted Arthur to have continued to be the sun child that we all loved, with all that TRAUMA, the PAIN and ANGUST that he had to go through, it didn't seem very viable....FUCK YOU NAKABA---

I think is all

_____

(ESPAÑOL)

arruinaron a Jericho: esto es bastante obvio ¿cual era la necesidad de convertir al mejor personaje secundario de NNT en una PEDOFILA? aparte de que es super fuera de personaje de la Jericho que conocemos y amamos. esto le dolio especialmente como una Jericho stand.

El Ban x Elaine(pese a ser super turbio) es irónicamente la relación mejor construida de NNT😑: esto mas bien muestra lo bajos que eran los estándares con Nakaba en su obra anterior. si Elaine se viera como una ADUTLA, creo que serian una pareja muy bonita, pero en oa actualidad, me da algo de cosa verlos antes del timeskipe.

Tristán es...aburrido: no es malo!! para nada! solo que su actitud de niño buenachon y que no hace nada malo(gracias a su crianza amorosa) es un tipo de actitud que puedo vancar hasta cierto punto, pero si Tristán no muestra un cambio REAL en la obra pronto, descendera bastante en mi lista.

relaciónado con eso-

no tiene sentido que Tristan siga confiando en Chion: A VER, aun si es su primo, es mas que obvio que Chion oculto información, ataco a sabiendas de que Percival era el niño de la profesia, se separo del grupo para ir tras Gawain solo y MATARLO....y aun asi Tristan sigue viendolo como un amigo??! Tristan es algo idiota.

Arthur tenia las razones para volverse malvado: se que suena contradictorio en comparación a los otros post que hice, pero pongamonos en situación: a Arthur lo trato mal su hermano toda su vida hasta que se convirtió en rey a los 15 AÑOS, desde que era un adolescente le pusieron acargo de un reino entero, con una maestra egoista que mas como un alumno lo veia como una posible herramienta, el reino al que Arthur ama estaba constantemente bajo ataque por conflictos causados por dos pendejos de otras razas y que eso termino causando 1- SU MUERTE, que quedará sin brazo, que UNA ENTIDAD ANCENSTRAL LO POSEEYERA(por culpa de su "maestra")y mas tarde 2- LA DESTRUCCIÓN DE SU REINO.

aún si todos hubieramos querido que Arthur hubiera seguido siendo el niño sol que todos amamos, con todo ese TRAUMA, el DOLOR y ANGUSTIA que tuvo que pasar, no se veia muy viable....PUDRETE NAKABA---

#4kota #4 knights of the apocalypse #mokushiroku no yonkishi #four knights of the apocalypse #arthur 4kota #4kota spoilers #4kota tristan #4kota jericho #4kota chion #ban nnt #elaine nnt #arthur pendragon

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grey-sides · 11 months

Text

King of the River

Steve’s knees sunk onto the damp, hard floor of Tina’s kitchen. His broken heart forgotten when Nancy had walked out the front door with Jonathan Byers close at her heels.

He had been upset, sure, upset enough to down as much punch as Nancy had and more. But maybe it had been falling apart long before the party ever happened.

Maybe it never even got started when Barb went missing after the pool party with Tommy and Carol. Steve didn’t know when they stopped being on the same wavelength, but he found it easier to forget when his brain was clouded with alcohol.

Alcohol and the sight of Billy Hargrove across the room. He was drunk too, a nasty laugh in the air because Tommy H was trying to get his attention. Tommy was always trying to get Billy’s attention.

Steve smirked to himself where he swayed because he didn’t have to fight for Hargrove’s attention. He had it whether he wanted it or not. And he wanted it right now.

He got to his feet and dropped his punch cup on the counter, uncaring if it spilled or made a mess. Tina could deal with that later before her parents got home.

No, Steve needed to talk to Hargrove.

He licked his lips, weaving between the couples still dancing together. Across the house that wasn’t that big, but felt like an ocean of bodies between them.

His sunglasses were in the pocket of his blazer and Steve pulled them out for some courage. Or just to make Hargrove think that he was a bad ass.

“Harrington!” Hargrove drawled while Steve kept making his way over. He grinned, licking over his teeth as he looked at Steve.

“Saw your girlfriend run away with some other guy.”

Steve scoffed, even as his heart ached in his chest. “Not my girlfriend.”

“Tough luck, amigo. Plenty of other bitches in the sea,” Hargrove replied. He was swaying where he was leaning, but he took a bold step forward to get in Steve’s face.

“Broke your record, didn’t I?"

Steve’s eyes dropped to Hargrove’s lips and his beer breath for a moment. But he quickly dragged them back up to smirk.

“Guess you did. I’d offer a rematch, but I hear the keg is tapped,” Steve breathed.

Hargrove laughed and with a flick of his wrist, Tommy H and the other guy were gone. They were still in the middle of a party, but it sure felt like the two of them were alone on top of the world.

Steve licked his lips again and gestured to Hargrove’s chest. “Damn near wearing half the keg it looks like though.”

He was jealous of Hargrove’s chest, of course he was. He played sports and worked out, but he never looked like that. Could never quite get such a nice physique.

Hargrove set his jaw for a second, a moment until he practically grabbed Steve by the scruff of his neck and shoved him out into the yard.

They were alone in the yard, with the keg tapped out, most people had huddled inside for the blistering warmth of high schoolers. Or they were gone, off to fuck each other senseless.

Steve stumbled to a stop, managing to keep his feet under him, but only so. He whirled around, his sunglasses flying from the force of it.

“What did I do?” he demanded, whined really because Hargrove was being unnecessarily rough.

“Acted like you didn’t want my attention all night and now you’re what- trying to razz me?” Hargrove asked. He looked angry, angrier than Steve thought he had any right to be.

Steve waved his arm roughly through the air and he scoffed. “Don’t even why I bother,” he muttered. “Was trying to make conversation.”

Hargrove laughed darkly and shook his head. He reached out to grab Steve’s lapel and pulled him close. “Stupid conversation, Harrington. Yeah, I have beer on myself, get over it, fucking priss.”

“Hey!” Steve shoved back at Billy, his hand sliding across a sticky, sweaty pec. He made a face and tried to take a step back.

“You know, when other people used to overthrow kings, they would make an example out of them,” Hargrove said. Dangerous.

“It’s not real,” Steve muttered, shaking his head.

He licked his lips anyway though and had to ask himself why being talked to like this was making his dick interested. As interested as it could get when he was this drunk, of course.

Hargrove- Billy now, probably- grabbed his shoulder and started to put pressure on it. So Steve was forced to sink down.

“You got a problem with the beer on me?” Billy asked, voice low, deep, and dark.

Steve stared up at him, his mouth open because he didn’t think he could close it. “I-”

Billy nodded and gestured to himself. “Lick it up then.”

“What?'

“Lick. It. Up.” Billy grabbed his chin and pulled his face close. Until Steve was face to face with his tanned stomach.

He blinked a few times and looked up at Billy. “This is-”

“Come on, pretty boy,” Billy coaxed. “Lick it up and I’ll give you a handy in my pretty car.”

Steve felt conflicted, he knew this wasn’t a normal thing for guys to do. But nothing in his life had been normal since Barb went missing and the Demogorgon showed up.

He licked his lips and leaned in. Billy put a hand on the top of his head and Steve opened his mouth. He licked a stripe up the side of his abs.

Billy groaned above him, so Steve did it again. He let his eyes close. He focused on the sticky blandness of the beer. Of the tang of salt from Billy’s sweat. Thought about Billy’s spit mingled with it all.

Steve stuck his tongue in his belly button and swirled it around. He thought about the cold ground on his knees. He opened his eyes to look at Billy through the tops of them.

Billy met his eyes and moaned, pulling on Steve’s hair like he hadn’t spent half an hour on it earlier. It was to shit now anyway.

“There we go. Show me who the King is,” Billy drawled.

So Steve kept going until his eyelashes fluttered and he felt dizzy from licking at Billy like a lollipop.

He got lost there, on his knees in Tina’s yard while he cleaned Billy with just his tongue. His fingers eventually curled around Billy’s legs, the tips digging into the back of his knees.

Steve reduced himself to laps and moans, falling into Billy’s pelvis while he cleaned him up.

And when Billy tugged on his hair hard enough to make Steve stand up, he found he was hard. He hadn’t realized it was happening, but looking down- he saw that they both were.

Billy slung a friendly arm around Steve’s shoulders and steered him out of the yard, away from the party. Towards his pretty car.

“King of the River of Beer and Sweat,” Steve laughed and he couldn’t tell if Billy was laughing with him or at him.

But he felt pretty damn comfortable with the whole arrangement when they tumbled into the Camaro together.

And he felt even more comfortable when they exchanged hands in each other’s pants and mingled their saliva even further.

And he had no answers, but a head full of cotton and a mouth full of Billy and he let himself drift. Down the River of Beer and Sweat.

#harringrove #stranger things #greye writes #lets try this again

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natalynsie · 6 months

Text

5 Times Alejandro Flustered Tyler and 1 Time Lindsay Noticed Why (Aletyler Oneshot)

“Go Tyler! Go Tyler!” Lindsay screamed across the baseball field.

Tyler smiled at Lindsay. Lindsay was known for showing her friends support all the time. Even if it was just a friendly game between two teams from the same school during summer. Lightning had bet the juniors that the sophomores could beat them at baseball, and Tyler never turned down a challenge.

So, Tyler got everyone who would come roped in for the game. They didn’t have enough people for a proper team, but a game was a game. Tyler managed to round up Geoff, Duncan, Cody, Owen, and last but not least, Alejandro. Lightning managed to get Scott, Brick, Jo, Mike, and B. At the beginning of the game, he said something about it being “guys versus guys”. Tyler was pretty sure he still didn’t know that Jo was a girl.

There was only one person watching the game, and that was Lindsay. No one else really cared enough about some bet between Tyler and Lightning of all people. Yet, for some reason, Lindsay was still out cheering out on the sidelines.

“Tyler!” Lindsay yelled. Not cheered. Yelled.

Tyler turned towards the field.

A baseball was soaring at him.

Pow!

“Ugh,” Tyler groaned, falling back on the field. His head hit the grass, just like how the ball hit his face.

“Tyler!” Lindsay shrieked, horrified. She ran from the sidelines to Tyler, crouching next to him.

“Amigo.” Alejandro got on his knees next to Tyler. “Can you hear me?”

“Huh?” Tyler asked, in a daze. He looked side to side with squinted eyes, seeing two Alejandro’s. He had double vision. Not like he was a stranger to that.

Alejandro took Tyler’s hand, gently pulling him into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

Tyler blinked a few times, and smiled. “Yeah, I’m okay. This is all grood! Happens all the slime.”

Alejandro chuckled. “Uhh, Tyler, I think you need to sit on the side with Lindsay for a little bit.”

“What?” Tyler asked. “No! You’re really fine! Wait, I mean-”

Alejandro gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder. “You need a break. I’m sure Mike wouldn’t mind sitting out to even out the teams.

“Dang,” Tyler sighed. Lindsay helped Tyler up, and he went to sit on the ground with her.

She smiled. “You said ‘slime’ instead of ‘time’.”

“Aw man, I did?” He folded his arms. “That’s embarrassing.”

“You also said ‘grood’.”

“Ugh…”

~~~

“I didn’t even see that,” Alejandro mumbled. “Good move.”

“Hah, well, you know,” Tyler responded. “I mean, how am I supposed to win sports without a sick sense of strategy? Also, my gym teacher accidentally put me on the chess team for all of ninth grade, so I learned to crush it.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Duncan muttered.

“I should’ve been there,” Alejandro stated. “Maybe then I could kick your butt even harder than I am right now.”

Alejandro moved his knight to Tyler’s king, knocking it over.

“Checkmate.”

“Woah! That came out of nowhere!” Tyler exclaimed. “You’re really good.”

“Thank you, amigo,” Alejandro smirked and brought a hand to Tyler’s face. “Although, you did put up quite the fight.”

Duncan gave Lindsay a look with one eyebrow raised. She returned it with a smile.

Tyler shot back from Alejandro. “You’re also really good. Obviously,” He squeaked. “You beat me.” He chuckled.

“I did.”

~~~

“Thank you again for holding all of our stuff.” Alejandro slipped his three bags of clothes from individual stores onto Tyler’s arm. “We appreciate it.”

“Yeah!” Lindsay smiled. She dropped her bags into Tyler’s arms, and he stumbled backwards. She most certainly had more bags than Alejandro had.

“Mhm,” Justin acknowledged that they were giving thanks and hung a bag on each of Tyler’s right fingers. Tyler remained upright. He just wished his upper body strength as a whole was as good as his finger strength. With that, Justin walked into the changing room.

“Well, you know,” Tyler grunted. “You’re spending the money so I gotta carry the bags.”

“It’s our money, you’re still doing us a favor.”

“You’re doing a favor by looking pretty and stuff.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty? Why thank you.”

Tyler’s face turned slightly pink. “Yeah, uh, well I kind of said that on accident but like, you are pretty I just meant that-”

“I know what you meant, amigo.” Alejandro gave Tyler a smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler managed to vocalize.

“Well. I’m going to try this shirt on.” Alejandro walked into a nearby changing room.

“Aw, you think he’s pretty,” Lindsay grinned. “So nice of you to compliment him.”

“You look pretty too,” Tyler smiled.

“Yay! I know I do, but thanks!”

~~~

“You gonna come in, Linds?” Tyler asked.

“No, I need to work on my tan. And my hair is straightened,” Lindsay replied.

“Aw man. But it’s beach day!”

“Come on, amigo.” Alejandro placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler’s eyes dashed to look at it. “Let’s just go swim. Bridgette and Geoff are waiting.”

“Yeah! Let’s go. Um,” He peeled his eyes from his shoulder, and to Alejandro’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Alejandro and Tyler stood still, staring at each other.

“Uhh, are you guys okay?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes!” Alejandro tore his hand from Tyler’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Tyler nodded and turned, walking towards the beach.

“Bye guys,” Lindsay said, slightly confused.

“Bye!” Tyler waved his hand backwards.

~~~

Heather snorted. “What is with your hair?”

Alejandro looked up, as if he could actually see his own hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You don’t even have enough hair to do a ponytail so you only did half of it. You look ridiculous, Alejandro.”

“Hey! It’s a style,” Tyler defended. “It’s a half-up-half-down.” He turned to Lindsay. “Right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it works that well with his hair type-”

“I think he looks cute!” Tyler yelled, a little too loudly.

Alejandro stood still.

Lindsay stood still.

Heather gave Tyler an eyebrow raise. “You mean the hairstyle looks good?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed, now a little nervous as he took in his friends’ stares.

Alejandro stood up straight. “Yeah, Heather. Tyler likes it. It’s clearly just a you problem.”

“Well, I-” Lindsay butted in.

“Come on Tyler, we have a game to play.”

The two of them walked off, leaving Heather and Lindsay alone.

“God, what an idiot,” Heather insulted.

“Don’t talk about Tyler like that!”

“Not Tyler,” Heather rolled her eyes, “Alejandro.”

“What?”

“He’s so stupid for not noticing.”

“Noticing what?”

“You are too.”

“What?”

~~~

“And guess what?” Lindsay asked, through mouthfuls of popcorn. “She said my nail polish was cheap! Cheap! I never spare a dime when it comes to accessorizing, she knows that.”

“You should cut her off,” Alejandro advised.

“I guess,” Lindsay said. “But seriously!” She shot her hands in the air, hitting Tyler straight in the nose.

Alejandro fell backwards and off of the footrest he had been sitting on. “Oughhh.”

“Tyler!” Alejandro stood up. “Are you alright?”

Alejandro held a hand out to Tyler and pulled him back onto the footrest.

“I-I like girls!”

Alejandro chuckled, and continued to hold his hand. “I know.”

Lindsay looked between the two.

Tyler looked down at Alejandro’s hand before letting go.

“By the way, what time is it?” Alejandro asked.

“Nine,” Lindsay responded.

“Oh, I have to go. See you, Tyler.”

“Bye Al!”

Alejandro grunted, walking away.

Lindsay waited until she heard a door open and shut, and then turned to Tyler.

“Do you have a thing for him?”

“What?” Tyler asked. “No, I don’t, nah, we’re just friends.” He waved his arms around in denial.

“You totally like him! Eee!”

“Do not!”

“Do too! The other day you said he was cute, and today you said you like girls when he helped you up. You totally like him!”

“Aw man,” Tyler sighed. “I do. But only a little!”

Lindsay squealed and gave Tyler a hug. “Yay! You should ask him out!”

“No way! He’s so out of my league.”

“I’m out of your league, but you dated me. Why is he any different?”

“Hey!”

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