#but in a way that some players didn’t even know they could save him

[wherewolf]

the responses i’ve seen to shiv’s ending seem very quick to write her off as just another sad victim of the cycle, which isn’t without truth BUT!!! that is not even remotely the summation of shiv’s story.

i don’t think she votes yes to “save kendall” or to try to finally set her brothers free. and i don’t think her main concern was that ken was becoming their dad. she absolutely noticed and didn’t love it, but that was not her motivation in betraying him. she was thinking about herself.

it’s tempting to make a martyr out of her as she is the only female child and we see her suffer the onslaught of misogyny that comes with that. but to make her into a saintlike figure who got beat takes away the power and intelligence behind her decision.

at this point she’s stuck between two non ideal choices, but she recognizes that they have accidentally made her the single most important player in the game. because while she can’t have the outcome she’d prefer, she has the power to decide the fates of everyone else. the written off lone woman now holds in her hands the fate of every man in her life.

so she thinks about the long term benefits of both options and realizes that one side leaves her completely without any leverage.

her brothers have proven to her multiple times in the last few days alone that they will cut her out and walk all over her the first chance they get. siding with them leaves her nothing to bargain with. she would just have to hope that ken would actually take care of her. and that level of vulnerability is not only unacceptable to her, it’s stupid. and shiv fuckin roy is not stupid.

so she thinks about the other side and about what she actually wants for her life. and against her better judgment, it’s becomes unfortunately clear that she wants tom. the way she wants him is not altogether loving or even good but it is necessary to her. she sees relationships as having winners and losers and she chose this man specifically so that she could be confident in her ability to win. except now he’s grown some balls and made himself unavailable to her.

she may not like the way her husband is evolving but she already placed her bets on him, so she’s sure as hell not losing to him now. there’s also a part of her that feels intrigued by this new man she’s married to. it’s interesting to have a sparring partner in him instead of having to looking for excitement outside of their marriage.

so for maybe the first time ever, she processes what tom has said to her and thinks about what he actually wants.

he needs her to prove that she cares. he needs to know that she is capable of sacrifice. if she can’t find it within herself to do this for him, then she will lose him, and by extension, she will lose.

siding with tom gives her the opportunity to once and for all make a grand-stand gesture of love, but more importantly, it creates leverage for her. never again will he be able to hold the moral high ground over her head. never again can he say she doesn’t love him. never again can he call her selfish or uncaring. above all, he can never betray her again, because she just removed all of his moral justification for turning on her. he doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just taken back all the power in their relationship. just in a more subtle way than she’s used to operating.

and just like that, she has the ceo of a multi billion dollar company in her pocket, while situating herself as the only descendant of logan roy to still be playing the game, having removed her brothers from the equation permanently. she may still be far from the top but she’s creating a path for herself to climb.

so yes, she’ll let tom play king for a day, and she’ll have his baby and say “congratulations,” and play the gracious wife, but tomorrow is a new day with lots of room to maneuver. and when her husband puts out his hand, she’ll place her own on top. but she won’t grasp it because she doesn’t need to.

#🐺 #shivy’s gonna be just fine #okay this ended up being a very long post but #i feel like someone needed to point out her wins #also i’m fully aware that remaining in the toxic world of the family business is not a win rly but #i think her ending is being interpreted as powerlessness #which it is NOT #she chose her spot. she’s calling shots #she may not have won today but she sure as hell didn’t lose #let’s not work so hard to sanctify her that we remove everything about her that makes her such a brilliant character #succession #shiv roy #siobhan roy #scn #tv

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer protecting an artist reader

・❥ You left the hotel that day to go shopping, and you came back with blood splattered across your clothes

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

x: 13k words?!! this is why the wait was long y’all 😭😭 i spoil you too much

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, SMUT!!

“Uno!” 

“Damnit, Husk! Why’d you got to do me like that for?!” Angel Dust hissed, clenching the cards in his hand tightly as he stared at the freshly placed ‘Wild +4’ on the table in front of him.

“You askin’ a gambler to play a game of cards and still expect princess treatment? Please.” Husk rolled his eyes before taking a sip from his glass of brandy. 

“I know your games, Kitty. You could’a played that on Charlie when the order was reversed but saved it just for me didn’t ya?”

“Whatever you say, the color is green anyway.” 

Angel Dust huffed in annoyance as he placed the extra cards in his deck, muttering something under his breath. Besides him, Vaggie placed down a green card of her own, her eyes squinted with a look of concentration, calculating her next move. 

You were sitting a few chairs over, on the other side of the table. Besides you was Charlie, leaned back in her chair, only three cards left in her hand. She would be the last person to go before it was Husk’s turn once more. 

When they had invited you to play some cards, you were expecting something like Blackjack or Poker, not UNO. 

You were shocked they even had something like this in Hell, but in truth, it could become a very bloodthirsty game rather quickly. Not to mention, it was a cult classic, and it made sense for even the residents of such a place to still hold nostalgia for it even after their death.

Charlie had proclaimed it was a great bonding session while also helping to teach valuable skills like patience and communication. As being part of the staff, it was mandatory for you.

It had only been a few days since Lucifer kissed you on that rooftop, and your cheeks still heated everytime you thought about it.

Looking back down at the cards in your hand, you analyzed your possible moves. You had a good amount of cards still left in your deck, but the one you had been eyeballing was a green ‘+2’. Maybe that single card could help turn the tides, and someone other than Husk would win for once.

The spot besides Vaggie was empty, a small hand of cards laid face-down on the table in front of the chair. It was Sir. Pentious’ turn, but he was nowhere in sight. 

“How long has Snake Boy been in the bathroom? Somebody better go check up on him.” 

“Give him a few more minutes, I think it was the Mexican we had earlier coming back to haunt him.”

“Well if he doesn’t hurry, we’re gonna replace him with Niff.”

You ignored the other’s conversation, instead pivoting slightly in Charlie’s direction. You had a plan, but it would only work with the assistance of the demon princess.

“Pssst, Charlie!” You whispered, using a hand to shield your words from the rest of the players.

“Yes?” She inquired, leaning closer to you. KeeKee lifted her head from Charlie’s lap, and you gave her a quick scratch between her ears.

“Do you have a ‘+2’?” 

“Maybeeee,” Charlie answered, her eyes scanning her cards before landing back on you, “Why?” 

“If I put one of mine down, stack it with yours. That way Husk gets four!” 

Charlie looked over at Husk, who was sitting with his chest puffed, and a single card in his paws as he eyed the winners pot. Which was a couple of mints, a large candy bar, three dollars, and a coupon for a discount on movie tickets. 

There was a bag of a mysterious white powder in the mix that Angel Dust had placed earlier, but it was gone now. You assumed that Charlie had probably swiped it so she could burn it later.

Charlie turned back to you, her mouth downturned.

“But that’s so meannnn,” She whimpered, her eyes glistening, “Husk has worked so hard to get down to that!”

“It’s UNO, Charlie! It’s not a game for the weak. Husk only has one card and I swear if you let him win, i’ll- i’ll… I won’t paint your nails tonight!” 

Charlie grimaced, grief written across her face as she contemplated the incredibly tough decision she had to make. 

“Hey, you two stop plotting over there!” Vaggie glared in your direction, her arms crossed  “Pretty sure that counts as cheating!” 

“We were just talking about the weather!” Charlie quickly responded, before nervously biting her lip. 

It was then Sir. Pentious arrived, apologizing profusely before returning to his seat and picking his deck back up. He analyzed his cards for a moment, before quickly placing down another green. 

‘Damnit’, you cursed internally, ‘The color hasn’t changed, now it’s really up to Charlie.’

It was finally your turn, and slowly pulling out the ‘+2’ from your hand, you placed it on the table. You hit Charlie with a hard stare, silently threatening her with the loss of a manicure.

You two had been spending more time together recently, ever since she appeared at your friend’s art studio, leaving you to wrangle in a practically nude Lucifer for the duration of your class. 

After that, you were no longer worried about whether Charlie was unsupportive of your relationship with Lucifer. It was clear she wanted the best for her father, and his mood had been improving with you around.

Sometimes, while you were sketching out new ideas for your next project, she’d knock quietly at your door, asking for your assistance in matters pertaining to the rest of the residents in the hotel.

“I just wish Angel Dust would try harder to drop the heavy drugs,” She had moaned to you one day, sitting on your bed as she clutched a stuffed animal of yours to her chest, “I mean the drinking? Whatever, for now. I’m sure those in Heaven probably do the same. But, Cocaine?” 

She exhaled a large breath and averted her gaze, her lips pursed as she continued.

“I messed up big time when I tried to put my foot down for his sake back at the filming studio. Now i’m just.. scared to say anything about it, I don’t want to re-ignite any fire between us.”

You had nodded along while listening to her words, your fingers tapping against the wooden easel as you contemplated.

“Maybe you should try sitting him down and having a heart-to-heart with him?” You suggested gently, putting down your pencil.

“Express your concerns and offer your support. With the business he’s in and the.. culture that surrounds it, I have no doubt those closest to him are only continuing to perpetuate his, erm, activities.”

She regarded your words for a moment, staring down at her shoes as she let that sink in. 

“You could even take it a step farther and invite him to different groups or classes. There are many places around the city that do things like pottery, poetry, even shitty horse riding lessons. Maybe if he found something of interest, it would help in replacing those bad habits.”

Slowly, Charlie’s head started to nod, and she met your gaze with fresh determination.

“You’re right! It’s time for me to step up and be his support beam. If I can’t get him to make better choices, then what’s the point of the hotel? I’m sure the others will agree to help!” 

She crossed the room, and gave you a large bear hug. She squeezed the breath out of your lungs, but you only returned the hug, eager to show her your support.

Quickly, like she had done something wrong, she pulled her arms back to her sides and stepped back, creating a gap between the two of you. Nervously, she twisted a piece of her hair around her finger and bit her lip. 

“To be honest, I really enjoy talking to you about this kind of stuff. You just have this aura that makes me want to spill all my secrets, just like I used to with my mom...”

Those last few words that left Charlie’s lips were in a whisper. Your eyes widened at that. Did she regard you as a semi-parental figure now that you’ve slowly slipped into the Morningstar family? 

Her mother was a tough subject for her, since she had no idea where Lilith had scurried off to during these last seven years. All she had was the dream that her mom had left in her absence, and the will to enlighten the lost souls of Hell.  

You never would imagine replacing Lilith, for either Charlie or Lucifer. She was the Queen of Hell, their rock during the beginning of Hell’s creation. It was only natural she still held a piece of their hearts.

Slowly, you reached out, and gingerly took her hand. You squeezed it, a silent gesture of comfort.

“I’m just glad I can be your support beam,” You had conceded, “you’re doing such a great job with the hotel. Your ideas deserve to be heard, deserve to be tried. I’m really proud of you for taking such a large step, and i’m glad to be along for the journey with you.” 

It was then that Charlie’s breath hitched, her cheeks turned a faint shade of red, and her eyes began to glisten. 

You rushed forward quickly as her lips began to quiver, and pulled her into another warm embrace. She melted into it, leaning into your chest as you heard quiet sniffles originating from the princess.

“That is just so refreshing to hear, you have no idea.” She answered after a moment, before standing up straight and taking a step back. Rubbing the short trail of tears away, she sent you a warm smile before waving farewell and disappearing out of your room.

Days like that continued, where she’d ask for your advice or share the latest gossip around the hotel. 

“Jesus, Charlie. What’s got you so twisted? Play a card!” Angel Dust’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. Blinking a few times, you twisted your head in Charlie’s direction to see what the fuss was about.

She sat there in her chair, the cards slightly trembling in her hands, as she was faced with an uncomfortable decision. You swore you saw a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead, like she was deciding the fate of Husk’s life instead of the number of cards in his paws.

“I.. I just- Oh! I just can’t do it!” Charlie sobbed, before hastily pulling two more cards into her hand from the small deck on the table.

You groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead. Damnit, you should have known better. 

There was a chorus of groans intermixed with yours as Husker let out a loud, boisterous laugh. Slamming his final card on the table, he quickly reached out and pulled the winner’s pot towards him. 

He plucked out a mint with his claws before throwing it in his mouth, sucking on it loudly, letting everyone hear the tastes of victory.

“Yeah, yeah. Y’dont gotta rub it in.” Angel Dust muttered, before standing up and stretching his arms. After a few pops of his joints, he sighed, pulling out his phone. He grimaced as he read the words on the screen.

“It looks like Val needs me in the studio, I better run.” 

The group of friends began to clean up the table, shuffling cards before placing the deck back into the small box. Watching him leave, a pang of sympathy hit you. You couldn’t imagine being stuck in a contract, let alone as volatile as his.

You didn’t miss the mirrored look Husk gave as he too watched Angel Dust walk through the doors.

Rising from your seat, you stepped away from the group. Checking the clock, you realized you still had enough time to go on your resupply run before it got too dark out. You had your money on you already, so it was just a matter of writing up a quick list and walking out the door. 

Walking up to the front desk right next to the hotel entrance, you rummaged through the drawers before pulling out a small notepad. 

Placing it on the desk, you reached over and grabbed the pen from its respective holder. You began scribbling down different items you needed to gather:

Acrylic paint

Cleaning sponge

Extra palette knife 

Laundry detergent

Catnip 

Nail poli-

“Greetingsss!”

You jumped, the pen you were holding clattering back onto the desk. Spinning, your eyes land on the tall snake-demon resident, his fangs extended in an imitation of a smile.

“Sir. Pentious! You can’t sneak up on me like that!.” You exclaimed, exhaling a large breath to calm your nerves. 

His hood drooped slightly, guilt crossed his face at your fright. 

“Oh dear, i’m terribly sssorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to speak to you, only for a moment.”

You perked at his words. You didn’t know much about Sir. Pentious, he rarely had the courage to have a full conversation with you. He reminded you more of a mouse, then a snake. Always very polite, careful not to push others' buttons, and with a bit of anxiety. It humored you that he used to be a bad person, he was so sweet!

“Of course! What is it you need?” 

“Well..” He started, rubbing his hands in a self-soothing motion, “There is ssomeone I would like to pursue romantically, and, well, I wasss hoping you could help me in courting her?” 

“Oh, well- I’d love to but I'm not exactly qualified for that.” You laughed, surprise written on your face. That was not what you were expecting him to ask. 

“Of courssse you are! You managed to establish an intimate relationsship with His Majesty, the ruler of Hell!”

Your eyes widened. That’s why he wants your opinion? Sure, you did manage to bag the most powerful being in the realm. Someone regarded as cold and narcissistic by outsiders, but not to you. He was more than just his power and his fame when it came to what you loved about the fallen angel.

“Well, yes. That’s definitely true. But, it wasn’t really the conventional way. Lucifer is a.. colorful character.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Remember that art class I hosted a few months ago? Yeah, he was laying practically butt-naked on a couch in front of me the entire duration.”

“Oh dear.. perhapss you are right.” 

You contemplated his question, though. There had to be something you could give him that would help. Perhaps, to gift her something unique. That would prove his interest.

“Well.. what does she like?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Does she have any hobbies or interests? You are a very talented inventor, and some people really enjoy hand-made gifts. That tells them you care about them enough that you’ll sweat a little to make them happy!”

“Oh, why yesss! She is interested in blowing things up with her grenades!” Sir. Pentious squinted in concentration as he considered your words. His eyes widened as a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Thatsss it! I will design her grenades that do a better job at blowing stuff up!”

“Okay, I wasn’t really thinking tha-”

“Oh, thank you! You are such a good lissstener, I must come to you more often for advice!” Sir. Pentious took your hand in glee, shaking it vigorously as he continued, “I will ssstart working on it right away! She will be head over heels for me now!” 

You smiled warmly at him as he spoke. Though you weren’t expecting him to choose a dangerous weapon as a gift for whoever he was trying to court, at least you managed to help him in his endeavor.

“I’m happy you’ve found a solution! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do some shopping.” You turned away from him slightly, scribbling down the remaining item on the notepad.

“Oh, what are you getting?” 

“Just some art supplies and a few other minuscule items over on the East Side,” you responded, “I should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, my! It’sss getting very dangerous over there recently! Are you sure you want to go?” 

You lifted your head at his words. That side of the city was dangerous now? Isn’t that where Angel Dust’s studio is? 

“What do you mean, Sir. Pentious?”

“A large group of thugs have moved in, causing all sssorts of chaos! It’s not safe to go out alone in that area right now..”

You pondered his words. You didn’t regard yourself as a master of any kind of combat, and you weren't exactly afraid of the mention of gang-members, but, gang-members from Hell? Those were the worst of the worst. 

It’s not like you could ask anyone to join you. Alastor was who-knew-where, Sir. Pentious was going to some kind of annual inventor show soon, and Charlie and Vaggie were off for ‘date night’. You were pretty sure Husk was confined to the hotel unless someone with authority could give him the go. 

Lucifer was busy at some kind of meeting with the other six Deadly Sins. You never pried him on that part of his job, he hated going so you assumed he hated talking about it. He wouldn’t be done for awhile. 

‘Guess i’ll just wait fo-‘

“You ssshould take my Egg Bois!” Sir. Pentious’ words broke you out of your thoughts. Those little egg demons that followed him around everywhere? They were cute.. but could they really protect you?

“What?” 

“I cannot take them with me tonight, and they are trained for all kindsss of combat! They will protect you against any threat.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you, but I don’t know if-“ 

“Nonsssense! I insisst! A payment for helping me today.”

You bowed your head slightly in defeat. You weren’t too thrilled about having to babysit a bunch of eggs, but you trusted Sir. Pentious. If he said his boiz could protect you, then you’d believe it. 

“Alright, fine.”

✧༺🤍༻∞

“Your eyes are so pretty!” 

“Thank you.” 

“Uh, Not-Boss? I have to pee!” 

“That’s why I asked if you had to go before we left, Frank, now you’ll have to hold it in.”

“Can we stop for ice cream?” 

“After shopping.”

“Yay!”

It was only when you arrived at the East Side Market did you realize how badly you needed a car. That way, your ear wouldn’t have been talked off for so long. 

It wasn’t too bad, really. They were very obedient, never straying from your side as you traveled across the city. They told jokes that were so bad, you laughed at how much they made you cringe. They had very good manners too, always saying ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’.

Just one more street to cross, before you’d be at the art supply shop. Your little group neared the busy intersection, the light still green for the cars that sped by. Halting at the curb, you looked down at the Egg Bois before addressing them.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s hold hands while we cross. Here, Frank, come over to the right and take my hand.”

Frank sidled up to you, reaching up to grab on to your pinky. His entire hand wrapped around the single digit, and you wondered how exactly these guys had black belts in martial arts. 

As the ‘Walk’ signal blinked, you strode across the road. Squeezing past other pedestrians as they walked besides you, your eyes always glancing down to make sure the bois were safe.

Walking past a few more shops, your feet rested in front of a large, pink building. A paintbrush and palette imprinted on its front door. Turning towards the Egg Bois, you bent down to address them.

“Alright, i’ll only be in there for a few minutes. Guard the door, please.” 

The cluster of eggs saluted you, their features serious.

“You got it, Not-Boss!” 

Giving them a quick farewell nod, you walked through the open door. Disappearing from their sight.

Inside, you zig-zagged through the aisles. Each was one specific to a different art form. There was a row that held webs of colorful yarn, and you saw shades you honestly didn’t even know existed. 

You reached the aisle containing the paint supplies, your hand skimming across the shelves as you searched for a palette knife. You needed a smaller sized one, that way your accuracy in texturing feathers would improve. 

Recently, you found your paintings were filled with more and more waterfowl and angels. It was a repetitive pattern that only refined your abilities on recreating such ethereal scapes.

Before, your work exhibited many sexual themes. It wasn’t that much of a bother, you were making good money and still doing what you loved. But, damn, did it get mundane. How many tits were you going to be forced to see in your lifetime? 

When Charlie welcomed you to the hotel, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finally, you could crack your knuckles to get your creative juices flowing. It really brought back a ton of nostalgia too, from your time living on Earth.

Placing a few more items into your basket as you walked, you began to head for the cashier. Hopefully, the Egg Bois were doing okay an-

Bzzt Bzzt

Your eyes shot to the phone in your possession. It vibrated softly as it buzzed, and you quickly reached for the phone. Someone was calling you. Without even looking at the name, you tapped the green button, and held the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” 

“Darling~” 

Your cheeks heated just hearing Lucifer’s voice on the other end, the familiar velvet tone like music to your ears. A smile formed on your lips as you stopped in your tracks.

“Hello, Handsome. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got done with that meeting with the Sins. Thank god.”

“Was it bad?”

“It was the usual. Satan can’t control his cowboys from causing trouble outside his Ring, and Leviathan just complains about everyone else getting special treatment,” Lucifer cleared his throat, before continuing, “so, I was wondering what you were up to. Working hard?” 

“I’m out shopping right now, actually.” You replied. You heard shuffling on the other end, like Lucifer had stood up.

“Oh, really? Let me guess.. your resupply run?” 

“Bingo.” You smiled. He was catching on to more and more of your routines as time went on. 

“Well,” His tone turned playful, you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, “lucky for you, i'm also out.”

“Really?” You questioned, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yep, and actually-”

Lucifer’s voice turned to static, and you pulled the speaker an inch away from your ear. Was there a bad signal? You didn’t have enough time to think about that, before his voice returned crystal clear on the other end.

“-I think I see you right now!”

What?

“What?”

“Wow, is that a new outfit you’re wearing? It looks good!”

Slowly, you turned to the direction of the large storefront windows. Your eyes scanned the streets, looking for any signs of the fallen angel. It wasn’t until you scooted slightly over, to look past the large poster covering your view, did you spot the glint of pale blonde hair. 

Your mouth dropped. Standing across the street, looking directly at you, was Lucifer. He didn’t sport the usual overcoat and hat, instead he wore his casual red-and-white striped waistcoat, the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to partially expose his forearms.

He also wore a pair of black sunglasses, which you found kind of odd. You’ve never seen him with any kind of eyewear before today. Noticing your gaze, he waved to you, slightly bouncing on his toes.

You quickly tapped your screen to end the call, rushing toward the check-out counter. You kept taking glances at Lucifer through the windows, your smile widening everytime your gaze traveled down his frame.

The cashier handed you the receipt, and you hurriedly ran out the door. You skidded to a halt at the curb, just as Lucifer crossed the street. He sidled up beside you, grinning warmly. 

“I’m really happy to see you, but aren’t you worried you’ll get, like, mobbed or something out here? It’s pretty busy today. Don’t most demons recognize you?” You asked.

Lucifer nodded his head, before tapping the sunglasses on his face. You wondered how they held to his face so well. Magic? 

“That’s what these are for, they mask my appearance to everyone but you. And, now that I mention it..” Lucifer trailed off, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of sunglasses, “here, I bought these for you.”

He extended his arm, holding the sunglasses towards you. Reaching out, you gingerly pull them from his grasp, turning them over in your hands. There are words etched into the side of one the arms, and your eyes widened as you read the brand.

“These are Ray-Burn sunglasses! How much did you spend on these?” You questioned him. Ray-Burn was a very high-end retailer, and they were a luxury you could never have afforded. Lucifer only shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t check, I just thought they’d look great on you.” 

Heat creeped onto your cheeks at his response. Your finger caressing the glasses as you processed his words. You had been checking out this specific pair quite some time, they were stylish and bold. 

“A work of art,” You had joked to Lucifer once, “They always come out with such pretty designs, one day i’ll get my hands on one.”

He must have kept your promise for you, and that made your heart flutter. Except, for the fact he didn’t need to do that. You would have loved any pair if Lucifer was the one giving it to you. 

“Why didn’t you just make one, instead of spending money on me?” 

“Because, you were eyeing this specific pair. While I have no doubt one of my versions would have looked fantastic on you. I can’t argue with your choice of style. Now put those bad boys on.”

Carefully, you slipped them on your face. You adjusted them slightly, centering them before releasing your grip. You blinked, the light hitting your eyes was much softer now, which was actually quite refreshing.

Lucifer whistled flirtatiously at you, “You look ravishing. Now, what about me?” 

He twisted his body and lifted his head up, posing like he was a cover girl in a magazine.  Puckering his lips, he lifted his brows at you. Waiting for your response.

Stupidly gorgeous, you thought, ogling him. 

“Perfect.”

“That’s right.” He agreed, nodding his head.

It was then that five eggs rolled into view. They bounced into one another, before standing on their legs. They looked up at you, before saluting.

Lucifer recoiled at the sight of them, stepping behind you slightly. 

“What the hell are those things?” He whispered in your ear. 

“My bodyguards!” You proclaimed with a smirk, pivoting to face him. Placing your hands on your hips, you eyed your temporary entourage.

“Ohhhh, I get it. Paint a few portraits and suddenly your top dog, hm?”

“Obviously. The Envy Ring has eyes on me 24/7.” You tried to hold in a laugh.

Lucifer smiled, before pulling you besides him. “Well, it’s a good thing I have you all to myself now.” 

He leaned forward, lips puckered for a kiss. Eyes widening, you quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, side-eyeing the multiple onlookers.

“Not in front of the little guys, they're too young to fill their heads with such things.” 

You felt air hit your palm as he sighed at your response, before pulling away. He turned his head toward the Egg Bois with a slight glare, and Frank walked forward. 

“Is this guy bothering you, Not-Boss? Want us to rough him up for you?” He raised his fists, giving the air a quick punch to display his combat prowess.

“Excuse me?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. You realized he was probably not used to lower demons like the Egg Bois speaking to him in such a manner. Even in a disguise.

“I don’t think he knows he’s talking to the big bad boss of Hell.” you teased, amusement glinting in your eyes. 

Frank’s eyes widened, he jumped back. It made both you and Lucifer reel back in surprise at the egg’s frightened reaction.

“Boss of Hell? You mean like Lucifer?!”

The Egg Bois behind him looked amongst themselves, fear flickering across their face. They whispered to each other, you could only make out a few words like ‘kill’ and ‘torture’.

“Haven’t you heard?” Frank continued, “He steals souls and drinks the blood of babies!”

“Oh, he does more than just that,” Lucifer started, stalking toward the egg-demon menacingly, “he roasts them alive to eat, and anyone of similar size!” 

The egg boi trembled, his little legs starting to shake as he listened to Lucifer’s words.

“Oh, golly..” He whispered with a quivering lip. 

Sending Lucifer a glare, you not-so-gently elbowed him in the side.

“What are you doing?” You whispered. Was he trying to make the little guy crack?

“Just keeping up my image, can’t have anyone thinking the almighty ruler of Hell fancies taking his lover for strolls down the markets!” 

You shot him another glare and Lucifer sent an apologetic smile. He slowly knelt down to Frank’s height, patting him on the top of his shell. “Don’t worry, little guy. I heard he prefers pancakes over scrambled eggs.”

Frank’s frown waned a tiny bit, his legs stilled as the panic subsided. The other eggs behind him visibly relaxed as well.

“And, who could ever eat a wittle adowable face like yours,” Lucifer cooed sweetly, rubbing the sides of Frank’s shell like he was trying to squeeze his cheeks, who giggled at the touch. Lucifer stood up, a smirk gracing his lips.

“Well, now that I'm here. That means you don’t need any bodyguards. Say goodbye!” He turned to you, snapping his fingers. Your eyes widened as the Egg Bois vanished in a flash of golden waves. You felt bad you didn’t get to say goodbye.

“You know, I did promise them ice cream.”

Lucifer waved his hand in a brushing motion, “we’ll stop and get them some on the way back.” 

You both continued to walk down the street, glancing into different shops as you set your eyes on something unique. Lucifer filled the time by continuing his rant of the other Sins. You listened intently, your knowledge of other powerful demons— apart from alastor, wasn’t very vast. He also mentioned wanting to find a gift for Charlie, and that got you scanning every display window on the street.

It wasn’t until the two of you stopped at a storefront and peeked through the glass display did you see something of interest. Across the hidden barrier, was a mannequin with feminine features, sporting a rather stunning red tuxedo with gold lapels. 

“I think Charlie would like that,” You smiled, turning to Lucifer, “she was mentioning a need for a wardrobe upgrade, and it would show you care about her passion with the hotel since she’d wear it for work.”

Lucifer pondered your words for a moment. He cared about his daughter deeply, but his relationship with her was still in the works. Her interests were still foreign to him, and he struggled with coming up with gifts for her, despite acts of service being his love language. Slowly, he nodded.

“What size does she wear? Oh, I guess it doesn’t matter. I can just adjust it for her. Are you coming in?” 

“I’ll wait out here, see if there’s anywhere else we can stop.” You replied. Lucifer nodded, before pulling open the front door and slipping inside. 

You turned, scooching as close to the wall as to not impede on the flow of pedestrian traffic. Your eyes scanned the other stores. Wait, didn’t you still need nail polish? What stores around here would sell tha-

Bzzt Bzzt

Your phone vibrated again. Raising your eyebrows, you checked the name this time. The words on the phone read ‘Charlie’ and you quickly answered it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but are you still shopping?” Charlie asked, her tone strange to you. Worried, perhaps. 

“Yes, I am. I’m almost done though, why, what’s up?”

“It’s Angel Dust,” She spoke quickly, “the last time I talked to him he stopped at a bar at the edge of the East Side Market hours ago, and now he won’t answer any of my messages. I’m just worried about him.” 

“Well, I’m at the East Side Market now. I can check up on him, if you want, maybe even drag him back to the hotel.” 

“Really?” Charlie said, her tone lifting at your words, “Oh, thank you! That would be great, please let me know what happens..”

You promised her you would, before hanging up. Just as you set the phone down, Lucifer exited the store. He held a large pink bag in his hands as he strolled towards you.

“Alright, where to next?” 

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Angel Dust is somewhere around here no doubt blackout drunk, and I have to go make sure he’s okay. It’s the club right down the street here, will you come with me?”

Sensing the urgency in your tone, Lucifer nodded. He laced your fingers with his before speaking, “if that’s what you want, of course.”

Quickly, you pulled him down the street. A large, dark building came into view. To be honest, if the figure of a stripper wasn’t etched into its sign, you wouldn’t have guessed it was a club. It looked like a run down industrial building, but the heavy vibrations from the music inside told you otherwise. A large crowd of people were standing up front, some held cigarettes or beers in their hands as they chatted waiting to enter. You couldn’t see a bouncer, maybe it was going to be easier than you thought to get in.

“I think this time, it’s your turn to go in alone,” Lucifer stopped at the doors, turning to you, “this crowd is a little too big for my liking..”

“That’s fine. I shouldn’t be long, i’ll be down here in a few minutes.” Your lips brushed his cheek before you reluctantly pulled your hand from his grip. Maneuvering through the crowd, trying not to bump into too many stumbling drunks, you stopped at the door. With a quick glance at your surroundings and Lucifer, you pulled open the large door and slipped inside.

Flashing multi-color lights hit your eyes as they lit up your frame from the other end of the dark hallway. Shadowy figures passed your peripheral vision as they danced. Round tables were stacked with empty drinks, with groups of partiers standing around them as they chatted and laughed.

The music was loud too, drowning out your thoughts so all that was left was the single mission: Find Angel Dust.

Quickly, you crossed the room, your feet stopping at the bar. You turned your head, scanning for any signs of bright pink fuzz. You found none, and your eyes instead landed on a staircase. There were multiple floors to this place? Hopefully, Angel Dust wouldn’t be far away.

A man at the bar winked at you, and you quickly turned away, hurriedly making your way to the stairs. You lept over multiple steps, until your feet touched a hard, wood floor. This area was definitely built for those that wanted to forget whatever shitty day they had come from. 

Strippers danced around large poles on top of platforms connected to each corner of the room. A wall lined with doors, labeled rather indiscreetly as ‘sex’ rooms, caught your eye. He couldn’t be in there, could he? 

“Y’know, my fur gets pinker the more you touch, toots. Ever seen a spider change color?” 

Your head snapped to that familiar voice. Angel Dust leaned against a wall, near the open doors of a large balcony. It was a dark corner of the room, and you would have missed it if not for hearing his voice. He looked really drunk, and you contemplated whether you were actually going to be able to get him out of here. There were multiple large demons around him, leaned in as they listened to Angel talk. They kept glancing at each other, before turning their attention back to the spider-demon. 

You didn’t like the look of them, their faces weren’t friendly and the scars across their skin made you nervous. It wasn’t until one adjusted their position slightly, did you see the gleam of a small dagger attached to their waist belt. You tensed, were these the thugs Sir. Pentious had mentioned? 

“Why don’t you let us take you somewhere nice. eh?” One of them started, scooching closer to Angel Dust, “get some more drinks in your system, relax, whatcha say?” 

You didn’t like where the conversation was going as you eavesdropped. You hurriedly crossed the room, throwing your hands up in the air as you walked towards them.

“Angel! There you are, i’ve been looking all over for you.” 

“Hot cakesss,” Angel Dust slurred in surprise as he turned away from the men and met your eyes, “What are you doing here? This ain’t your type’a place.”

“That’s because i’m here to get you home, buddy. Come on, you’ve had a rough day, doesn’t a warm bed sound nice?”

Angel nodded to that, before turning away from the group of feral-eyed men. He held a small shot glass in his hand as he stumbled up to you, holding it out for you to take. 

“Hereee, have a drink.” 

You shook your head, “No, I shouldn’t, we need to-“

“Cmonnn Hot Cakes, we’re at a club! I ain’t going until you drink.” 

You eyed him, before your gaze snapped to the liquor in his hand. That’s right, it was Angel Dust you were trying to drag home. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with the fact he was almost eight feet tall. With a sigh, you took the shot glass and lifted it to your lips. You threw your head back, downing the contents in one go.

It burned as it traveled down your throat, but slowly, the flavor hit your senses, and you blinked your eyes. You felt.. different, already. You looked at Angel, before setting the glass down on a nearby table. “This was actually kinda good, what is it?” 

“Amrita.”

“What?”

“A sex potion. Y’know, makes your juicy parts tingle, and gets ya craving for a strong man to come satisfy your desires. It works, I promise.” 

Your mouth opened, and then it closed. No way did Angel Dust just give you a libido booster. You put a hand to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut. Was one shot going to do much? Were you going to become a mess right next to Angel? Fuck, you should have resisted that temptation. 

You wrapped your fingers around Angel’s forearm, pulling him towards the staircase. “Let’s go, Angel, we don’t have time for games.”

He wasn’t able to take a step forward before one of the large onlookers pushed forward between the two of you. His head and body resembled that of a Great White Shark. His cold eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and you took a step back to widen the distance.

“Where are you two heading off to in such a hurry? You interrupted us earlier, friend. Us and the spider were just chatting about him joining us for the night. Isn’t that right?” The man turned to Angel, who only nodded absentmindedly. He mumbled something about never having any ‘real’ fun, whatever that meant.

“My friend here is too drunk to make any kind of decisions by himself,” You replied sternly, hoping your nerves weren’t trickling into your voice, “He needs to go home and rest, now if you’ll excuse me..”  

The man put a hand up as you moved forward, halting you in your tracks. “Your friend here is a big boy. He can make his own choices, and he chose to come with us.” 

You shot him a glare, before looking past him to see the group of demons slowly converge on Angel, who was looking at you with a mixed expression. As if actually deliberating whether to take your hand and leave this noisy place.

“Ow! Watch it, meathead!” Angel snapped as one roughly grabbed his wrist. Pulling him away from you, towards a closed door on the other end of the room.

In a flit of rage at their man-handling, you surged forward, yanking at the thug’s wrist, trying to get him to release Angel. “Hey, let him go! I already told you-”

The words died in your throat as you felt rough hands wrap around your arms, and the sharp pain in your back as you were slammed into the wall. Your eyes snapped up, meeting the shark-faced demon’s cruel gaze and he glared intently at you. 

“And I already told you he’s coming with us. Why don’t you take your little ass back downstairs to where the party is, before I make you.”

You struggled against his grip, but this guy was strong, and your strength was dwindling with every second you fought against him. “Let go of me!” You snapped.

“We should take them with us,” One of the thugs called from behind him as he pulled Angel farther away from you, “don’t want to risk them stirring up trouble.”

Your eyes widened in fear, and your gaze landed back on the demon locking you in place. He looked at his comrade, for a moment, before turning his head to face you. His lips upturned in a vicious grin. 

“Well, what do you think about that, Hot Cakes?” He asked, his grip still tight around your arms, “want to join us for a little fun? Come on, i’m sure you’ll like it. Especially with that drink in your system.” 

Oh no, this was bad. Really, bad. You had no chance against these guys, if only you could get Lucifer’s attention.. 

Suddenly, you were jerked forward, the man’s harsh grip dragging you along towards whatever lay beyond those sex rooms. You struggled, twisting in his grip. “Let go of me!” You begged. 

The heavy bass of the song as it spilled out of the loud-speakers only drowned out your cries. How the hell was everyone so drunk and caught up in their own world that they didn’t notice you being forcefully removed from the scene? The demon just ignored you, and as you crossed in front of the open doorway to the balcony, your breath quickened. Your arm reeled back instinctually, fueled by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“I said, let me go!” You screamed, clocking the shark-faced demon right in the jaw. He reeled back, a curse falling from his lips. His head snapped down to you, before he closed the distance, his chest bumping with yours. You felt your feet lift off the ground for a moment as he shoved you backwards. Your back hit the railing of the balcony, and you stumbled for a moment, trying not to fall backwards. 

The demon pulled you forward by your top, his hot breath hitting your face. His eyes a darkened shade as he fumed before you. “You think you’re top shit, huh? Think you can hit me and get away with it?” He snarled. 

Slightly turning your head to look below you, you realized the balcony was facing the back of the club. There was no one in sight, but you could hear the faint noises from the crowd in the distance. Was Lucifer still at the front door, waiting for you?

Your heartbeat quickened as you locked eyes with him, slowly, you felt him push you forward. Your body leaning farther and farther over the railing, you struggled against him once more. The only thing keeping you from tumbling over was his steel grip on your top. A pang of regret flashed through your mind. Fuck, you were dead. 

“Enjoy your night, Hot Cakes.” He chuckled darkly, before his hand opened, releasing your clothing, and your balance faltered.

“No!” Angel Dust yelled from behind you, his eyes wide in fear as your body flipped over the railing. The man turned away from you, stalking back into the club. The balcony doors slamming shut behind him. You flailed helplessly, letting out a scream as you fell.

As you plummeted, panic surged through your veins, every instinct screaming for survival. The wind whipped past your ears, drowning out all other sound except for the pounding of your heart. In that terrifying moment of free fall, you wished desperately for something, anything, to save you from the impending impact.

At that moment, for the first time in your life, you prayed. You prayed that if not you, at least Angel Dust would make it out alive and unscathed. 

‘Please, don’t let Lucifer find my body’ You begged, as the ground rushed up to meet you.

Just as suddenly as the fall had begun, it halted. Your body jerked to a stop midair, suspended in an inexplicable stasis. Confusion clouded your mind as you blinked. What just happened?

A soft chuckle resonated beneath you, and slowly, you turned your head to see Lucifer. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he extended his arms, a subtle shimmer of golden magic enveloping your form.

With a gentle motion, he guided you down, easing your descent until you landed softly in his embrace. As you caught your breath, relief washed over you.

“When you told me you’d be down in a moment, I didn’t think that meant leaping off the second story.” Lucifer teased.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, trembling slightly. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be a splatter on the ground. 

Inhaling his scent, you softened against him as that familiar smell of apple cinnamon and roses. Fuck, he smelled so good. Your face heating up as you breathed deeply, your thighs beginning to ache. Did he always smell so.. mouth-watering? It made you want to lean over and take a bite, would he taste as good too? He’d probably let you, if you aske-

Wait. What were you doing?! SAVE ANGEL. 

Your brain screamed at you, pulling you harshly back into reality. Was this that drink making you all mushy? Damn, it really was a potion. 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the fog in your mind as you stared up at him. Quickly, scrambling out of his grip. You took his arm, a pleading look in your eyes.

“You need to help! Angel Dust is up there, and he got taken by a gang or something! They tried to take me too, but I fought back. The-they threw me off the balcony!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in one breath, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You couldn’t imagine what could be happening up there, you didn’t want to.

Lucifer frowned, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate behind the shades.

“Who threw you off the balcony?” He growled. 

“The men up there, come on, we need to hurry!” You turned, but not before you felt hands wrapping around your midsection. You heard soft rustling from behind you, and upon turning your head, took in the sight of Lucifer’s large wings extended widely.

“Let’s take the shortcut, hm?” He said, before you both were in the air with a single flap of his wings. You quickly looked around, what if someone saw him like this? It's not everyday a demon saw angel wings, and multiple of them for that matter. Hopefully, they’ll just blame it on their drunken stupor.

Lucifer lifted you up the railing, and you slowly maneuvered out of his grip, your feet hitting the metal landing. He gracefully lowered himself next to you, his wings furling before disappearing into his back. 

Slowly cracking the balcony door open, you both peeked from the doorway. Your head snapped to each side of the room, no Angel. You scanned the chairs situated around the stripper stages, no Angel. 

It wasn’t until your gaze landed on an adjacent room, near a hallway directly to your right, did your eyes narrow. 

“See those guys over there? That’s them. There are a lot more now though. I don’t know where they took Angel, he could be behind that door at the end of the hall.” You whispered to Lucifer, who’s gaze intensified as he analyzed the group.

Tip-toeing back into the building, you stopped short at the corner. Just around the bend, you’d come face to face with your attackers.

“I can take them, no sweat.” Lucifer replied, full confidence in his tone. You didn’t doubt it, but could he fight them without risking Angel Dust’s life? 

“Okay, but I need to check the other rooms,” You replied hurriedly, “There are multiple, um, private rooms up here. He could be in any of them. I need to find him, before it’s too late!” 

You were about to turn away before you felt Lucifer’s grip on your wrist, preventing you from moving. Your gaze met his, but you couldn’t see what he was feeling behind the shades masking his eyes. The slight tinge of fear laced in his voice gave you a clue, though.

“You should wait,” He spoke soft, but firmly, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You shook your head at him, your gaze scanning the large crowd, before turning back with panicked eyes.

“It’s Angel Dust who’ll get hurt if I don’t find him quickly.” Your breath quickening with every second not searching for your friend.

Leaning forward, you grazed his lips with a quick kiss, “I promise, i’ll be alright.”

He looked at you for another moment, as if contemplating whether to force you to stay in the safety of his presence. He didn’t though, instead letting out an exhale of breath.

“Fine. I’ll distract them for you then, and try not to make too big of a scene,” Lucifer adjusted his sunglasses, before continuing, “but, if I don’t see you back here in ten minutes, there won’t be a club to come back to.” He threatened.

You sent him a reassuring smile, his protective nature making your heart flutter. There was no time for swooning now, though, you had a spider-demon to save.

“Oh, and take this. You know how to use one of these, right?”

You looked down at the object in his other hand, your eyes widening at the sight of a small pistol.

“Enough.” Was your only answer as you took it from his grip, adjusting it between your fingers. You weren’t going to ask him where it came from, instead just sending him a silent thanks as you turned away.

Quickly, you slid your wrist out of his grip, and hurried off. Lucifer watched you leave, your form melting into the rest of the partierers on the dance floor.

His gaze lingered on the spot where you had disappeared, before he turned towards the group of demons across the room.

They stood in a huddle, snickering between themselves near the entrance to a mysterious back room. Lucifer cleared his throat, and their heads snapped to him.

The dark corner they were standing in partially masked their features, but that bloodthirsty glint in their eyes was unmistakable.

“So, tell me,” Lucifer began, no hint of emotion in his tone, “Which one of you douchebags has a kink for throwing people off of balconies?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” A tall, shark-faced man demanded harshly.

“Oh, you know…” Lucifer responded, a slight growl dripping from his voice, “Just a concerned citizen.” 

“If you don’t slither back to whatever shit-hole you came out of, Shorty, i’m gonna make sure your last memory is my dagger between your eyes!” 

“Oh, I’ll remember you, alright,” Lucifer chuckled darkly, rolling up his sleeves as he stalked forward, the tips of his horns protruding from his head, “As the latest bottom-feeder who thought he could fuck with the devil.” 

The group of demons regarded him with a confused expression for a moment, their gaze bouncing between each other in silent questioning. Unsure about the stranger’s lack of fear.

The shark-demon turned to face them, his frown deepening as he watched them stand there like children waiting for Mommy’s instruction. 

“Well? What the hell are you waiting for!? Kill him!” 

Brandishing their close-combat weapons, five demons charged at Lucifer. Their menacing frames towering over the smaller man.

“Finally,” Lucifer grinned wickedly, before rolling his shoulders, “Some fun!” 

Fingertips igniting with a golden flame, he surged forward, meeting the oncoming demons halfway. The closest one gripped their axe tightly, before pulling it behind them. In a blink of an eye, they swung their arms forward.

The axe sliced through the air, aimed right at Lucifer's throat. It didn’t connect, as he gracefully leaned backwards, pupils dilating as he watched the weapon whisk right above his hair.

“Missed me!” He yelled playfully, before dodging another swing of a blade. A throwing knife whizzed right past his ear as he evaded the attack. It hit the chest of a demon charging behind him, who fell with a loud thump, their body twitched for a moment, before stilling.

“Missed me again! Wow, you guys suck at this!”

“How is this guy so fast?!” One of the gang-members yelled incredulously, before chucking another throwing knife in Lucifer’s direction. 

He melted into the shadows of the room and the knife hit the opposite wall, embedding into the cracked paint. The group twisted their heads around the area, eyes scanning for the vanishing stranger.

“You look tired!” Lucifer grinned behind one of the thugs, who pivoted with a yelp of surprise at his appearance. The mace in their hand beginning to rise for an attack.

“Why don't you—” Lucifer snarled and reeled back an arm, an enclosed fist at the end of it. He swung it forward and it connected with the larger demon’s stomach, a strangled gasp escaping their lips.

“—Sit down!” 

With a flash of golden light, the demon shot backward. He flew through the air, his back smashing into the window on the opposite wall. He sailed right through it, letting out a shriek as he plummeted towards the ground. 

The scene halted for a moment. Multiple wide eyes snapping from Lucifer to the large, broken window that their comrade had just exited. Pieces of glass scattered across the room were the only remnants of the crime.

“Holy shit..” one muttered quietly in shock, fear etched onto his features. He dropped the weapon in his hand, and scurried off towards the staircase leading out of the club. 

“That’s called karma, bitch!” Lucifer laughed. He stood in the same position he had punched the guy, casually brushing off a few specks of dirt from his sleeves. Adjusting his sunglasses once more, he surveyed the rest of the demons.

“Who’s next?” he grinned. 

The gang-members exchanged nervous glances. Some withdrew a few steps, a few tightened their grip on their weapon with calculating glares. None made the first move.

“Alright then,” Lucifer hummed, “Guess i’ll just have to pick.” 

Snapping his fingers, a whip appeared in his hand. A long, thin wire coated in golden flames dragged across the floor. Scorch marks trailed behind as he slowly stalked forward. With another burst of magic, the room filled with thick, gray fog. To any demon that would walk into the room, they’d probably just think it was the fog machine acting up.

“Eeny..” He started.

Right as the bass dropped, and the floor vibrated beneath his feet, Lucifer cracked the whip. It shot forward, slashing one demon right in the throat. Blood spurted from the gash, and with a few gurgled screams, the demon face-planted onto the floor.

The room went into a panic, as the gang-members frantically searched for the way out of the dense fog. One ran straight into a wall, knocking him unconscious as he slid down the side of it.

“Meeny..”

The music drowned out the whip once more as it curled around the foot of a wolf-built demon, with a harsh tug, the demon clawed for something to grab before he was thrown out the now-broken window. He screams echoing in a mirrored symphony of the last.

“Miny..” 

The whip evaporated from Lucifer’s hand, as he charged an unsuspecting gang-member. They pivoted in his direction, right as he wrapped his hands around their throat. Golden tendrils seeped from under Lucifer’s sleeves, and curled tightly the demon’s neck. With a snap of his wrist, the thug’s head twisted an un-natural angle, and he fell backwards. 

Landing softly in front of the body, Lucifer’s eyes narrowed on the area in front of him. The fog cleared, and the only one left standing was the leader of the gang. His eyes were dark, his teeth bared as his gaze traveled across the broken bodies of his comrades. His rage was going to be the death of him. 

“I’m tired of this shit. Let’s finish this, Pipsqueak!” The Shark-demon roared. Reaching behind him, the gang leader carefully pulled a large, silver machete from the sheath strapped to his back. 

This one was rather different, though. It was laced with shimmering white etchings, that pooled at the tip of the blade. 

Angelic steel.

Lucifer only grinned widely at the sight. Before planting his feet firmly into the ground, the demon would regret thinking he had the upper hand. He should have ran when he had the chance. 

In a flash, Lucifer’s wings unfurled. Bathing the room in a red glow as the tips of his flight feathers grazed the opposite walls. The shark-demon’s eyes widened, his stance faltered for a moment, but the grip of the blade tightened.

“Moe.” Was all Lucifer uttered, and with a large beat of his wings, shot straight for the demon. With a battle cry, the leader raised the machete high, ready to slash at the fallen angel.

At the last second, Lucifer ducked, curling his wings around himself as he evaded the blade and slammed right into the shark’s chest. The heavy blow knocked the demon backwards, and the weapon flew from his grip. 

Reaching out an arm, Lucifer snatched it, turning it on its user. With a downward swipe, he planted the blade right into the fucker’s heart. The demon’s knees hit the floor, as blood dripped from his mouth, the life fading from his eyes.

“This is to make sure you keep your filthy hands off what doesn’t belong to you,” he snarled in the demon’s ear, “know you died simply because your mama’s manners never rubbed off on you.” 

Lucifer stood there for a moment, on the dead man’s corpse. His breath heavy as the thick scent of blood and pain filled his nostrils. He may have descended from the Heavens, but ruling a place like this for so long can really turn a guy feral when it comes to protecting the ones he loves most.

With his wings disappearing back into his frame, Lucifer turned towards the closed door. With a flick of his wrist, it slammed open, and he took a step inside. 

It was empty, stacks of cash laid strewn on the table before him. Bottles of empty liquor sat on the small bar across the room. It seemed like a hideout for the gang, but Lucifer deathly was aware of the silence. There was no Angel Dust, which meant..

A moment of panic overtook him as he backtracked out of the room, his eyes feverishly searching for you. Were you okay? Did they hurt you? It had been long enough, you should have been back by now. He bolted out of the hallway, pushing through the crowd of drunken partiers.

He needed to find you, before it was too late.

✧༺🤍༻∞

Your feet skidded to a halt in front of the first private room. The line of doors sat in an adjacent room to the dance floor, away from the prying eyes of club-goers. The sign on the door indicated it to you as it was occupied. You took a deep breath, before gripping the handle. 

You yanked open the door, taking in the unwanted sight of two demons naked on the bed. Their heads snapped up, eyes wide at your intrusion.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!!” You screamed to them, covering your eyes.

“It’s okay, Sugar. You can join us if you want!” One yelled at you flirtatiously. 

“No thanks!” You replied as you scurried away, your gaze already zone in on the next room. Jiggling the handle, you found it locked tightly.

You placed an ear to the door, straining for any sounds. Angel was in one of these rooms and you’d make sure he’d come out unscathed.

“Get the fuck off me, you murderer!” You heard a familiar, muffled voice yell behind the door.

Fear gripped at your heart as you recognized his cry. Your head whipped to the bar closest to you, searching for something you could use to break through. Besides the shelf of bottles was a fire extinguisher, bolted to the wall. 

You rushed forward, scanning the area for any signs of the bartender, before grasping the handle tightly. Using all your strength, you pulled it towards you. It snapped off its hinges and caused you to stumble backwards from the force, clutching it to your chest. 

Your head snapped back to the door and you crossed the room. You lifted the fire extinguisher above your head, and waited. Just as the beat dropped, and the speakers filled the room with deafening bass, you smashed the red canister against the handle.

It flew off, skidding across the floor. You dropped the extinguisher, before picking the pistol back up. Lifting your leg, you used all your strength to kick the door open, revealing the scene inside. The scene before you was chilling—Angel, bound to the bed with his clothes slightly torn, struggling against a demon holding him down. Without hesitation, you raised the pistol, aiming it at the demon's head.

"Let him go," you commanded, your voice trembling with fury and determination. 

The demon’s eyes widened at the weapon aimed at his face, before quickly reaching his hands in the air to surrender. “Let’s watch where you point that thing, now.” He joked darkly. 

"Get the fuck out." you snarled, your voice low and threatening. You weren’t sure whether you had the strength to actually pull the trigger, nor did you want to further traumatize Angel Dust.

The demon backed up to the wall slowly, tip-toeing around you as you turned on your heels to continue facing him, the gun never leaving it’s sight of the man. After reaching the door, he quickly fled with his tail between his legs. 

Breathing heavily, you rushed to Angel's side, helping him stand. "We need to get out of here," you said urgently, glancing around for any other threats. 

Angel Dust’s eyes widened at the sight of you, his mouth opened in shock. “I-I thought they killed you!” He sputtered, gripping your arms tightly as his hands came free from the bindings. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. 

It was then that another figure barreled into the room, eyes wide and panic in their voice as they called out for you. You turned sharply, gun drawn once more, aimed right at.. Lucifer’s face. This time without the sunglasses blocking those pretty eyes of his.

Your shaking hands loosened around the gun at the realization, and it dropped to the floor at your feet. 

You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was okay! Of course he was, but that didn’t mean your mind wasn’t racing with worry for his sake. It was the other way around too, as Lucifer returned the hug ten fold. You could feel his rapid breath against your neck as he melted slightly into you. The worry fading from his eyes, as he gave you once over for any injuries.

“About time, you dick!” Angel muttered besides you, rubbing his wrists where the rope marks were no doubt beginning to bruise beneath his fuzzy. He seemed offley sober now, unlike you, who’s mind was still a bit fuzzy from the Amrita. 

Releasing Lucifer slowly, you stood up, turning back to Angel Dust. He was relatively untouched, it seems you made it just in time.

“Those thugs are taken care of,” Lucifer began, his pupils still dilated to slits as he hissed out the words, “they won’t bother you anymore, although, i’d recommend you stay away from this place from now on.”

Angel Dust nodded besides you, “Y’dont gotta tell me twice. Now, how about we use some of that sick teleportation magic of yours and get the fuck outta here?” 

“That sounds really nice, right about now.” You breathed, a faint smiling appearing on your lips.

You turned towards Lucifer, but a shadowy figure behind him caught your attention. In the doorway, a demon bleeding profusely from his side glared daggers into Lucifer’s back. Raising an arm, you caught the sight of a silver-tipped pistol lifting to aim right at his head.

“Watch out!” You screamed. Instinctually, you shoved Lucifer aside, positioning yourself between the gun and your love. Lucifer’s head snapped in your direction, and his eyes widened as they turned a midnight-red.

“Wait, no-!”

Lucifer started, pulling you close to him, right as the thug pulled the trigger. You heard the sickly pop as the gun fired and squeezed your eyes shut. 

You saw a flash of golden light behind your eyelids, and felt your feet lifted off the ground. You felt a cool breeze hit your face, with the familiar feeling of floating midair. Were you being teleported?

Suddenly, your back hit the hardwood floor of your room in the hotel and your head bounced on the ground. Pain seared through your body as you landed harshly, and you were knocked unconscious. 

Lucifer’s face appeared before yours, his eyes searching for signs of life. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared down at your motionless form. Panic clawed at his insides, threatening to consume him entirely. He reached out trembling hands, fingers shaking as they brushed against your cheek, desperately searching for any hint of warmth. Did the bullet hit you? If it was truly an angelic weapon, there was no chance to save you.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, no."

Your eyes flew open, and you shot up from the ground, gasping. Taking in the sight of your atelier, with its canvases strewn across your room, you turned to face Lucifer. Relief flooded his entire being as he watched you awaken. 

A wide smile spread across his face, breaking through the darkness that had threatened to engulf him moments before. "You're alive," he breathed, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. He scanned your body for any blood or injury, and found none.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. "I thought I lost you," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "But you're here. You're safe."

“Angel Dust?” You asked hoarsely.

“Fine. I dropped him in the lobby.”

He held you for a moment longer, before pushing you back. Your breath hitched, watching him. His teeth were bared, his eyes still dark as he regarded you.

“What were you thinking? Trying to save me?”

“What was I supposed to do?! Let the bullet hit you?” 

“Yes!” He snapped, before he closed his eyes, and his features softened. He hung his head, averting his gaze. 

“Your life is much more important than a few holes in my body. I would gladly lay down my life for you or Charlie, I don’t care about the circumstances.”

You wanted to retort, tell him how stupid he is for saying such things. Instead, you sidled up to him. Your knees gently grazed his own, and you took his hand.

“And what about you, hm? Do you think your wellbeing doesn’t matter? You may be a super powerful fallen angel, but you’re still my super powerful angel. You can’t just run off and die and think nobody is going to care.”

Lucifer hummed softly, his head tilting at your words. A smile formed on his lips as he listened. He hadn’t heard anyone speak to him like that in a very long time.

You took in the sight of the most powerful being in the realm. His hair disheveled with sweat beading down his forehead, as the soft red glow from the window lit up his features. You sat there, drinking in his presence. He looked absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. Watching him practically come apart at the very thought of seeing your lifeless body, it awakened something in you. The driving urge to claim him, once and for all. To make him yours, forever. 

The thought of him defending you, in a way no one ever has before, made you horny. A primitive urge that’s sat dormant since you were first born. 

Is this how the lioness on TV felt when she watched her man tear into a pack of hyenas to protect her and her cubs? Maybe, you were finally understanding it.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, or that damn drink playing with your head, but the heat that slowly crept from between your thighs was unmistakable.

You wanted him so fucking badly.

“What?” Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to you, surprise written on his face.

Shit, did he hear that?

“.. I want you, Lucifer,” You whispered, “I want your heart, your mind.. and your body.”

He tensed, and you hoped he understood what you were implying. But it wasn’t long before you felt strong hands pushing you backwards. You laid back slightly, using your arms to support your upper body. Lucifer kneeled in front of you, his pupils practically invisible as he pulled off his shirt. 

You sent him a sultry smirk, before Lucifer closed the distance, climbing on top of you. Gripping at your top, he pulled it from your frame, leaving you bare-chested as well. His eyes traveled down your nude body, as if he was memorizing every crevice and line in your skin. 

You felt a slight bulge in his pants as he kneeled above you, and you bucked your hips. Hearing a hiss of pleasure escape him. 

You leaned forward, taking his lips in a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, using his weight to keep you upright as your teeth grazed his lip. Lucifer broke from your mouth, trailing quick pecks down to your throat. He placed a wet sloppy kiss in the crook of your neck, and your eyes rolled back with pleasure.

You moaned as his lips trailed down father, in the valley of your chest, and down to your waist. Gripping your lower garments, he tugged them free. You sat back, legs spread as you allowed him to do as he wished. 

He stopped suddenly, and looked up at you with those pretty yellow eyes of his. 

"Are you sure about thi-" He started to say softly, but you cut him off.

"I’ve never been more sure." you said, your hands caressing the side of his face.

He smirked before picking you up, which was no effort, considering the angelic strength he held. He laid you gently on the dining table and trailed kisses down your body once more. The only piece of clothing you had left was the one that covered your nether regions.

"Oh, Luci," you moaned as he slowly took off your underwear. He kissed the inside of your thighs, teasing you before pulling away. You glared at him, and he sent you a smirk, before taking your mouth in another kiss. 

“You’re mine,” He muttered, lapping at your collarbone, “no demon, angel, or any other being in creation will ever come between us. Not a single soul will ever wish you harm and lay their filthy hands on you again.”

You felt his erect manhood pressing against your entrance. You hadn’t realized he had fully removed his clothes until you felt his nakedness against you.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned. You jerked your hips against his, teasing his tip into you. He shuddered for a moment, before stilling.

You bit your lip and gave him a sultry grin. That was all the encouragement he needed; with a single, long thrust, he surged inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Desperate to have him closer, you hooked your legs around his back and pressed your heels against his ass. 

“More.” You moaned, and he obliged, thrusting again. Your legs trembled at the sensation.

You felt a growl— or maybe a purr— resonate from his chest. Your audible sounds of pleasure only further spurred the intensity of his thrusts, as he slammed into you harder and harder. 

You screamed his name loudly as you came, bliss blooming across your body. He didn't wait for you to come down from you high as he continued his thrusting. With him in control of you now, he was hitting your insides from an incredibly pleasurable angle, and even before your first climax ended, you felt another one rising within.

You tightened your thighs around his back as you came again, your walls flexing around his cock and gripping it so tightly you could feel it pulsing inside you. You both stilled for a moment, and you felt him starting to lean against you. 

Except, you weren’t quite done yet. Now, it was your turn.

Sitting up straight, you moved your leg forward and pushed him backwards with your toes. He stumbled and limply sank into the chair behind him, his hair coated to his face with sweat, his half-lidded eyes watching you intensely.

Your feet hit the cold floor, a rather refreshing feeling from the burning within you, as you sauntered over to him. Taking a finger, you let it graze the underside of his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. 

“You’re such a good boy,” You whispered, your voice like honey to Lucifer’s ears, “always doing what you’re told. Never fussing. Good boys deserve a reward, don’t you think?” 

You swore you heard him whimper, and that surprised you. The big boss of hell, coming undone beneath you before you even began. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you lowered yourself.

You slowly sank onto his length, your ass meeting his thighs as you accepted all of him. Slowly, you grinded your hips, and he whimpered again. It was a musical sound, and it made you desperate to hear what else could come from that pretty mouth of his.

Using your legs to strengthen your movements, you bounced atop him. Every smack of your ass against his skin sent you deeper into ecstasy. Leaning your head down, you bit his shoulder as another wave of pleasure hit you. He moaned beneath you, and you bit him again, lapping at the teeth marks left in your wake.

You felt his breath hitch as you came down with more intensity, his own climax nearing. You increased your pace, and felt his waist lifting to meet you as you descended upon him again. His grip around your midsection tightened, his claws digging in your skin as he threw his head back, a moan of pleasure escaping his lips. 

Heat blossomed from your stomach and you let out a breathless gasp as you reached your own climax. Your body trembling from the intensity, as you collapsed into his arms. 

Breathing hard, you both sat there for a moment, before you lifted up your head and used your hand to push his curls back that were plastered to his face. You wanted to see those pretty eyes of his in their full glory. The look he gave you was of such adoration you wanted to cry. 

Have you ever felt this loved before?

“Stay with me tonight, won’t you?” You pleaded with doe-eyes. He smiled, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his skin turning you to liquid against his touch.

“Anything for you,” He whispered into your ear. 

His wings unfurled, and you felt them curl around your naked body. Your eyes began to close, and Lucifer’s gentle hums lulled you into a state of blissful sleep as you sank further into his chest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I hope that wasn’t too long of a fic, but in my defense i need it that long for my writing 😩 This part had me studying over on wattpad to get the smut accurate lmaoooo

lmk what you think!!

Tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader

[ilovepedro]

soft side | joel miller x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine links. If enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, pwp, established relationship, fluff, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, cum eating, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, praise kink, pet names (baby, darlin’, good girl), after care, reader has no description, no mention of hair type/body type/skin color, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i haven’t written Joel in ages, so i’m a little nervous i can’t lie. i do have a dbf fic in the works for him, but he’s very intimidating since he’s so well-loved. i hope i did him justice 😭 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! thank you for reading! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

His truck is parked in the driveway. He’s home before you, something out of the ordinary with work being so busy all the time. You park your sedan beside his pickup and gather your belongings before heading to the front door. It’s oddly quiet as you shuck off your boots and toss your keys on its respective hook, save for the record player going in the living room.

Warmth glows throughout the house, painting the walls in a sepia hue.

Sauntering into the dining room, you spot a vase of tulips sitting atop the dining table. A card sits beside it, his chicken scratch scribbled inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Thank you for loving me and the girls the way you do. Don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you.

-Love, J”

Your heart flutters at Joel’s sweet message, knowing he isn’t typically one for declarations. Rustling comes from the garage door, Joel trudging in with a bottle of that sweet wine you like.

“Hey, cowboy,” you mutter, grinning ear-to-ear. His head snaps up, a goofy grin crinkling his features. 

“Hey, baby. Didn’t even hear ya come in. How long you been home?”

“Just got in.”

You waltz towards him as he sets the wine down on the table. His arms wrapping around you. 

It’s instinctual.

Slotting your arms around his neck, you meet him halfway into a soft kiss. Melting into him, mindlessly carding your fingers through his hair as you kiss him sweetly, slowly – something you haven’t had a chance to do very often lately. Savoring every bit of him he has to offer.

“Hmm. It’s quiet. What’d you do to our girls, Miller?” You ask against his lips, Joel chuckling into you.

“At the movies with Tommy. Slipped him somethin’ so we could have the house to ourselves tonight. Should be back ‘round 9. ‘S a school night, but just wanted some time with my valentine,” Joel mumbles, his chocolate irises meeting your gaze.

Smirking, you hum in approval. 

“Smart man,” you murmur before crashing your lips against his.

“Mhmm,” Joel agrees as he grins into the kiss. Both of you chuckling at his conniving plan. 

“Missed you, cowboy. I feel like we haven’t had a moment alone in a while,” you utter as he places tender kisses on the column of your throat.

“Mmm. Missed you too, baby. Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages,” he says into your skin, the two of you mindlessly swaying to the record playing in the living room. Unable to contain your laughter, Joel snaps his head up - his signature scowl returning.

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Nothing. You’re just… you're so… I like when you’re soft,” you timidly murmur in between giggles. His brows scrunch further, smirk pulled into a thin line.

“Soft? The hell you talkin’ about, darlin’?” Joel asks in genuine confusion.

“It’s not a bad thing, Joel. You’re just… real soft when it comes to me and the girls. It’s sweet,” you explain. He grunts.

Typical Joel.

“Well you three are the only people I care about,” he mumbles, his kisses resuming, nibbling on your neck. He draws out a breathy chuckle from you as your resolve slowly starts to crumble.

“Come on, Joel. I gotta make dinner,” you whisper, no conviction in your voice.

“Mmmm. ‘S alright. Already ordered us somethin’. ‘Sides - rather have dessert right now,” he rasps against your lips before smashing them together again. The kiss grows sloppy, heady, full of tongue and teeth. You moan into his mouth, feeling drunk just off his touch. He cups the back of your head while squeezing your waist with his other hand, leading you out of the kitchen.

“Lemme have my dessert first, baby,” he mutters before dragging you up the stairs. Drunk giggles bubble from your lips as he leads you to your shared room. Flinging the door open, Joel tosses you on the bed, diving into your neck as he litters kisses along your throat. 

He nips at the spot beneath your ear, earning him a breathy moan. Soothing his bite marks with his tongue, he fumbles with the hem of your blouse. He tosses it over your head as you fiddle with the buttons on his flannel. 

His rough hands undo the clasp of your bra, a moan breaching his chest as your breasts spill out of the cups. You slide off his flannel, revealing his taut chest and soft tummy, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Rugged and soft around the edges, you frantically undo his belt. A smug laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Eager now, ain’t ya, baby?” He teases, shucking off his jeans. He visibly twitches in his boxers, a damp spot of precum already leaking through. You palm him through the fabric, Joel groaning at your warm touch. Sitting up on your knees, you snake your hands up his torso and wrap them around his neck, slamming your lips together in another heated kiss.

“Want you in my mouth,” you rasp hungrily.

“Later, baby. Need to be inside you. Gotta get you ready for me first,” he grunts as he throws you back on the bed. In one swift move, he slides your trousers down your legs and discards them on the floor. He groans at the sight beholding him. Your lacey pink thong with a visible wet patch on them. He wildly yanks it off, nearly ripping the lace. 

His lips ghost over your bare sex as he settles in between your legs. He peppers kisses along your thighs, his beard scratching against your skin.

“Joel,” you pant, plead. Your desire grows with every kiss to your thighs. He hums, the vibrations sending another wave of arousal to stick to your panties. His callused hands rest atop your tummy, settling your squirming.

“Joel, please,” your voice barely above a whisper. He laces his fingers with yours before diving in. Drowning in you, he moans at the taste of you. Savoring your tang on his tongue as he licks languid stripes up your glistening folds. Your wanton moans making his cock twitch, boxers growing messier with precum.

“Always taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. So fuckin’ sweet,” he rasps before suckling your clit between his lips. You keen above him, arching your back into the mattress as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“So fucking good, Joel. Feels so fucking good, oh my god.”

Mouth still wrapped around your precious pearl, he prods a thick finger at your entrance. Your eyes fly open, gasping at the intrusion. His thick, long fingers hardened by a long day at work always hit that spot in a way you never could. He groans as he watches you suck him in, gliding in with ease.

“Joel, oh fuck, Joel. More, please,” you beg, breathless as he brings you closer to your release. He slides in another finger, moaning into you as he watches them glisten every time he pulls them out, squelching around him with every pump. Crooking his fingers deeper, your moans grow pitchier with every stroke as he brushes your g-spot.

He releases your clit from his lips, licking hurried stripes through your folds, slurping up the juices that have pooled at his wrist. 

“C'mon, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fuckin’ fingers. Fuck, can fuckin’ hear ya. Let go for me, darlin’. Come on my fingers, baby, let me have it,” he growls before flicking at your clit relentlessly. Your tummy clenches tightly, pressure bubbling over as you gush all over Joel’s mouth and fingers.

He groans as he skyrockets you into orbit. Floating around the sun, your vision burns hot and bright, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Joel hungrily, wildly drinks every drop before licking back up to your clit.

A puddle of your release gathers beneath you, it coats Joel’s wrist as it sticks to your thighs. Whimpering as you return to Joel, he releases your clit from his mouth and greedily licks up your slick from your thighs. Roaming up your body to meet your gaze, he brings two of his fingers to your mouth.

“Open for me, baby,” he snarls. You mindlessly obey, sucking in his slick-soaked fingers with heavy eyes. Moaning around him, savoring the taste of yourself. 

Joel lets out a wrecked moan, his mouth gaping as you suck his fingers clean. Hastily removing them from your mouth, he hurriedly slips out of his boxers and kicks them off to the side. You catch glimpse of him through heavy lids, whining as he pumps himself, precum smeared along his throbbing length through gritted teeth.

You flinch when he lines himself up with your weeping cunt, clit throbbing as your breathing becomes even more ragged. Whimpers and moans reverberate off the walls as he slides home. Fluttering around him as he splits you open, tears prick your eyes. The sting heightens your pleasure. His cock kissing your cervix as you adjust to the size of him.

“Fuck, baby. Always so fuckin’ tight,” he grits, holding his orgasm at bay.

“Y-you’re so fucking big, Joel, holy shit,” you whine, gasping with every word. 

His size is something you’ll never get used to. 

He sloppily slots his lips against yours, the taste of you melding into the kiss. Threading your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, he groans into your mouth as you tug on them. His weight making the pressure in your tummy rise.

“Joel,” you whisper against his lips. He hums, capturing them in his again before you can speak. He smirks as you let out a hmph.

“Move. Please.”

Joel hisses as he slides out of you almost completely, before ramming back into you. Your back arches into his chest, his rough, large hands slitehering to cup the sides of your waist. Pinning you beneath him as he snaps his hips into yours. Nudging at that spongy spot with every thrust.

He’s incredibly deep, fucking an endless stream of whines and moans out of you. Gripping his broad shoulders for purchase, your nails drag down his back. You can feel him twitch inside you, his hips stuttering at the dull sting of your scratches.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had in my life. Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of me, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. You my good girl, baby? Huh?” Joel babbles, drunk off your pussy.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, every thrust sending you closer to the edge.

“Y-yes, Joel. Your good, fuck, your good girl,” you wail. 

“‘S right. You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine, baby. So good for me. Wanna feel you soak my cock, baby. Come on my cock, baby. Need to feel you."

With no preamble, he brings his thumb to your clit.

“Joel!”

One stroke to your clit catapults you to your orgasm. Stars bursting behind your eyes, dizzy as he fucks into you harder and harder. You feel his cock twitching as he nears his own release.

“Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Gonna take all my cum like a good girl?”

“Yes, Joel! Fill me up! Please! W-wanna feel you dripping from me, please, Joel!” You scream as you ride out your high, tears streaming down your face.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, hips stuttering as he cums hard. Coating your fluttering walls with his cum, his guttural, drawn-out groan echoing in the room. The two of you ride out your highs together, babbling nothing but Joel Joel Joel as the sheets crinkle in your deathgrip.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. He can feel his cum seeping out of your throbbing cunt, but he can’t bring himself to pull out. 

Not yet. 

He catches your lips in a searing kiss, a silent check-in, bringing you back to him as you whine and writhe.

“I got ya, baby. I got ya. So good. Did so good for me,” Joel rasps, voice hoarse and mouth dry.

He slips out of you slowly, reluctantly leaving your warm, wet walls. Your cunt achy and puffy as it gleams in the setting sun that glows through the window. Both of you covered in sweat and sticky with cum.

Laundry definitely needs to get done tonight.

Before he rises from the bed, Joel revels in the sight before him. You swollen, shiny hole weeping with his cum. Diving in, he licks up your folds. A wail bursting deep within your chest as he cleans you up with his skillful tongue.

“J-Joel. Too much, baby. Too much,” you gasp, your clit stinging from the overstimulation. He pulls away, but not before he can stuff two fingers inside your pussy.

“Gotta keep you full of me. Want you to feel me drippin’ outta you tomorrow."

Moaning at the fullness, at his words, you helplessly keen as he shoves his cum back inside you.

“Good girl,” he rasps before slipping his digits out of you, he places a soft lingering kiss to your thigh. Sliding out of bed, he pads into the bathroom. The water runs as you lay sprawled out on the bed, legs like jelly and head spinning.

Returning with a warm washcloth, Joel carefully swipes between your thighs, gently cleaning up the mess you two made. You hum, the warm water soothing your aching legs and cunt.

He tosses the cloth in the laundry basket. Scooping you into his arms, you nuzzle into his chest. Basking in the warmth of his tender embrace. Smiling at the feel of his lips on your head.

“Love you, darlin’.”

Humming against his chest, you bring your eyes to meet his.

“I love you too, Joel. Best Valentine’s Day ever,” you giggle, Joel laughing along with you.

The doorbell rings, Joel sighing at the interruption.

“‘S the delivery guy. Let me go pay him, baby,” he rasps into your hairline, a bratty whine bubbling from your chest.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, I promise,” he says as he slips from your grasp. Playfully smacking your lips, Joel rolls his eyes, smiling at your antics.

While Joel handles the delivery guy, you get up and strip the bed. Tossing the sheets into the laundry basket, you head into the hall to grab a fresh set. Making the bed with the new sheets, you sigh as you plop yourself on the mattress, snuggling under the blankets.

Joel clambers up the stairs and back into the room, pizza box in hand along with two glasses in one hand, the bottle of wine carefully resting atop of the box.

He sets it down on the dresser, pouring you each a healthy glass. He hands you a slice of pizza along with your wine, graciously thanking him with a smile on your face.

The two of you share the pizza on the bed, sidled beside each other as you debrief your days. As Joel goes for another slice, he stops in his tracks.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Huh?” You ask through a mouthful of pizza.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Oh. Well… it was messy. I thought I’d clean up,” you explain through your muffled mouth.

“And who said I was done with ya, darlin’?”

tag list: @nostalxgic @honeyedmiller @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @morallyinept

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

[callie-the-creator]

the boy from second period

nsfw. mdni. warnings: yandere behavior, stalking, emo oc being delulu, mentions of self harm, brief smut but you’ll most likely miss it if you blink lol, you get the picture.

author’s note: the yandere in this is just an oc i whipped up for the sake of writing some yandere!emo boy hcs— 😭✋🏻 but if i’m being honest, this is more chronological hc stuff. from where he first met you to now.

• elijah was never much of a romantic. in fact, he cursed the name of love…frequently. it was becoming more of a hobby as of late. he was exhausted tired of spending valentine’s day alone, having no one to spend time with during the holidays, or spending so much money on promposals or simply ask someone to a dance only to have them reject him…

— he swore that he wouldn’t lose himself and not develop some crush to save himself from the embarrassment of his affections getting denied. lord knows that he can’t handle rejection well, as he tries to open a vein every time he does…things were better this way.

…

…

…

• that was until a few weeks into his senior year when you suddenly moved from (your school name) to his: willowbrook high.

• he only knew you were new because in the middle of his second period, you came in with a schedule in hand, asking if this was english 11 with mrs. hadley…it was. of course it was.

— at first, elijah paid you no mind. he mentally sorted you into a category with how he saw the rest of his classmates. a waste of his time.

• it didn’t help that mrs. hadley decided it was a great idea to sit you with elijah, given that he sits at a table by himself in the corner of the room. he felt almost embarrassed when he was called out and it wasn’t like he could just say ‘no,’ especially not in front of all these people…so, he endured it.

• for now

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦

• what followed were two excruciatingly long weeks for poor elijah. the only times you two talked were brief. i mean it. 🥲

“hey!”

“…hello.”

“how are you doing?”

“fine. you?”

“i’m good. thanks for asking.”

• …and then fate had a funny way of twisting things! aka mrs. hadley assigned a partner project to the class, but the catch was that she already picked who people were going to be paired with and shockingly (yet he could see it coming from a mile away), you and elijah were picked to be each other’s partners.

— it flipped his world upside down, completely blindsiding him because this could only mean one thing: elijah was going have to step out of his comfort zone and to be forced to spend more time with you, primarily outside of school. yikes!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦

• even though it took a little time, you and elijah started talking more, both outside and inside of school. it even got to the point where he feared that he had grown attached to you, but that’s just crazy talk!…right?

• he would even find himself stalking your socials to learn more about you as a person, so he knows what to not do casually bring up the next time he sees you

• he hated to pat himself on the back, but elijah has deemed himself as the first official friend that you’ve made ever since you came to willowbrook

— but this didn’t mean that he didn’t get jealous.

• you always had ideas on how you two could spend more time together such as giving each other playlists for song recommendations, going to the movies, things like that…but elijah didn’t like whenever you suggested doing something that concerned more than just each other’s company. crowds.

— he fucking hated crowds, mainly the school’s football games because it meant that your undivided attention wouldn’t constantly be on him.

— and it doesn’t help that you are oblivious to his blossoming crush on you and start to swoon over the cute band geeks or football players. elijah felt like a sore thumb, someone not worthy of your time…even though he knows deep down in his heart that you and him are meant to be together.

• if there is a point where he catches you talking with another guy, elijah will give him the nastiest look in all of existence.

— there are a few times where elijah has just flat-out lies to a few of your classmates and told them that you and him were dating just so they would back off. there have been lots of close calls.

• he’s one clingy bastard. he’ll admit that outright.

• after dropping you off at home, elijah will return to his house feeling pent up, and if that happens, he’ll l do one of two things:

use a sharp kitchen knife to carve your name into the thick of his pasty thigh. he will even make sure to cut a giant heart around it for extra gusto. and, yes…he does take photos of his beautiful work. he wants to send them all to you, desperately, but knows that they’ll only scare you off.

wank one off to some photos of you that you either posted or took himself, or into one of your undergarments that he was able to steal. still…his hand and your underwear pales in comparison to what pleasure you could give him. elijah wants to feel your warmth. cuddle you closely and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he presses his naked body against yours.

• he wants you so bad…

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦

• unfortunately, all good things can’t last forever. the time for the project ended and as expected, you two passed with flying colors, but this didn’t mean that you and elijah stopped contacting each other completely, but it was…different. different from what it was.

— elijah didn’t like that. not one bit.

— he wants to be your boyfriend. he wants to be your boyfriend. he wants to be your boyfriend. he WANTS to be YOUR boyfriend!

• he has even taken up photoshopping as a hobby, so he can edit him into every single photo you have posted. oh, he can’t wait for the day where nothing but your beautiful face fills his camera roll.

— well…more than it does now anyway.

• that’s when he had an epiphany. there is a school dance coming up. as much as elijah didn’t want to blow through his money, he knew that you were worth it. all those lovely conversations you shared with him couldn’t be for nothing, right? you MUST like him back.

• and that’s how he spent the next few nights, thinking of ideas for the board and when he finally had an idea of what he could do, he wasted no time in making it for you.

• when elijah got to school, he made sure to ask you in the morning since he didn’t want to be holding the board the entire day.

• but…

• you immediately shook your head when he popped the magic question.

• he instinctively laughed at this, but not in a condescending way. he just didn’t understand why you were doing this to him. all eyes were on him, not you. you like him back, don’t you, so why are you toying with him?

• seeing that elijah clearly wasn’t getting the hint, you verbally say that you don’t want to go to the dance with him which causes him to freeze up like a scared goat.

• you’re shitting him, right? RIGHT?!

you. bitch.

you’re going to regret saying no to him.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere hcs #yandere imagines #emo boy #oc x you #oc hcs #oc x reader #yandere emo boy #yandere smut #emo boy smut #high school #helppp lmao #yandere x darling #darling reader #yandere x y/n #crush #lovesick #delusional #yandere boy #yanderecore #i love emo boys #yandere classmate #gn reader #i tried my best

[reiderwriter]

The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet. 

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down. 

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body. 

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once. 

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-” 

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you. 

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long. 

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words. 

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?” 

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-” 

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.” 

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right. 

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step. 

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care. 

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one. 

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed. 

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion. 

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you. 

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day. 

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his. 

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out. 

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home. 

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now. 

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust. 

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys. 

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk. 

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance. 

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock. 

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.” 

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away. 

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember. 

–X– 

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead. 

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time. 

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day. 

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them. 

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions. 

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?” 

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it. 

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway. 

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.” 

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women. 

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it. 

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…” 

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue. 

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession. 

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed. 

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.” 

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued. 

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?” 

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them. 

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around. 

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.” 

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you. 

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.  

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued. 

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.  

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her. 

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out. 

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in. 

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word. 

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.  

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-” 

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.  

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?” 

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve. 

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added. 

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly. 

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?” 

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them. 

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.” 

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.  

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.  

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.” 

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things. 

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.  

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.  

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess. 

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.  

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen. 

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.  

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly. 

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came. 

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left. 

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.  

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.” 

–X– 

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning. 

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.  

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.  

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?” 

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.” 

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.  

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.” 

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly. 

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said. 

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

–X– 

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him. 

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions. 

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider. 

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.  

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies. 

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin. 

“I love you, please don’t cry.” 

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.” 

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again. 

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body. 

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.  

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again. 

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another. 

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again. 

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes. 

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied. 

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively. 

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly, 

“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question. 

“Why did you run away the other day?” 

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far. 

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself. 

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.” 

“Y/N, please.” 

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.” 

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away. 

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #maeve donovan #maturereiding

[inbarfink]

It’s really fascinating to compare the way Agatha handles the Heterodyne Legacy compared to her father and uncle. Because these are the two known generations of ‘Heroic’ Heterodynes after a long, long legacy of the Heterodyne family being known primarily as Evil Bastards - but they have such a totally opposite relationship with that villainous legacy.

Bill and Barry grew up deep inside that Evil Heterodyne Legacy and know all about how truly rotten it really is. Their father was an Old Heterodyne to the bone and an Extremely Reprehensible Human Being. Like, not just Cartoon Evil Overlord stuff - according to the Novels, he forced Bill and Barry’s mom to marry him by threatening her family. And he tried to kill them because they weren’t evil enough to his tastes. 

And when their mom killed him to protect her sons, the Castle killed her in retaliation. The very manifestation of the Heterodyne Legacy has cost them their beloved mother who just saved their life. And all of this in addition to the fact a non-evil Heterodyne was really an unthinkable concept when the Boys started - meaning they had to work extra hard to distance themselves from their family if they wanted anyone outside of Mechanicsburg to trust them.

And Heterodyne Boys worked very very hard to prove to the world that they’re not monsters. Both to fight off against the constant suspicions that they were monsters, and because they most likely wanted as little to do with their father’s legacy as Spark-ly possible. For them the Heterodyne Legacy was mostly kind of a Curse, the thing that tormented their mother and killed her and almost killed them, the thing that makes people wary of them.

And as such, they distanced themselves from anything that’s even remotely to do with that old legacy of monsters, from anything evil or scary or messy or ugly. Much to the chagrin of the Castle, the House of Heterodyne’s many other monsters, the Jager Horde Mechanicsburg’s proud Evil Minion population and many others who felt abandoned by them for the sake of PR.

Then there’s Agatha Heterodyne. And it’s not just that Agatha grew up in a post-Heterodyne-Boys world where the general populace associates the family name less with evil barbarous mad kings and more with good-natured heroism. Where even those who remember the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Where even those who would like her to be like the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her some wiggle room to express herself....

It is all of that, but more importantly Agatha didn’t grow up as a Heterodyne at all.

She grew up as Agatha Clay, with the Spark-Suppressing Locket that dulled her mind and made her a miserable klutzy mess who couldn’t do anything right. She grew up hating the constant feeling of being powerless.

And discovering that she’s a Heterodyne came up… pretty close to realizing she’s a Spark, and both of these revelations gave her a certain kind of Power that she never got to have before. She is now both a powerful Spark and a powerful political player in this grand Europa political chess board. 

And as much as she has the same heroic values and upbringing as the Boys did (courtesy of Barry and the Construct Duo), not growing up so up-close-and-personal with the worst consequences of the Old Heterodyne’s evil means she’s not as immediately repulsed by it like the Boys were. 

She encountered all of these old monstrous pieces of the Heterodyne Legacy - the Jagers, the Castle, Mechanicsburg, even just the fear her name can put into people’s hearts - not as the Evil Legacy Forced Upon Her. But stuff that was taken away from her, and she had to earn back. And in a world stacked so heavily against her, so determined to rob her of her agency and newfound sense of power, these things represent the assertion and security of her power.

For the Heterodyne Boys, the worst thing they could ever imagine being was monsters - like their father and the rest of their family was. For Agatha Heterodyne, the worst thing she could imagine is being powerless again. She would take being seen as a monster a thousand times over being condescended and ignored ever again. 

Being seen as a monster isn’t actually all that bad at all, she discovered. 

All of these things together make Agatha not quite the second generation of Actually Heroic Heterodyne or just another link in the Old Heterodyne Legacy - but another new kind of Heterodyne altogether. One that can both retain a moral code and embrace the family’s monstreness at the same time. 

#girl genius #agatha heterodyne #webcomics #webcomic #webcomix

[restlessmaknae]

red light, green light // park sunghoon

After summer break and your break-up, it seems that things finally go back to normal. At least, until the first after-match party when in an attempt to save you from your ex, Sunghoon blurts out that you're his girlfriend now, and so, your fake dating starts.

➳ Characters: college rugby player!Sunghoon x cheerleader!female reader/you

➳ Genre: fake dating au, college au, sports au, angst, fluff

➳ Words: 6.2k

➳ Warning: reader is very insecure in the beginning and healing from a toxic relationship; the toxic, manipulative ex is also in the story (named Jaehyeok but he has no connection to any real-life people or characters), mentions of cheating on ex's part, injuries

➳ A/N: This story had the most votes in my recent poll, so here it is. It's also a spin-off to my most popular story 'how to cross the line?' with Jake that takes place before this one, but this story can absolutely be read on its own. ❤️

After the summer break, you thought that everything bad - including your break-up with Jaehyeok - would be forgotten. As a cheerleader and a college rugby player who had gotten together over the spring term, and had broken up close to finals, you had been the talk of town until everyone had gone home for the break. There had been a pleasantly short amount of time between the break-up and summer break with no football matches afterwards, so no way to see him up-front when he had been the last person you had wanted to see.

With the autumn term coming, it seemed to be true, and you couldn’t have been happier. The summer months weren’t enough to pick yourself up after the break-up, but they were enough to try to pick yourself up. He had humiliated you in front of his team members, and even though they didn’t look at you any differently, you could feel the lingering gazes on you two when Jaehyeok decided to sit beside you at the first after-match party of the season.

“Oooh, are you guys getting back together?” One of the boys cooed, laughing into his hands as if he had discovered the rumour of the century.

“We’re just being friendly to each other, you know,” Jaehyeok replied with a mellifluous smile, one that you had naively fallen for last semester. Now, you could see how well-practised this was, just like so many of his lines and his whole good boy behaviour. He was perfect only on the surface, he was rotten on the inside.

You could feel the overly curious eyes on you, hungry for an answer, for some drama like hawks circling around their prey. Too bad how fitting it was for those around you to be playing for the Hybe Hawks, they were predators when it came to your love life, and it had been the same when you had been together.

You forced a smile onto your face, nodding without saying a word and looking for a way out when Jay inquired if anyone wanted more meat, and you had never been more relieved in your life. If there were guys in the rugby team who were far from the rest, it would be Jake, Jay and Sunghoon. Those three were the ones who didn’t want to mingle with the others’ drama, and for that reason, you hadn’t really interacted with them before this semester because if you had hung out with other players from the team before, they had always been Jaehyeok’s friends. Now, however, they were the only ones who didn’t want to pick you apart since the break-up.

You tried to keep it in, you tried to conceal your feelings, while the conversation moved on, but when Jaehyeok put a piece of meat onto your plate without you asking him to, the weight on your shoulders doubled. It felt like you were trying to hold up too much, and all that weight could collapse onto you any minute, so to avoid that, you haphazardly excused yourself, saying that you didn’t feel well after drinking.

You threw your bag over your shoulder and exited the BBQ restaurant, the gazes of the athletes and cheerleaders searing into your back. You held onto the strip of your bag even tighter, trying to ground yourself to something real, something that you could control. You were so naive, really. How could you even assume that they could move on from your break-up and not bring it up anymore? How could you even assume that Jaehyeok would change, and bear the consequences of his actions when he had been the one saying those nasty things about you? You had been so stupid, so naive, so…

“Y/N!”

Jaehyeok’s all too familiar voice calling your name made your knees weak for a moment before you snapped yourself back to reality, reminding yourself that it was who he was, it was how he lured people in. You couldn’t believe in his sweet words anymore.

So you picked up your pace and walked even faster, but the red lights at the pedestrian crossing forced you to stop, to look at him when he halted beside you, and to listen to his mellifluous words.

“Hey! What was that about before? I just want us to be cool with each other after you called it quits.”

That was the problem with Jaehyeok. When you looked at these - this scene, his words, the cool expression on his face - from an outsider’s point of view, everything seemed ideal, almost perfect. Yet, when you were the one inside of it, you knew how that illusion of perfection casted its shadow onto you; how you felt suffocated under it, desperately trying to hold onto it because just as he had said it about you to his friends, you had been nothing without him. If you had not gotten together with him during the first semester, no one would have taken note of your existence. Even if you had been in the cheerleading team, the girls had started talking to you only after Jaehyeok had done the same.

And this… this is what Jaehyeok had done disgustingly well: to raise you up, to make you feel special, so you wouldn’t leave his side. Too bad you had caught him telling the other guys the same once and catching him kissing some girl at an after-match party another time. You hadn’t supposed to be there at the party, that’s true, since the group work meeting you would have gone to had been cancelled last minute, but to see him shove his tongue down another girl’s throat while murmuring to her that he would break up with you soon, so she shouldn’t worry had made you frozen on the spot. You wouldn’t have it in you to confront him on the spot, so you had left the party almost as soon as you had gotten there, tears pricking your ears, and the only person who had asked you if you had been alright was Sunghoon when you had managed to bump into him while exiting the scene.

The flashbacks poured onto you one after another, and you could feel your hands shaking by your sides while you were momentarily reliving them.

“You would have broken up with me anyway, we both know that,” you pointed out rather indignantly, desperately glancing side-ways to see how much more time you needed to wait for the lights to turn green.

35 more seconds…

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should act all weird when we’re beside each other. Just because you’ve prioritised school over dates with me doesn’t make me a bad guy,” he justified all too innocently, and there it was again: turning the tables around, making you feel small, blaming you for what happened. Blaming you for not having enough time for him, so he had to kiss other girls.

20 more seconds…

“It’s not like I don’t see you talking more with Jay, Jake and Sunghoon since we broke up,” Jaehyeok spitted as if he couldn’t just let it be, and you balled your hands into fists, your nails digging into your skin.

15 more seconds….

Yeah, the only ones who were willing to speak to you after the break-up, god forbid you didn’t tell them off, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been talking to them since we broke up, not before. There’s a difference between what you did and how I've been talking to guys ever since.”

“And besides, she’s her own person, she can do what she wants,” a voice from behind meddled with the tension hanging over you and Jaehyeok, and as he stepped beside you, so he would come between you and your ex, it felt a bit like he was shielding you. Both figuratively and literally.

You would have recognised that slender build of his, the fringe in his eyes and the depth of his voice anywhere, and even though it was Park Sunghoon out of all people, you didn’t mind that he was the one who showed up. You had no idea whether it had anything to do with the fact that he had seen you exit that ominous after-match party with teary eyes, but even if it was pity, you could take it given the circumstances.

“What do you know, man?”

“I know everything,” Sunghoon stated sternly, keeping eye-contact with Jaehyeok who furrowed his eyebrows in question. Even though you clearly doubted that he knew everything, he announced it so confidently that you would have believed him all the same, and you could feel the same coming from Jaehyeok, too. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t bother her anymore. She’s my girlfriend now.”

The way Sunghoon declared it so matter-of-factly rendered you speechless, and you just stood there, frozen, and even though people started crossing the street, you totally forgot about the lights turning green. It felt as if the whole world stopped all at once, and yet, a sort of warmth peeked through the rain clouds, as if a ray of hope found its way through all the dirt.

Given that you didn’t argue with Sunghoon’s statement because you were too shocked yet numb to do so, Jaehyeok believed it. Though he clearly looked like he didn’t want to believe it.

“Sure. Congrats on getting her. It’s not like I would ever want her back,” Jaehyeok exclaimed a little too frustrated as his last words before turning around and heading back to the restaurant.

You watched him go with a mix of rage and relief, then, your eyes searched Sunghoon’s who was already looking at you. He was nibbling on his lower lip, awfully nervous for someone who had just bluffed about being your boyfriend, and the calm facade of his broke when he spoke up:

“I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t know what else to say to make him go away,” he mumbled, coy and guilty, but you could only care about the kindness lacing his words, and the genuine care in his eyes. You didn’t know him well enough to draw conclusions, but based on your previous encounters with him, you would say that it took him some courage to walk up to you two like that and to save you from the situation with a lie.

So you felt even more grateful for his interruption, and you didn't even want him to think otherwise.

“No, really, it’s… it’s fine. Thanks for that,” you blurted out, equally as uncertain what to say. Sunghoon’s eyes slipped from your face to your hands, and that’s when you realised that your hands were still shaking.

“Did he…” He breathed out, shaky and worried, before pointing at your hands. “Did he do anything to you?”

You could feel how difficult it was for him to say the words, and the weight his question carried was heavy, his question loaded. It made his earlier act less surprising for he could even assume that Jaehyeok would dare to do something like that.

“No, he didn’t do anything like that. It was just… his words as always…”

“Those matter, too,” Sunghoon whispered, somewhat to himself, before looking around. You didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was trying to do, but the lights were red for the third time you were here, so you couldn’t go on your way either way.

When Sunghoon turned back to you, he examined your expression before averting his eyes to your hands again. He could see that your hands were less shaky but you still fumbled with them to ease your nerves, and maybe that’s what prompted him to announce:

“I will go back to the dorms with you. I don’t want you to be alone after this.”

You were so shocked by his gentleness that you couldn’t form proper words, so you just nodded and crossed the street beside him when the lights turned green.

It’s safe to say that you didn’t think about the consequences of your actions - or should you say Sunghoon’s actions? - because by the next day, everyone had gotten to know that you were Sunghoon’s girlfriend (which, in fact, you weren’t) thanks to Jaehyeok gossiping. The cheerleading group chat exploded with questions and next day’s rugby practice was all about the so-called news, so you had to have an emergency meeting with Sunghoon at the end of the day.

You were in the corridor leading to the business department’s simulation labs, and since those were for societies and extra-curricular workshops, you knew that it would be rare to bump into anyone around here. So it was just the two of you, sitting on a hallway bench, the air somewhat more troubled than the day before.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would come to this,” Sunghoon broke the silence almost immediately, his voice deep and worn. He couldn’t look you in the eye, instead, he was playing with his fingers and staring far ahead.

“It’s okay, really,” you tried to reassure him as best as you could. “I’ve been through this before. It gets better after a week,” you shrugged nonchalantly, forcing yourself to avoid having flashbacks of the time you and Jaehyeok had gotten together.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath hearing that, and you could feel that he was about to say something, but when he turned towards you with his body, he didn’t say anything. Expectant, you looked at him, locking eyes with him, and for a moment, you had a feeling that you might burst into tears. He looked at you so worried, so gentle, as if he was ready to start a revolution for you, it opened a hidden locker in your heart that had never experienced such kindness coming from a boy.

“Are you really okay?” He inquired quietly, barely audible, and it didn’t slip your attention that he glanced down at your hands resting in your lap before looking into your eyes again.

“I’m as fine as I can be. If I’m not fine, it’s not because of this situation, but because of Jaehyeok, so really, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Do you want to keep this up? Our… fake relationship?” He hesitated a bit before continuing, and you found it adorable how his ears turned red when he babbled the word ‘relationship’ out loud.

“If you don’t mind,” you answered, giving him the chance to back out because you didn’t want him to tie himself to you over an attempt to save you from your douchebag ex.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, almost comically, as if it hurt him to hear such a suggestion. Then, he held up his hands in front of his chest, waving them in heavy opposition.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” you let out a little chuckle seeing his objection, and the boy still blinked at you, albeit a bit shyly now.

So you went on to discuss that you would keep up this fake relationship, but nothing was forced. If either of you wanted to put an end to it, the other one would agree immediately. There were no forced dates or social media posts or appearances, just whatever you were comfortable with. You exchanged contacts, so you would be able to keep in touch without having to wait for the other after practices or matches. Speaking of which, you told Sunghoon that you would quit the cheerleading team, and even though he was worried that it was because of him and this whole fake dating thing, you were quick to reassure him that it had nothing to do with it. You merely didn’t enjoy it anymore, and it’s not like you had any supportive friends there.

Hearing that, the boy seemed quite disheartened as if he had any say in how the girls in the team acted. Instead, when you brought up the fact that you could still join any dance-related club because it was early into the semester, and they were still recruiting members, he mentioned that Jake’s girlfriend was a member of a dance club.

“Oh really? Which one?”

“Well, that… I don’t know which one,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You let out a giggle seeing his reaction; the way his face changed from enthusiastic to confused so quickly. People might have said that he had a stern face, but you would object. He might have seemed nonchalant and icy to some, but when someone got into a conversation with him, all of these different sides of him surfaced, and you realised that you liked discovering the Sunghoon that not everyone had the chance to know.

“It’s okay, you can let me know once you get to know about it,” you pointed out with a smile as you reminded him that you now had each other’s contact. His shoulders easened and he let his lips curl upwards seeing your smile.

You talked a bit more before you suggested going back to the dorms. Sunghoon offered to walk back with you since he was also heading that way, and you didn’t want to tell him that it didn’t even cross your mind that you would go separately after last time.

You were right, the heightened attention that you got because Jaehyeok had told the others that you were dating Sunghoon died down after a week or so. You quit the cheerleading team in the meantime, so you were out of their group chat too, and that probably added to the sudden lack of questions. You had some glances from people who knew who you were, but otherwise, things went back to normal. To be precise, almost normal.

Though you had no idea what to consider fake-dating Park Sunghoon to be. It was definitely not your usual way of doing things, but Jaehyeok backed off ever since Sunghoon’s lie, and it’s not like the boy forced anything onto you. In fact, he was the most considerate soul ever. He indeed asked Jake which dance club his girlfriend went to, and you joined the same after the boys introduced you two to each other. It was nice to get to know someone who was close to the boys, and who definitely didn’t make you feel small after getting to know about your deal with Sunghoon. Ajung knew about it because Sunghoon’s friends were the only ones who knew, but she wasn’t weirded out by it.

You got to know about how they had known each other with Jake, how they had gotten together, and she also shared how it felt to date one of the rugby players. She had a different experience to yours because she wasn’t a cheerleader, but she still got stares and hateful messages. At the end of the day, what mattered to her was that Jake loved her, and she had never questioned his loyalty.

“I guess it’s because I could never imagine him meeting other girls behind my back that I don’t take those messages to heart,” Ajung admitted once, and it dawned on you that you had felt insecure in your relationship with Jaehyeok because you had been afraid he had been meeting other girls. You had been right, but still; just the fact that you could have imagined him cheating on you should have been a major red flag.

On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine the same about Sunghoon. Even if you were technically not together, the boy made sure time and time again that he was fine with it and wasn’t meeting other girls. So when he went to the after-match parties without you because you didn’t feel like going anymore, you weren’t afraid that he was kissing other girls. Which was a surprising realisation to come to, because one would think that you lost all hope in trusting guys after Jaehyeok. Maybe it would have been true had it been for someone else, but you trusted Sunghoon. Even more so because he was always on your side, even if it meant getting into a fight with Jaehyeok after his rugby practice.

You were studying in the library after classes, and you knew that Sunghoon was supposed to finish around this time, so you shot him a message, only to be left on read for half an hour. Hence, you packed up your stuff and went back to the dorms, not wanting to force anything onto the boy.

However, almost as soon as you arrived at the dorms, you got a message from Jake, saying that you should probably talk to Sunghoon because he had a rough day. He was out with Ajung, but Sunghoon would probably be in their dorm room, so you could talk to him in private.

You didn’t need to be told twice; you walked up to the boys’ dorm room (knowing all too well where they lived in the halls since walking back to the dorms together became a habit of yours), and knocked on their door. You didn’t get an answer, so you messaged the boy again. You started getting worried when Sunghoon suddenly showed up in the corridor, already changed back into his usual jeans, a tee and a cardigan thrown over it. When he caught sight of you in front of their door, his eyes widened and his lips visibly parted.

On the other hand, you had the same reaction, but not because of his presence, it was because of the bruise around his lips and on his jaw. It didn’t look like he had hurt himself during practice as you had been familiar with those kinds of injuries due to Jaehyeok. It looked like he had been in a fight.

“Oh my gosh, Sunghoon! Are you okay?” You immediately went up to him, checking on his bruises from closer, yet not touching him because you didn’t want to be invasive. So you looked up at him, waiting for him to reply, but instead of words, he closed the distance between you two and hugged you.

You were so bewildered that you just stood there, blinking rapidly, and you could neither say anything, nor do anything. Your heart, on the other hand, was beating so erratically, you were afraid that it would jump out of your ribcage.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You asked, totally confused, while you hugged the boy back. As you laced your arms around his waist, you could feel the boy tense a bit, probably unprepared for you hugging him back, but he eased into your touch a few seconds later.

“For what you had to deal with beside Jaehyeok,” he explained gently, quietly like a confession, murmuring the words into your hair. You were so used to words that cut like a knife that his words - that were like a soothing cream on a bruised heart - felt like a remedy, the boy tending to your broken heart with only a few syllables, a few breaths of words.

You hugged him back tighter, stronger, a silent response to his sentence, and soaked up this warmth, this comforting feeling for a few seconds before you took a step back and pulled yourself out of the hug. You looked up at him, heart churning at the sight but even more so when your hunch was proven right.

“Was it his doing?” You asked as you pointed at his face, and the boy didn’t need to be asked twice. He nodded, but there was no remorse in his tone when he spoke up.

“I was the one who punched him first. I couldn’t just stand what he was saying about you. He is so-”

“I know,” you cut him off, knowing all too well that whatever he was going to say was something you already knew. Instead, you asked if he had treated his bruises already (though it didn’t seem like it), and when he confirmed that he hadn’t, yet he had bought some antiseptic and plasters from the pharmacy, you offered to help him tend to his wound.

He seemed startled for a few seconds, but didn’t object. He let you inside their dorm room instead, and pushed a few things off his study desk, so he could put down his bag and get the pharmacy’s plastic bag out of it. He fumbled a bit with the bag before he reached it out to you, and just stood there as if he didn’t know what to do himself until you told him that it would probably be better if you both sat down because you know, he was quite tall…

“Oh yeah, right… sorry,” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly before taking a seat on his bed and pushing a few things onto the edge of his bed, so you could sit beside him comfortably.

You only realised how close you were when you leaned forward to put the antiseptic on the corner of his lip, and you came face-to-face with the moles dotting his face like little black stars on the galaxy of his skin. The shade of his eyes also seemed darker from up close, like the sky when it didn’t yet turn to its darkest, deepest colour, and the way he batted his eyelashes was just as elegant as the boy himself. He seemed so dream-like as he was blinking at your swiftly moving fingers, you were afraid that if you stopped, he would vanish. You wished that you could prolong these moments longer and longer…

Yet, you were finished in no time, and after you put a plaster on the bruise of his jaw, you put everything back into the plastic bag while trying to pacify the crazy beating of your heart. You appreciated that the boy let you do this for him after he had stood up for you even without you being there, and even though he didn’t regret it, you still felt bad for him. He shouldn’t have felt like this was his battle to win, but he was protective over you, more than he should have been given your fake relationship.

“Thank you,” you blurted out as such thoughts circled your mind. “From that after-match party when you asked me if I was okay after seeing Jaehyeok kiss another girl up until today, I feel like you’ve been taking care of me so well, I’m really grateful,” you confessed as you turned towards him again, searching for his eyes.

The boy’s delicate features immediately softened, and you could see it on his face, in his eyes, in the way he held himself that he would have done it again and again if it meant that he could take care of you.

“You deserve it. You really do,” he stated, not leaving room for objection, and that was when it hit you. That emotional overflow that had been building inside of you ever since you had been talking with Sunghoon, and time and time again, he proved to you that you were cared for, and that there were people looking out for you despite what Jaehyeok had been telling you, and that you were your own person, not a nobody.

“Thank you,” you choked out, trying to hold it in, but when tears started prickling your eyes, you knew that it was time to let it all out. So you did, without being ashamed, without feeling weak. This was you, a side of you that you now dared to show the world.

And Sunghoon was there to help you through it all by lending a shoulder to cry on and strong arms to hold you safe and sound, wrapping you up in warmth and comfort.

Something changed that day, and you could feel the shift in your relationship.

It’s not that you two were cold towards each other before, you were merely more tentative. You appreciated it, the fact that Sunghoon kept his distance, and he was as polite about every little touch, every little action as one could be, but after that night, you started opening up slowly, letting each other in more and more.

It was gradual, of course. With your history with Jaehyeok and Sunghoon’s generally reserved personality, it wasn’t an obvious change from one day to another, but you enjoyed it nevertheless. You enjoyed the walks back to the dorms, the times you spent messaging each other on and off campus, the times when you hang out with him and his friends after matches (instead of hanging out with the cheerleaders and Jaehyeok’s friends), the lunches you grabbed together between classes, and how throughout it all, you got to know that Sunghoon was actually far from quiet when he was around those he was comfortable with.

He was pretty talkative when a topic was brought up that interested him or when he needed to defend his opinion. He was also pretty funny, making funny faces when reacting to certain campus drama and being his extra self when walking into a place where you were waiting for him. He was also very, very caring, but it went without saying by that point; lending you his jacket when autumn arrived with violent winds and unexpected weather conditions from one day to another, buying a drink for you when he knew that you would be staying at the library to study, holding the door for you and offering to bring your books when you were working on an assignment and had to rent a bunch of books for a week, and looking out for your reactions whenever Jaehyeok was brought up in a conversation or the boy was close by.

Actually, with him by your side, it was easier to put your ex in the past; because Sunghoon showed you such a different way of being together with a boy. You were still fake dating, but the way nothing was forced for the sake of social media or the questions of his nosy team members showed you that he would be just as considerate about your feelings and your comfort as if you had been actually dating.

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t that difficult to say yes to a weekend trip to the winter sea with his friends - Jake, Ajung and Jay. It was just the five of you, renting a small apartment for two days and one night in December; two of the boys sharing a room and one of them sleeping on the couch in the living room (it goes without saying that they decided with rock-paper-scissors that it would be Sunghoon on the couch) while you were sharing a room with Ajung.

During the day, you went to the beach to take a long walk alongside the coast, the boys teasing you while splashing water around, taking pictures and having lunch nearby in a cosy little café. You went to a cliff too, Sunghoon reaching his hand out to help you move from one rock to another while walking towards it, and Jake did the same towards Ajung, so Jay was sulking that he was visibly left out. To which, both of the boys joked to offer their help, but Jay just shushed them. They were having too much fun teasing him.

At night, you went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for dinner which you prepared together. To be precise, you weren’t sure Sunghoon was much help as he was singing songs he put on the speakers into a ladle, and Jake was too busy taking pictures of Ajung with a knife (saving it for himself as possible future meme material as he said), but Jay was doing everything so professionally, it seemed like he didn’t need help either way. You tried nevertheless, cutting up the veggies and bringing him stuff from the fridge while he was by the oven, naturally finding something to talk about in the meantime.

“You know, Sunghoon seems happier since you started talking,” he brought it up suddenly while he was stirring the stew. You both glanced in the direction of the boy who was too busy finding a good song to play next, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Oh really?” You quirked an eyebrow, feeling a bit shy, because it meant that you had a positive impact on the boy.

“Yeah,” the boy nodded without thinking twice about it. “I’ve never seen him date a girl, but even if you are fake-dating, I think that’s what he would act like,” he added seriously, and there was no hint of mischief in his eyes, hence, you believed him. At least, you wanted to believe him.

However, you had no idea what to say to that, so you just nodded, and as your eyes glanced in the boy’s direction yet again, your heart did a little somersault. Truth to be told, it didn’t really feel like fake-dating at this point because you and Sunghoon actually spent a lot of time together, getting to know each other, and he even invited you for this trip, so that had to mean something. On the other hand, since you hadn’t seen Sunghoon interact with other girls before (except for smiling awkwardly when the cheerleaders had tried to hit on him), you didn’t know how he acted around them.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t keep Jay’s words out of your head for the remaining day, so when it was just the two of you left in the living room as Sunghoon was making his bed (aka his couch) and you were refilling your water bottle, you felt like you had to ask the boy the same.

“Sunghoon…” You started tentatively as you halted beside the couch which was now covered with a bedsheet, a fluffy blanket and a pillow. The boy looked up from his haphazardly made bed, finding your eyes. He tilted his head like he always did when he was confused, but there was a hint of curiosity in his midnight-black orbs.

“Hmm?”

“Jay said that you seem happier since we started talking,” you said it in one-go, fiddling with the protective layer around your water bottle. “Do you agree with him?”

Silence settled over you two after your question, and even though it was probably just a few seconds, your heartbeat felt twice as heavy as before as you were waiting for his answer. Sunghoon’s confused features easened into a more natural state, but there was a hue tinting his cheeks pinkish when he answered:

“Yeah, I’m happier.”

Your shoulders immediately dropped in ease despite the fact that you couldn’t imagine him saying something hurtful even if he might not have agreed with his friend. It’s just… you felt like you hadn’t really been paying attention to his feelings in the beginning of your fake dating since you had been buried under all the hurt from Jaehyeok. When you had managed to pick yourself up from that dark hole, Sunghoon had already been acting the way he did nowadays, so you couldn’t tell whether he was happier or not. Not to mention that you hadn’t really been looking his way in the first semester because you had been dating a different rugby player.

Now though, you couldn’t imagine not seeing him and not looking for him. His presence could always bring a sense of comfort, and he didn’t even have to say anything, you were just fine being beside him. On top of that, you could be yourself beside him, you knew that. He had seen you when you had been vulnerable and torn, and he hadn’t taken advantage of that, nor had he said anything that might have implied that you should change your ways around him.

“Well, me too,” you admitted as your thoughts kept circling back to the warmth he spread, the gratitude he made you feel, the happiness he bloomed in your chest and… to him. “I like you,” you found yourself saying as you overcame with all the emotions leading up to this point, but you immediately bit down on your lower lip when you realised what you had just said.

Sunghoon seemed shocked for a moment, then shy, then baffled again as if he didn’t want to believe his ears.

“Oh, I, well…” He blabbered coyly, not finding the right words to say. Even in this state, you found him cute because he was trying. He was just nervous like you, but you could wait for him to say what he wanted to say. Not like you could budge, you were entranced either way.

Sunghoon cleared his throat to regain his courage, then as he stepped closer to you, he finally said:

“I like you too.”

And then his arms were around you, strong yet gentle, and you inhaled his sandalwood perfume, your heart thumping against your chest, wild and free. You realised then and there that you had been secretly waiting for this moment, and you wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“So no more fake dating, I assume?” He murmured into your hair, his voice a bit raspy yet laced with joy.

“No more,” you agreed with a slight bob of your head, and let him hug you tighter, stronger as if he never wanted to let you go.

➳ Check out: my ENHYPEN masterlist

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[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father.  The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst. 

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him. 

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could. 

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity. 

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now. 

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar. 

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy. 

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain. 

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams. 

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink. 

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him. 

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.  

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals. 

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?” 

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.” 

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss. 

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don���t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed. 

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch. 

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know. 

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit. 

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,” she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control. 

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised. 

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

--

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[dearcarmine]

sleep remedy

: ̗̀➛ pairing; mike schmidt + afab reader

: ̗̀➛ tags; smut { handjob, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie }

: ̗̀➛ summary; mike has had long shifts all week and he needs help sleeping. you two have been closer lately and he finds his solution through you.

: ̗̀➛ a/n; 1.5k this was a collab with me and my best friend !! this is just something i’ve been craving for a hot minute..

archive of our own version

six-thirty am. mike slid off his vest and tossed it into the backseat before getting into his car. it was more of a night dreaming than doing his actual job. the wind hit his hair unevenly as multiple cars passed, likely on their way to an early job as he finished his. his eyes laid tired as he drove home, wanting nothing more than to lay in his bed, asleep.

once he arrived home, he walked straight into his bedroom, checking briefly to see if abby was asleep herself. he felt too tired to care about anything else other than the sleep he so desperately craved.

before mike could even touch the end of his bed, the doorbell rang, he groaned as he walked out his bedroom and towards the ring. once he opened the door, his eyes met yours. “what are you doing here?” mike asked tiredly.

“i brought you a sandwich, i figured you might be hungry from your shift,” you replied. you sat the bag you held around your wrist down on the small dining table. you’d been a little tired from waking up early to help mike out. there were times he’d forget to eat dinner and make due with abby’s stashed candy.

”thank you,” he spoke as he sat down and unwrapped the sandwich; it was a cold combo of turkey and pepper jack. as he took a bite, you rummaged the fridge for some drinks. “she’s asleep?” you asked him, eyeing a couple of beers. “yeah, the babysitter left a bit early.” your eyes darted towards him with a small smile, “you know i’d offer and take time to watch her, mike. all you have to do—“

”i don’t wanna bother, but thanks. you don’t have work, do you?” 

you sat with him and twisted the bottle caps, sliding the glass over. “no, why?”

he chewed and swallowed for a moment, his eyes closing in on a single spot on the table. “uneasy. can you sleep here tonight?” another smile formed on your lips as he spoke. you gave a nod, knowing that if you hadn’t, you would’ve slept over anyways.

mike leaned back in the chair, sparing you a piece of the sandwich. he took a swig of beer and cleared his throat, “you can take the bedroom.” your brows furrowed confusingly, “no, it’s fine.” you didn’t mind the couch, but his courtesy evoked flattery from you. deprived from proper hours, he grabbed his beer, sat himself on the couch, and huffed at the impact.

your first thought was to sit with him and stay there until he slept, which eventually he would. you sat yourself next to him and watched as he turned on the sports program he downloaded. he was too tired during the day that he needed to save things however he could and experience them later. even the way his breath fell from his lips felt tired, but you didn't want to comment on it.

“shit..abby gets up in a few hours and i need to—”

“just watch tv. i'll deal with abby and the school, you just stay here and relax,” you spoke over him. your fingers started on his head, trying to relax him calmly. he shut his eyes and kept his head down.

mike’s head soon reached your shoulder and he let out a sigh. he turned his face and looked up at you, “thank you.”

you nodded and smiled, continuing to run your hands in his hair, combing it back gently. halftime on the screen ended and your mind retraced to abby, yet the sensation of mike’s hair in between your fingers fuels your mind instead. his eyes fell back on the screen, trying to doze off to the sound of players grunting and whistles blowing. you couldn’t understand it, but he was the type to fall asleep to sounds most annoying to man. your grasp tightens on his brown strands, curling them and tugging lightly. from his lips fell a small whimper, just loud enough to hear and make the atmosphere a bit awkward.

it wasn’t your intention, but what you did evoked a small smile on your face. he adjusted his position and felt your nails soothe the area you tugged at. “tired?” you asked him.

“i’m so fucking exhausted,” he muttered lowly.

your available hand reached over to his other side and grabbed the remote, turning the volume up a bit. “your pills, are they helping?” you questioned. they were over-the-counter, hardly reliable. he tried anything he could to sleep; to dream. he shook his head and started dragging it slowly into your lap. you moved your hand down to his face, thumbing small circles onto his cheek. he needed help sleeping.

mike turned his head and faced your stomach, giving small groans. you felt the vibrations of his tiredness as his lips connected to your thighs. “mike..” you spoke softly; you were unsure of where he was going, but sure what you wanted. he placed his hand down on the couch and lifted himself up to face you directly, “the pills don't work, this will work.” your hand came up to his face and his eyes roamed you needily.

“baby..”

“mike..” his breathing got heavier just from his name leaving your mouth. another look in his eyes and you gave in. your lips connected with his and your hands went to his shoulder and hair. small moans escaped his mouth and into yours. your knee moved to the other side of his waist as you straddled his lap. his jeans grew tighter as he got hard and you could feel it. your hips grinding down onto his pants make him stutter, “please..c’mon, please.” your hands trailed up his chest and one up his neck and held his cheek. his hands left your waist and lowered to his belt. he unlooped it and tossed it completely away from the couch.

“i need you, y/n, please.” his pleads fueled you to the extent of taking off your shirt and your shorts. you sat on him, half naked, and waiting for his jeans to be pulled down. he struggled with his boxers, his desperate hands clawing at the top band. once he got them down, you took a moment to admire and almost stare at his bulge. his dick hit his stomach adorned with his happy trail you loved oh so much. “how bad do you need it?” you teased him, running your thumb along his tip. his mouth breathed out no words as he took in the pleasure of your touch. when you asked again, he looked up at your face and nodded, “please..really bad.”

your hand took in his cock, slowly guiding along as your head bent down to see what you were doing, as much a you loved seeing his face scrunch with pleasure, the sight of his hips bucking for more as better. he hisses when you tighten your hold, causing your eyes to rise, “you can’t handle it, baby? what’ll happen when you fill me up?” you mocked him lightly and kissed his cheek.

“so close..” he bit down on his pink lips and his lashes flickered up at you, practically begging for release. your mouth hung open, tucking your tongue back and dropping spit onto his cock. your fingers slicked around him and eluded pretty low moans from his mouth. once your movements stopped, those moans turned to whines for your touch. your hips lifted off and above his lap, hovering over him. “here,” you spoke, moving your hand on top of his and guiding it to the waistband of your panties. your fingers maneuvered his to slide them to the side, revealing your pussy and making him more than eager.

positioning yourself onto him, mike groaned and bucked his hips, begging silently for you to move. the loss of friction distanced his orgasm; “c’mon, just–” his hands gripped onto your waist, clawing at the skin and forcing your pussy down around his cock. hips moving forward and back, rising up a bit, you made him bite his lip to suppress his moans. your hands rest on his chest as your lips snake to his ear, smoothing over the flesh with your teeth and biting down gently. another moan escaped his mouth, but this time more vulgar and high pitched. his whimpered echoed through the house, “shh,” your palm closed in on his mouth.

your hand slowly moved down his face, “tell me what you need, baby,” you cooed. “inside, please—don’t move from right here, please.”

your hands settled back on his shoulders, riding him until your legs gave out and he came inside you.

his mess slid with your hips as you moved along him, cumming on his lap and slapping your thighs down for more of him. “mhm..” he groaned, holding the small of your back. your movements stopped as he gently slapped your ass.

his lap raised and lifted your body off of him. “you gonna sleep now?” you ask, moving your hand along his cock and teasing the sensitive tip. his body shuddered under your touch and his breath got heavier until you stopped.

the two of you got clothed and laid back on the couch, panting heavily and stimulated, apparent from the crotches of your clothing being slightly damp and hot.

you laid with mike for the night, finally relieved he’d get the sleep he needed.

#fanfic #ao3 #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #smut #fnaf smut #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #jhutch nation #jhutch #writers of tumblr #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3fic #feral-behavior

[sc0tters]

Save a Horse | Ethan Edwards

summary: as the bombshell of Umich, you set your sights on Ethan and don’t give up, not without a fight.

song: Cowgirls - Morgan Wallen

request: yes/no

warnings: underaged drinking, allusions to sex but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.58k

authors note: this has me thinking that a part two should be in order. Don’t usually write with such a boss reader but literally loved it. This thing took me much longer than I want to admit but I wanted the first piece since we hit 500 followers to be perfect! If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

You surely knew what you were doing right?

The way you looked tonight in your little costume as you danced with your friends, the way your laugh lit up the room as one of the seniors tried their luck with you. The way your nose did that little scrunching thing that it does whenever you get excited that makes Ethan absolutely weak in the knees.

It should have been torture, the way your eyes lingered over Ethan throughout the night when you’d bite your lip and tilt your hat in his direction.

But the boy remained where he always was as his doubts clouded his mind, you were a total bombshell and you knew it. As a result of that though it meant you had been through the experience of sleeping with some of the hottest guys on campus. Because when you look the way you do and have no desire for a relationship, you’ll have men falling at your feet as they fight to the death to be the one in your bed.

Ethan had started to like you in freshman year, you were a sophomore and at some party when the Canadian spilt his drink on your white shirt and has he begun to panic when your black bra became obvious under the wet fabric. He thought you were going to kill him but instead you flashed him a smile and let your southern charm do it’s thing “don’t worry about it darling.” You sent him a wink as you squeezed his shoulder.

All of his friends had watched the interaction in shock as you sent those boys a salute before you walked off. The sight was amusing as all of the freshman hockey players had their mouths open as their jaws were practically on the floor.

A year on and his feelings for you didn’t let up, during hockey season when you’d see him and congratulate him for the teams wins he swore he might as well have not spoken English because you left him speechless.

You watched hockey? You watched him play? You, the absolute babe watched Ethan?

Was all that could go through his mind.

“You better not screw him over peach,” Owen sighed as he connected to the FaceTime call with you.

Owen quickly became your college bestie when you two had three classes together in freshman year. Sure Owen loved you but he also knew that Ethan’s heart wouldn’t handle it if you did what you always did.

A scoff left your lips “I’m going to his hockey game, not his wedding.” You pointed out as you continued to line your lips.

The hockey player smiled as you said that “wedding, aeh? That’s a little bit early even for you to be thinking about that.” He teased causing you to roll your eyes “now do I look cute or what?” You asked as you flipped the camera off “so sweet peach!” When Owen learnt you were from Georgia that became your nickname, why was only an answer that he knew and refused to tell you.

Ethan almost died when he saw you after game in that 73 jersey, sure he gave it to you in the hopes that you’d wear it but he never actually thought you would be in that yellow jersey and look happy about it “you played well today darling!” You cooed as you pulled him into a hug.

You might have treated Ethan like he was one of your friends, which he still didn’t know how he got himself into that position. But you wanted more from him, all of your advances seemed to either fall on deaf ears or you were starting to think he wasn’t interested in you.

Sure the chase was fun but when you don’t come back with a sliver of success after months of trying, it begins to grow boring. Which was why you had been cold to Ethan this past week. For the first time in years you were feeling stupid about a boy, something about him made you feel ready to change your normal ways and swap them in for something more stable but here he was not interested.

So as you were close to the end of winning another beer pong game Ethan couldn’t help but watch as Nick stood by your side pretending to coach you through the game. When your ball went into another cup “let’s go!” The boy cheered as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

The Canadian grew jealous as he thought about you replacing him with Nick, maybe the senior was the man who you were now talking to.

Despite the fact that you were the only thing that went through his mind. He thought you were interested in him, nobody seemed to captivate your attention in the way that he did. Yet the thing that caused his hesitation was the fact that you never stayed with a person for long once you got their attention.

You pouted your lips as you locked eyes with Ethan. His Scooby Doo jumpsuit made him feel stupid as you looked like a sight for sore eyes with your denim corset and little matching mini skirt.

Somehow despite it all he was all you wanted “I’ll be back,” you mumbled to Nick as you won the game letting yourself take a celebratory shot of vodka.

The senior smirked as he saw what caught your eye “just behave,” he warned as you placed your hands on your hips “when don’t I?” You asked as you smiled.

Ethan watched as you sauntered over to his side “I like this outfit,” you confessed as you toyed with the zipper.

It made him stutter “r-really?” His eyes went wide as he caught the sight of your breasts that were only hidden by the blue material.

You smirked as you pulled him into the kitchen with you “wanna do a shot with you,” you explained as here was your final idea to see if Ethan liked you or not.

This was the moment that if he was able to resist your advance then you’d accept your fate and lose him forever.

Members of the hockey team looked in awe as Ethan’s eyes never left your back, the way he followed you like a little lamb was something they would have teased him about if you weren’t, well you.

Ethan pulled out two shot glasses “you’re gonna drink this one,” he explained as he motioned to his favourite tequila.

You smiled as you twirled your hair through your fingers “I think you’re the one in charge now,” you mumbled as you took the cowboy hat off of your head as you placed it on his own.

He wanted to die as you let out that angelic little giggle “want to see you suck this baby,” you watched as he placed the lime on his lips letting it rest in his mouth.

You nodded as you grabbed the salt shaker from the table “gotta start it off right,” you pointed out as you forced his hand into a fist as you let the salt land on his fist.

Ethan’s breathing turned unstable as his eyes never left yours, not when you licked his hand, not as you took the shot and let your lips wrap around the glass like you would if it was his cock.

When the devilish smile formed on your face was when he finally let his eyes move, you stood on your tippy toes letting bite into the lime.

The sour taste poured into your mouth when you pulled away from him “did I do something wrong?” Ethan asked as he watched you grab the lime from his lips “thought about tasting something sweeter,” you explained as your fingers ran over the rim of your that was still on his head.

If it was the other way around you would have been pulling upstairs so that you could ride him like he was the last man you were ever going to sleep with. But since it wasn’t you tried to remain calm “think you should have worked harder for it cowgirl.” His voice was husky as he placed his hands on either side of you.

Your thighs clenched at the thought of what his fingers could do to you “been making me work for too long with no reward.” You mumbled as your lips turned into a pout.

Ethan smiled as he placed your hat back on your head “now you can really get what you want,” he ran his finger over your plump lower lip.

A groan left your lips as you didn’t know what to do “you’re a cruel man Edwards,” you grumbled as you furrowed your eyebrows “you want your reward?” He wanted to hear you beg.

To see the vulnerability that you had never shown before with anyone else “please,” you whimpered as his thumb massaged the bare skin between your skirt and your top.

The feeling caused you to gasp, it seemed like that was the moment Ethan’s self restraint was thrown out of the window as he let his lips rough up against your own mixing the taste of beer and the different liquors that you had been drinking.

His shorts grew tight as the smell of your perfume mixed with the feeling of your lips made him want to come “let’s move this to the bedroom,” he groaned as he let his lips hover over yours.

“Who’s the needy one now?”

#ethan edwards imagine #ambers 150 celly #ethan edwards x reader #hockey imagine #ethan edwards x y/n #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich x reader

[lovelytsunoda]

kill of the night // lando norris

summary: she hates parties. especially quadrant parties hosted in large creepy mansions. at least the hot pirate hosting the party is into her, or she would have left ages ago.

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: consumption of alcohol, lando cannot take anything seriously to save his life, the eerie feeling of being watched (anxiety or haunted house, you decide), pirate themed sexual innuendos, mention of spiders (arachnophobia warning!) reader has mild autism

the lights were low and the music loud as she pushed her way through the crowd, desperate for a drink and a moment of peace. the music was bad (some club mix of the rocky horror picture soundtrack) and all she wanted was for her massive headache to go away.

too bad she didn’t drink often. maybe something stronger than a hard lemonade would make this evening bearable.

she sat at the bar, feeling the eerie sensation of all eyes on her as she scanned the sea of bodies for the slew of other glittery fairy wings she had arrived with. she didn't even know some of the girls that well. all of the girls from her program had been invited, and she was trying to be a team player.

one girl was making out with a stranger, two others playing beer pong. the rest were lost to the crowd, dancing in ways that would definitely have disappointed their parents.

when the tuxedoed bartender came back with the crystal tumbler that had her vodka lemonade in it, she frowned at the tiny plastic sword, a gummy worm speared through it.

she just wanted a normal fucking drink.

sighing, she grabbed the glass and got to her feet, sending one last glance to the other girls before she started making her way towards the exit, mindful of the massive plastic wings strapped to her back. she had half a mind to just rip them off and throw them into the nearest trash can.

the outside hallway wasn't much better, and she found herself reaching into her purse for her airpods, less for music and more to just to cancel out the noise. she extracted the green plastic sword, taking the gummy worm off the plastic and dropping it into her mouth. the dj was playing ghostbusters, and she wanted nothing more than to be back home in her small, peaceful dorm, wrapped in her fleece blanket and reading 'love in the time of serial killers', or in the warm movie theatre watching 'a haunting in venice'.

instead she was here.

folding the small sword over in her hands, she grabbed her drink from the side table and made her way down the dreary hallway to get some fresh air.

the outside of the mansion was peaceful, if not a little disused. the hedges were neatly trimmed, the flowers well tended to as she sat down on a stone bench, the cold from the surface seeping in through the fabric of her dress as she took a sip of her drink.

truth be told, the peaceful atmosphere of the large, creepy mansion had been one of the few reasons she had agreed to come, living out her 'haunted mansion' fantasy: ghost who's been pining after her for centuries, the promise of eternal love. all but the evil ghost butler trying to kill her.

"the party's inside, you know!" a shout carried over the breeze, bristol accent sharp.

she yelped, dropping her drink and watching the glass shatter against flagstone.

"jesus! you can't just sneak up on people like that!" she shouted, yanking out her earbuds. "what is wrong with you, you fucking wanker!"

she got to her feet, spinning around to see who had spoken. he was tall enough (taller than her at least), dressed in a billowy white shirt and leather vest, leather breeches hugging his impressive thighs, a mane of curly brunette hair on the top of his head, and a fake sword strapped to his thigh.

at least, she hoped it was fake.

"woah, hang on." he frowned, coming closer to her. he looked like a prince, straight out of a disney movie. "i didn't mean to scare you."

could this be him? the ghost lover from her haunted mansion fantasy?

"it's fine. i guess i'm just jumpy. mansions that are almost certainly haunted will do that to a girl." she took a step back, trying to avoid the smashed glass as she turned, intending to go back to the stone bench before her wing got caught on a hedge. she cursed, resisting the urge to yank at the iridescent plastic.

"let me help." the stranger encouraged, coming closer to the hedge.

she shook her head. "it's fine, just let me take it off my back."

she gently eased out of the elastic straps securing the wings to her body, attempting to make it happen as gracefully as possible. one wing snapped back and smacked her in the face, and she tried to shake it off as she moved away, allowing them to dangle dejectedly from the hedge.

the prince came to stand beside her, his cologne overloading her senses as her reached over her to help disentangle the wings, his body heat against her back making her skin flush.

"here you go." his voice was soft as her passed her back her costume.

she could have left the wings there, she'd only paid three dollars to make them. she folded them up, placing the scratchy plastic on the stone bench before looking down at the shattered crystal.

“sorry about the glass. you’ll probably have to pay for it, being the host and all.”

“how did you know I was the host?”

her face blushed pink “havw you ever seen the haunted mansion? the original one with eddie murphy and wallace shawn?”

she gave him an opening, ready to hide her face behind her hands if it didn’t work out. there was a slight pause, and then he burst out laughing.

“you think that I’m some dead ghostly prince searching for his lost love?” he sputtered. “hate to break it to ya, tinker bell, but I’m not a prince, and I am very much alive.”

“I never said you were dead!” she crossed her arms indignantly, stomping one sneaker-clad foot against the flagstones.

chuckling, the suitor extended his hand. “I’m lando.”

“y/n.” she sighed, reaching to shake his hand. “sorry about the hostility, I just felt overstimulated in there. it’s the ‘tism in me.”

lando gestured for her to sit on one of the benches, looking out at the algae-caked fountain. it smelled earthly, yet his cologne was still all she could comprehend.

“have you had a chance to explore the house? based solely on your haunted mansion statement, I feel like that would be something you were in to.”

“it’s the only reason I came, truth be told. I hate parties, but some of the girls o study with thought it would be a good idea. what i didn’t realize was that we’d all be packed into the ballroom and pretty much the rest of the house would be off limits.”

lando laughed, straddling the bench next to her, one leg on either side. not very prince-like, if you had asked y/n. “well, I didn’t pick the venue. you can thank max and steve for that.”

“I don’t know who either of those people are.”

“I work with them in quadrant, they’re hosting this thing. I’d stepped out for a minute to take a business call.”

she snorted. “you? a business call?”

“what’s so hard to believe about that?” lando feigned offence, smacking his chest with his palm. “and why did your mind immediately go to the haunted mansion when you saw me? I was going for less master gracey and more will turner.”

“please, you’re jack sparrow at best. I can tell you bought your little pirate outfit at spirit halloween. and if my first instinct was that you were dressed as a prince, something is missing.”

she propped one leg lengthwise on the bench, tucking one sneaker-clad foot under the other, smoothing her dress over as to not give the man in front of her a glaring look at her dusty pink panties (although an intrusive thought did prompt her to wonder what would happen if she did).

“have you had a chance to explore the mansion yet?” she asked the man. well, the boy. he couldn’t have been too much older than she was.

lando shook his head, a few errant curls falling from his shaggy hair and over his eyebrows, and something about the way he shook his head to clear the curls from his eyes had her mouth watering. she wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss him.

“i saw a bit of it when we were bringing everything in. it’s a maze of service tunnels and secret doors. i actually got myself locked in a cellar.” lando laughed, and the butterflies erupted in her stomach, a giddy feeling spreading through her bones. “and that’s why ria thought it would be a good idea to cordon off most of the house. so that idiots like me didn’t get themselves locked in anywhere they couldn’t get out of.”

she raised an eyebrow, almost questioning exaclty how th man in front of her got himself locked in a cellar before she thought better of it. “so you know where all these secret passageways are?”

lando wagged his eyebrows. “is that something you’re into?”

“why do you have to say it like that?” she giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth when she remembered how she usually looked when she laughed. “you make it sound weird. like a sex thing.”

“well, it’s not a sex thing,” lando reassured, stepping off the bench like he was dismounting a noble steed. “unless you want it to be? I’d be down to, uh, shiver your timbers in a secret hidden alcove.”

“not if you make bad pirate puns.” she rolled her eyes, taking landos extended hand in hers and allowing him to help her up. “but we can see where the night takes us.”

she shouldn’t have said that. why did she say that? would he think she was propositioning him?

the wind was breezy on her bare legs as lando led her across the moonlit backyard, pushing open the same door they had just come through. the family photos on the wall were old and faded, frames of orange gold around them. lando ushered her up the stairs, clouds of dust flying off the carpet as they ascended. the further up the stairs they moved, the mustier it smelled.

lando stopped her on the landing, hardwood covered in a threadbare oriental carpet, everything covered in a fine layer of dust, save for the cracked mirror.

"press on the edges of the fame, but stand back." lando suggested. "max brushed up against it earlier and almost got flung off the landing. it's a service entrance door."

"sick." she mumbled, pressing her slender fingers along the filigree gold frame. "just like this? do you remember where the latch was?"

"if i did, i'd have opened the door myself." he shrugged.

all at once, she felt the mirror give way under her hand, a clicking sound barely audible as the door began to move. lando reached for her hand, gently pulling her out of the line of fire.

"that was fucking awesome." she giggled, pulling her phone out of her purse and switching on the flashlight. "you know we need to go in there now, right?"

"just as long as you can get us back out." lando pleaded. "i don't want to die in a service tunnel."

she lead the way up the stone staircase, her flashlight illuminating the pounds of dust and cobwebs (as well as the occasional lump that might have been a dead rat, but she actually didn't want to know).

"if i see any big ass spiders in here, killing them is your job." she tried to keep her voice steady, but the thought of a massive spider crawling up her leg was not her idea of a good time. in fact, it would likely send her into hysterics.

they reached the top of the winding staircase, coming to rest in front of a large wooden door with a wrought iron knocker shaped like medusa's head. the hinges were slightly rusted, and it was clear that nobody had come up here for a while.

until them, of course, their footsteps clearly imprinted in the dusty stairs below.

"well, it would be a shame to turn back now." lando remarked, reaching for the door handle. it was stiff, but the room was unlocked.

she followed lando inside, reaching blindly for the old dial lightswitch on the wall. the room flickered to life, lit by two dull bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

a large bookshelf took up one wall, a dust and dirt caked window overlooking the grounds on another, equipped with a window seat for reading. a small crosley record player sat on a teak stand, pressed up against a wall painted an off cinnamon color. she walked to the milk crates stacked neatly next to the the player, flipping through well-worn vinyls.

"whoever was last up here was really into seventies disco. we've got abba, donna summer, elton john, blondie, hot chocolate, earth wind and fire." she mused, pulling a blondie album out of the basket. "although i always considered blondie to be more new wave than anything."

lando reached over her, his chest just faintly burshing up against her arm, body heat causing her skin to flush as he grabbed an elton john record from the basket.

"elton john? now this guy wrote some great stuff."

"nothing in this basket is organized in any way! they've got wild cherry at the front with earth, wind and fire, but blondie is pushed way to the back with chaka khan and ike and tina. no rhyme or reason! i have half a mind to rearrange it myself."

the record player crackled to life, the sound coming out of two old wooden marley speakers, a sound system that hadn't been updated in a while but still came through crisp as they day it was put together. elton john and kiki dee's duetting voices began to fill the room, and lando extended a hand.

"can i have this dance, my fair maiden?"

she smiled, leaning against the stack of milk crates. "i dunno. ladies like me don't dance with scoundrels like you."

"but a scoundrel like me will show you a damn good time. if you let me, of course."

giggling, she grabbed his hand, allowing the young man to twirl her in a circle before dipping her towards the floor, her hair dusting the shag carpet. soon, their laughter was louder than the stereo itself.

out of breath, their gleeful dance began to slow. they stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, 'don't go breaking my heart' playing lowly in the background, the thumping bass from the ballroom travelling upstairs as lando leaned in.

the craned her face up, pressing on to her tip toes to meet him halfway, brushing her lips against his before her pulled her in for more, his strong arms like a safety net around her body, ready to catch her if her knees buckled (which she was almost sure they would).

"i've gotta hand it to ya, captain. you're one smooth operator." she giggled, kissing him again. "i wonder what else you can do with that tongue?"

"come dock in my port, and you'll find out."

she burst out laughing, dropping her arms to playfully smack him in the chest. "that was your worst pick up line yet!"

"really? i've got a ton more, read up for this very occasion. what else have i got? there's 'i sure would like to pillage your booty', but that one sounds a little sleazy, 'not only do i have a ship, but it's a long one."

"oh my god, you need to stop. they're all as bad as the one that came before." she was laughing so hard there were tears in the corners of her eye. he thought he was so suave, rattling off stupid pickup lines while he leaned against milk crates of vinyl pressings.

and the stupid thing was, it was working.

tired of listening to him ramble, she stalked over to him, grabbing his leather vest and pulling him in for another kiss.

TAGS: @userlando @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @scuderiamh @lorarri @cartierre @clemswrld @httpiastri @love4lando @silversainz @silverstonesainz @scuderiasundays

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #the cozy collection 2023 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris POV #Spotify

[wonusite]

The Only Exception

❝ Your university’s star football player doesn’t understand why you don’t want anything to do with him. Several humiliating rejections later, Mingyu is more determined than ever to change your mind about him. Chaos and confusing feelings ensue. ❞

pairing: kim mingyu x female reader

genre: college au, jock au, fluff, smut

word count: 6.4k

warnings: jock!gyu, art major!reader, rich girl!reader, protective bestie!cheol (lowkey he’s kind of a cockblock but we luv him anyway), big dick!gyu, mingyu is an absolute SIMP, reader likes to play hot and cold, pining, nude portraits, drinking, praising, begging, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, pussy drunk!gyu, cock drunk!reader

a/n: the biggest thanks to hoe nonny for coming up with this brilliant idea. minors dni!!!

There’s not a lot that can hurt Mingyu’s pride.

As a tall, handsome guy (who also happens to be an extremely likable star athlete), he doesn’t have much to be insecure about. But now, as he’s staring at perhaps the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, he feels like he’s been knocked down several pegs.

It all started when he heard your name in the locker room. If Mingyu thought about it clearly, that’s exactly when he became invested in you without knowing what you even looked like. It’s not like he could be entirely blamed since you had rejected the entire offensive line plus the running back and wide receiver—a.k.a two of his closest friends.

Maybe he should’ve just minded his own business when he heard Seokmin’s loud laughter, but he didn’t. He had to see what was funny enough for that infectious laughter to overpower most of the noise in the locker room.

Apparently, both Chan and Soonyoung had been rejected by some art major who didn’t care that they were easy on the eyes and beasts on the field. Normally, Mingyu wouldn’t care so much about some unknown girl, but his interest was piqued when he found out you had some sort of aversion not only to football players, but to all jocks. No one could figure out why you had such a disinterest in guys who played sports, and that mystery had been the topic of the team’s locker room talk for weeks.

To say it was odd for Mingyu to become fixated with someone he hadn’t even seen was an understatement, but again, it was impossible not to when so many of his friends kept talking about you like you were an untouchable being. Which he would come to find out was next to true.

Mingyu isn’t sure why he feels the need to prove that he can pull you. Maybe he likes the vindication of being perceived as this heartthrob with infinite charm, or maybe he liked the picture of you that Chan had showed him a little too much. Either way, he feels very confident about his ability to woo you.

This confidence doesn’t falter even when Seokmin points you out at the crowded party his frat is hosting. Mingyu has to take a second to compose himself because your photos do not do you justice. You’re decked out in a designer crop top and a tiny little skirt that barely covers your ass, and man, he’s never wanted to be sandwiched between two thighs more than he does now.

“Maybe you should save yourself the embarrassment and give your attention to a girl who actually wants it.” Seokmin says as they watch you take a shot with the captain of the cheer team.

Mingyu only scoffs at his friend and tells him to watch how it’s done before he walks to where you are.

“Hey.” His voice comes out smooth and suave, as usual. “I’m Mingyu.”

A foreign feeling consumes him when you turn around and set your pretty eyes on him. The usual heat and interest he gets from girls isn’t there, and it throws him off a bit. You only nod at him and offer a halfhearted nice to meet you before turning your back to him. To say Mingyu is absolutely flustered and at a loss for words is an understatement. Even the girl by your side can’t seem to believe that you don’t care for Mingyu’s attention.

“Um,” she nervously plays with her necklace when she notices Mingyu has no intention of leaving. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You roll your eyes and turn to the beefy jock with a sigh. It’s not like he isn’t one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever seen, but you know his type. After spending all of high school dating jocks, you were pretty much over them. This fine specimen of a man wasn’t going to change your mind about it, either.

Mingyu sees a pretty frown lining your lips and all he wants to do is kiss it off. He licks his lips and clears his throat before trying again. “I’m the quarterback of—”

“Our school’s football team. I know.” You finish for him. “I’ve seen you play. You’re really good.”

It’s a compliment, he knows it is, but the dismissal in your voice makes it seem like you couldn’t be any more unimpressed.

“Do you want to take a shot with me?” He asks after a beat of awkward silence.

You tilt your head in contemplation. With a smile that all but screams rejection, you gently shake your head. “I’m good—”

Before you could finish, a deep voice cuts you off.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows when he sees one of the point guards of the basketball team come out of no where to step between you two with a mean glare on his face. Choi Seungcheol is looking at him like he’s two seconds away from throttling him. A million and one questions are running through his mind because from what he’d heard, you did not get with jocks, but clearly, there was something more between you and the guy who’s looking like he’s about to commit a crime.

“My bad, bro. She didn’t mention she had a boyfriend.”

“She doesn’t, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a creep.”

At this point Mingyu feels like he’s in some sort of alternate universe where he’s become the ugly duckling because what the fuck? He can’t even say anything as Seungcheol tugs you away, but not before giving him one last vaporizing glare.

“Bye, Mingyu!” You call over your shoulder with a wave.

He doesn’t know if your friendly farewell makes him feel better or worse.

Mingyu spends the rest of his night—the rest of his week, really—thinking about you. No wonder his teammates couldn’t stop talking about you after you rejected them. The way you made your casual disinterest seem like a biting rejection was jarring, and he’d never experienced anything like it before.

Honestly, it’s probably why he can’t seem to get rid of this need to win you over. He’s probably lost his damn mind, but it feels kind of nice that you didn’t immediately throw yourself at his feet. And so, Mingyu decides that he’ll be the exception for the no jock thing you have going on.

Because he feels so confident of his ability to change your mind, he underestimates how hard getting close to you will actually be.

Every time he sees you, that stupid point guard is by your side. Mingyu can’t come within two feet of you because Seungcheol is always there to drag you away or straight up tell him to go away. It’s so frustrating to him because all he wants is a chance to talk to you, and the more he’s prevented from doing so, the more he feels this unrelenting need to.

And he does finally get that chance, but it doesn’t exactly go the way he plans.

Mingyu usually hates going to grab coffee for his frat members because they’re all so picky for no reason. Soonyoung is the worst of them all, always whining when he unintentionally gets the orders wrong. Now, he’s made sure to ask the group chat to send in their exact orders just as he’s stepping in line.

It’s nothing short of amazing that Mingyu manages to balance nine coffees in his hands. It would’ve been even more amazing if he had actually managed to make it out of the door with them.

As soon as he starts to walk away, he missteps and is flung forward with enough force to spill the drinks on some unsuspecting person. Unfortunately for him, it’s not just any person, it’s the person, and he’s really at a loss.

“Oh my god.”

The stressed words don’t even come from you, rather from your horrified friend, Boo Seungkwan. And Mingyu can’t really blame him because you’re literally wearing a white bodysuit.

“Sorry—Sorry!” Mingyu splutters, feeling like his face is on fire.

What he hates is that you don’t actually react like any other person would. You only give him a look that’s a mixture of pity and amusement.

“It’s Céline!” His appalled voice squeaks. “Céline!”

Because his heart is beating so harshly in his ears, Mingyu misunderstands Seungkwan’s words. “I-I can explain to your friend what happened—I’ll even pay for the dry cleaning!”

Then something unexpected happens.

You laugh.

It’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he almost feels like his humiliation is worth it. Almost.

“What? What are you going on about? I’m talking about Céline—the brand. AKA the clothes she’s wearing right now. They’re worth like—”

“It’s fine.” You say as Seungkwan hands you a fistful of napkins. “It was an accident. Let’s just go.”

Mingyu looks at you in wonder while your friend only looks at you incredulously. It’s not like you were the materialistic type (despite being a trust fund baby), but you were acting too calm for Seungkwan’s taste. He eyes you suspiciously before scoffing. The look you have in your eyes is annoyingly familiar.

“Fine.” He says before he lowers his voice as he leans into your ear. “I know he’s cute, but come on! Look at your outfit!”

The flustered boy isn’t at quiet as he thinks, and Mingyu would’ve felt flattered, but again, you gave no reaction. Not one he wanted, anyway. You only rolled your eyes and frowned at your friend. “Shut up!” You hissed. “He’s not my type. I just feel bad for him.”

And you do, but you feel more sorry for yourself because you know you won’t have enough time to go back home and change before your next class. You finish blotting the the wet stain on your chest before you dig inside your purse. Mingyu notices the flashy bag is also from a designer brand, and for a moment he fears that you’re going to make him pay for your clothes. He wonders if you’ll take pity on him because he obviously can’t afford to pay for it.

Or maybe you’d agree to a payment plan.

When you hand him several large bills and tell him to buy more coffees before walking away, he thinks he’d rather pay for your clothes. At least that way he wouldn’t have to feel the biting feeling of your disregard.

After the embarrassing encounter, Mingyu is quick to find out everything there is to know about you (well as much as your reserved self has been willing to put out, anyway). After stalking all your social media accounts and asking around, he finds out you’re a rich girl from the other side of the country that is fairly new around the area. Also, it’s quite clear to everyone that you have a self-appointed body guard by the name of Choi Seungcheol—who apparently has known you since high school.

Aside from the fact that you’re an art major, Mingyu doesn’t know what kind of things you’re into. This wouldn’t normally faze him so much, but with you he obviously has to count on something other than his looks and status in order to get to know you in the way he wants.

By the grace of some higher power, Mingyu finally gets his chance when he drops his marketing class to transfer into a web design course.

The first thing he notices when he walks into the lecture hall is a pretty designer bag with it’s even prettier owner digging through it. Mingyu doesn’t notice the large smile that breaks out into his face, but the people around him certainly do.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You look up just as your hand wraps around your favorite lip gloss. It’s very ironic how your heart stutters at the sight of the six foot something jock standing over you despite being so adamant in denying your growing attraction to him. To be fair, Kim Mingyu is so insanely attractive that it’s only a natural human response to feel a little heat at the sight of him. You’re quick to school your expression as you offer him a greeting in return.

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter even as you ignore him to apply the sparkly lip gloss that makes your lips look much more irresistible than they already do. “Is this seat taken?”

You don’t look away from the small mirror in your hand. As much as you’d like to lie to him, you know it won’t get him to leave you alone. “No.”

It’s not a big win, but a win nonetheless. Mingyu is quick to slide into the chair beside yours, already exuding major golden retriever energy. You have to hide your smile because this large guy is too cute for his own good. You doubt he even knows it.

“Listen… I’m really sorry I spilled coffee on you the other day. Let me make it up to you—”

“It’s just clothes.” You tell him sincerely. “And you already said sorry, so we’re cool.”

Of course it’s not the response he’s looking for, but it is a way in. Mingyu grins at you. “So, friends?”

It would’ve been easy to tell him that you have all the friends you need, but something inside you refuses to be the one to wipe that stupidly endearing grin off his face. So you purse your lips and reluctantly nod, fighting a smile when the giant next to you visibly brightens at your response.

You ignore the jerk in your chest and pretend that you don’t feel like you’ve just signed a deal with the devil.

“Seungkwan says you’re this close to fucking Kim Mingyu.”

You look up from your phone to see less than a centimeter of space between Seungcheol’s thumb and index finger. He’s raising one of his prominent brows at you, silently demanding an explanation. The expression on his face would’ve been funny to you if you didn’t feel so called out. Which is insane because there’s literally nothing going on between you and the stupidly endearing jock who has taken to following you around.

“Seungkwan has the perception of a fucking ant.”

Your words sound like moronic nonsense even to you, but it’s your only line of defense right now. If you slipped up even the slightest bit, then your best friend would know that you kind of sort of felt attracted to Mingyu.

“Yeah? Then why is he lurking around here like he’s just waiting for me to leave?” Seungcheol nods toward the tall jock who’s trying very hard to be inconspicuous but is failing miserably.

It’s physically painful for you to be so endeared by Mingyu. Especially when you notice that he has two coffees in his hands. You’re sure Seungcheol notices this too, but luckily for you he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he’s only giving you that inquisitive stare that he gets when he’s about to force an answer out of you.

“I don’t know!” You lie like you’re not aware that Mingyu is waiting for you so you two can walk to class together. “Who cares about that, anyway? You still haven’t given me an answer about helping out in my figure sculpture class.”

This is enough to get Cheol to get off the Mingyu thing and turn bright red. “I’m not posing nude for a bunch of strangers! I don’t even know why you feel so comfortable with potentially drawing… all of me.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I think you forget that I’m the one who cleaned you up at Vernon’s graduation party.”

Seungcheol grimaces but doesn’t try to refute your words. Instead he tells you he’ll be by after your class and leaves quickly. Belatedly, you realize he still didn’t give you a straight answer.

“What’s wrong?”

You don’t realize you’re scowling until you see the frown on Mingyu’s own face. The genuine concern always has your stupid heart acting up like it’s about to jump out of your chest and into the jock’s grasp.

“Nothing. Seungcheol’s just the ultimate meanie.” You say as he silently hands you the coffee that’s meant for you. “But you know all about that.”

Mingyu offers you a laugh because it’s true. There’s a reason he kept a distance whenever he saw your best friend was around. He’s just happy that you don’t actually seem to mind his company despite not wanting him in that way.

Of course that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying. Especially after what he finds when you let him look at your sketchbook that you always have on you.

When Mingyu stumbles on not one, but several beautifully drawn portraits, he can’t stop himself from commenting on it. The burning feeling growing in his chest forces him to, much to his chagrin.

“You have a lot of drawings of Seungcheol.” He says as he continues to flip the pages only to find more sketches of the point guard. “Like a lot.”

Mingyu knows he sounds like he’s extremely jealous, which, to be fair, he is.

You spare the large football player a glance as he continuous to flip through the many sketches you have of your best friend. His pout is probably one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, and you can’t understand how someone so fatally attractive can resemble an adorable puppy.

“Yeah.” You answer mindlessly as you get back to your online shopping. “He’s pretty so I draw him a lot.”

Mingyu refuses to acknowledge the bile that rises up his throat when you call Seungcheol pretty. It’s not like you’re wrong, but he wishes you would say something to the same effect about him. He decides to sulk quietly until he stumbles on a particularly racy drawing of that stupid basketball player you call your best friend.

“Did you draw him naked!?”

You look up at the loud screech, feeling a wave of embarrassment come over you when you realize that almost everyone in the room had turned to stare at you. All you can do is shake your head and slap Mingyu’s beefy arm. You’re too irritated to think about how hard and big he is.

“What are you talking about?” You hiss at him.

He silently shows you the drawing of a shirtless Seungcheol you did a few months ago. You hadn’t even drawn the bottom half, but you had purposely sketched his v-line kind of low as if he had been naked. It almost makes you laugh, but instead you only roll your eyes.

“He was wearing pants. And even if he had been naked, it would’ve been purely artistic.”

You sound sincere, but jealousy always clouds reason. “Purely artistic? Are you sure?”

“I don’t fuck my friends.” You say as you snatch the book back from him. “That’s why I’ll never fuck you.”

Mingyu might’ve felt like you were being serious, but he catches the imperceptible waver in your voice. He smirks to himself as he leans back in his seat. You don’t notice the smugness radiating from him because soon your professor is starting the class.

It was only a matter of time before you gave into him, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it happened sooner rather than later.

You feel like the universe is laughing at you.

There’s a good possibility that this is just all a coincidence, but you know Kim Mingyu. He did this on purpose.

“Why haven’t you started?”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at Jeonghan. It’s not his fault the jock that has been the (secret) object of your fantasies is standing twelve feet away from you, posing completely naked.

“I mean, I can’t really blame you. This new model is fucking hot.”

“He’s okay.” You manage to mutter as you finally pick up your pencil to start sketching.

You almost feel like walking out, but you know that if you do, you’ll never hear the end of it from your friend or the stupidly attractive guy you’re about to draw. This would’ve been easier if Mingyu wasn’t so perfectly sculpted. Every ridge and muscle was so prominent and sexy that you had a vague urge to just go up there and lick him.

This included his cock. God, was it pretty. The long, veiny organ between his legs was also thick—the kind of thick that had you wondering if you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it.

You couldn’t even imagine what it would look like if he was hard.

This is perhaps the most distracted you’ve ever been while drawing, and you fucking hate it. As if hiding your blatant desire wasn’t hard enough, Mingyu just has to stare directly at you the entire time he’s posing. You angrily lick your lips, shifting in your seat to try and subtly relieve the throbbing you feel in your cunt. The universe is definitely laughing at you because the satin thong you chose to wear is already completely soiled.

You grit you teeth and start with the outline of his tall figure, trying your hardest not to hide behind your canvas while also trying not to stare too much. It’s a double edged sword that you don’t know how to handle, and you feel like you’re seconds away from getting cut.

Mingyu has never felt his confidence fall so low in his entire life.

Sure, he knows you’re in class and this assignment is for a grade, but how can you have no reaction at all? Your pretty eyes hold no traces of heat or desire whenever you look at him then back to your canvas. The muted expression on your cute face is also killing him because it seems almost unimpressed.

He feels like he’s back at that frat party all over again.

The most pathetic part is that he’s trying his hardest to not get an erection. Even if you don’t seem to be fazed by the sight of his naked body, there’s a large part of him that’s extremely turned on just knowing that you’re drawing every part of him.

“His dick is so pretty.” You hear the girl next to you sigh dreamily.

It makes you want to throttle her because she’s right. Mingyu has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen on a man, and you’re pretty sure that if you’re forced to look at it any longer, you’re going to ruin your jeans.

By the time your class ends, you feel like you’re two seconds away from crying because of how horny you feel. The ache between your legs has never been this bad, and you need to get home so you can take care of yourself with your shiny new toy that came in the mail a few days ago.

Unfortunately, Mingyu—who’s now wearing a fucking robe—decides to put a damper on your would be plans. You have to control your expression because the asshole just looks so good in a robe, and now that you know what’s beneath it, you know you won’t be able to keep up your facade for much longer.

“So what did you think?”

His grin is that same one that you became endeared with long ago, but now it just fuels the burning in your core. Fuck. You need to get away from him immediately.

“Your pose was very good for an amateur. I’m surprised maintained it the entire time.”

Mingyu is both delighted and disappointed by your answer. And before he can say anything else, he sees your eyes light up as you look behind him. “Cheol!”

You skip over to your best friend who’s waiting for you by the door with his signature scowl firm in place. Mingyu can’t hide his frown as you leave without even saying bye.

“It seems to me like you’ve made no progress.”

Mingyu isn’t a violent guy. He prefers to resolve things by talking, but man does he want to rip Seokmin’s tongue out right now. It’s not like he’s actually angry at his friend, but he can’t stand the fact that you’re in his frat house, completely ignoring him. When he invited you, he thought you’d at least come up and say hi, but you seemed more interested in talking to Joshua fucking Hong—a.k.a Mr. I Lost My Virginity To My Hot Cheerleader Girlfriend.

When he sees you laugh at something the nerd says, again, he just snaps and walks into the kitchen where you two are. Once again, Mingyu feels like he’s been dropped into an alternate universe because how the hell does the chemist have more game than him?

“Joshy.” His voice is deceptively cheerful. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

His friend’s boyfriend only rolls his eyes. “I was forced to come. We’re going to leave soon, though.”

Within seconds, Josh is able to pick up on the tension between you and Mingyu. He’s heard all about how the jock is practically in love with you from his lovely girlfriend. Usually, Josh has no interest in the affairs of others, but Mingyu is the one who basically made his relationship happen. And he’ll probably never be able to repay him in full, however, what he was about to do would be a good start.

“But Y/N wants to stay a little longer. You’re cool to take her home, right?”

Mingyu thinks you’ll protest, but to his surprise you’re looking at him expectantly. He mechanically nods, not taking his eyes off you even when Josh announces that he’s leaving.

“Why haven’t you said anything to me all night?” Is the first thing he says when Josh is out of earshot.

His cute pout is doing things to you, and you wish you could blame it on the alcohol coursing through your veins. “You saw me, but you didn’t say hi either. Guess you don’t like me as much as I thought you did.”

Mingyu frowns and backs you into the counter, effectively trapping you by putting both of his arms on either side of your body. He leans close until your faces are inches apart.

“Baby, I don’t think you actually realize how much I like you.”

Your heart pounds at the pet name, and you wonder if he can hear it over the loud music. It’s a miracle that your next words come out strong and with some conviction. “Yeah? Well, when I feel like having a pity fuck, I’ll let you know.”

Mingyu only smirks and leans back. He trails a hand down your arm and gently grips your pinky and ring finger. “Dance with me?”

Just as you’re about to say yes, Seungcheol and Seungkwan enter the kitchen. Unlike you’re expecting, Mingyu doesn’t let go of you. Instead he steps a bit closer to you as your friends approach. You feel hot all over, and you aren’t too sure if it has to do with the hunk beside you, Seungkwan’s Cheshire Cat grin, or Seungcheol’s piercing glare.

“Y/N.” Seungkwan breaks the silence. “We’re leaving soon. Are you coming?”

“No.” You say, leaning back into Mingyu. “I’ll text you guys when I get home, though.”

The tension thickens, but luckily for you, your friends accept your answer. You furrow your eyebrows when you Seungcheol whispers something in Mingyu’s ear before leaving the kitchen with your other friend in toe. You ask Mingyu what was said but he only gives you that pretty smile of his and pulls you away to the living room.

You don’t realize how the time flies until you get a text from Seungkwan asking if you’ve made it home safely. By now, the drinks you had are wearing off, and you’re ready to go home. You type out your response before telling Mingyu that you’re going to get and Uber so he doesn’t have to worry about taking you home since he had a few drinks as well.

“I’m not letting you go alone.” He says as he follows you outside.

“Okay. Just spend the night with me then.”

Mingyu waits for you to say you’re not being serious, but it never comes. His heart pounds as he follows you into the car. It gets worse when you wrap an arm around his own and place your hand over his. All he can feel is your warmth as you snuggle into him, seemingly not fazed by the intimacy of your actions.

It all feels like a dream to him when you guide him up to your luxury apartment. He’s awed with how spacious and lavish it is.

“Gyu.”

His heart stutters at the nickname, and immediately he snaps his attention to you like an obedient puppy. “Yeah?”

“I’m in the mood for a pity fuck.”

You two stare at each other, and for the first time, Mingyu sees a carnal heat in you shining eyes. He swallows thickly, feeling his cock twitch. “You’re drunk—”

“I had a couple of drinks hours ago. Are you going to fuck me or do I have to take care of myself?”

You’re not sure how you got to this point, but you hardly care. Mingyu’s large hands feel too good against your hot skin for you to focus on anything else. He’s taking his time to feel up the length of your legs, and you briefly wonder if this is his way of getting his pay back for all the times you told him you didn’t want to fuck him.

“Gyu...”

God, he’ll never get tired of hearing you call him that.

“What is it, baby?” He coos against your thigh, gently nipping at the skin.

You’re already trembling for him and he has yet to touch you where he's been dying to. Still, he wants to savor this moment for as long as he can.

“Fuck, please just do something. Anything!”

Vaguely, you have this thought that maybe you’re being a little too needy and desperate, but just the thought of having those pretty lips wrapped around your clit and bringing you to ecstasy has you literally dripping all over the sheets.

“If you tell me that,” he pauses and looks up at you with a grin, pretty canines on full display. “Then it kind of seems like this isn’t just a pity fuck.”

You whine out in frustration, and Mingyu is sure he’s never seen a hotter sight. Your reactions and arousal is all evidence of the desire you’ve been denying that you have for him. And once you admit it, he’s going to absolutely ruin you.

“You know it’s not.” You say through a frustrated groan. “So just eat me out already!”

Mingyu complies with a smug laugh, but his laughter is soon replaced by an animalistic groan when he gets a taste of your juices. He’s gentle with his movements at first, but as soon as he sees the starry-eyes look you’re giving him, he dives in like a starved man.

“Fuh-Fuck!” You moan out, grinding your cunt onto his tongue with a neediness that has his cock throbbing in desire.

The lower half of his face is covered in your juices, and the sight is enough to get you to clench on his tongue. His hands push your thighs farther apart as he shoves his tongue deeper into your aching cunt. He harshly pulls you toward him, encouraging your needy humps against his face.

“This all for me, princess?” He teases, his voice sending vibrations straight to your clit.

Your fingers trail down your naked body until they latch on to his dark hair as your dripping pussy clenches around his tongue. He pulls back a bit when you don’t immediately answer him.

“I asked you a question, baby. You already too fucked out to answer me? I haven’t even started yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he dives back in to where you need him the most. Desire ignites in his veins as his cock is twitching and leaking on your silk sheets. Mingyu groans against you as you chant his name like a mantra. He thinks he’ll go crazy when you meet every swipe of his tongue with an eager grind of your hips.

Lewd squelching noises fill the room as he fucks you with the muscle, lazily blinking up at you when your hips grind against his face. “Such a sweet pussy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Desire is thick in his voice as you arch into his mouth. “Mingyu!”

You feel like your head is swimming when his tongue splits through your folds, slurping at the slick that’s gathered between them before he’s dragging it up to roll over your clit. The sight of Mingyu so fucked out on your taste, eyes rolling back like it’s his first taste of heaven only makes you feel even better.

He closes his lips around your bud, suckling languidly until more pretty moans are spilling from your mouth. Your clit starts to feel firmer when he flattens his tongue against it, messy with his spit and your arousal. Mingyu thinks heaven does exist, and it’s between your thighs. When he looks up to see your head thrown back in pleasure, moaning for him, he knows that if he’s in heaven then you’re definitely an angel.

“Mingyu!”

His cock seeps with precum at the first taste of your cream on his tongue. The entire lower half of his face glistens with your juices as he laps up everything you give to him so eagerly. Mingyu doesn’t stop his movements until the aftershocks of pleasure feel like they burn you with each kitten lick he gives your cunt.

“Gyu.” You breathe out, gently pushing his head away. “I need your cock.”

When he rises up and sits back, you salivate at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock. You think you might be in love with the sight. “Fuck.” You groan as you trail your hands up his hard body while licking your lips. “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you naked.”

Mingyu hides the smirk growing on his face with a pout. “That’s the only time?”

“No, but fuck. You’re so hot. Just wait until I finish my portrait of you, then you’ll know.”

That’s all it takes for him to smash his lips on to yours, messily running his tongue against your lower lip. You swallow each other’s moans, both needy and desperate with your movements. He slips an arm under your waist, tugging you closer to him as he slowly teasing your messy entrance with his weeping cock.

Mingyu keeps kissing you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth possessively. He’s overwhelmed with the smell and taste of you, and he just knows that after this he won’t ever be able to let you go.

“Oh fuck.”

Your moan when he slowly eases his cock inside you nearly have Mingyu coming right then and there. Your sweet pussy us sucking him in, clamping down on him and massaging his aching dick with your velvety walls. He feels like he’s drunk as he starts to roll his hips into you, giant balls gently hitting your ass.

The gentleness of his movements have your head swimming, and you can’t help it buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. Mingyu is obsessed with how well your tight cunt is taking his cock. His eyes are wide with unadulterated adoration as you moan out his name and use all your strength to pull him closer to you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re taking my cock so good.” He groans as he sets a rougher pace. “Best pussy I’ve ever had. Wanted you for so long.”

The way your cunt squeezes him only makes him fuck you harder, loving the sight of your tits bouncing with every harsh thrust he gives you. His hips are rolling into you desperately, chasing the friction the warm walls of your dripping cunt offers him, squeezing him in until it’s almost hard to move.

Mingyu angles his hips to slam his cock into the spot that has you seeing stars. You let out a loud cry as you gush around him, coating his dick and balls with your juices. It almost feels like you’re suffocating his cock, but he doesn’t slow his pace.

“Fucking love your dick, Gyu!”

Your moans soon turn into incoherent cries when he slips a hand down to rub circles on your swollen pussy. The actions push you over the edge, and Mingyu can’t contain his loud moan when your orgasm coats his cock.

“That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock.”

You don’t care that you’re starting to feel delirious from how Mingyu keeps fucking you. The feeling of his cock slamming into you feels too good. Mingyu’s loud moan when he finally releases his hot cum inside you.

Mingyu’s thrusts don’t stop. He fucks him cum back into you, aching cock still chasing another high. The sight of you gone dumb on his cock has him pushing up your legs up to your chest, both of you groaning at the new angle that allows him to fuck you deeper. The wet slapping sound from your mixed releases fills your room, and all you can focus on is how his cock is splitting you open.

“Look at how dumb you get for my cock.” Mingyu says through his groans. “I knew you wanted to fuck me this whole time.”

You manage to smirk at him. “Not as bad as you wanted to fuck me.”

His thrusts get harsher and sharper. You can only mewl at the feeling, knowing you’re on the brink of coming again. Mingyu’s throbbing cock drags against your hot cunt, twitching sporadically when you softly mewl his name. The sound shoots straight to his dick as he lets out another groan.

“That’s right, princess. And now I’m never letting you go.”

You let out a wanton moan at his words. “Gyu, I’m gonna—”

You’re cut off by your own cry of ecstasy. Just the sight of you coating his pelvic area with your orgasm is enough to trigger his own. Mingyu shoots ropes of sticky cum inside you, stuffing you full of his seed until it leaks out and drips on to your sheets. He half collapses on top of you, not putting his full wait on you.

“I’m being serious.” Mingyu says as he pulls out of you and rolls you over so you’re on top of him. “I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You smile sleepily against his broad chest. “I don’t plan to, either. You’re my only exception.”

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

#svthub #mingyu smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #svt x reader #mingyu x you #seventeen x reader #mingyu imagines #svt imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu fanfic #svt fic #svt fanfic #seventeen fic

[delcakoo]

hiii emaaaa

ok so i have a request if you can write something for riki 😋

i have this like randommmm prompt in my head “can we js forget about it?” “you mean forget about when we kisse-“”STOP”.

like an e2l 🫣 if u can write it omg its totally okay if u cant!!

mua ily 💗

part 2

SUMMARY ! how is niki supposed to focus on biology when his shy tutor is so irresistible and fun to tease?

PAIRING ! jock!niki x tutor!gn!reader

WC ! 800

WARNINGS ! smooching in the library smh

a/n: lilly baby !! this prompt is so cute omg thank u for the req <3 i hope u enjoy and ilyt :D

3:39PM — being assigned to tutor the star player on your school’s basketball team — aka the biggest slacker of them all, nishimura riki — was probably the biggest obstacle you’d face during the entirety of your high school career.

you didn’t think he was unintelligible beyond saving — no, niki was rather quick with catching onto things when he actually tried. the real problem was that he preferred to stare at your pretty face (his words, not yours) all period then listen to the mumbo jumbo of you explaining the human body’s skeletal system to him, which turned out to be a detrimental issue during your sessions.

there you both sat; legs crossed and eyes focused as you point around different parts of the skeleton in your textbook while niki rested on his elbow, staring holes into the side of your face with a tiny smirk. every once in a while you pause and look up to ensure he’s listening, which he seemed to be doing okay at to your surprise.

“and right below the patella, we have the..?” you look up at niki with a questioning gaze, waiting for him to continue your sentence and demonstrate his listening.

the boy blinks, following your finger that’s pressed on the page, tapping the answer for him blatantly. then, he smiles, biting his lip mischievously. “mm.. if you recreate what we did at our last session, i’ll say it.”

you don’t need to pause and think to remember exactly what he’s referring to. gulping slightly, you glance off to the bookshelves nearby. “look, can we just forget about that?”

“what?” his expression grows brighter, enjoying your shy reactions to the fullest, “forget about when we kissed?”

“niki, stop talking so loud-“

“why? does it make you nervous?” you don’t reply, turning away only for him to lean over the desk to see you better. “ay,” he snickers, “what’s that on your face, y/n? are you blushing for me?” he giggles proudly, reaching over to push some hair behind your ear, successfully revealing more of the apple color painting your cheeks.

the only reason you’d agreed to the whole mess that ocurred last week was because niki promised to study for his upcoming test in return, which he did. in fact — he passed with flying colors, and it only encouraged you more to help him one way or another. the potential he held was begging for assistance, and if a kiss was the cost of that, it was a price you were willing to pay.

and maybe, just maybe because deep down, you’ve been wanting to kiss him as well. niki didn’t need to know that, though.

“shut up, that was for the sake of your grades, and grades alone,” you insist sternly. “now answer my question, what’s below the catella?”

“c’mon, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it too.” annoyingly, the jock dodges your inquiry, much too intrigued with the new conversation at hand.

“yeah well i- i didn’t.” shit, did you have to stutter now of all times?

before you could process anything, niki gently grabs your jaw, angling it back towards him softly. he waits for any signs of protest while staring down at you, curly black bangs covering parts of his sharp eyes, challenge burning in them at your previous denial. when you don’t push him away, he grins cheekily before bending down to meet your lips.

the kiss was soft and quick, but the plushness and confidence in his movements still made your head dizzy even as he pulled back and surveyed your dazed features, all while licking his lips again to taste the remnants of your own.

“how about that one?” he demands.

it takes you a moment to come back to earth, shaking your head dumbly as you realize he’s asking you to rate his kissing skills. “i- it was alright..”

his tongue clicks in offense, scooting closer to you with a damaged ego and flaring determination. “never would’ve thought my little tutor would be so hard to please.” as you open your mouth to protest, niki’s lips are back on yours, and this time he’s holding the back of your neck to deepen the contact as his other hand reaches over to slam your textbook shut, making you flinch slightly in his hold. “fuck bio,” he murmurs against your lips, “i can’t let you bruise my pride like that and get away with it.”

you gulp, glancing at the library clock only to have your eyes widen in horror. shit. your session with niki ended three minutes ago, and pretty much all you’ve done is make out.

yet.. you can’t find it in you to complain when the pretty boy leans back down for more.

basketball player niki,, 😇

#delcakoo #delcakoo requests #lilly! #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fics #niki imagines #niki fluff #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki fic #nishimura riki #nishimura riki fics #nishimura riki x reader #niki drabbles #enhypen #niki fic #niki fanfic #enhypen niki #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen reactions #enhypen soft hours #enhypen timestamps #enhypen scenarios

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 3

one || two

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: various x gn!reader [ osamu, sakusa ]

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, MDI. literally can’t be bothered to think of anything else, but feel free to let me know lol

notes: sooo i lied <333 i’ve decided to give suna his own chapter later on (srry suna lovers !!!!) i just wasn’t satisfied with how his was turning out, and it was the only roadblock delaying my progress soooo figured we’d just put a pin in his for now lol especially for those who were FROTHING for these two in particular (this for y'all ✨) hope you enjoy :)))

notes ii: nobody LOOK AT ME, this took me an embarrassingly long time lol. i’m not familiar with them, personality-wise, but i tried ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes iii: this one’s got atsumu written all over it LMAOOO

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy

“Aht-CHOO!”

The bowl of popcorn nearly flew out your lap when you shrieked bloody-murder, body in fight or flight from the abrupt sound happening moments before a jumpscare in the movie you were watching. Head on a swivel, you soon realized the culprit wasn’t a psycho-killer in a ghost mask, but your darling OSAMU with his lawnmower of a sneeze coming through your front door.

You exhaled, relieved, but scared shitless. After pausing the movie, you glared down the hall leading to the door. “Seriously? You had to do that with your entire chest?”

Osamu sniffled, then muttered. “…Y’supposed to say bless ya before scoldin’ at your sweet and thoughtful boyfriend, y’know…”

“Aw, bless you, my love. And, fuck you.”

The brunette snorted, no doubt rolling his eyes as he toed off his shoes. Coming down the hall to soon reveal his handsome face, illuminated only by the bright tv screen, Osamu held up a large plastic bag filled with something greasy and delicious as the smell traveled up your nose. He grinned smugly at you intently eyeing the bag. “Fuck me, huh?”

You immediately doubled down, waving your hands. “Waitwaitwait I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it as in…fuck you’RE so sweet and thoughtful, and I love you so much..?”

Osamu hummed, taking off his ball cap to place it on your head. Shaking it a little by the brim, he winked. “Nice save, darlin’.”

He made way for your inspace kitchen to get dinner assorted with you trailing not too far behind. Your eyes eagerly ate up the widespread of all your favorites displayed on the countertop, practically hanging off his back since there was barely any room for the both of you in the tiny space. Popcorn long forgotten, your stomach sang a symphony for some real food, Osamu saving you the trouble of eating instant noodles for dinner yet again.

And without you even having to ask him for any of it, too.

Your gaze eventually locked onto the former volleyball player, eyeing him up with a newfound hunger that he was quick to pick up on while he popped a piece of fried chicken in his mouth. Looking down at you with a raised brow he patiently waited for you to voice your thoughts, a boyish grin growing on his face as he chewed.

You blinked. He blinked back, then chuckled lightly. “We communicatin’ telepathically, or somethin’?”

“If we were, you’d know I wanna suck you dry right now.”

Osamu.exe—E R R O R.

Man straight up inhaled the little that was still in his mouth, hurling him into a fit of hacks as he turned away from the food to fight for his life at your sink. Coughing up what he could into the drain with you behind him hitting his back for support, you couldn’t stop the evil, little laugh from slipping out seeing this as a form of karma for the scare earlier. Osamu fixed you with a weak glare once he calmed down, reaching over to pinch your cheek. “A warnin’ next time, would’ya?…”

You winced, but mirth still swam in your eyes. “Your only warning would’ve been your pants around your ankles-”

“Oi, quit that.” He gently grabbed your jaw to squish up your mouth, though it didn’t repress the cheeky grin you wore. The brunette did his best to remain unfazed, but the flush across his face was evident, your words clearly effecting him. “…Jeez, at least ask me how m’day was before ya slut me out. Soundin’ like all them thirsty-ass comments floodin’ my socials all damn day.”

Osamu let go of your face to grab plates from your cabinet, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded. Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms with a raised brow. “‘m sorry…the what flooding your socials?”

He busied himself with fixing your plate, nonchalantly recalling the very incident that occurred the other day, “That dumb fuck-list or whatever, mixed up me ‘nd ‘tsumu in their little post. Had his ugly mug front ‘nd center, but had my name attached to this long-winded thread ‘bout me basically being better in the sack than him. Shit’s wild.”

“The fuck-what now?” Osamu handed over a healthy plate full of food, you absentmindedly took it but made no move to eat. He started fixing his own, acting as if he didn’t just delay your appetite with this information. “Y—…you’re joking right? There’s no way something like that exists.”

“Oh, t’s very much real. Read it with my own eyes,” he licked the spoon he used to spread sauce across his chicken. “What, ya sayin’ ya haven’t heard of it? Seriously?”

“You know I don’t care enough to keep up with the trends that go on around here. And with good reason, clearly. What’s even the purpose?”

He shrugged. “Beats me. But it’s got ‘tsumu givin’ me the silent treatment, so maybe it’s not that bad after all.”

“Pfft. He’s pissy because some random on the internet said you’re the better lay? How would they know?? You’re both happily taken, and I wish a bitch would.” You smugly declared, bringing your food to the living room.

Osamu grinned at your possessive tone, trailing behind you holding plate and soda cans in either hand. “Damn straight. But, wasn’t just some random, babe. We’re talkin’ millions.”

Had you not already gotten situated on the couch, you would’ve surely spilled food all over yourself. Jaw nearly to the floor, you blinked up at him, bewildered. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.”

“Holy shit.”

Osamu took his usual spot next to you, large frame nearly taking up most of the couch. With bellies empty, knee knocking against knee, and elbow nudging elbow, the brunette hummed contently as he soaked in his favorite atmosphere—Your voice, your warmth, you. Though too busy monologuing about the absurdity of such a thing going viral to notice his fond gaze, Osamu silently listened to every word as he began eating from his plate. Although, all that mushiness is soon pushed to the back of his mind when the next sentence fell from your lips. After you eventually found said post to see it for yourself, needless to say you had some…hot takes.

“How could someone write this and not cringe? I mean, I love you ‘samu, but a Dom? If only they knew how nervous you were our first time, it was so adorable.” You giggled, tossing some chicken into your mouth. “You are not that guy.”

Osamu’s chewing paused. Your laughter eventually died down.

You didn’t feel his stare earlier…but you were definitely feeling it now, Mr. Krabs. Suddenly, the same dread you got when anticipating a jumpscare resurfaced. A sinking pit in your stomach like a rabbit stumbling upon a fox—Cliché aside, you fucked up. And you knew it in your bones the second your eyes locked with his, void of fondness and full of hunger despite his plate being half-eaten.

He swallowed the bit in his mouth, then spoke. “Sure ‘bout that?”

You mouth moved, floundered even, but nothing would come out. And Osamu didn’t rush you either, if anything he gladly watched you struggle while he continued munching away. “I—..I-I mean..I was just saying. Because…y’know, you never…we never really-”

“Mm. Jus’ cause we usually take things slow doesn’t mean you can’t get a hole fucked into your mattress, sweetheart. Keep tryin’ ya luck, ‘nd ya just might. Finish eatin’ first, though. Ya gonna need your energy.”

SAKUSA couldn’t give a flying fuck about the list. He would literally walk away from someone mid-conversation if said topic got brought up. And don’t think that you’re the exception, either—Man parked and got out of his OWN CAR during the drive back to his place, refusing to get back in until you dropped the subject entirely.

“Omi-”

“No.”

“C’monnnn.”

“No.”

You giggled, “I won’t talk about it anymore, I promise.”

He had his back to you as you spoke through the rolled down, driver’s side window, trying to ‘pspspsps’ him back into the car like a stubborn cat. Sakusa knew he was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t stomach anymore nonsense. Plus, there’s a bit of suspicion on his end whenever it came to talking about the accursed list—Sakusa saw it as a bad omen.

Anyone who talked about it within his circle, be it teammates or personal friends, miraculously found themselves posted up the following day like fresh meat on the market. Once he caught wind that not even taken people were spared from being thirsted over, his disdain merely amplified, as did his precaution.

“Baby, I’ll burn some sage back at your apartment to scare away the bad energy from my filthy words. Would that make you feel better?”

Sakusa huffed, looking over his shoulder to give you a good ole stank face—One you barely paid any mind to as you batted your lashes at him. He glitched. Had it not been for the mask he was wearing, you’d see the harsh flush that spread across his face. Too bad his neck was exposed, giving him away as you grinned knowingly. But, you weren’t about to distract him from the issue at hand, you temptress.

“Don’t patronize me. Besides, you didn’t say it at my apartment, you said it in the car. Would completely defeat the purpose.”

You blinked.

There was no stopping the laughing fit you fell into when his words eventually processed, borderline cackling. “I-I’ll sage the car then, how ‘bout that?”

The ravenette squinted, marching up to the car to stick his head in before pulling his mask down so you could see his heavy frown through your tearful hysterics.

“You’re laughing. You’ve doomed me to becoming targeted by perverts, and you’re laughing.”

“‘yoomi, PLEASE.” You wheezed, waving a hand at him for mercy. With a couple stuttered intakes of air, you did your best to pull it together. “Don’t you think…you’re being a little paranoid?”

Amusement colored your features when you made eye contact with the outside hitter. Sakusa rolled his, tugging his mask back on before re-entering the car. “We’ll see how funny you find it when we can’t be seen together in public anymore.”

“And why not?” You raised a brow, still giggly.

Sakusa buckled in, taking the car out of park. “Because. When I do get posted, I won’t be leaving the safety of my room until that shit gets banned.”

“Oh my god, honey, I promise. You’re worrying over nothing. If you were gonna be on the list, don’t you think you would’ve by now? I mean, c’mon, even Hinata got on it before you. Majority of your teammates did!”

“That’s exactly my point. I’m the only one left.”

The two of you continued a playful back and forth pretty much the whole drive, more so you teasing him than anything else. After a while, having had your fun, you gave it a rest much to Sakusa’s relief. “Can still burn some sage, if you want-” “You’re not funny.”

Your evening continued on as normal, him taking a shower while you busied yourself by looking for a show the two of you could binge. Although, even after the discussion from earlier had been dropped, your boyfriend’s words still echoed in the back of your mind like a mantra. ‘I’m the only one left.’

As much as you’d hate to admit, though never to his face, your over-suspicious companion had a point. Without the safety net of his more extroverted teammates being in the spotlight of rabid fans, what’s delaying the swarm of unsolicited desires now? Even with his sourtude, Sakusa was an attractive individual—The dark curls that frame his face perfectly, his piercing pools of obsidian that shred through you like paper, the beauty marks above his brow, his THIGHS. And those were just surface-level things.

Being one of the privileged few who’ve seen all layers of Sakusa, you couldn’t blame them for wanting to explore deeper into who he was beyond that cold exterior…in more ways than one. Who better to fill those burning questions than some horny randos with too much time on their hands?

But, he’s made it this far without issue, what’s there to worry about now?—*Bzzzzt*

You jolt slightly, the harsh vibration coming from the sofa table breaking you out of your thoughts. With a short glance at your phone, the lit screen revealed an incoming call from Sakusa’s cousin, Komori. You exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, reaching over to grab the device and answer it. However, as your thumb hovered over the green button, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder…why would he be calling you?

You shook your head, answering the call before your mind could wander. He probably just wanted to catch up, make small talk. A smile graced your face as you happily greeted him, “Mori! Hi, what can I do ya for-?”

“Has he seen it?? Am I too late??”

You froze, blinking widely in stunned confusion. Your silence must have been loud enough for the man to grow more anxious, calling out your name to regain your attention. “Uh…has who seen what?”

Komori exhaled, in what you could only assume was relief. “Thank God…you sound blissfully unaware. That means there’s still time. You’re at his place, right?”

You blinked, eyes looking around as if he could see you.

“Kiyoomi’s? Yeah, I am. He’s in the shower at the moment if you were trying to reach him. Is everything okay?”

Now it was him who turned silent. You waited with bated breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wracked your brain for every worst case scenario…but a small part of you already had an idea.

“It’s the complete opposite, I’m afraid.”

‘Kiyoomi Sakusa. 6’2ft of ?????. An enigma. We had to take our time this one. This tall, personification of a hand sanitizer bottle may appear to be disgusted and disinterested, but once you get past those disinfectant defenses of his…Lady in the streets, but a freak in the bed. Why else would he keep so clean all the time? It’s ‘cause he’s hiding an absolute FILTHY ANIMAL behind his mask (literally and figuratively) you cannot convince me otherwise. Definitely a Hard Dom, would degrade you for making a mess all over him even though he’s the one to blame; THRIVES when you get messy for him tho. Firm believer that he’d spit in your mouth, both as punishment and a reward. He won’t make much noise, you’ll think he’s doing taxes while deep in your guts, but just watch his face; homie is EXPRESSIVE. Aftercare could go either way, but he’d probably focus more on getting the sheets changed than cleaning you up. 7/10.’

You clenched the phone in disbelief, eyes watering due to the sexual word-vomit burning them the more you read on. It didn’t even take you long to find the dreaded post you were convinced would never manifest, refreshing the page multiple times just to confirm its existence. “Shit. I really did doom him to being targeted by perverts…”

“Huh??” Komori voiced. You merely brushed it off.

“Nothing,” you sighed. Taking the conversation out on the balcony in case Sakusa overheard, you had Komori on speaker as you attempted to do damage control. “Do the others know about this? Oh God, does Atsumu?? Knowing him, he’d surely jump at the chance to tease Omi with something like this.”

“Dunno. Just found out myself, and you were the first person I thought to call.”

You looked over your shoulder, peeking inside to see if the outside hitter was roaming around. There didn’t appear to be any movement, but there’s no doubt he finished showering by now.

Exhaling, you began sifting through your contacts. “We need to do whatever it takes to make sure he never finds out about the post. I’ll text everyone I know to help flag it down, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take before-”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Startled, phone nearly tossed off the balcony, you turned toward the sudden appearance of your freshly washed boyfriend, towel around his neck and adorned in lounge wear. Komori held his breath, as if he also were caught in the act even though he could easily escape with a mere press of a button. “Um…your cousin.”

“Okay, but…why’d you come out here? You wouldn’t have disturbed me if you took the call inside.” Sakusa raised a brow at your stiff posture, perplexed but concerned. “Something the matter?”

“No!” You winced at your own volume. His eyes widened slightly, making you nervously chuckle. Clearing your throat, you attempted to play it cool. “No, uh…just wanted to get some air while catching up with Komori, that’s all. W-why d’you ask?”

Sakusa squinted at you. “You’re jumpy.”

“J-Jumpy? Me? Uh.. that’s because…” Searching your brain for an excuse, luckily Komori had your back with his quick thinking.

“B-Because! We’re talking about the list! And t-they figured you wouldn’t wanna hear us, so-” SLAM!

Before he could even get the rest of the explanation out, Sakusa had already closed the sliding door. You and Komori shared a sigh of relief. You watched Sakusa’s back retreat into the living room as he sat on the couch, flickering around for something to put on to pass the time.

Just as suspected…still paranoid.

“That was close…”

“Super close. Think he bought it?”

You groaned, hesitant to take your eyes off him. “Won’t matter if he decides to check his phone at some point…”

It didn’t appear to be anywhere in sight, hopefully charging in another room. But, there was no point in wasting time worrying about that. You had some flagging to do. And as long as he had no reason to look at it, you’d be fine.

Sakusa, now bored with you occupied by something else, couldn’t help but to watch you longingly from the couch. You were speaking so animatedly, using your free hand to gesture, pacing back and forth. He frowned—How can that stupid list be more important than snuggling up with him? Yet another reason to hate it.

Exhaling through his nose he leaned back on the sofa, remote in hand as he looked for something to help pass the time. However, before he could get very far in his search, his phone rings.

Confused, he reached into his pocket. Instantly, his mood went from neutral to shriveled when he read the caller ID—Miya.

He had half a mind to ignore it, but knowing Atsumu he’d probably just keep calling until the inevitable happened with him turning up on his doorstep. Sakusa gave an annoyed huff, reluctantly answering the phone.

“Better have a good reason to be calling me this late, idiot.”

“Oh ho ho. Believe me, Omi-Omi. You’ll wanna see this.”

Back on the balcony, after the sixth time flagging the post for misinformation and harassment, you suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere that wasn’t there moments before. Halting your frantic thumbs, you slowly looked up from the screen as a cold chill ran up your spine; something didn’t feel right in the force.

You weren’t sure what made you turn back to look inside the room, but the moment you did…it was like the world had gone into slow motion—Komori’s voice faded into the background as he called out your name, drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding through your ribs at the sight of Sakusa on his phone, face contorted into what could only be described as pure humiliation as he stared into the endless abyss while on his knees.

Probably should’ve burned that sage when you had the chance.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

#🍁wasabi #‼️PT. 3‼️ #*posts it and runs* #hq #hq scenarios #hq smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #hq osamu #hq sakusa #the fuck-it list

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

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

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

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

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gavi!"

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

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

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

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

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

"Good. What is your name?"

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

"Good. And who am I?"

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

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

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

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

You had nothing left to lose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

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

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

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

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

~

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

~

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

~

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

~

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

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#pablo gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #gavisuntiedboot #gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi fluff #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo gavi x reader fluff #fc barcelona #pablo gavi angst #gavi angst

[wlntrsldler]

thinking non-canon luke thoughts because i just remembered the story of orpheus and eurydice and i had to take a breather

im thinking about how when luke was starting to have doubts about kronos’ plan; when he was slowly realizing that what the titan was planning was not going to fix everything the way he thought it would, kronos could feel luke slipping away.

im thinking about how it probably wouldn’t have been too late for luke to turn back and return to his friends, his family, and beg for their forgiveness, had he just not shown kronos his weakness, his achilles heel; but he did.

it was in a dream, it started out comforting, like it always did. luke was cleaning up after some of the younger campers in the hermes cabin. no matter how many times he told them to not leave their things on the floor and to throw away their snack wrappers, they wouldn’t listen. luke didn’t know why he wasted his breath reminding his siblings.

you were leaning against the door frame, a mischievous smile on your lips. “what’s up, cinderella?”

luke, startled, dropped the pile of dirty laundry he was holding. when he realized it was you, he rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head, “i told you to stop calling me that.”

when you first called him cinderella, he was a little confused. the disney princesses all blurred into one entity in his mind. was she the one who ate the poisoned apple? the one who pricked her finger on the needle? there’s no way she was the mermaid, right?

when you returned the following summer, you managed to smuggle in a dvd of cinderella and one of those portable dvd players. the two of you watched it in secret while the rest of the campers were away at the bonfire.

at first, luke scoffed at the comparison, “how am i cinderella?”

“you always clean up after your siblings, silly,” you laughed.

he was still a little hurt by it, especially since he harbored a massive crush on you. why couldn’t you see him as a rugged prince or something? he thought maybe wishing that you saw him as a knight would be too cliche; but he accepted the kind-hearted pet name because it made you laugh. it was luke’s favorite sound.

the scene in his dream changed quickly after that. your mischievous smile turned into something more sinister as the darkness from outside trickled into the cabin. the pile of clothes he dropped on the floor disappeared and the floor began to crack, as if trying to swallow him whole. then the voice came.

luke knew that kronos knew about you then; how luke felt about you, how if there was anything that could stop him from joining, it would be you.

as the days went on, the pull to return back to camp was getting stronger. luke wanted to see you. he needed to see you. so he did.

behind the trees of your cabin, he stood there, watching you talk to your siblings. if he concentrated hard enough, his mind could replay the sound of your laughter. he was too far to actually hear it then, but he thought of it. he imagined it.

he even let out a silent chuckle when he thought about how badly you would tease him for spying on you like this; in another life, you’d catch him and joke about how he couldn’t get enough of you. in another life, maybe, he’d hear your laugh again. maybe he’d be the reason for it.

when kronos learned of luke’s escapade, the titan grew angry. the nightmares felt more personal after that. kronos seemed to know all of luke’s weak spots and threatened to act on them if luke disobeyed again.

there was one night that was particularly difficult. the titan was growing stronger and it was the first time luke couldn’t fight him off, the first time he felt himself losing control over his own body, his own mind. luke tried to wake up from his slumber, but it was no use.

kronos dangled a promise in front of him; a promise that if luke continued with the plan, a promise that if luke didn’t look back, kronos would leave you alone, that you’d survive. luke agreed to it. luke would do anything to save you.

but the pull was still there. kronos was right. luke wanted to leave, this he was sure of now, and the night he saw you just made it more difficult to follow through with the plan. he missed you.

in the final battle, luke was too weak to continue fighting. there was so much blood on his hands that he lost track of who he had hurt. he was tired. as he was about to succumb to his fate, he heard it.

“cinderella,” you called out. “hermes cabin is a mess. they need you back.”

luke was distracted by you. only you would be making jokes at a time like this. luke sent you a crooked smile and he received that mischievous smile of yours right back. he thought that it might morph into something evil, like it was one of his dreams, but it didn’t; it turned into something worse.

there was blood spilling out of your mouth. you froze in your spot before falling to your death.

“you looked back.” that voice.

he found enough strength then to do one last thing; with a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, luke stabbed himself in his mortal spot.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #luke castellan fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #not canon #not cannon compliant #frances writes #late night rambles