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.
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┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐ ┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐
IT WAS ENCHANTING TO MEET YOU
pairing: charles_leclerc & youruser
୨୧˚ in which charles and her girlfriend y/n celebrates their first year anniversary on a vacation
yourusername
liked by pierre_gasly, isahernaez and other 13,224 people
tagged: charles_leclerc
One year with my favorite humanchild! Love you to the moon and back. Couldn’t imagine a better celebration 🍾
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isahernaez: happy anniversary❤️ wishing you more years to come
⤵️yourusername: love you isabella😚
pierregasly: my boy and some girl who stole him from me, whatever happy anniversary🍾
⤵️francisca.cgomes: je te tue, leave them alone
⤵️yourusername: thank you I love you too pierre🙏🏻
charles_leclerc: my life, mon amour… je’taime, so glad to celebrate this with you😍
⤵️yourusername: 😚
charles_leclerc
liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, pierregasly and other 983,323 other people
tagged: yourusername
joyeux anniversarie mon chéri, so glad to have met you and made you my person 😍 wishing us the forever
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carlossainz55: happy anniversary amigo!👊🏻
⤵️charles_leclerc:🙏🏻
scuderiaferrari: wishing the best anniversary to our favorite couple!
user23: my heart, my soul… these two… 🧿 an evil eye to keep these two from any bad eyes
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user90: so shocked that Pierre hasn’t left a comment on this yet 🥱 @pierregasly
⤵️ pierregasly: I was crying
⤵️yourusername: @francisca.cgomes do they have something between we don’t know of?
⤵️francisca.cgomes: I don’t think so Pierre loves to act dramatic love
yourusername: it was enchanting to meet you😚
liked by charles_leclerc
f1wags__
liked by user41, user67 and other 3.324 other people
tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername
Leclerc and Y/LN couple seem to enjoy their holiday together! Wishing them the best anniversary and the most love❤️🥰
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⤵️
user67: I’d die to be the one charles hugs like this…
user90: I just love them, their energy comforts me🥲
user12: cause you can hear it in the silence…
⤵️ user76: you can feel it on the way home
⤵️user32: you can see it with the lights out
⤵️ user44: YOU RE IN LOOOVEEEEE
user23: BEST COUPLE🙏🏻🥸
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and other 34.453 other people
Dinner night, photo by @charles_leclerc
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user87: I don't know which one is luckier? Charles or you? I AM IN LOVE
user43: pure beauty 🫠🫠🫠
user56: leave charles and be my girl 🫡🫡 I'll kill for you
francisca.cgomes: beautiful 😘
yourusername: merci amour 😍
charles_leclerc : so otherworldly 😵💫
yourusername: takes one to know one🤭
charles_leclerc has added to their story
NEXT DAY
yoursername has added to their story
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❛❛ 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄 ❜❜ || MIGUEL O'HARA + BI HAN X READER || EXTREME SMUT ||
A/N: ok hear me out...
TW: threesome, double penetration, blowjob, degradation, rough sex, aggressive sex, size kink, daddykink, afab anatomy, dirty talk, dom!bi han, dom!miguel o'hara, porn plot, v!sex, bdsm, bite, spitting in the mouth, humiliation, no pronouns used other than "you", my chinese, my spanish, worship cock, not reviewed, mortal kombat x astv.
It was supposed to be a simple mission, you and your grand master Bi Han had to receive a guest from another timeline, the person responsible for the spider men's 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, Miguel O'Hara. You were calm, but Bi Han was not. He complained and talked loudly - to himself - how Liu Kang devalued the work of the lin kuei, with the two of you just being "nannies" for a stranger, your superior's impatience was starting to weigh on you, but you remained calm, saying that it was your obligation as lin kuei ninjas to receive an important presence for the fire lord's plans, making Bi Han snort irritably and agree briefly, just a respite for the storm that would come later.
You went to the multidimensional portal that was marked on the map that Liu Kang had given you both, while you finally saw the illustrious presence of Miguel arrive, a strong, tall, muscular man with a stoic and cold look, just like Bi Han. You felt the brunette man's red gaze burning you, while the thick voice with a thick Latin accent, respectfully addressing you and Bi Han, however this did not last long as the mission progressed, for several reasons, but the main one was the equal point of anger and short temper that both men had.
Miguel was extremely impatient and so was Bi Han, Miguel was authoritarian and so was Bi Han, and all the flaws that your grand master had, the Mexican also had, even if the spider leader tried to be kind to you, he still failed miserably, adding a sarcastic venom with every word that slipped off his tongue, but he would only realize that you were curious, after all, it wasn't every day that a lin kuei ninja like you had contact with a hero from another reality. "-Sorry cielo, I'm just not used to talking to many people." -O'Hara spoke quickly, making you understand, but Bi Han didn't, and the grand master wanted to end it all quickly.
"-You should treat my ninja with more respect, little spider." -Bi Han growled pointing at you, making Miguel's muscles tense, looking at the Asian man.
"-I already apologized to (Y/N) right Mi Amigo." -The spider leader growled with the same intensity, between his teeth, as you entered between the two men, trying to calm the confusion, you placed your hand on Bi Han's chest, whispering sweet and soft words, making him groan and move away from the spider leader, by now - and it didn't last long - something in Miguel's gizmo configuration had gone wrong, making the three of you fall into Shang Tsung's trap. Bi Han tried to hold the two of you back, so you wouldn't fall into the trap, but he failed, now, the three of you were in a deep hole of stone and cold moss, Miguel's gizmo was broken, losing connection with the digital assistant and also the data from the mission.
"-It's your fucking fault!" -Bi Han barked at the brunette man while Miguel had his eyes red and his fangs showing. "-¿Por qué no te callas la puta boca cabrón?" -O'Hara spoke to the grand master, while they started another unnecessary discussion, echoing through the walls, with you just being a viewer. Some curses, with Bi Han trying to make a path with his cyromancer powers, and Miguel trying to use the webs, however, not being able to because the device on his wrist was also broken, only small red webs came out.
You noticed the tension between the two, deciding to try to start a conversation with Miguel and lighten the mood, which worked, the stoic façade was slowly broken, with some soft jokes from the two of you, making Bi Han let out a crooked - but happy - smile at the seeing you having a little fun, amidst the chaos, after all, you were his most beautiful and effective apprentice. Everything was fine, as far as possible, until the subject came to the topic of sex. With you making the unfortunate comment that you had never had sex with two men at the same time, and what's worse, that you managed to get O'Hara and Bi Han at the same time...
Bi Han's blows were strong, but Miguel's were worse, hitting your core, your feet trembled from the lack of contact with the ground. You saw Bi Han's hand through your hair, taking your mouth roughly down his length deeper and deeper, making you choke, he smiled satisfied, seeing Miguel trap your wrists with a blooming red laser web, the taller man was behind you - fucking your pussy, holding your hips and digging its sharp claws into your waist -
"-You like that, don't you? You like being fucked hard, being used like the good cockslave you are. Tell me, (Y/N). Tell me how much you love being our little slut." Bi Han teased you, as he continued to thrust his throbbing member into your oral cavity, you could only moan and cry, like a slut desperate for cock, especially with Miguel O'Hara's cock fucking you from behind with a superhuman pace. He began to move with a primal rhythm, his thrusts deep and powerful. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your movements to match his own, ensuring each movement was synchronized in your pursuit of pleasure. The sound of their moans and cries filled the room, mixing with Miguel and Bi Han's own guttural moans. Their rhythms increased, each thrust becoming stronger, more desperate.
"-You're doing so good. Such a talented little mouth." -Your grand master praised him again, his hips moved involuntarily, his length pushing into your mouth, roughly hitting your throat, stealing your air, fueling your desire to please him deeper. Miguel watched the scene, as he took his cock out of your pussy, teasing his pulsing cock into your soft flesh, your little cunt was red from the intensity of the man's cock, which made him smile even more, lowering himself down to the side of your pussy. neck and activate the sharp fangs, giving you a strong bite - you let out a muffled scream, vibrating against Bi Han's cock, who was amused by the scene, seeing you so overstimulated, taking two cocks so well.
"-Fuck, you feel incredible, cariño, so tight and eager for me." Miguel moaned hoarsely, thrusting his dick back into your pussy, with all his strength, the floor was dirty with sweat and sweet juices, in addition to the saliva that came out of your mouth.
"-Damn, if I knew you were such a good and dirty slut, I would have fucked you a long time ago..." The grand master took his cock out of your mouth, passing it past your face, hitting his hard member on your cheek, while It made you turn around and see O'Hara fucking you, lifting you off the ground again.
"-Is that what you like (Y/N)? Being nothing but a pretty hole for two men to fuck you? You're the hungriest slut I've ever met." Bi Han spoke mockingly, making you look at him again, with your eyes meeting his, he forced you to suck two of his fingers.
"-You're so fucking wet, bebé. Your pussy craves our touch, doesn't it?" Miguel said smiling, accelerating his hips on your body, Bi Han's two fingers met your clit, the sinful combination of Bi Han's cold fingers and O'Hara's thick cock was enough to make you roll your eyes in pleasure, begging for more, a dumb mess desperate to cum - as both men wanted -
The rhythm between the three of you becomes a frenzied symphony of desire and need. Your moans fill the room as Miguel and Bi Han continue to ravage your body, the pleasure pushing you closer and closer. The intensity of their thrusts coupled with the sensual slaps of Miguel against your flesh ignite a fire within you that cannot be contained.
Bi Han's fingers left your clit, making contact with Miguel's gaze, a silent understanding, as they both switched places - the grand master was now fucking your sore pussy and the spider leader, your mouth, you whimpered, moaned and you screamed with pleasure, as you tried to please the two men.
"-Such a good little slut, taking us both like this. You're so fucking tight, it's driving me crazy." His voice now a throaty growl, as Bi Han fucked your wetness, a white ring formed on your cunt, from the amount of semen that accumulated inside you. He removed the red webs placed by Miguel, giving you free access to the spider man's muscular thighs in front of you, looking for support, the Mexican man's heavy balls hit your chin - while you just felt the world move away, you went cum again, squeezing Bi Han's dick tightly, even though it was already a quivering mess.
Bi Han realized that you were close to fainting, pulling your hair hard, increasing the rhythm of the thick shaft in your hole. "-Shhh... Not yet, just cum for both of us, like a good doll, squeeze that pussy willingly, good sluts don't think... They just cum." He slapped you hard on the face, while Miguel took his thick member out of your mouth, squeezing your cheeks tightly, opening your lips and spitting on your tongue, forcing you to swallow. "-You're just a cock-hungry putita, aren't you? Correte en mi verga mi puta, correte para papi."
You shook heavily as you come, feeling the weight and strength of both men, the compliments mixed with the heavy degradation of both, "little doll", "slut", "minx", "nymphet", "whore", the deep voices entered your ear, as you felt the thrill of being truly dominated.
𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭.
©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023
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iron and charcoal
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.
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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"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:
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Ok first of all I love Jamie and I love how you write him.
What about a secret girlfriend or wife that no one knows about who is really smart and they’re discovered but it’s the POV of others. And they’re all shocked that such a smart person is with Jamie.
Like Roy or some team members.
I have a hard time doing other’s POV’s. I’m sorry. This is the best I could do. Thank you so much for requesting!
island made of faith
You’re a familiar face around Nelson Road long before anyone realizes why.
You suppose people just think you’re friends with somebody else, like how Ted thought you were friends with Sam, Sam thought you were friends with Dani, Dani thought you were friends with Higgins.
Everyone finds out in their own, memorable ways, and by the end of it you just wish you had taken Rebecca up on her offer to post a public service announcement.
You’re there because you’re dating Jamie, obviously.
How it took everyone so long to figure it out, you don’t know. You think it’s because you’re always talking to everyone that no one notices Jamie’s arm is slung around you in a more-than-friends type of way. I mean, to be fair, Sam slings his arm around you. So does Dani. Richard is constantly flirting with you and so is Bumbercatch, but that’s just how they are, so no one pays attention when Jamie does the same thing and you blush just a little bit deeper than the others.
Maybe they’re just dumb.
Anyway, here are a few of the more unique ways people find out:
Ted finds out because you and Jamie are making out in the parking lot late at night, after everyone else has gone home. He immediately recognizes Jamie’s bright orange shirt and ICON hat, but is unfamiliar with whatever girl he has pressed against his car. Ted isn’t one to shy away from embarrassing one of his kids, so he shouts, “Good night, Jamie!” from across the lot. You both jump and break apart, leaving Ted to see Jamie’s surprised face covered in lipstick smudges and your embarrassed one, illuminated under a light.
Ted is surprised as well. He didn’t know you were dating Jamie, and he says as much. He says he’s happy for you both, but he still has that same look of surprise. The next day, he assumes you two are trying to be secretive about it, because he doesn’t say anything in front of anyone, and you and Jamie don’t bring it up.
Dani finds out right after Sam, and it’s because he’s showed up at Jamie’s house on a Saturday morning with a large bottle of tequila and taco supplies. Jamie had forgotten about their breakfast taco plans, so you’re not expecting Dani when you open the door in one of Jamie’s t-shirts, hair messy from sleep.
Dani looks at you, you look at him, and you yell, “Jamie,” without breaking eye contact. Jamie thunders down the stairs, says, “oh shit,” and that’s how you, Jamie, and Dani come to be taking tequila shots at 10:30 in the morning while putting the most outrageous things in between Dani’s homemade tortillas and having the audacity to call them tacos.
You’re not too far into your second taco when Dani points between you and Jamie and says, “It doesn’t make sense, amigo.”
Jamie looks at him. “What do you mean, mate?”
“You and her,” Dani replies, “She has such intelligence, and you’re you.”
A Look flashes across Jamie’s face and Dani hurriedly says, “I mean no offense, Jamie.”
Jamie grins and says, “None taken, muchacho,” and leans over to kiss you.
Dani ends up passed out on your couch by 1pm.
Higgins finds out two days after Van Damme because Jamie needed a ticket for you. “That’s sweet to look out for her,” Higgins says, “She’s kind of like the team’s sister, isn’t she?”
Jamie lets out a snort. “She sure isn’t my sister.”
Higgins looks up from his computer, surprised.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Jamie clarifies. “That’s why she’s around all the time.”
“Oh!” Higgins replies, “That’s, well, that’s a little bit, well, shocking if I do say so myself.”
Jamie nods once then shakes his head, confused. “Sorry, how d’you mean?”
“Well,” Higgins seems flustered, “she just- I suppose, she’s just incredibly intelligent, and well-educated, and usually girls like that don’t go for star footballers.”
Jamie just looks at him. Higgins shrugs. “You know it’s true, Jamie. Look at her friends and see what types of men they go for.”
Jamie’s just at the point of feeling like absolute shit when Higgins says, “She’s lucky to have you.”
Now Jamie’s really confused, but Higgins continues, “I’ve noticed she smiles a lot more since she started coming around. She isn’t as quiet as she used to be. Rebecca was just saying the other day that she seems more- comfortable. She’s special, you know. Not many women go beyond exteriors to get to a man’s heart the way she does. She knew you had a heart of gold the moment she saw you. Take good care of her, because she’s a keeper.”
Jamie says, “Oh. I will,” because what else does he have to say to that? He’s out the door so he almost misses when Higgins says, “I know you will, Jamie.”
Jamie tells you about it later that night, and, because it’s dark, he doesn’t see you frown.
Other people find out in similarly “interesting” ways. Richard asks you out and then when you say you’re dating Jamie, asks, point-blank, “Why? You are so smart and so beautiful and he is so, comment dit-on,” here he searches for the right word and settles on, “he is so not.”
You wrinkle your nose at him and say, “I’m pretty sure he’s smarter than you,” and then go to find Ted to ask him if he has any food allergies, which is why you’re even in the smelly weight room in the first place.
Roy hears about it from Keeley, and he walks up to you after training while you’re waiting for Jamie to finish showering.
“Why the fuck are you dating Tartt?” he asks, no preamble. By this point, you’re getting pretty annoyed with what people think of Jamie. You make a mental note to murder the next person who reacts like this.
You glare up at Roy. “What’s it to you?”
Roy shrugs. “He’s just a prick. And you’re not. You’re actually fucking smart. You use more words in a sentence than he has in his whole brain.”
“Don’t fucking talk about Jamie like that,” you say, anger radiating off your whole body. You’re shorter than Roy, but you swear you can be scarier. “Say something like that to me again and I will personally wax your eyebrows off.”
Roy takes a step back, hands up in defense. “Oi, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a fucking nerve. I say shit like that to him all the fucking time. I didn’t mean to set you off.”
He’s sincere, which causes you to deflate a little. You peer behind Roy to see if Jamie’s on his way out yet. He’s not.
“Look,” you say, “everyone has been giving us shit when they find out about me and Jamie. They say something really mean about me being smart and him being dumb, and I’m over it. He’s way smarter than any of you give him credit for, and you all just don’t pay attention because of his accent or his himbo energy or whatever, but I pay attention, and he actually has a fantastic grasp on the difference between academic and conversational language, a distinction many intelligent people cannot make. I just want everyone to back the fuck off.”
Roy says, “Shit,” and then Jamie’s bounding out the doors and you do your best to dispel the previous tension.
Roy looks at you both thoughtfully as Jamie gives you a quick peck and then opens your door. Maybe he and the team are too fucking hard on Jamie, although he’ll never fucking admit it.
—
You’re slicing carrots a little too violently when Jamie brings it to your attention by saying, “You trying to murder them, love? Pretty sure they’re already dead.”
You look up from your pile of carrot shreds, pulled from your thoughts. Jamie smiles, the dopey one he does to make you laugh. You barely crack a smile, which wipes the grin off his face. Now he’s concerned.
“What’s wrong, babe? This about the fuckin’ carrots?”
You shake your head. “No. This is not about the fucking carrots.”
“What’s wrong, then?” he asks. “You’re obviously thinking the carrots are something else, so what is it? D’you need me to kick someone’s fucking nuts in? Is it Roy?”
You ask, “Why would it be Roy?” in a tone that states it wasn’t not Roy.
Jamie shrugs. “I dunno, maybe the fact that your face looked like a thundercloud two seconds before I kissed ya, or the fact that his fuckin’ eyebrows were scrunchier than usual.”
That makes you smile for real. “How did you even notice that?”
Jamie smiles back, relieved that you’re no longer hell-bent on chopping the carrots and pretending they’re someone else. “I’m a genius at body-science,” he jokes. “I’m as smart as you, I just hide it better.”
That statement brings back your cloudy face and suddenly you’re ranting about Dani and Higgins, Richard and Roy, and anyone else who made similar comments including (but not limited to) Beard, Bumbercatch, Jan Maas, and a goddamn pub regular who you think is named Baz.
You’ve finished your knife-waving and put it down safely on the cutting board when Jamie pulls you into his arms and kisses you. It catches you off guard, so you pull back for a moment.
“Want to go upstairs?” he asks.
Incredulity is written across your face. “I say all of that, and you want to go have sex? Please explain your logic.”
Jamie grins. “Babe, they’re gonna think what they’re gonna think. Can’t change it. Been using it to my advantage actually. So, I don’t care. But-” he continues, “I think it’s fucking sexy that you care. Hence, me fucking asking you to go have sex.”
You have to admit, that is a good logical jump. And he used the word hence. Correctly.
You concede and let him pull you away from the carrots.
—
You’re at Nelson Road again, this time in the locker room. Sex with Jamie be damned (not really) but you still fucking care. It doesn’t help that someone from work commented on your relationship in the same way the Richmond team has, a comment you shut down with something along the lines of inappropriate workplace conversation and I’m technically your boss.
Basically, you’ve had enough. You storm into the locker room and climb on the middle bench.
“Oi!” you shout above the din. The team quiets down almost immediately. “If I hear one more word about Jamie being out of my league, or his intelligence, especially when all of yours is highly questionable, I’m going straight to Ted and I’m telling him what really happened that night at last month’s away game.” You hold up a hand. “And don’t say he won’t believe me, because I know for an absolute fact he will take my word over all of yours any day, especially in this because it makes more sense than that bullshit story you fed him and Beard. Under stand?”
The team nods and mumbles, “Yes ma’am.”
“I cannot hear you,” you return snappishly.
You’re almost deafened by the “Yes ma’am!” they deliver in unison.
“Good,” you say. “Now, since I’ve all got you here, who’s coming for family dinner this Friday?”
Hands go up around the room and Jamie just stands back in awe. How the hell he landed someone like you, he has no idea. But he’s not worried about it. He doesn’t need to know. He’ll let everyone else worry about that.
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paint the town red - part one
THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA
series masterlist
liked by peterbparker, harleykeener, queenshuri and others
biancastark_potts 'all the rumors are true'
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username bestie which driver will you be the race engineer for?
username is sebastian coming back? tell me that rumor is true
tonystark you're supposed to be working!
↳ biancastark_potts i am working. ask anyone. except harley, he'll lie to you.
↳ harleykeener she's being no help! spanish was not one of my public school requirements. i don't think i am qualified for this job.
↳ peterbparker I CAN SPEAK SPANISH! LET ME BE SAINZ'S RACE ENGINEER!
↳ harleykeener YOU FOCUS ON YOUR PHYSICS! LET ME HAVE THIS PARKER!
↳ biancastark_potts dad literally made you social media admin for the offical ferrari account. a mistake on his part truly.
↳ tonystark i regret everything now.
username so, stark will be race engineer for leclerc and keener for sainz?
↳ username an iconic group truly and i know nothing about this keener kid
↳ harleykeener i got a stark internship because i made a potato gun for tony one time when i was a child.
liked by biancastark_potts, harleykeener, and peterbparker and other
scuderiaferrari meet ferrari's newest race engineers. bianca stark-potts (24) (left) will become charles leclerc's new race engineer, replacing xavier marcos. while harley keener (20) (right) will become carlos sainz' new race engineer, replacing riccardo adami. these two will also be taking on the roles of lead engineers for our cars and they know they can deliver a championship winning car. these two are excited to be taking on the world of formula one.
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📍peterbparker this was all proofread by mrs. pepper stark-potts. i would've gone with something like 'out with the old in with the new.' but apparently that's not professional or something.
username ferrari is about to become the most attractive team on the grid. i take no complaints.
↳ username no you're absolutely right.
username what exactly are their qualifications to becoming an f1 driver's race engineer?
↳ username bianca is an MIT and columbia graduate, she has a phd in mechanical engineering and a masters in electrical engineering. harley is a columbia graduate with a masters in mechanical engineering and studying at MIT for a masters in computer science and engineering. if anything they're overqualified for the job. they've also developed few of the suits tony stark's uses. definitely more qualified than ricciardo and xavier.
↳ username that doesn't matter, we'll finally have a decent car and might even win the drivers/constructors championships.
charles_leclerc welcome to the team!
↳ biancastark_potts thanks, happy to be here!
↳ harleykeener thank you, even if i'm not your race engineer.
carlossainz55 bienvenidos!
↳ harleykeener gracias, mi amigo. (i don't speak spanish that well. we'll both be struggling through this, as you saw last week.)
↳ biancastark_potts good luck with him. thanks for the welcome!
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scuderiaferrari you knew him as 4x world champion of red bull, you knew him as a ferrari driver, now you'll know him as ferrari's new team principal. ladies, gentleman, and non-binary folks, the formidable sebastian vettel is back!
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📍peterbparker not added was 'sorry not sorry we took your golden boy red bull' again, mrs. pepper potts-stark said that was unprofessional so i was forbidden from adding that. the urge to add a multi-21 joke in there was strong but i resisted.
↳ maxverstappen1 no need to rub it in. christian is crying. (i’m joking, he’s upset)
↳ peterbparker TU-TU-DU-DU MAX VERSTAPPEN!! (get me oscar piastri's number)
↳ maxverstappen1 no.
↳ peterbparker i'll settle for lando norris if you want. don't worry i'm not after either of your men (charles and danny)
↳ maxverstappen can i get you fired?
↳ biancastark_potts i've been trying since 2018 when he walked into my life. all i achieved was my parents emotionally adopting him.
username i fucking love this new ferrari admin. they're unhinged.
↳ peterbparker thanks, pepper does not find it as amusing. i've been told to keep it 'professional' until the season begins then i'm allowed to be unhinged.
username HE'S BACK! I KNEW RETIREMENT WOULDN'T LAST LONG.
username please tell me he is still caring for his bees. seb and his bees is iconic
↳ peterbparker proud to announce that seb and his bees will continue. we will be bringing awareness to the bees with every race. seb's buzzin' corner for every race? MR. STARK MAKE IT HAPPEN!
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scuderiaferrari mood cause we're back! preseason testing begins in two days!
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📍peterbparker i'm allowed to shit post now people! the ban has been lifted! WAR IS OVER!
↳ peterbparker I'VE BEEN FOUND BY PIERRE GASLY. NOOO! HOW COULD I HAVE BECOME A VICTIM SO SOON?
username admin is acting like a teenager
↳ peterbparker i'm 20.
↳ maxverstappen1 that explains it.
↳ peterbparker so about piastri's number...
↳ maxverstappen1 no.
↳ harleykeener you have a girlfriend parker.
↳ peterbparker she doesn't need to know
↳ michellejones this is a public instagram post
username let's hope stark industries can deliver with all the hype surrounding them taking over ferrari's f1 team.
↳ username i just hope they aren't being overhyped, because if they fail to deliver they'll be such a dissapointment.
¡leclerc-s speaks!
you can blame charles' shitty race for this story. other than that we won't speak further on the events of the us grand prix (i'm living in delusion) (congrats to logan for scoring his first points and congrats to williams for their double points!) i had been wanting to do a mcu x formula one crossover but i didn't have the motivation to do so until now (you can guess why).
¡disclaimer!
this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
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‘cause all that you are (is all that i’ll ever need)
| alessia russo x reader
| some angst and some fluff
| 3.3k
| inspo: kiss me by ed sheeran & tenerife sea by ed sheeran
| a/n: so this req was a long time coming, thanks for your patience amigo! hope you like it! idk how to feel about this one but ima get this out for now and if i need to re-do it later then ill be more than happy to!
~~~
Late training sessions were definitely not on Alessia’s list of favourite things in the world, especially not when all she wanted to do was escape the rainy Manchester weather and cold. It was safe to say really, that if she could change any one thing about her football career, past, present, and future, she’d limit the number of evening practices, especially those on rainy days to near zero.
Being soaking wet after a practice, the number of times she had fallen no doubt a contributing factor, the chill in the air seemed to send a continuous shiver in her bones, one that not even a shower post-practice could abolish.
So albeit showered and freshened up, all the blonde really wanted to do at seven in the evening on a Tuesday was take a hot shower at home and curl up beside you; dinner, a movie, and unlimited cuddles the only things things on the cards for the night.
But that plan required many things, one of which included you being free, something you likely weren’t.
Caught up in all your coursework for your degree, you had recently been swamped with a never-ending to-do list, something which pained Alessia almost, if not more, as much as it pained you.
Entering your shared apartment, Alessia gently dropped her kit bag and paused for a brief second to try and decipher where you might be. Hearing nothing that would give any indication of your location, she kicked off her shoes before haphazardly placing them on the rack and heading in to find you.
With finals season upon you, you had been hiding away from Alessia to finish your work a lot more, conscious of how her mere presence distracted you, had you contemplating why you wanted to finish your degree this year when you could instead cuddle up with her on the couch and put on a show to watch.
However, the tiredness of the day was finally catching up to her and the Gunner wanted nothing more than to find you and drape herself over you, cuddles galore, her heaven on earth.
Quickly peering into the kitchen and then the dining area before checking the living room, Alessia wandered through the living space, not wanting to shout for you lest you be on a call of some sort.
Walking towards your office/makeshift study space, she started to take her wet hair out of its bun, hoping that she could get you to agree to plait it for her as you normally would.
Between rainy English weather and the nearly two years of you two dating, it had become a sort of ritual between the pair of you- countless nights of a dimly lit living room, a brush in your hands as you sat on the couch with the footballer on the floor between your legs, you working ever so carefully and gently to untangle and braid her wet hair into a somewhat manageable braid.
It had started when you had realized that Alessia would leave her soaked, post-shower hair in a messy bun until it would eventually dry eons later, making everything her head came in contact with during the meantime a damp mess.
After the fourth time you had to change out of a wet t-shirt post cuddling session, you had finally given up on trusting the striker to do her own hair, instead taking matters into your own hands.
Since then, it had become normal for the Englishwoman to find you after most practices or games, silently taking seat between your legs or in front of you with a towel, brush, and blow-dryer in hand.
So Alessia made a quick stop to your shared ensuite, grabbing the aforementioned items in a breeze before continuing on the remainder of her short walk to you office next door.
Well aware that you may be on one of your numerous zoom calls with a course mate or advisor of some sort, the blonde knocked gently before slowly turning the handle and peeking her head inside.
Eyes just barely adjusting to the dimly lit room, Alessia sighed, already being able to tell you had barely left your study space for a while, the countless dishes piled up on the table beside you a worrying sign.
Stepping in and choosing to make her presence known, the blonde walked over to where you were sat at your desk in the back corner of the room, eyes focused intently on the screen in front of you.
“Hi…”
Coming to stop right beside you, your girlfriend teetered from one foot to the other nervously, waiting for a reaction.
You barely looked up from your monitor as you hummed in response, a disastrous number of tabs open on the screen and the laptop beside you, mind nearly as scattered.
Wringing her hands, her voice came out soft, nearly a whisper, heart already tired from the long day she had.
“Could you please plait my hair when you get the chance?”
Had you been paying attention to the blonde one your left, you would’ve taken in the tiredness in her eyes, the defeated weight on her shoulders, and the nervousness thrumming in her body as she fiddled with the hairbrush in her hand.
But you weren’t.
Eyes not leaving the screen for a second as you took notes on your iPad without looking down, you inhaled sharply.
If you had known better, you wouldn’t have reacted as you did. Would’ve separated your frustration with your paper from your love for the striker.
You didn’t however.
Instead, you let your frustration seep through, a gruff exhale escaping you.
“Less I’m busy. Just do it yourself yeah?”
Not waiting for an answer, you continued with the task at hand, flipping between another website and copying and pasting text into your notes document.
Beside you, Alessia quickly shut her eyes, straightening her back in an effort not to become upset at your sharp answer.
She knew you were stressed, this degree something you had been working on tirelessly to achieve. She knew this frustration wasn’t aimed at you, more so at the tight deadline coming up, the need for perfection that you craved. So why did she feel like shit now?
Taking a deep breath, she figured it would be worth a shot to ask you about dinner, aware that you likely hadn’t eaten- your habit of hyper focusing a common obstacle when it came to taking care of yourself.
“Before I go, do you want anything in particular for supper? I was thinki-”
“Anything’s fine. I’ll eat later. I really need to finish this up.” Your voice cut in, not bothering to wait for her to finish.
Eyebrows furrowing at your interjection, Alessia’s shoulders deflated, well aware that any time spend together was likely off the table for the night. As if this night couldn’t possibly get worse.
Sighing near silently, the Arsenal forward turned on her heels, making her way out of the room quickly as to not disturb you any further.
It was only when she had fully made it out of the room, door shut firmly behind her, that Alessia let the weight of the day crash on her.
As a handful of silent tears of frustration came barrelling down her face, the striker made her way back into your shared bedroom, haphazardly throwing the items from her hands onto the bathroom counter before wiping away the tears and throwing her hair into a bun once more.
Deciding that tonight was not a night where the blonde wanted to be cooking, at least not anymore, not since you very likely wouldn’t be joining her, she reached for her phone, eyes scanning the numerous apps through her blurred vision before finding the desired delivery app.
Quickly ordering comfort food for herself and your usual order from the restaurant she had chosen (she wasn’t heartless, could never be towards you), the striker threw herself onto the bed, arms coming to wrap around her own midsection in a vain attempt to provide herself with some comfort.
And when the ordered food finally arrived, bag somehow soaked from the pouring weather, the Englishwoman knew that the universe was playing a cruel joke on her, maybe even getting her back for jumping on Leah when she had been soaked after practice earlier.
Clenching her jaw, Alessia quietly plated her food before taking a seat at the island, dim lights and the soft murmur of the world outside the only company for her on the lonesome night, the empty stool beside her mocking her as she ate, a pounding headache growing due to the bun she wore, food lukewarm, and heart alone.
What a lovely night…
~~~
You were proud of yourself.
It had taken nearly a week but here you were, essay nearly done, on the brink of submission a handful of days early, qualification for graduation just a few clicks away.
All that was left was to proofread it for the fourth time, you well aware that you were being nit-picky, the perfectionist in you making itself known.
But that could wait. That could most definitely wait. Because all you wanted to do right now, aching neck, tired eyes, and growling stomach in tow, was to relax with your girl for a bit, a well deserved reward should you say yourself.
Pushing yourself away from your desk, your eyes flickered over to top corner of your monitor, a place you tended not to look often in an attempt to not intimidate yourself with the passing minutes.
Now though? Now you wish you had looked at the clock earlier.
Cursing yourself for being so caught up in your own mind that you had tuned out the world most important to you, you hastily got up from your seat.
The bright digits glared at you as quickly started cleaning up your desk- 9:47 pm- much much later than you had anticipated.
Exiting out of now useless tabs and turning off what needed to be shut down, your quickly grabbed your mountain of dishes, precariously balancing them as you tucked your nearly dead phone into your pocket and scrambled towards the door.
Less couldn’t be asleep right? Not yet at least…surely?
You silently prayed that the blonde was still awake, the pattering of the rain outside and darkness filling the empty corners of the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.
The silence in the apartment was eerily haunting, a reminder- no- an indication of just how selfish you had been.
Entering the threshold, your eyes fell on the sticky note left on the counter, space barely illuminated by the streetlights.
Gently placing your dishes in the sink, letting warm water run over them, you backtracked, picking up the yellow post-it and reading the message- once and then again, heart sinking at the unsaid words.
‘Supper’s in the fridge. Went to bed early.’
The lack of words told you everything you needed to know. You had fucked up.
No 'I love you', no 'I'll be waiting for you', none of that. Just eight direct words, saying everything that Alessia didn't voice.
Swallowing hard, you contemplated your options, wondering whether it would be worth the risk to potentially upset Alessia more than you already had.
It wasn’t a secret to you that the blonde hated late practices, especially on days like today, where there were double practices, afternoon and evening. Add the pouring rain that had brought you comfort the past few hours, hours that Less had likely passed around waiting for you, hair no doubt a mess, a headache likely from the cold, stuff you usually helped her prevent post-practices, you knew you had messed up.
In your blindside to free yourself up early, you had ignored the one you loved. Just fucking great.
Deciding then and there to make amends, you made your way to your shared bedroom, taking the gamble to see whether Alessia had fallen asleep or not, hoping you could rectify your earlier actions.
This time, it was your turn to nervously enter the room, turning the knob nervously and slowly stepping in.
In front of you lay the taller girl, frame looking small on the bed, her back facing you, the dark room doing nothing to help your uneasiness.
Stepping forward, you reached out, pulling up the covers on your side of the bed, you sliding in after.
Holding your breath, you strained to listen to Alessia’s breathing, trained in being able to identify whether the blonde was on the brink of sleep or not, years of being together aiding you immensely.
Finally exhaling when you realized the blonde was still awake, you took your chances.
Keeping your voice soft, you let it carry, the weight of your words hanging in the air.
“I know you’re still awake…”
You could feel the mattress move before she did, the blonde shuffling further to her own side of the bed, nearly falling off the edge with how much space she left in the middle.
“Less…”
Silence being your only response, you tried again.
“I’m sorry for being an ass.”
This time you heard a slight huff. Not the best response but a response in the least- a positive in your eye. You chose to continue, hoping you could dig yourself out of this hole.
“I’m sorry for being huge dickwad. You didn’t deserve me snapping at you like that.”
And as Alessia’s hoarse voice responded, your gut sank with guilt, jaw tensing.
“Just the snapping? I asked you about supper and whether you could take just a few- a few- minutes to plait my hair like always, and you got upset with me.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I really am. You were only trying to help and you were tired yourself and I was dumb.” Surging forward, you reached out tentatively, slowly placing your hand on Alessia’s shoulder, pulling her into you.
“You really were.”
Placing a kiss on the back of her head once she was close enough, you murmured against her scalp. “Can I make it up to you? Let me braid your hair?”
“That doesn’t excuse your behaviour…”
Nodding in agreeance, you let your arms wrap around the taller girl’s waist. “It doesn’t, but I’ll get there, I promise.”
Alessia sinking backwards into your grasp at your words gave you the answer you needed, you holding her for a few more minutes before quickly rising up and getting the items you needed.
Turning on a lamp as you returned, you settled behind the footballer, plugging in the hair drier and undoing the bird’s nest on your lover’s head.
Silently working, you meticulously dried the blonde’s hair enough that her pillow wouldn’t get any more soaked, teasing out the kinks and knots gently before braiding her hair loosely.
Finally pleased with your work, you set the comb and hair drier aside, pulling Alessia back against your front and wrapping her up in your hold, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder and lingering for a second.
“I can’t promise I won’t be stupid again, but I can promise you that I’ll try my best to never do that again.”
“No more ignoring me no matter how busy you are alright? Just let me in your head…tell me your plans so that I’m not left here waiting for god knows how long, as you snap at me when I try to care…please?”
“I promise. Solemnly swear in fact.”
Feeling the blonde smile at your words, you let a grin take over your own face.
“Now, I know you already ate, but would you fancy joining me for dinner? It could be our own little date? You, me, a little Love Island, and ton of cuddles?”
And as Alessia turned in your hold, burying her face into the crook of your neck, you kissed the her crown, holding her just a tad bit tighter.
Only making a move to get up when your stomach grumbled loudly, you shot a sheepish smile to the angel in your arms before loosening your hold.
And as the pair of you exited the room, hand in hand, you made sure to grab the softest blanket you could, her comfort blanket, settling the striker on the couch before rushing into the kitchen to make yourself a plate of food, getting an extra helping, well aware that your girlfriend would munch with you.
Nearly sprinting back to the living room, food in hand, the pair of you got comfortable, the blonde resting her head on your shoulder, blanket wrapped around you both as the tv illuminated the living room, the rain now setting a comforting tone to the night.
Feeding the Gunner small bites as you ate your food, the two of you managed to finish off the plate quite quickly, setting it on the table before sinking together, a few more episodes, a handful of minute more spend cuddling.
Mindlessly tracing your fingers up her arm, you pulled the tired woman into you, body shuffling to lay across the couch, Alessia's head resting on your chest as the other girl whispered out little comments at every turn in the show.
It was only when you could finally feel the taller girl’s body growing heavier a bit more with each passing minute that you decided that it was a good time to head to bed.
Skimming your fingers up and down her spine, tracing the ridges of her back, you slowly, just barely, pulled Alessia out of her lethargic state, silently pulling her into a sitting position.
Moving to get up, you wrapped the blanket around her, ignoring her groans of protest at her own personal space heater walking away.
Convincing her you would only be a minute, you ran and put ur dishes away before coming back to usher a somewhat sleepy Less to your bedroom, the blonde slightly waking up a bit more at the movement.
Walking both yourself and your sleepy counterpart through brushing your teeth, you pulling silly faces randomly before splashing the taller girl with some water to tease her, you eventually managed to get the two of you back into bed, you on your back and the taller girl resting her head on your chest, sleepy yawns escaping her as she got comfortable once more.
Taking her now dry hair out of its braid, you loosely combed your fingers through it, nails scratching her scalp in a successful effort to soothe.
“Tell me about your day?” Your voice was quiet, just barely audible, not wanting to rouse the girl in your arms any further.
“Well my girlfriend was kind of an arse to me…”
Shaking your head as your chest rumbled with silent laughter, you gently hit Alessia’s shoulder.
“I mean it...I wanna listen dork.”
And as the blonde recited her day to you, you could feel her breathing get heavier, the tiredness finally catching up to her.
Placing a gentle kiss on top of her head, you murmured another quiet apology as Alessia’s voice died down, you tightening your hold, mentally vowing never to let yourself get consumed by school or work so immensely ever again.
Unbeknown to you, the striker was just barely awake, her whispers of ’never again’ making her conscious state known.
Agreeing, you repeated the words, whispering an I love you, the sentiment returned before Alessia’s breathing finally evened out, body completely relaxed in your hold. Finally letting yourself unwind, the tension from studying earlier totally seeping out of your body, you let a smile spread across your face.
Well aware this was all you really needed, you let the warmth spread through your body.
Here, your lover in your hold, silent breaths puffed against your neck, the weight of your love hanging comfortably in the air, you followed Alessia’s lead, letting sleep overcome you, everything that really mattered to you in this world, here, in your arms.
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ROUND 1: POLL #20
RicStar art by ArtofNickRobles on Twitter
ROUND 1 POLLS [HERE]
PROPAGANDA BELOW
Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas:
Karkat is Alien Jesus, and Dave is a repressed bisexual with a sword. they watch rom-coms together. Their combined childhood trauma would bring licensed therapists so far past the breaking point that the breaking point recedes and becomes just a distant happy memory. neither of them has ever been capable of shutting the fuck up. Look, sometimes you get stuck on a meteor for three years with a guy you barely know and at the end of it you would do anything for each other. their blood is the same color.
Julio Esteban "Ric" Richter/Shatterstar:
Have a lot of subtext in the 90s
Marvel's first romantic kiss between male superheroes (as I remember correctly)
[SPOILER]
[SPOILER]
They're a battle duo :]
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amigos de la infancia — carlos sainz jr
social media au
carlos sainz jr x childhood bestfriend!yn
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
📍Monte Carlo, Monaco
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carlossainz55 Eventful race, next stop home. ❤🇪🇸
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reyesvdc 😍❤🇪🇸
yninstagram yesssss I'm ready to get back home for the spanish gp 🤓🙏🏻
↪ anasainzvdec get back home now you have a wedding to attend
↪ carlossainz55 you better
📍 Barcelona, Spain
Liked by carlossainz55, reyesvdc and 80.202 others
yninstagram aaaaaa mi querido fútbol club barcelona 🤩❤💙 (my dear FC Barcelona)
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anasainzvdec stop trying to give your dad a heart attack
carlosonoros nononono🥴
ynsbestfriend madrid madrid madrid hala madrid
↪ yninstagram nasty 🚫
carlossainz55 🤨 para ya (stop now)
landonorris see you soon missy
↪ yninstagram fucking finally, one meeting per year is not ideal, our club won't survive
↪ p1_coach the carlos's annoying friends club annual reunion is taking place this weekend?????
↪ carlossainz55 didn't you get an invite, ruperto?
yninstagram and anasainzvdec added to their story
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carlossainz55 Friday en casa 🌶❤🇪🇸
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p1_coach yes baby!!!! 🌶🌶
anasainzvdec vamos carlitosss🌶😍
yninstagram Team 55 🧸❤
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yninstagram que finde!!! 😎🧸🌶 almost forgot how much I love the engine's sound❤❤❤❤
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robertomerhi jjajajaa que personaje!! (idk how to translate it)
blancasainzv miss you peque😍
fanuser omggggg look at him!!!🥺🥺🥺
landonorris how come I didn't get see you?
carlossainz55 🌶🧸❤
reyesvdc 🐶🐶🐶🐶💗💗💗
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team55_ Carlos this weekend in his home race via yninstagram
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fanuser 😍😍😍
fanuser so handsome
fanuser who the hell is sheeeee👹👹👹👹👹
↪ team55_ family friend!!!
fanuser omg the things I would do to be in her instagram close friendss💀💀💀💀
fanuser dont be shy @yninstagram give us more
fanuser yn took soooo many pics this weekend, I saw her taking a good carlando shot, WHERE IS IT???😭😭😭
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yninstagram my cute old friend got married today, wish you all the happiness blanqui 💗
✅ got the bouquet, missing the groom ⁉️
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anasainzvdec 💗💗💗💗😭 preciosisima estas
ynsbestfriend we can arrange a thing or two about what's missing 🤭🤭🤭
fanuser no way
carlossainz55 jajajajaja no groom no wedding
↪ yninstagram I missed that detail too
guzmandeman I know some volunteers yninstagram
reyesvdc ❤❤❤
4 weeks later...
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I really loved these two in Saludos Amigos. Jose just has a way of keeping Donald happy.
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Begin Again | Part two
Summary: After your son was born, your friend made you realize how much you were wrong for hiding him from Pedro.
Warnings: Cursing.
A/N: The dividers I'm using are from @cafekitsune All credits to them ❤️✨️
Part one
September 2026
"Cómo estas?" He says happily. (How are you?)
Elena only smiled, not knowing how to react. Her friend was not there but she still felt the pressure.
"Tas solita?" (Are you alone?)
"No, de hecho estoy con unos amigos, como estamos celebrando mi cumpleaños." (No, actually, I'm here with some friends celebrating my birthday).
"Joder, feliz cumpleaños." (Fuck, happy birthday).
He hugged her, that's when she noticed he's drunk.
"Tu estas solo?" (Are you alone?)
"No," he laughs. "Bueno, si." (Well, yes).
"Si o no?" She got serious
"Fernando se enojo conmigo, peleamos y se fue. Entonces me quedé porque conoci a John, es un tipazo, quieres conocerlo?" (Fernando got mad at me. We got into a fight, and he left. So, I stayed and I met John, he's an awesome dude, wanna meet him?)
"Quieres que te lleve a tu hotel? Estás ebrio Pedro" she grabbed his arm, taking him outside at a little table that was alone. (Do you want me yo take you to your hotel? You're drunk).
"No, tu estas celebrando." He says laughing. "Te invito a un shot por tu cumpleaños." (No, you're celebrating, let me buy you a shot for your birthday).
He grabbed her hand and took her back inside. She was worried about him. He used to not drink until getting drunk unless he was with friends or people he trusted. He was alone.
"Two shots," he shouted at the bartender.
"Pedrito," Elena called his attention. "Luego del shot nos vamos a tu hotel, si?" (After this, we're going back to your hotel, okay?)
He nodded, his shot glass and yours making noise as they made contact.
"Esperame acá, por favor." She sits him at the bar chair. "Pete, hand me a bottle of water, and charge the shot onto my tab." (Wait for me here.)
She hurried to her table, explaining to her boyfriend and friends the situation. Her boyfriend gave her the car keys.
"Pedro, puedes darme tu telefono y cartera?" (Pedro, can I have your phone and wallet?)
The state he's in makes him obey your order.
"Pete, how much he owes?"
The bartender prints the check.
Elena almost fell back when she noticed he owned more than twenty thousand.
"Pedro! Por qué pediste cinco botella de champaña y dos de tequila?" (Pedro! Why did you order five bottles of champagne and two tequila ones?)
He only laughs, not caring about it.
"Voy a pagar, no tienes algo que ir a buscar? Ya nos vamos." (I'm paying, you need to get anything from your table?)
"Noup," he says as a little kid.
Elena handed the bartender his card, paying the crazy bill. She knows that John dude probably ordered most of that.
"Vamos, Pedrito" (Let's go, Pedrito).
He takes her hand and let her guide him.
"Me cago, los putos paparazzi." (Fuck it, the fucking paparazzi.) Elena says, mad about the whole crowd. "Pedro, vamos a salir y correr hasta mi carro, si?" (Pedro, were getting out and running to my car, okay?)
He nodded, not caring.
When the security guy opened the door, the flashing from the cameras didn't wait to capture the moment, the same guard helped you making space.
Holding harder into his hand, Elena starts running. Pedro did the same as he laughs, finding the whole thing funny.
Once they reached the car, she opened the door for him, seeing his stage. Elena made a mental note to thank her boyfriend for the dark tinted windows.
"Desbloquea tu celular." (Unlock your phone).
"Por qué?" He's in that stage where he's acting like a toddler.
"Pedrito, por favor."
"Noup" he laughs
"Por la que te parió, Pedro González Lopez desbloquea el teléfono, tengo que llamar a tu hermano" She says angrily. (For fucks sake, Pedro González Lopez, unlock the phone, I have to call your brother.)
He unlock his phone and hand it back to her.
She goes quickly to the phone and calls his brother, easy to find as it is basically named "Fer Hermano"
One, two, three calls and Fernando didn't answer.
So she decide to call him from her own phone.
"Hola?" Fernando says. "Hola?"
"Fer, Hola." She says happy, relieved he picked. "Soy Elena, me recuerdas?" (Fer, Hi. It's Elena, do you remember me?)
"Elena," he laughs. "Tu prima y yo estamos juntos, claro que te recuerdo, más porque estuvimos cenando juntos hace un mes." (Your cousin and I are dating, of course I remember you, especially because we had dinner a month ago together.)
She feels the blush creeping her face.
"Era una prueba. Y pasaste." (It was a test, you passed).
"Aja, que sucede?" (Mhm, what's going on?)
"Tengo a Pedro en el asiento del copiloto, borracho, dice que estaban juntos." (I have Pedro on the passenger seat. He's drunk and says you two were together.)
"Eras tu llamando desde su celular?" (It was you calling?)
"Si, idiota." (Yes, idiot.)
He stayed silent, Elena only heard his breathing.
"Dile a Fer hola por mi." (Say hi to Fer)
"No, ponte el cinturon." (put your seat belt on).
"Estamos en el Midland," Fernando says, hearing her brother getting scolded by Elena.
"Bien, estamos algo cerca, llegare en un rato."
She hang up without waiting for him.
The trip to the hotel was fast due to the time. It was past one in the morning. Pedro was answering some text messages, he was quiet.
Once she made it, she asked for permission to enter the parking since the guard was a fan of Barça, he agreed.
Elena helped Pedro reach the lobby and then his room.
"Si sabes que mañana estaremos en las noticias, verdad?" He asks. "Lo siento, te hice dejar tu cumpleaños." (You know we're going to be all over the news, right? I'm sorry I made you leave your party).
She only nodded, smiling at him. He was so different. He has big bags under his eyes, and he looks tired.
"Venga, te voy a buscar ropa limpia, date un baño." She lightly pushed him towards the bathroom. "Quieres algo de comer? Te pediré algo." (I'll get you some clean clothes, go take a bath. Are you hungry? I'll order you some food).
"Te quedaras a comer algo conmigo?" He asks, looking at her. (Will you stay with me for a bite?)
Elena knew she shouldn't. She knew you wouldn't be okay with that, but she felt bad for him. She knew about his baby, and he didn't. He was losing it. And you weren't.
"Si, me comprarás a un pedazo de pastel." She says laughing. (Yes, you'll buy me a piece of cake).
She went to his luggage, picked a normal t-shirt and some exercise shorts.
"Hi, I want to order some food." She says on the phone. "Room 626, I want to order a club sandwich, a very black coffee with no sugar, please."
She says thank you as the lady confirmed the order for the room.
When Pedro was done, she waited outside for him to get changed.
"Elena, pasa ya." (Elena, come in).
Just in time for the room service to arrive with the food.
"Y tu pastel?" Dijo un ya más sobrio Pedro. (Where's your cake?)
"No había, pero no importa, te voy a robar patatas." (They didn't have none, it's okay, I'll have some of your french fries.)
They ate and have a nice talk, Elena showed him the tweets about them, and they laughed at some of the comments.
"Cómo esta ella?" Pedro asked. That question was burning his brain out. (How is she?")
"Esta bien, trajando duro, hace un rato no hablamos. (She's fine, working hard. We haven't seen each other).
He nodded. Staying silent.
"Bueno, ya comimos, ya estas listo para dormir, estarás bien?" (Well, we ate, and you're ready for bed, will you be okay?)
He nodded.
"Gracias, por todo, por cuidarme, por traerme, por asegurarte que comiera, por todo." (Thank you, for everything, for taking care of me, for bringing me back, for making sure I eat)
"No digas gracias, tu y yo hemos sido amigos por años Pedro, pero por favor, no te juntes con curros llamadas John, te has gastado una buena pasta en el bar y nisiquiera fue para ti." (Don't say thank you. We've been friends for years now, but please don't hang out with dudes named John. You spent good money at the bar, and it wasn't on yourself).
He laughed but agreed.
Elena helped him with the plate and cups. She filled a glass of water and left him two pills for his hangover tomorrow.
Once she's back to the club, she texted you, sending you the tweet and explaining everything. She believes you'll be mad with her.
But you weren't, you didn't thank her but you did say that you appreciate her taking care of him.
Even when you decided that you didn't want to inform him about your baby, you would never wish anything bad to happen to him, no matter the rumors, the girls, nothing. You loved him, and he was the father of your baby.
You dismissed Elena, texting her to go back to partying and to drink in your honor.
October 2026
You were ready for your baby to come to this world.
Paulo was so excited about that. He helped you with the nursery, and even his girlfriend was there. He couldn't wait to be a uncle.
"Te sigue doliendo?" Eliza, the girlfriend of your brother, asks you. (Still hurts?)
You knew you shouldn't eat too much. You already were uncomfortable with he swelling and being tired all day. But here you're, with stomach pain because you decide to eat three taco bell burritos.
"Solo es el dolor momentáneo." (It's the slight pain).
Eliza looks at your actions, and without telling, she pays attention to the time. Just to make sure.
"Te traeré agua." (I'll bring you some water).
Your parents and brother were outside, having some dinner, while Eliza and you were enjoying a movie.
The pain came back exactly twenty minutes later. "Me arrepiento de ese burrito." (I regret that burrito).
"Ahora vuelvo." Eliza says, leaving the room.
She messages Paulo, telling him that she believes you're in labor. Explaining that the stomach pains were contractions, but she didn't say anything because she didn't want to make you nervous.
Paulo and your parents arrived quickly. When you describe the pains to your mom, she explained you're in labor.
She helps you pick everything you need and puts you in the car. Once you arrive at the hospital, thank goodness your mom has everything ready, and they let you in quickly.
"Yo quería que naciera en Barcelona, como nosotros." (I wanted him to be born in Barcelona, just like we did.) You say to Paulo.
"Tranquila, ser Italiano no es tan malo." (Relax, being Italian is not that bad).
"Ay callate, lo sé" you laugh (oh shut up, I know).
You were thankful for the birthing process. The pain was light.
The doctor who was taking care of your full pregnancy and the one who was going to help with the delivery walks into the room.
She checked you and explained that you're ready to push. Paulo left, and your mom took his place.
You can't help the sad feeling. She was supposed to be there, yes, but he was also supposed to be next to you, holding your hand, saying sweet words while you push his baby.
But he wasn't, and that's something you wanted. You needed to remind that.
March 2027
"No puedo, me rindo." Elena says. "Cómo lo haces?" (I can't, I'm giving up. How you do it?)
"Lena," you laugh. "Es un pañal." (It's a diaper).
"No puedo, ya voy tres y no puedo." (I can't, I've used three, and I can't).
You laughed at her being mad about not knowing how to change the baby, even after you slowly showed her, not once, not twice, how to do it.
You baby was beautiful. He looked like the perfect combination between Pedro and you.
He has his long lashes, his lips, his eyes, but your nose, your eyebrows, and thank God his hair.
"Sé que me odiaras por preguntar." Elena says. "Pero, en serio no quieres que él sepa? Te la pasas diciendo "el cabello de papá, los ojos de papi." Pero, no te parece que él merece saber sobre su hijo y Polo merece saber sobre su padre? Ahora puede ocultarlo pero en unos años cuando Polo pregunté que diras? "Lo siento bebé, no tienes." O que excusa diras?" (I know you'll hate me for asking, but do you really want to keep this a secret? You keep saying, "Daddys hair, Daddys eyes," but, don't you think he deserves to know about his son? And don't you think Polo deserves to know his father? When he asks you, what will you say? "Sorry baby, you don't have one," or what excuse will you use?)
You stayed silent. You knew he deserved to know. Pedro and you talked about having kids, how many and how you were taking them to the stadium for his matches, with the little "Papi" on their backs and his number.
"Yo entiendo tus motivos, pero no puedo callar lo que pienso, soy tu amiga y siempre te he dicho las cosas claras, la estas cagando Y sé que tus padres apoyaron tu idea, incluso y aún que lo niegues se que tu madre te dio esa idea. Pero vamos, ustedes no tienen que volver, solo déjalo saber." (I understand why you did it, but I can't keep being silent. I'm your friend and I've always told you the things straight, you're fucking up. And yes, I know your parents supported the idea of you keeping it from him, even if you tell me it's a lie. I think your mom gave you the idea. But c'mon, you don't have to get back together. Just let him know).
You remain silent, fixing the diaper.
"No crees que Rosy y Fernando merecen ver a su nieto? No crees que Fer merece ver a su sobrino? No crees que estas siendo injusta?" (Don't you think Rosy and Fernando deserve to see their grand baby? Don't you think Fer deserves to see his nephew? Don't you think you're being unfair?)
After a while of the silence, Elena moves off the floor.
"Yo te amo, eres mi mejor amiga, mi hermana si quieres, pero esto esta mal. Tu lo sabes." She says, grabbing her stuff."No sé que te dijo tu mamá para que estés tan firme con esta idea, pero en serio piensa las cosas, tu hijo no tiene porque pagar por los errores que ustedes como pareja cometieron" (I love you, you're my best friend, my sister even if you like, but this is wrong and you know it. I don't know what your mom told you for you to be so stuck up into this, but please think twice. Your son is not the one to blame for the mistakes you and Pedro made as a couple).
You heard the front door, she was mad, and Elena is a very calm but electric person, and she was right. Even if you hate to admit it.
"No, deja de pensar en tonterías." Your mom says. "Elena no entiende, ella no es madre. No le hagas caso." (No, stop thinking that Elena doesn't understand. She's not a mom, so don't pay attention).
"Mami, pero tiene razón." (Mommy, but she's right).
"Claro que no, que quieres? Que Pedro te quite al niño? Porque es es lo que estas buscando." (Of course not, what do you want? For Pedro to take you to court and take your son away? Because that's what you're looking for).
"Pedro no seria capaz, no digas esas cosas." You say in a serious tone. "Pedro no es así, deja de querer dejarlo en mal." (Pedro would never do that. Don't say that. He's not like that. Stop trying to make him the bad guy).
"Okay, y/n. Entonces haz lo que quieras, toma." She hands you the phone. "Llámalo, pero cuando te quite al niño no vengas llorando a pedir ayuda." (Okay, do whatever you want, here, call him, but when he takes the baby away, don't come back crying for help).
You shake your head.
"Mami, pero Elena si tiene razón, Rosy y Fernando tienen los mismos derechos que ustedes, como te sentirías si yo no te dejara ver al bebé?" (Mommy but Elena is right, Rosy and Fernando have the same rights as you two. How would you feel if I denied you to see my son?)
"Bueno, ya te dije. No vengas llorando cuando él se quiera quedar con tu hijo." (Well, I already told you, don't come back crying when your son is taken away from you).
"Puedes parar! Pedro no es así, no haría eso." (Can you stop, he's not like that, he wouldn't).
She only breathes deep and gives the baby a kiss goodbye. "Haz lo que quieras." (Do whatever you want).
She left angry at you.
You don't know what to do. You think about it, and the words of your mom scare you. Deep down, you know he would never try to take your baby away. But as a new mom, these insecurities that you never had before are now raising.
"Tranquilo Polito, déjame pensar bien las cosas, si? Estoy nerviosa, no sé que hacer, tu tía Elena tiene razón." You say bouncing the baby on your arms. (Don't worry, Polito, let your mother think everything. I'm nervous, I don't know what to do, Auntie Elena is right).
You like to speak with him, even when he couldn't answer, he just listened and looked at you with those beautiful honey eyes.
"Mira, no le digas a nadie, pero tu abuela me asusta, y yo sé que papi jamás haría algo de lo que ella dice. Sabes algo? Papi tiene un corazón tan puro, es muy amable, y estoy segura que te va a amar incondicionalmente." (Look, don't tell this to anyone, but grandma scares me. And I know daddy would never do anything she's saying. You know, Daddy has such a pure heart, he's so kind and I'm sure he'll love you unconditionally).
You smile at the way he's looking at you, so focus on your words.
You think for a while, and remember the email you got. A work offer in Barcelona. The company you work for is opening a new business in Barcelona and asked you to be the head of them, since you used to live there and you know the language.
"Sabes, tal vez tu tía esté loca, pero tampoco digas eso, si? Eso es entre mami y tu" you kiss him. "Pero, razón no le falta mijo, y tus abuelitos merecen conocerte, tu abuela Rosy va a amarte tanto. Sobre todo tu tío Fer, te va a querer vestir como él, pero no como tu tío Paulo, Tío fer tiene un estilo totalmente diferente, te gustará." (You know, maybe Auntie Elena is crazy, but don't say that. That's between Mommy and you. She's crazy but right, your grandparents deserve to know you. Oh, your granny Rosy is going to be so in love with you and your uncle Fer. He will be head over heels for you. He will dress you like him, but not like Uncle Paulo. Your uncle Fer has a totally different style. You'll like it).
You put him to sleep and sat down, answering the mail with the decision of accepting the job. You know you want to go back, you know he'll be mad, but he's not taking him away.
You feel your phone vibrating next to you. It was a text from Paulo.
("Look at what I just posted. Eliza told me to post it." "You posted where? Outside?" "Instagram, smart-ass. Also, send me a picture of Polito.")
You laugh at your brother, obsessed with your son.
(One like and I'll stole him)
You laugh hard and like the post. Oh, you love your brother.
Your boss answered the email quickly, asking to talk with you tomorrow morning, wanting to give you all the details about the work.
You texted Paulo about babysitting Polo, and he immediately say yes.
You closed the laptop and walked over to the crib in your room. "Voy a hacer lo mejor para ti." (I'll do the best for you.)
"We are so happy to have you as the new head for Barcelona."
"I'm happy too, I can't wait for this."
"And please, since you're basically working for the other location now, uses this time for the moving. If you need any help, please let me know, I'll help you with everything.
You shake hands with him and finish with the whole signing of the contract.
"Thank you, again. I'll do my best."
You say your goodbyes and excited for this, texted Elena, you needed her to know, after being the biggest cheerleader for this to happen. After you received the message, you called her, apologized, and asked her for advice.
A notification for Instagram takes you out of the chat, Paulo posted something and tagged you on it.
(Petition for @/yourusername, to let me dress Polo forever).
You shake your head smiling, oh, to be Polo, so loved and always being shown off.
You were nervous, but you needed to do this. For yourself and for your son.
And even if you don't say it out loud, you were doing this for Pedro. For him and your son to be able to grow together, for him to hear his first words, see his first steps, and even be able to teach him some football.
"Okay, let's go home and pack." You say to yourself. "Barcelona, here we go."
Tag list:
@alwaysclassyeagle @footballerficsposts @gulphulp @cinderellawithashoe @jajajhaahaha @bellinghambby22
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All These Years [Part 6: "The White Whale"]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]
Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut
Word Count: 4k
a/n: This installment is entirely in Matt's POV! Probably one of the only ones in this series that will be. As I was writing I knew I needed to do a last minute title change to this installment, too, because it went in a different direction. Hopefully what you learn from this installment only makes everything in this series hurt so much more. There are end notes on this, too because I feel like you'll need it. Feedback is always appreciated!
Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift
“This place isn’t so bad,” Foggy mused.
Matt could hear the way Foggy’s head turned, clearly taking in the view of the dive bar around them. It smelled pungently of must and mildew and clearly there had been a good bit of alcohol spilled and left to dry along the floors, but otherwise it was alright here. At least it wasn’t too loud. The classic rock music playing over the speakers wasn’t blaring like the pop music playing in most bars he’d gone to always was. It never failed to give him a headache and make him duck out early.
“Well it’s not that loud, at least,” Matt replied.
Foggy nudged Matt’s arm with his elbow sharply. Matt could hear the pull of Foggy’s muscles drawing his mouth into a smile. He wished he could work himself up into even a sliver of that excitement for tonight.
“Come on,” Foggy pressed. “It’s the first night in a while that we’ve gotten out and have been able to do something that doesn’t involve paperwork. And we’re getting the three amigos back together again! Smile, dammit!”
Matt’s focus dropped towards the table, his hand tightening around the neck of his bottle of beer. He hadn’t had a chance to see you in weeks, and it had been weeks before that, too. Landman and Zack had managed to keep him and Foggy plenty busy since the three of you had graduated a few months back. And he was happy to finally see you again–that is, he would’ve been if it actually was going to be just the three of you tonight. But no, you were bringing a boyfriend . The first one you’d actually ever had since Matt had known you.
And it had made him sick to his stomach thinking about it all day today.
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” was all he could muster in response.
He drew his beer to his lips, taking a long pull. He was hoping to get at least a buzz going before the two of you showed up. He didn’t want to be sober having to listen to the way your body reacted to your boyfriend all night.
The truth of it was, Matt wanted you. And he’d wanted you since he first met you.
No, actually, that wasn’t accurate, either.
Matt had wanted you for an entire semester before he’d ever actually met you in the library. He had first encountered you on campus in the late evening. He’d overheard someone trip on the sidewalk farther up ahead of him, spilling their books and their papers everywhere. They’d quietly cursed to themselves as they knelt down to collect their things. Matt could tell they’d been close to tears, too. He figured they’d been having a bad day already as they quietly fumed to themselves while others just passed them by on the sidewalk, leaving them to pick up their scattered belongings alone.
But then you’d stumbled upon them, stepping off to the side and crouching down to help them pick up the mess without hesitation. You’d sounded sweet and gentle when you’d greeted them, offering them some kind words and a warm smile that Matt thought he could almost feel as he eavesdropped. He’d oddly found himself affected by you, taking a moment to pause on the side of the sidewalk, pretending he was checking a voicemail on his phone as he tuned into your interaction. He had felt like a creep but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
And then he'd been fascinated by you afterwards, your voice and the scent of you plaguing his mind. He'd spent weeks trying to run across you on campus again. He'd lied and told Fog he'd actually bumped into you that night since he was unable to tell him how he'd really stumbled on you. His heightened senses were a secret even to Foggy. But then he and Foggy had often talked about you afterwards–the pair of them had spent all semester referring to you as Matt's White Whale. He'd been relentlessly searching for you around campus whenever he wasn’t busy with his studies or on a date. But then he'd discovered you around the science buildings right before the beginning of winter break. Unfortunately you’d managed to disappear during those few weeks before the next semester started, Matt being unable to pick up on you again.
He'd then spent all of winter break telling Fog how he'd planned to linger around that building when classes resumed, hoping to catch your voice again–or in reality, the scent of your pheromones and the beat of your heart. He was certain he’d recognize both of them. Him and Fog had spent many a night throwing back beers and coming up with many amusing and ridiculous schemes of how Matt might actually have a chance to meet you.
When classes did resume that following semester, Matt had often frequented the science building in his free moments. And even though Matt had still gone out and enjoyed the attention of other women during that time–something that had been quite a thrilling contrast from his life before college, considering he’d come fresh from St. Agnes–he couldn’t seem to shake you from his mind. Many times he caught himself wondering where he could take you on a date, or what your favorite food might be. He desperately wanted to know what subject you studied. He wanted to know your name and how your voice sounded when you finally said his. He wondered what music you liked and what your shampoo would smell like if he ever had the chance to press his nose into your hair.
And then one fateful day when he’d been at the library working on research for a class, he’d caught the scent of you unexpectedly. His mouth had gone dry and his mind had momentarily gone blank in surprise. You were there. In the library. With him.
It had sounded like you were on your phone and making your way towards him. Matt had panicked, unsure in the moment how to actually catch your attention and strike up a conversation. In his haste to make sure his chance hadn’t disappeared on him, he’d abruptly stepped out of the aisle he was in, arms laden with books, and accidentally miscalculated how far away you were. You’d ran right into him and startled him in return, causing him to drop his books on the ground and your toe. He felt awful when he’d heard you shout but then he couldn’t resist the laugh at your strange outburst.
But when you’d actually looked at who you’d run into, Matt had instantly picked up on all the telltale signs of your physical attraction to him. The increase in your pheromones had driven him crazy and his nerves completely disappeared, that confidence he had with every other young woman he’d flirted with on campus quickly taking over.
He thought he’d had you that day. It seemed a sure thing when he’d asked for your number and you’d given it to him. But then he invited you over to his dorm a few days later on Saturday night. He had every intention to take you out on a date and bring you back to an empty dorm room–if he was lucky enough and you’d wanted that. Because God he had certainly been thinking about you in very sinful ways over those few days. His thoughts had been driving him wild and he desperately hoped sex with you would help ease those persistent and nagging desires. If he could just experience it, maybe you wouldn’t be clouding his damn senses and taking up so much space in his thoughts. Though he worried if he got a taste he’d just want more, like you were some sort of drug to him.
But you’d shown up early that night, and Matt hadn’t technically called it a date. He’d asked for you to ‘hang out’, which admittedly was what he always called it. Usually the women he spent time with knew what he meant, but you’d shown up early and Foggy hadn’t left yet. He’d inevitably introduced the pair of you, hoping to segue into you and him leaving–but you and Foggy had instantly hit it off.
You’d both bonded over a Red Hot Chili Peppers song Foggy was playing, apparently it being both of yours’ favorite song by them. And then that turned into a long discussion about music and the bands you’d both seen, which had led to jokes being shared. Your laughter had sounded amazing to Matt’s ears, but he’d sat there on the end of his bed dumbfounded. You and Fog had almost identical interests. You so quickly warmed up to him. And he could read your body’s reaction that night–you were eliciting all of the signs of attraction.
To Foggy.
While Matt was just sitting there on his bed, you were beside Foggy displaying every sign to Matt that you were interested in Foggy . Not him.
It had crushed him. All of those weeks of trying to find you, all of those nights of you plaguing his mind, and you liked Foggy . He hadn't even told Fog you were the White Whale ahead of time, hoping not to jinx things, but in the end things had wound up going awry for Matt anyway.
He’d tried to remain hopeful that he’d gotten it wrong, but then the pair of you began Saturday nights as a weekly thing. Both of you were always texting after that. And you always seemed so eager to come over to see him. Always spending so much time with him. And every time you showed up, you’d be giving off every damn clue that you were attracted to him. It only took a couple of weeks before Matt gave up and went back to what he’d been doing–sleeping around. He couldn’t have you, so he figured he’d have whoever else he could. And when Foggy had asked him about his White Whale again, he’d sadly told him it hadn’t worked out. He’d never mentioned the White Whale again.
Though it was always strange to Matt that you’d never done anything more with Foggy. Anytime Matt hadn’t been around for the Saturday nights the pair of you spent together and he had occasionally popped back in, you often reacted like he’d interrupted something, your body going into overdrive. But you were always studying or hanging out, never anything more.
It didn’t make sense until he’d finally gotten something like an answer out of you that one night he’d upset you at the bar. He’d had a brief moment of hope when he heard your body reacting as you were looking at him, wondering if it was actually him you were reacting to like that first time in the library. He’d somehow hoped in that moment that he’d gotten everything all wrong, that it was him that you somehow liked all this time, and in his haste to say the right thing, he’d said the wrong thing. Especially with that stupid comment about being your wingman. And he’d really upset you to the point that you’d left the bar early near tears. He wanted to chase after you but he had no reason to realistically do so–he wasn’t supposed to be able to know you were crying as you walked back to your dorm, but he did. So when Foggy had spotted Marci, he’d been thrilled to have an excuse to leave, dodging some woman who’d tried to sleep with him before hurrying after you.
But then you’d broke his heart again because you were upset over Fog. He couldn’t deny it after you’d admitted to only being seen as a friend by the person you had feelings for and then breaking down crying on him. Because Matt had been too thoughtless with his words and told you Foggy was chatting with Marci–the girl you both knew he’d been talking about recently. Why else would you have started crying? If you’d had feelings for him he was certain you’d have said something then and there with how he’d been trying to talk you up all night. Telling you any guy would be lucky to take you on a date–which obviously included him.
That night had cemented it for him. You were in love with Foggy. As much as Matt hated seeing how hurt you were sitting in the friend zone with him, he selfishly didn’t want to bring it to Foggy’s attention because he knew it would absolutely kill him to watch Foggy with you . The one he could never get out of his head. He did his best to ignore it as the months and years went by, intentionally trying to ignore whatever your body was doing because it hurt too fucking much to listen to it.
When Elektra had come into his life, she’d certainly been the first one to come close enough to shaking you from his mind. He’d fallen for her fast and hard, especially when she saw every single dark part about him and still never turned him away. She saw him for everything he was–including his heightened senses that neither you nor Fog had any clue about–and she loved him for it. Or, he thought she had. And even she had pointed out how crazy you seemed about Foggy. How you were attached to his hip like a lovesick puppy she’d said. How you always spent all your time with him. Her words only further cemented it in his mind that he would never have you. Not as anything more than his best friend.
That knowledge broke him twice as hard when Elektra left. Because you’d been there for him, encouraging him. Being the absolutely wonderful, beautiful person you were. He didn’t deserve it, either. He’d been an asshole to you when he’d been with Elektra. He was still being an asshole to you when he continued to keep his mouth shut to Fog about your feelings–because he was selfish and never wanted to see you with him. Instead he’d eventually gone back to burying himself in a different girl when he had the chance, especially the closer it had gotten to graduation. He was afraid he’d lose you after the three of you graduated from Columbia, the dark thought constantly lingering in his mind.
He’d almost kissed you that night, too. That night it was just you and him cuddled together on his bed after graduation. The last night in your dorms. He’d been overcome with the urge to just tell you everything and kiss you, but then he’d caught the feeling of your panic when he’d so carefully cradled your face in the palm of his hand, desperate to finally feel your lips on his. To hear you tell him you cared for him, too. But all he’d felt was your fear in that moment instead. You must’ve realized he was about to say something, that he’d been about to possibly kiss you, and you panicked at the thought of it. Because Foggy was asleep in the bed across from both of you and you loved him . So he’d bit the words back and said the first thing that came to his mind instead of what he really wanted to. And it fucking killed him to do so.
Now, here you all were getting together months later, and you were bringing your boyfriend. Clearly you’d tried to move on from Fog, but that didn’t make things hurt any less for Matt. He hadn’t moved on from you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be able to at this rate. And he certainly tried–he’d fucked a few interns at Landman and Zack, but none of them made him forget how it felt to wake up beside you that morning he had after Elektra had left him.
“Oh hey, I think that’s them!” Foggy said excitedly.
His words drew Matt back to this miserable moment, the sound of Foggy’s hand waving the pair of you over only deepening the frown on his face. He didn’t want this asshole here with his arm around you. Probably kissing you in front of him. He wanted to be the one doing that. Not this random guy who’d recently popped into your life and didn’t know you like Matt did. It felt wrong .
“Hey guys!” your cheery voice greeted the pair of them.
Matt quickly did his best to tune out the sound of your body and ignore the faint scent of your arousal that abruptly hit him when you’d reached the table. His hand tightened around his bottle of beer again. Your boyfriend’s scent was mixed with yours and it didn’t sit right with Matt. It pissed him off, actually. For some reason he really wanted to hit this guy.
Foggy greeted you brightly with your name and then he felt your eyes land on him expectantly. The smile noticeably faltered on your face, he could hear it in the way your muscles shifted. Raising his head from the table, he forced a smile onto his mouth and greeted you with your name in return.
“Guys this is Liam,” you said, introducing your boyfriend.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Foggy exclaimed, reaching out a hand. “I’m Foggy.”
Liam reached out, accepting the handshake in return. Matt ground his teeth together as he listened to the interaction.
“I’ve heard so many stories about you both,” Liam was saying, his attention turning to Matt as Foggy released his hand. “You must be Matt, right?”
Matt knew Liam was extending a hand out towards him, he heard the air shift in front of him when he did. He also knew it was usually the polite thing to do to at least extend his own hand out when he introduced himself, allowing the other person to reach out and shake his hand. But he didn’t want to shake Liam’s hand. He didn’t want to be his friend. He didn’t want him here .
“Yeah, that’s me,” Matt replied.
He heard the way Liam’s hand awkwardly lowered back to his side after a few uncomfortable seconds. He could practically feel the three sets of eyes on him. That had been rude, but he didn’t care.
“How about I get us a drink?” Liam asked, turning to you.
“Sure, that’d be great!” you responded. “A beer would be good.”
When Liam leaned towards you and kissed you, Matt thought he was going to break the beer bottle with how hard he was gripping the neck of it. He even caught the light tap to your ass before he’d sauntered off to the bar, wishing he could’ve been as oblivious to that as Foggy was. Or to the way it’d made you blush.
“You seem happy,” Foggy said, reaching across the table and playfully slapping your shoulder. “How’ve you been?”
“Good!” you answered, your tone bright. “The job’s gotten a lot better now that the stress of being the newbie is past. How’ve you guys been? How’s the internship going? Still busy?”
Foggy blew out an exaggerated breath. “ Exhausting . We’ve been drowning in paperwork and menial tasks, but there’s apparently two positions opening up in a few months and I think Matt and I are in line for it.”
“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, your attention turning towards Matt. “That’s awesome! You guys deserve it!”
Matt’s heart might have skipped a beat at the sound of your excitement for them. He noticed your eyes lingering on him. Probably because he was being uncharacteristically silent tonight. And rude.
“So how’d you meet Liam? How long have you both been together?” Foggy asked, bringing his beer to his mouth for a drink.
Matt could tell you’d nervously ducked your head at the question, tucking some hair behind your ear. It was cute. You were cute. He wished you acted like that when asked about him instead of Liam .
“Just a couple of weeks,” you admitted. “It’s still new. I actually met him at a coffee shop–or, technically outside of it. We sort of grabbed each others’ drinks on accident. He was the one who’d noticed, I was just hurrying to get back home for work. He’d had to chase me down a block.”
You laughed and the sound was like a knife to Matt’s heart. You liked this guy. And that fucking hurt.
“He was sweet and had some terrible jokes,” you continued. “For some reason he asked me out to dinner and then, well–” you shrugged, “–here we are now.”
You cleared your throat, your attention nervously darting to Foggy and then back to himself before you ducked your head again. Matt’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses curiously, wondering what that had been about until you spoke again.
“So uh, are you two seeing anyone?” you asked.
Your tone was pitched higher than usual and Matt instantly guessed the reasoning. His eyes closed behind his glasses, his heart further sinking in his chest.
You still liked Foggy, didn’t you? He’d never have a chance with you.
“Well it turns out Marci is actually interning at Landman and Zack, too,” Foggy replied. “But uh, she still isn’t too interested in being serious. But I’m working on her!”
Your attention shifted to him, your heart having sped up at Foggy’s words. Probably upset because he was still pursuing Marci instead of you. He could sympathize with your heartache.
“And…what about you, Matt?” you asked, voice suddenly quieter.
He focused on you standing directly across from him at the table. You were gripping it firmly in both of your hands, your heart still beating a little faster after Foggy’s admission. He swallowed hard, trying to hide his emotions behind his glasses.
Still hopelessly in love with you.
“Ever the bachelor,” he said with a tense smile. “You know me.”
You’d opened your mouth to respond, but Liam had appeared at your side, cutting you off. He handed you your beer and you’d smiled when he’d kissed you on the cheek. Matt’s attention dropped back down on the table, his jaw clenched yet again. This was going to be a long night, he could already tell.
Maybe he could find an excuse to head out early. Claim he wasn’t feeling well or something. There was something he was thinking about doing tonight, something he’d recently picked up. The thought of it was sounding better and better the lower Liam slid his hand down your back. And it’d certainly be a better outlet beating an asshole who truly deserved it than your boyfriend. Plus if Foggy wasn’t at the apartment, well, then it’d be all the easier for him to slip in and out. Though he really needed to focus on getting his own place soon so he could keep his nightly activities private. He certainly couldn’t tell either of you what he got up to in the evenings. Maybe he’d just use the excuse to Fog that he needed his own place to bring women back to without having to constantly worry about a roommate. He’d surely buy that line. He already thought he was often out sleeping around as it was.
For the next half hour, Matt quietly drank down his beer, barely adding much to the conversation unless you or Foggy had directly acknowledged him. Shortly after he’d finished his drink, he’d made up an excuse about a bad headache. Despite the boisterous round of protests from you and Foggy, he’d departed the bar and made his way back to the apartment. When he’d gotten there, he’d wasted no time quickly dressing in the all black outfit he kept hidden in the false bottom of his father’s steamer trunk at the foot of his bed. Pulling the fabric of a mask over the majority of his face, he slipped out of his bedroom window, landing on the fire escape almost soundlessly. And then he was off scouring the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, ready to loose the anger he’d kept inside of himself tonight on someone who truly deserved it.
[END NOTES--which are always on my AO3 fics and give more insight & I figured some of you might want it for this installment]
Reader has a boyfriend in here! And we find out Matt has had feelings for Reader long before that interaction at the library. And he's been repeatedly misinterpreting her body to think that it's Foggy she's reacting to instead of him (even if he's aware of the physical attraction she has to him), especially with the knowledge that she has feelings for a friend. Doesn't help that Elektra intentionally fed him lies to further push that idea into his mind. Not to mention, Reader does panic when Matt is about to kiss her on graduation night, and Matt completely misreads the reasoning behind her body's reaction. And these idiots both keep saying that they're each other's 'friend' repeatedly. Plus it probably doesn't help that Matt intentionally tries to ignore her body so he doesn't have to hear it reacting to Fog (when really its him). And clearly Reader is often misinterpreting Matt's reactions to things (and he's also hiding it).
There you have it folks. They're both hopelessly in love with each other and have been for years. But no one is opening their damn mouth. Now Reader is dating someone else.
Oh, and Matt is now becoming the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, if you didn't catch that. But Foggy thinks he's out sleeping around. And therefore Reader probably does, too.
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Golden Boy (Dani Rojas | Ted Lasso)
Summary — All Dani wants is your attention.
Warnings & Other Tags
➳ Fluff; co-workers to lovers; some canon-typical cursing (mostly from Roy); feigning excuses to see one’s love; Dani being Dani (a golden retriever); Roy being a frustrated, unintentional wingman; Reader is a physical trainer for AFC Richmond.
Notes
➳ Word Count is 1,735.
➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).
➳ This work has a visual edit!
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“He’s doing it again.”
Ted furrowed his eyebrows. His eyes sharpened beneath his dark sunglasses. Next to him, Roy and Beard had their attention focused on something other than the players on the training pitch. Nate was merely shaking his head. Ted, however, felt his face burst into a cheerful expression when he noticed what he gained their attention.
Across the pitch, Dani Rojas was very slowly going through some drills, weaving between some cones with an occasional limp as he gently kicked a ball. It would be very unlike him to be so subtle during practice, if he didn’t have his preferred audience, that is.
From the sidelines, you were watching him carefully. Your hands rested on your hips while your eyes were unwaveringly set on his left ankle. It was something he had been complaining to you about for a few days.
“That’s the third fucking time this week.”
Roy’s grumbles forced Ted out of his thoughts. He tilted his head and grinned, “Oh, c’mon, Roy! Don’t tell me you never had a crush someone? Dani’s just experiencin’ some classic symptoms of puppy love right now. I say we let this run its course.”
Ted ignored the way Roy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Even from the other side of the training pitch, it was easy to see how well you and Dani got along. Dani was always happy, of course, but whenever you came around, his smile had a tendency of becoming ten times brighter.
But what was good for Dani wasn’t always good for the team, much to Ted’s disappointment. Richmond’s happy-go-lucky striker had gone from Greyhound to Golden Retriever the moment he met you. And the fact that you were one of the team’s physical trainers didn’t help. You practically had Dani at your beck and call without even realizing it.
And Dani was either too shy to start a conversation without having an excuse for doing so prepared or he was genuinely turning into the biggest klutz on the team. After his ‘injuries’ began occurring on an almost daily basis, however, two things became clear.
The first being that, despite his sweet disposition and undeniable good nature, Dani Rojas was a damn good liar when he wanted to be. It had taken everyone weeks to see through his façade.
And you, who seemingly had no clue about Dani’s stunts, had officially become what was potentially the worst type of person in all of sports. The type that every locker room loathed and every coach feared. A distraction.
“Oi! Rojas!”
Ted jumped at the sound of Roy’s sudden angry shout. Despite being on the other side of the training pitch, Dani did as well. While Ted had become lost in his thoughts, Dani had stopped doing his drills altogether. Instead, he had moved to stand mere inches away from you, smiling brightly as he absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt.
It was something you didn’t even seem to notice, but his teammates, along with Roy, certainly did.
“Get back to fucking practice!”
Ted watched as Dani bid you a quick, quiet farewell. He then scurried onto the pitch to join the rest of his team. If he had a tail, it would certainly be between his legs.
“Sorry, Coach!” he called, face flushing with embarrassment. “Let’s play, mis amigos!”
This was a small victory for Roy. He let out a satisfied grunt, watching with his hawk-like eyes as you quickly made yourself scarce. Ted, meanwhile, couldn’t help but give his fellow coach an exasperated stare. Beard tried to keep a smirk off his face while Nate simply shifted awkwardly.
“Really, Roy?” asked Ted. “Really?”
The man in question scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows with a scowl, “What? He’s back on the pitch, isn’t he? That’s where he’s meant to be! Not off chatting on the sidelines!”
Ted shook his head, quietly muttering, “Seems to me you just don’t want Dani to find true love.”
“Now wait just a fucking minute—!”
“Uh, guys,” said Beard, voice shaking, “hate to interrupt the friendly chat, but I think we’ve got a problem.”
It was then the other coaches realized what he was referring to. On the training pitch, Dani was on the grass, groaning loudly as he clutched his ankle.
“Oh, shit!” exclaimed Roy.
Each of them quickly ran onto the training pitch. Nate quickly grabbed his phone before following, ready to call for help if it ended up being an emergency.
The players had surrounded Dani, trying their best to help him. His face was twisted in pain. He curled into himself and rolled onto his side. Beard kneeled next to him, removing his sunglasses in order to get a clearer view of the situation.
“What’s going on, Rojas?” he asked. “What happened?”
“¡Ayúdame! Coach, please!” exclaimed Dani. “¡Mi tobillo! The right!”
Nate winced, “Do I need to call—?”
“Whistle! Whistle! Hold it!” shouted Roy, eyebrows sinking even deeper into his irritated expression. “I thought it was your left ankle that was fucking you up? Not the right?”
Even Dani himself paused at that. The chaos of the moment dimmed. He could see smirks growing on the faces of some of his teammates while others simply shook their heads and returned to practice.
“That’s it!” grumbled Roy, reaching down and roughly pulling Dani to his feet. “C’mon! We’re settling this shit right now!”
Ted glanced at both Beard and Nate, who each had concern written across their faces. Meanwhile, Roy was practically dragging Dani by the back of his uniform in the direction of the Richmond clubhouse. Ted grimaced at the sight, and muttered, “Why don’t you two stay here and watch the team? I’m gonna try to help ‘em sort this whole thing out.”
Before either of them could so much as blink, Ted had spun around to follow an angry Roy and a shaking Dani. His quick pace led him into the clubhouse. His footsteps echoed loudly as he did his best to catch up to the other two men.
Ted caught up just in time to witness Roy roughly opening the door to your office. It slammed against the wall so hard that Ted wouldn’t be surprised if there was a hole left behind.
You nearly wet yourself at the sudden scare. Your heart pounded within your chest. Adrenaline, along with complete and total confusion, flooded through your body as Roy forced Dani to stand in front of your desk. You hardly even noticed Ted watching the scene from the doorway, anxiously biting his nails.
“You’ve become a fucking problem,” glared Roy.
The disgusted expression that crossed your face nearly made Ted sick. Your lips curled and your eyes narrowed, “And you haven’t? You nearly ripped my door off, dickface!”
Roy paused, seemingly taking in your words as he stared at you. Finally, he grunted, “Look, we just need you to fix him.”
Your eyes followed in the direction he suddenly began pointing. When your gaze met Dani’s brown eyes, Ted and Roy noticed the way your glare softened.
“Dani, I told you this already,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I think your ankle’s fine. Just wrap it up and elevate it tonight with some ice, you’ll be good for the game—”
“He’s not injured,” interrupted Roy. “The team’s ‘golden boy’ here is a liar—”
“Okay!” exclaimed Ted. The look of displeasure once again blooming within your eyes gave him a reason to finally leap into the conversation. “Now, I don’t think Roy meant that in the way it sounded.”
Your shoulders seemed to lose their tension as he spoke. Instead of glaring at Roy, you gave your full attention to Ted. But honestly, Ted wasn’t sure if that was better or worse in their situation.
“We just think Dani’s got somethin’ to tell you about that ankle of his,” he continued, and then he gestured to the footballer in question. “Ain’t that right, Mr. Rojas?”
Dani, who had been admiring you from his place in front of your desk, froze when the three of you looked at him expectantly. He twiddled his thumbs at the sudden attention, “It is true. I have been lying to you, my friend, but I meant no harm by it. My reasons were innocent! ¡Prometo!”
Dani admired the confused expression that overwhelmed your features. You always looked so wonderful to him, no matter the emotion. He only hoped you wouldn’t be upset with him.
With an encouraging nod from Ted, he continued, “My ankle was never injured. I have been lying in order to, well... I only wanted to spend time with you. But my actions seem to have only brought frustration to my teammates. I am sorry.”
You tilted your head with a small smile when his voice trailed off. Leaning back in your chair, you chuckled, “Dani, you’re so sweet... but I already knew you were faking.”
“You did?!”
You blinked in surprise at the sound of all three men shouting in unison. They stared back at you in shock, though Roy in particular seemed to be feeling some irritation as well. You tried not to grin as Ted ripped off his sunglasses, eyes wide with disbelief. And the way Dani tightly gripped the edge of your desk, leaning forward with a dropped jaw, was also quite amusing.
“Uh, yeah! You footballers aren’t exactly what I would call subtle when it comes to flirting,” you shrugged, shaking your head at them. “Plus, Colin told me about it weeks ago when he came in for me to look at his shoulder. I’ve basically just been waiting for you to gather up enough courage to ask me out, but it seems like I’m gonna have to take the first step. So, Dani, why don’t you pick me up at seven?”
Ted had never seen someone look so happy. Dani smiled so excitedly, Ted thought he might put the sun out of business.
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Dani, back to his usual enthusiastic attitude. “A million times yes! I will see you tonight! Oh, I cannot wait to tell mis amigos! Let’s go, coaches!”
He whooped and cheered loudly as he quickly left your office. Ted and Roy watched him leave. While Ted sported a wide, happy grin, Roy looked on in bewilderment. After a moment, however, he turned to you with yet another glare.
“You couldn’t have fucking done that sooner?!”
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