#beau calm down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notmyneighbor · 20 days

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 8

Word Count ~ 4.6k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, slight breeding kink, body horror, minor violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You always have to be extra careful when one of the Sverchzt sisters is asking to enter the building.

Twins, and both of them nearly identical, save for the location of the mole on the cheek: on the right for Selenne, the left for Elenois. Both employed as models, with the same hourglass figures, full, painted lips, long lashes, and breathy voices accented with something exotically European sounding. You always feel very plain and lacking around them; it was like being back in school again as the shy, unpopular girl, envying the pretty cheerleaders that seemed to have it all.

But you don’t feel inadequate today, still buoyed up from your feelings of being with Francis’ doppelgänger all weekend. You look over the identification card and entry request, finding everything in order. The elegant woman is on the day’s list of expected entrants, too. You’re nearly ready to hit the switch to grant her access into the apartments, still reminiscing about your fiancé, when something in you, some sixth sense kicking in, cautions you that you should probably call the apartment, just to be certain. There is nothing visually you can identify that is incorrect about the haughty woman on the opposite side of the glass, who is now folding her arms across her ample chest, the polished nail of an index finger tapping against the porcelain skin of one slender forearm. An impatient gesture you’ve seen Selenne make before, dozens of times. Nothing suspicious about the documents, either. But still, you feel it is better to be safe than sorry.

You already know all the residents’ phone numbers by heart now, the quick four digit extensions granting you rapid access.

“Hello. Elenois speaking. My sister and I are both at home today. We are not expecting any visitors.”

“Thank you.” You keep your expression calm, hurriedly flipping the plastic shield down and depressing the button to sound the alarm, catching one last glimpse of the doppelgänger, the crimson polished nails now scratching at the glass pane, the eyes with the lids shadowed in lavender streaked and bloodshot, the plush lips parting to expose yellow fangs dripping spittle before the shutters finish descending. You phone the disposal team, still maintaining your composure.

Close. That had been too close. You had to concentrate. Focus.

The day progresses and you find yourself getting back into the rhythm of things. Wondering how your pretender beau had decided which members of his squadron to sacrifice, sending them to the building to meet their doom to throw the DDD off the trail. What would happen when the numbers dwindled, when there were none left to send? Did the faded mark he’d left behind still shield you? Or did it only make you more desireable, like what had happened with the replicant who looked like Izaack Gauss?

You’re picking at the peeling varnish of the battered desk during the afternoon lull when someone walks into the building and your heart stops.

Francis.

Not the original, and not your doppel, either. This one is nearly a dead ringer, except for the nose that’s not quite right, the tip slightly larger, the nostrils a little more flared.

It had never occurred to you that there would still be other versions of the milkman walking around. Where has he been all this time?

“Mmm…hello.” The customary greeting the genuine version had always adopted. He slides an ID card through the slot.

“Entry request?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Here it is.” The smile breaks your heart. His smile. Only not.

You stare at the document for long moments. Everything looks correct: the document expiration date present and set for the future; the serial number identical to what you have on file; the logo of your organization in plain sight; the stated reason for the alleged milkman’s absence logical. All of the elements appear as they should, save for that slightly mismatched nose in the photograph and entry request.

“Is there a problem?”

Your eyes lift to meet his. Why are you drawing this out?

“Your appearance,” you answer distractedly.

“Yes? What about it? Doesn’t it match the picture?”

You shake your head, reaching for the alarm button. “I’m sorry.” It’s foolish, being this sentimental. No reason for it. You know the real Francis is gone. You know it’s not the invader you’ve fallen for.

Alarm blossoms on the fake milkman’s features. His hands clasp together. “Wait, please…I’ll leave. Just…I don’t want to die.”

You freeze. This was new. The doppels always reacted with anger when their cover was blown. You’ve never had one beg for their life before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Was it true? Were there others that were willing to coexist peacefully? Had you incorrectly assumed they all sought the same goal, replacing humans and ruling over the planet, the one remarkable exception being your lover?

Or was this just a new tactic that they’d adopted, evolving, learning, adapting better to human weaknesses?

You had no way of knowing which it was.

“I can’t,” you say. “I’m sorry.” You slam your fist against the alarm switch before the replicant tries to escape, that same soft, pleading look haunting you as the shutter descends. The cleaners arrive and you cover your ears with your hands. You don’t want to listen to it. You can’t.

There are tears in your eyes when the figure in the yellow hazmat suit declares you are now able to return to your job.

***

The replicant milkman—yours, you note with relief—arrives later that afternoon, hastily adjusting the cap on his head, offering a brief glimpse of the perspiration from the heat outdoors lining his brow, his tousled brown locks damp, plastered against his forehead. He’s already smiling before he’s even reached the window, hurriedly thrusting his document and ID card through the slot, and something else, something that sounds metallic against the shallow stainless opening at the bottom of the window.

You reach for it, realizing what it is the second your fingers close over the object: your engagement ring.

The DDD had ceased its surveillance of the security booth, the resources and manpower needed elsewhere, apparently, so their is no longer the camera or the person watching it to worry about. You stare at the solitaire diamond, at the pretty filigree decorating the band on either side of it, and the tears that had been threatening to spill earlier come pouring out of you, a messy amalgamation of guilt and fear and relief releasing in that sudden cascade.

“Sweetheart, you like it that much? I’m so glad, I wasn’t sure…” His voice trails off. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head, absently hitting the buzzer to let him in, then hitting its partner to shut the door behind him.

The door to the security booth opens. “Oh, Francis.” You throw your arms around his neck, burrowing along his shirt collar while he rubs soothing circles on your back.

“What is it, love?”

“I’ve had such a terrible day. I almost let in a doppel by mistake this morning, and just a little while ago there was a doppel that looked like Francis.”

“Sweet girl.” His arms tighten around you.

“He begged for his life, Francis. I’ve never seen that before. It was so difficult to call the team. But I had to. I had to do it. I didn’t know if he really meant he wouldn’t harm anyone, or if he was lying. I couldn’t risk him hurting the residents inside.”

“Of course you did, love.”

“How many copies of him are there? Just roaming around the city?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Francis and it wasn’t me. They were just trying to trick you, and you didn’t fall for it. You did the right thing. I know it was difficult for you. I know why, love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You remain in his arms, letting the comfort he’s offering seep into you. He does understand, better than anyone else ever could. After a time you draw back, sniffling. The ring is still clutched tightly in your fist. You relax your palm, spreading your fingers so you can admire the piece of jewelry again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. It’s lovely, Francis. Perfect.”

The imposter smoothes the last of the tears away and kneels down, gently plucking the ring from your right hand, then reaches for your left one, sliding the diamond band onto your ring finger and kissing the back of your hand.

The sound of a throat being cleared at the window interrupts the moment. You jump, startled. It’s the pilot.

“Dropping off more paperwork, doll?” Steven Rudboys grins, sliding his card and request form towards you.

You blush, aware of your fiancé rising to his feet beside you, frowning. Of course he doesn’t understand the reference, from that day when you’d visited the doppel so early on, when he’d slipped you the invitation to come to the apartment.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” the man with the Mohawk says, his eyes lingering on the ring. “I always knew you two would end up together. Took you long enough, Mosses,” he adds, shooting the imposter milkman a sharp glance. “Don’t know what Afton and Stone are waiting for. I thought for sure they would’ve set a date by now. Bet you two don’t wait that long to tie the knot.”

Your cheeks are scarlet, your eyes focused on the documents, checking the day’s schedule. On the day’s list. A quick phone call just to confirm what you already know, allowing the man to enter the apartments once you’ve spoken to his father, heaving a sigh of relief when he’s finally gone from sight.

“I don’t like him,” the pretender says, his voice nearly a growl. “I don’t think Francis ever did, either. Too intrusive.” He turns his attention back to you. “Maybe not the best timing for the ring,” he observes ruefully.

“I’m sorry. I love it. Truly. It’s just been a very hectic, stressful day.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be feeling that way. I think…I hope…I can help with that. Come see me as soon as you get off shift, okay? And be careful. If you need me, call.”

You nod, kissing him before he exits the booth and heads towards the elevator. You stretch your hand out, turning it slightly, watching how the light plays over the facets. It was official. You were engaged. You doubted it would take long for the rumor mill of the apartment building to circulate the news. Poor Francis. He’d be bombarded with well wishers and busybodies. Rudboys was probably going to keep at him mercilessly.

The rest of your shift passes by blessedly uneventfully. It is nearly time for your workday to end. Time to return to your lover waiting for you upstairs, the doppel you’re betrothed to.

***

You tap your knuckles on the door of apartment 3-02, greeted by the copy of the living space’s former owner.

He’s shed the troublesome cap, the ebony bow unknotted and draped around his neck, the first pair of buttons on his shirt undone. He smiles at you. “Hello, future Mrs. Mosses.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Do you have proper identification?”

“I seem to have forgotten it.”

He clucks his tongue. “Then I can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”

“Do you accept bribes?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.” The opening widens. “Come in here.”

You enter and the door closes behind you. “That was easy. I don’t think you’d make a good doorman,” you tease.

“No, but I make up for it elsewhere, don’t I?” He murmurs and you hum in agreement as he slides a hand around your waist, dragging you against him. “It’s torture being away from you. To go from having the weekend together to this long absence all day…” His lips touch yours, traveling to your neck.

“I know. I thought about you all day long.” Your hand rests on his chest. He covers it with his own, toying with the ring on your finger. A little room to move the band, but still secure around the digit. You didn’t wear jewelry often, but the size you’d told him had been the correct one. “I love it, Francis.”

“I’m glad.” Another kiss on your mouth. “I’m hungry for you, love.”

You feel it in his kisses. No longer gentle. Tongue stroking yours roughly. Teeth nipping. You cross the hallway to the bedroom with your fiancé. Unfastening clothing. Yours. His. Impatient to be naked. A button tears from your blouse. “I’ll mend it later,” you say distractedly.

Your back is tucked against his chest, the pair of you standing before the dresser mirror. Your breathing is loud, nearly as loud as his. You would have been mortified to be making so much noise even a month ago. But you have no reason to hide it now. You’re engaged. No one on this floor was going to pretend they didn’t know what goes on with young couples behind closed doors. You’ve heard Afton and Stone going at it before. Not nearly as often or as loud as you and your doppel, though.

You’re about to bend to slide your thigh high nylons off but the copycat halts you, his hand clasping yours above the scalloped lace edge that clings to your leg.

“Leave them on for me? I like them.” He snaps a garter belt playfully, dragging a hand over your lace panties. Something else that was new. You normally wore sensible undergarments beneath your work clothes. But now you had someone to admire what clung to your intimate places. He caresses the space between your legs through the delicate fabric, dragging his hand up to begin massaging your breasts encased in a matching brassiere. “Gorgeous. So beautiful, love.” His mouth worries along your shoulder.

“Are you going to mark me again?”

A pause, his hands and lips freezing. “Do you want me to?”

The low pitch of his voice drags across your core. You’re still frightened of it. But you want it, all the same. You want this creature to claim you. “Yes. Do you?”

The doppelgänger’s lips are by your ear. “Yes, love. But you shouldn’t watch…”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “I want to. I want to see you…”

“Sweetheart…” Hesitant. Perhaps more afraid than you are. To be seen. Exposed. To let the monster off the leash, as it were. Allowing the demon within out to play.

“I trust you.”

He moans softly against your hair. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?”

“I love you.”

A whimper. The thing inside anxious to be let out, scratching and gnawing at the bars of its enclosure, that barrier of human flesh that had once belonged to Francis Mosses. Nails raking across your abdomen. Not enough to puncture the skin, still careful, the barest scrape of the unsheathed claws you can just see emerging now. Tearing at the fabric covering your sex, the material fraying, the embroidered threads coming loose. The crown of chocolate hair lifts and you see his eyes: the doppel’s eyes, peering at your from behind Francis’ sleepy dark ones. Red like blood, like the vessels that burst in surrender, like the lining of those shadowed lower lids. The white sclera of the orbs iridescent, shimmery, identical to the outline of the alien creature clutching you, an unsteady shift in the very particles and atoms that comprise him, things unseen, things not meant to be viewed by a mortal eye. The neat ivory teeth no longer tame incisors and molars, but transformed, sharp like the cuspids of a vampire, ravenous, the drool dripping from them onto your skin.

It is still not what he truly is; that monster well concealed, struggling to maintain control in this tenuous bridged state, not quite one or the other, partly human, partly doppel. What remains of your panties are shoved down, his leaking cock pressing against the curve of one cheek of your buttocks. He pushes against you and you grasp the edge of the dresser, the stained and varnished wood supporting you at a slight angle as he guides his erection inside of you.

Your body is already gushing arousal, welcoming him in. You catch sight of your heaving chest in the mirror, your lingerie encased breasts lifting and straining to burst free, much like the replicant thrusting into you.

He says your name, and it is not Francis’ voice at all. This a summons from deep within, heavy, full of gravel, dragging across your flesh like sandpaper. The wavering, mirage-like border of his pulsing frame feels hot, sticky. Your lashes flutter. The bottles of cologne lining the dresser’s surface tumble down. So deep. He’s so deep inside of you. Shoved in to the hilt each time. And still you want him even further. Impossible. But you crave it. That complete violation. Was this what it felt like to be taken over? You’d imagined it to be painful, terrifying. Instead it was sheer bliss. Your eyes link with his through the oval shaped looking glass once more.

“More, please, Francis…”

He jerks you away from the dresser, still impaled on his cock. Here is the pain you’d anticipated, that searing kiss of teeth piercing your shoulder, sucking the skin over the bone, a burst of stars in front of your eyes, fireworks ricocheting within you as you come undone, your insides splashed with something molten, soaked with your lover’s release. Wet skin, wet pussy, drenched prick, sweat and cum and that thin trail of blood seeping from the wound he’s created, laving rapturously at the taste of you, that very human taste in his very inhuman mouth.

His body shudders against yours. Aftershocks, not from orgasm but the shift back to how he appeared before, the glow dissipating, eyes cleared and gentling, the sharp hooks tipping each finger a replica of Francis’ blunt edged nails once more. Only a few red welts betray those nightmare claws’ existence, where he had become a little too lost in the passion, tattooing the soft flesh of your abdomen. The door to the invader’s cage is sealed shut once again. You hold him upright as much as he holds you steady, slipping free from your entrance, the hot spill of seed leaking down your thighs, seeping into the stockings. You can feel the tremors still spasming, your own nerves quivering with the remnants of pleasure, echoing against you as your lover’s body shares the same sensation. The panting breaths grow quieter. The sound of the Rudboys’ television next door disturbs the stillness. You’d completely missed the audio cue of the curfew horn.

“Sweet girl.” It’s all he can seem to manage, this whispered into your hair. It’s the milkman’s voice again, but it sounds raw, raspy. The vocal chords had been strained, never meant to produce the sounds they had earlier.

You rest your hand on the one clutching your abdomen, the glint of your engagement ring winking, a stubborn sparkle in the glow of the lamp, struggling against the growing darkness in the room as the day’s natural light fails beyond the curtained window.

***

The blackberry jam, pulled from the refrigerator several hours later, is perfect.

Perhaps one of the best batches you’ve ever tasted. You’ve snuck a sample from the unsealed mason jar, unable to wait. You’re already imagining how good that flavor will be when it’s smoothed over the biscuits you’re making with your doppelgänger, his fingers kneading the dough mixture you’ve just created. There is a stray bit of flour dusting his nose where he’d absently stroked an itch along the bridge and you wipe it clear, the touch becoming a lingering caress. He pauses, fingers still dug into the dough, looking at you with that same kind of wonder as he had earlier, after the incident in the bedroom.

As if he cannot believe what you’d asked for, accepted so willingly, eagerly; of the control over his true form he’d been able to maintain, keeping you safe.

Pats of butter melt quickly on the sliced biscuits pulled from the oven. You’re sweating. You need a shower after this for certain. You slather on a generous layer of the sweet fruit spread, offering a bite to your fiancé. He chews, nodding approvingly. There is a stray bit of jam on the corner of his mouth. You cannot resist lapping at it. Licking his mouth open. Tasting the sweetness there. Marveling at how quickly the desire is rekindled. Perhaps you would never be sated. Always this ache, this gnawing want in your center.

Drenched in the shower together. Back out again. Night sounds through the open window. The measured footsteps of a patrol. Soft chatter. A dog barking. You miss your farmhouse. The crickets and the scent of lilac blossoms and your lover in your bed, on cotton sheets that smell like the outdoors, hung on the line to dry in the clear air.

“Francis,” you murmur, your mouth tracing the outline of the crest of one hip, you hand curled around the other. Tasting the soap on his skin, the slight masculine musk as you wander along his groin, swiping your tongue across his cock.

Your shoulder throbs, pulsing in time with the neediness within. You want it again already. Not just the sex, but the other. A strange kind of addiction developing.

Your pussy aches to be filled again. You suck his erection and moan, hastily tucking your hair out of the way. Ravenous. An animalistic slobber. Lips loose. Shoving down as far as you can tolerate. Past it. Insistent, fucking your throat with his dick.

A little gasp of surprise from the doppel. “Easy, love. Don’t waste it. Want to…”

You release his spit soaked member, planting wet kisses back up his stomach, his chest. Crawling over his body until you reach his mouth. “What do you want, Francis?” Your voice a whisper, matching his.

“Oh love, you know what I want.” This huffed beside your cheek. You’re teasing kisses along his jaw, nipping at an ear lobe.

“Tell me. Tell me how you want to fill me up. With your cock. With your cum. Breed me, make a baby…”

You don’t know where the words come from. Another gasp. A growl. You want to impale yourself on him but it’s not the ideal position for getting pregnant. You allow him to shift, moving your body with his, pinning you beneath him.

“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” His hands press into the pillow beneath your head. There are a proper quartet of them now, piled plush cushions for you and your alien lover.

“Yes. Please, Francis…”

His knee parts your legs. Pressure. He’s inside you.

Your head lifts off the pillow and he captures your lips, pressing you back down. Working inside of you slow and steady, fucking you back open.

“There you go, love.” His mouth gentle on yours.

“I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

Your shoulder is on fire. “I want you to mark me again.”

“No, love. It’s too soon for that.” You feel him shake his head, the faint stir of air beside your cheek with the motion.

“It felt so good.”

“I know.”

“Put the light on, then? Let me see you. Let me see what’s inside…”

“No.” His voice loud now, his hips still against yours. “No, it’s too risky.”

“You can control it. I know you can. I trust you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he confesses against your neck. “You’ve no idea the strain. The desire to tear free. It would destroy Francis’ body. The urge to devour you…” He kisses your throat softly. “Let me love you like the man I appear to be.”

“I love you. You, what’s inside.” You touch his cheek.

“I know, love. And the way that makes me feel is indescribable. I don’t need to be out of this body to experience it. I adore you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much. Like this,” he says, his hips lifting and pressing, guiding his cock back into your hollow.

Your pelvis arches to receive him. It scares you how much you want him. Your body shakes with the intensity of that desire. Craving that violence, that feeling of teetering on the brink of destruction. His, yours. The human mouth on your shoulder. Sucking. Kneading with teeth that aren’t nearly sharp enough. But it stirs whatever he’s injected you with. A venom, a toxin, not poisonous, not lethal, but a chemical that you need more of. Bringing you closer to what you’re so desperate for. It doesn’t take you long to climax, the doppel’s own release close behind. He lifts your hips and legs, propping them against his chest, keeping his seed deep inside you, stroking along your stomach.

Willing there to be a spark of life there, the way all life has begun, according to the words in the holy book still sitting on the nightstand, a burst of light in the darkness.

***

Another day at the DDD security window.

The doppelgängers have been clumsy so far. Woefully inept at replication. You didn’t need specialized training to recognize the imposter for the shoemaker with a mustache as a fake, a single eye in the center of his forehead making Albertsky Peachman look like a cyclops. The clone of the mother of the student living on the second floor had correctly replicated the placement of the blue and green irises, but the phony Nacha Mikaelys’ jaw was strangely formed, the flesh pulpy and uneven, making it appear like oatmeal.

The best part of your workday arrives on schedule, slipping a new gift into the slot this time. “Tickets to the theater for this Sunday. I know it’s not the movie you mentioned, but…”

You grin. You can’t even remember the last time you’d gone to see a movie. And now you’d be seeing it with your fiancé. “Casablanca! Oh, it’s wonderful. I have something for you, too.” You exchange an open envelope with the doppelgänger.

He slides the contents free, unfolding the letter and scanning it quickly, a smile lighting his features. “They’ve invited us to see them.”

You nod, still beaming, watching the invader tuck the letter from your parents back into the envelope. “We’ll visit the following weekend.”

“I look forward to it. Still nervous, but looking forward to it. How was your day, love?”

“It went well. Yours?”

“Better now.” Another smile. “I’ve got another surprise, too. Left it in the truck because I was anxious to see you. I’m making dinner tonight. Well we’re probably making dinner. I’m not optimistic about Francis’ cooking skills,” he adds, lowering his voice.

You couldn’t blame him for doubting it. The man’s pantry and refrigerator had been nearly empty, and you had the feeling it wasn’t just because he’d been overdue for a trip to get groceries.

Thinking of the solitary, simple life of the milkman rinses the joy from your features. No real family to speak of, either, according to the doppelgänger, save for a cousin that he’d had little to no contact with. He really had been alone in the world. Isolated. You could have done something about that. You should have. But it was too late now. And you had your doppelgänger instead. The being your heart was so full for.

“Love?” The replicant sees the change in your expression, frowning now.

“I’m okay. Yes, I’ll help you cook. It sounds fun.” You’re not relishing the thought of working over a hot stove in that stuffy third floor living space, longing for the upcoming change in the weather. But you like the idea of working beside your partner. Preparing a meal. And what would come after.

The bite on your shoulder throbs, reminding you.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor #the milkman

1K notes · View notes

rdr2gifs · 2 months

Text

Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

#writing this so I don’t get brainwashed in the future by people #claiming Arthur’s indifferent to everyone and everything unless they give him money #obviously this is based on high-honor #obviously Arthur has done terrible things in his life but I feel like majority of players just straight up ignore this??#I know I mentioned this many times already but I am forever annoyed by people saying Arthur only started helping people after getting sick #arthur morgan #text post #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

649 notes · View notes

scoutswritingcorner · 1 month

Note

Hello!

First, I’m so glad I found your wonderful blog to fuel my micro obsession.

Had an idea if you’re still taking g requests:

The hotel team decides to go to a club for a bonding exercise/letting off steam. Alastor doesn’t want to go, hates this new music, flashing lights, whatevs. He’s going to support the hotel and all that. He gets there, hates it, pouty UNTIL he sees you out on the dance floor. Watching you move plus watching others notice/approach you stirs something in him, making him feral. He stalks onto the dance floor only to pull you away to some dark hallway of the club to show you just what kind of effect you have on him.

Thanks! You’re a rockstar!!!

Dancing The Night Away

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: GETS A LITTLE HEATED SO MINORS SHOO- 18+ NOTHING EXPLICIT IS WRITTEN BUT IT IS DEPICTED THAT STUFF DOES HAPPEN

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long, Anon!

Alastor let out a low growl as he watched the people around the club dance and get into each other’s personal space- touching. The music was too loud and too modern for his tastes; it made him want to tear his ears out and kill everyone around. He didn’t even make a true appearance on the dance floor, he just sat back in one of the disgusting booths watching people pass by or run off simply because they made eye contact with him. He turned his head to watch Nifty deep clean the sticky floor and grimaced at the thought of it.

It wasn’t until movement close by had his head snapping up and his eyes scanning the room, at first he didn’t see much and that would usually keep him calm but now? It infuriated him to no end as bright strobe lights started to flash and then he caught the sight of you, how Angel was dancing next to you as you held his arm, dancing along. That infuriated him to no end and his grip tightened on his cane before he tapped it onto the floor, the cane disappearing into the shadow’s easily. He didn’t like how that overgrown spider was hanging onto you and how the other people stopped dancing to watch you. Someone even had the absolute gall to try and touch you but his shadow was quicker. Silently getting rid of the nuisance as he stood up to make his way over to you, the crowd parting for him easily.

As he finally made his way over to you, he pulled you away from Angel and into his own chest making you smile and laugh at him, saying something but he couldn’t hear it over loud blaring music. He sent a glare to a random demon as they had gotten too close before he snapped his fingers, both of you disappearing in a dark secluded area of the club. He let out a sigh and relaxed for a moment, the loud music was putting a strain on his ears. “Wh- Al? What’s wrong?” You asked carefully, reaching out to place your hands on his arms as you blinked trying to get used to the darkness.

Alastor pulled you closer to his body leaning down to press a kiss to your neck, his ears flat on his head as he thought of those insolent fools trying to touch you as if you weren’t his. He’d just have to make sure they would know you belong to him, that you gave him your heart fully. “Al? Speak to me, Love..” You replied ignoring how a fire was lit in the lower parts of you, he was silent as ever but if you listened closely you could hear him make soft grunting noises in anger and his foot stomped on the ground with a heavy thud as he pushed you back against the wall. It had finally clicked in your head, your darling Beau was jealous.

Your hands came up and grabbed at his jacket lapels as he sunk his teeth into your neck, a loud gasp escaping your lips as you silently cursed at him. Then as sudden as the bite was he was licking up the blood and soothing the bite. He was going to make sure everyone knew that you were his and he was yours.

~~~

Angel scoffed as Charlie looked around, “They’ll be fine, Charlie..Alastor is with them.” He explained, causing the princess to frown. “But they aren’t even back yet-” She whispered as the front doors of the hotel opened and Alastor waltzed with you behind him. Angel froze before laughing as you glared at him desperately trying to fix your clothes and hid as many of the bite marks Alastor had left on your neck. “Looks like you both had some fun~” he called out as you looked away. “ANGEL-”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

407 notes · View notes

agustdeez-nutz · 2 years

Text

*flappy hands wiggle dance*

#the stimming is real when this song comes on #and so i will never shut up about it #its also my go to when i need to try and calm down #if it aint number one on my spotify wrapped this year #imma be extremely surprised #beaus bops #Spotify

1 note · View note

ozarkthedog · 2 months

Text

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

18+ mdni

warnings: shotgunning. slight thigh grinding. no spoilers wc: 649

“Where’re you runnin’ off to?” Lucien asks, stopping you in your tracks.

You spin on your heel on the edge of the dimly lit patio, your summer dress twirling in the warm night breeze as you face the dark-haired beau. He tips his head back, keeping his burning eyes on you as he blows a trail of smoke into the midnight sky.

The tendons in his throat glide under his dewy, golden skin. Your cunt clenches at the thought of getting your mouth on him, tasting him.

An alarming darkness washes over his face as he presses the cigarette between his lips. His feral eyes zero in on your frozen state as he stalks toward you like a panther in the jungle—calm and relaxed, ready to sink its claws into unsuspecting prey.

Before you have a second to think, Lucien winds a thick arm around your waist and tugs you against him. He’s big, warm, and so fucking broad. The cigarette hangs limply from the corner of his mouth as curls of sandy hair fall across his forehead as he backs you up and into the large brick wall surrounding the patio. Your hands instinctively rest on his chest; the satin button-up is butter-soft, and you can’t help but dig your fingers into the firm muscles hidden beneath.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he lifted his free hand and cupped your jaw. Those wicked irises tempt you deeper into the murky darkness. You can’t tell which way is up, tumbling in the black as he presses a solid thumb between your lips.

Your eyes bug at the intrusion. A heavy wave of arousal crashes into your belly, making you wantonly moan around his digit. He tastes like a mix of ash and cabernet as he grinds his half-hard cock into your belly. Your eyes flutter like you’re staring at an eclipse as your lips close around his thumb without thinking.

“Keep that pretty mouth open for me.” Lucien softly commands with a thick, sultry voice that drips down your spine like molasses. He presses on your tongue, tugging your jaw open. “Thatta girl.”

His cheeks hollow as he takes a deep breath. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a beat. Dark eyes wash over you as you innocently wait for his next command. He holds your stare before pulling the cig from his mouth and leaning in. His plush lips barely graze your own as he exhales, releasing the smoke into your mouth. His thumb rubs along the edge of your lips, encouraging you to inhale his offering as he presses you into the rough wall.

You breathe in, letting the ashy smoke burn your insides. His lips pull into a smirk, and he hums. Your eyes water from the fumes, and you sputter, coughing out the remaining smoke.

Those sinful eyes travel the expanse of your face before moving south, down your neck to your exposed clavicle, and between the valley of your breasts. He takes his time like he’s considering his next move as your chest anxiously rises and falls under his calculating gaze.

He chuckles under his breath and lifts the cigarette to his lips once more. “Looks like we’ll have to work on that.” The cigarette bounces as he speaks, the tip burning red hot like the arousal dripping from your cunt.

He crowds you, pushing you further into the wall, and slots a burly thigh between your legs, forcefully grinding your throbbing core. A pitiful whine tumbles from your lips, and he cups a heavy hand along your jawbone and presses a deft thumb on your chin, keeping you locked in place.

“Don't worry now," He muses, shifting his thigh back and forth, pulling a wreaked gasp from your throat. "The smoke won't be the only thing you'll gag on tonight."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

be sure to follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#lucien flores #pedro pascal #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #the uninvited

351 notes · View notes

finnsbubblegum · 1 year

Text

I Don’t Deserve You {Part 1} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, protective joel, use of (y/n) and (y/l/n), age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), mentions of abuse, vague mentions of period (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight. But he felt insecure.

Words count: 2.2k

A/N: There will be part 2 for this one so stay tuned!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“Hey (y/n)! You’re here!.” Your friend, Lily greeted you.

“Hi Lily! It’s Friday night and I have nothing to do at home. I heard tonight is the kids’ movie night. I thought I’d stop by and see my students. What are they playing tonight?”

“The Lion King. It's the third time they’re playing it again. Ugh.”

“Oh! Well, I can’t blame them. Kids love The Lion King. ”

You were a teacher in Jackson so you knew how much the kids love that movie. They would ask you to sing Hakuna Matata every day in school.

“(y/n) look there.” Lily gave you a sign to look behind you.

You were familiar with Tommy and Maria. But you didn’t recognize the other two. You saw a man who looked similar to Tommy but older and a teen girl walking inside following Tommy and Maria.

“Newcomers?” You asked Lily.

“They came a while ago. I heard his name is Joel Miller.”

“Miller? So he’s Tommy’s brother then?” You tilted your head.

“I’m guessing older brother. He came with the girl. I assumed she’s his daughter. But no wife. Probably single.” Lily smirked and lightly bumped her elbow to you.

Lily knew you’ve been single your whole life. You were pretty popular in Jackson. You were beautiful inside out and everyone adored your kind and altruistic self. You have had many men flirting with you but you have never found “The One”.

“Why are you giving me that face?” You slapped Lily’s upper arm.

You were slightly annoyed with Lily’s action but deep down you liked it. He was probably a lot older than you but you couldn’t deny the fact that the middle-aged man looked hot with his salt and pepper hair. His shoulder was broad and he was a lot taller than you. His face didn’t look friendly but you could see a strong man from his eyes.

“Well, I mean he looked pretty hot for his age.” You put your hand behind your neck awkwardly.

“I know right! Why don’t you try and go talk to him?” Lily pushed you.

“Oh no no, that’s not why I’m here today. I’m here to watch a movie with my students.”

“Ugh..You’re no fun (y/n).” Lily crossed her arms.

“Okay, enough talking about men. Now, I’m gonna get me some popcorn and enjoy The Lion King.” You walked away giving a mocking face to your friend.

“Ms. (y/l/n)!” A little boy called you and hugged your legs.

“Hey Timmy! Are you here with your parents?” You crouched to be the same height as the little boy.

“Yes! There!” Timmy pointed his index finger to show you where his parents were.

“Do you want some popcorn?” You smiled as you caressed his hair.

“Yes! Yes!” He jumped excitedly.

“Okay, Timmy. Calm down.” You chuckled as you took two bowls of popcorn for you and Timmy.

“Here.” You gave Timmy his popcorn.

“Thank you, Ms. (y/l/n)!” He ran to his seat as the movie was starting.

Your heart was warm just by watching how excited the little boy was. You smiled as you stood up. You looked to your right and found Joel staring at you. He looked away immediately when you made eye contact with him. You pretended it never happened and walked to find a seat.

“Pretty, huh?” Tommy teased Joel.

“What?” Joel acted dumb.

“I know you were starin’ at that pretty girl right there, Joel. Don’t even think about it. All the men in Jackson have tried winning her heart but no one has succeeded.” Tommy scoffed.

“I wasn’t even thinkin’ about it.” Joel growled.

Joel lied. Deep down in his heart he thought you were attractive. You were beautiful in his eyes, especially the way you were so kind to the little kid before. For the past 20 years, kindness was something that was not common to see. So he felt warm in his heart when he saw someone so pretty and kind before his eyes.

The night ends with you having a split second of eye contact with Joel.

On Sundays, you took part in church services as one of the singers of the choir group. You were singing and found Joel sitting beside Tommy, Maria and Ellie. You saw him staring at you as you were singing. You tried to focus and avoid eye contact with him. Again, the two of you never had a conversation. Just eye contact. You went with your week without bumping into Joel. You couldn’t help thinking about him. He was your type and you wanted to get to know him more. But you were scared of how intimidating he looked and people were talking about how grumpy he was.

One week had passed since you saw Joel. It was Saturday night, you were suffocated in your bedroom as you couldn’t stop thinking about him. After a few moments of rolling on your bed, you decided to go to the bar where Lily worked.

“Oh, (y/n). I’m glad you’re here. One of our workers didn’t come to work today. We need help. Will you help us?” Lily sighed and gave you the puppy eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” You followed Lily behind the bar counter and put on the apron she gave you.

“Thank you so much. You’re my lifesaver. So, you know the drill, right? You’ve helped me here a few times before.” Lily put her hands to hold your upper arm.

“Of course.” You nodded.

Apparently, you have always helped Lily at the bar whenever she needed help. You loved your friend so you were always there to help her whenever you were available. It was hectic for a few hours then people were starting to leave. That was the moment you saw Joel walking inside towards you. He chose a seat in front of the bar counter. You were wiping some glasses as he sat in front of you.

“What can I get you?” You asked him.

“Just a glass of beer.” His eyes looked tired but he tried to give you a smile.

“Here.” You passed him the beer.

You were thinking maybe this was your chance to have a conversation with him. With the man who had been occupying your mind the whole week. You gathered your courage and started a conversation.

“Long day, huh?”

“Nearly got one of the guys killed on patrol today.” He told you as he drank his beer.

“Oh. Is he okay?” You tried to sympathize with him.

“He’s fine. Got a few stitches but he’s fine physically. I’m not sure about mentally.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Hoping your words could help him calm down.

He nodded and looked at you. You could see his lips moving. It looked like he was trying to say something but he was hesitating.

“You were amazing the other day.” He finally found his words.

“Huh?” You were confused.

“I saw you in church last Sunday.”

“Oh! You mean choir. Thank you.” You couldn’t hide your smile from his compliment.

You flinched as you heard Lily calling your name, cutting off your conversation with Joel. Joel was eavesdropping.

“(y/n)! Thank you so much for helping us. We have less customers now. You can go home and rest now. You can have a voucher for a free drink if you want.” Lily was grateful to have a friend like you.

“It’s nothing. That’s what friends are for. I’m always here to help. Anyways, can I have that free drink tonight?” Lily smirked as she knew what you were going to do.

You took off your apron and walked towards Joel.

“Can I join you?” You asked Joel.

“Sure.” He nodded and dragged the chair next to him for you to sit.

“I’m (y/n). I haven’t got your name.” You extended your hand to shake his hand.

“Joel. Joel Miller.” He shook your hand.

“Miller? As in Tommy Miller?” You pretended like you didn’t know him.

“He’s my brother. Younger brother.”

You hummed and nodded as if you just connected the dot.

“So, you work here?” Joel faced you and asked.

“Uhm..No, I was just helping my friend today. One of the workers didn’t come so I came to help.”

“How nice of you. Don’t think there’s someone who's still kind enough in this ruined world.”

“I guess there is still hope.”

Joel scoffed.

“So, if you’re not a bartender then..”

“Guess. What kind of job do you think I’m doing?” You tried to flirt with Joel.

“Uhmm.. nurse?” Joel shrugged.

“Hmm..nope.” You shook your head.

“Teacher? I don’t know but I think you will make a great teacher like teaching kids. You look really patient.” Joel answered with a doubting tone.

“No way? Really? You’re right though. I teach kids in this town. I’ve been teaching for a few years now.” You chuckled.

“What do you teach? Fractions?” Joel tried to joke. (TLOU ep 1 reference 😂)

“Yes, yes. It’s one of them.” You threw your head back and laughed.

Joel shook his head and smiled. He looked like he was proud of getting the right answer.

“How about you?” You asked him back.

“Me?” He pointed at himself on the chest.

“You do patrols?” You nodded and drank your beer.

“I..uh.. arrived here not long ago. Still figurin’ things out and helpin’ doin’ patrols at the moment.”

“You must be a tough guy.” You gave him a light fist on his upper arm and you could feel how strong his biceps were.

He flinched at the touch as he was getting butterflies from your slight touch. He didn’t know he would ever feel that feeling that he hadn’t had for years.

“Oh shit.” You sighed as you saw Josh, the man who was obsessed with you coming towards you.

“You know you shouldn’t say that word when you’re teachin’ right?” Joel teased you not knowing about the situation.

“Hey, baby. Why are you drinking without me?” Josh put his arms around you as he sat next to you.

“I don’t have a reason to drink with you, Josh.” You rolled your eyes as you shoved his hand away.

“Cranky. Are you at that time of the month?” He mocked you.

Josh had asked you out before but you didn’t like him. You knew he only wanted to get inside your pants. Just like the other guys. But he was obsessed with you. You rejected his proposal to be his girlfriend but he kept coming after you.

Joel watched you as you clenched your fist gripping your jeans. He knew you were not comfortable with Josh’s appearance so instead of leaving, he stayed beside you.

“So who is this old man? I haven’t seen you.” Josh looked at Joel.

“He’s my friend.” You answered him coldly.

“I’m Joel.” Joel introduced himself without extending his hand to shake hands with Josh.

“Well, Joel. I need time alone to be with (y/n). Can you leave?” Josh moved his hands back and forth as he was trying to tell Joel to go away.

You were scared. You didn’t want to be alone with Josh. Not after that time, when he slapped you after saying no to be his girlfriend. Your hands were shaking and Joel noticed.

“We were about to leave actually. I promised (y/n) somethin’.” Joel lied to help you get out of this situation.

You looked at Joel and let out a sigh as you felt safe that Joel would protect you. Joel stood up and held your wrist to get you out of the bar.

“She’s staying.” Josh grabbed your other wrist.

You gasped and your eyes were teary.

“You really don’t want to mess with me, kid.” Joel growled.

You could see his death stare at Josh. Josh got scared as Joel was bigger than him. Even though he looked intimidating, you weren’t scared of him. Instead, you felt safe and comfortable. As you and Joel walked a few steps far enough from the bar, Joel stopped.

“You’re shakin’. Are you alright?” His voice was soft. It sounded very different from when he was talking to Josh.

“I-I-Uhm-I’m fine. Thank you.” You couldn’t breathe properly because you were too scared.

Josh’s appearance made all your bad memories came to your head again.

“Hey. You’re safe now.” Joel rubbed your back up and down to make you feel calm.

“Where do you live? Let me walk you home.”

“Uh-It’s- 15 minute walk from here.” You guided Joel to your house.

“So is this Josh guy your ex-boyfriend or somethin’?” Joel asked.

“Ugh. No. He asked me out but I said no. And then he slapped me. Many times. I got bruises from it.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Joel closed his eyes as he was shocked to hear that happened to you. He wondered how someone could hurt a kind and nice person like you.

As you arrived at your front porch, you faced Joel.

“Thank you for helping me out today, Joel.”

“No problem. Just find me whenever you need help.” He shoved his hands in his pocket.

The night ended. You were glad you finally talked to Joel today. And your head couldn’t stop rewinding that scene when he saved you from Josh. You giggled and kicked your blanket thinking about him. You just talked to him once but your feelings towards Joel had already grown deeper.

To be continued..

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 3 months

Text

physical

summary: as barcelona's newest physio, y/n's job becomes increasingly difficult through language barriers and awkward encounters; until the guide of a few players assist her in navigating Spanish life.

author's note: i am not a spainish speaker so please don't attack me because this is all translated.

NOT PROOF READ. Sorry if there are any mistakes lol

Why did I ever move here? Although Spain is gorgeous, I miss Sydney far too much. And to even consider applying for a job as physio for Barcelona, delusional. But here I am.

Notes in hand, I make my way through the main building, approaching a desk occupied by two women.

"Hola, en qué puedo ayudarte?" The blonde one says, skimming my casual attire. "Hola, hablo no espanol." The woman straightens her posture and repeats her question, but this time in English. "Hello ma'am, what can I help you with?"

A deep breath, and I begin speaking, "Hi, I'm here for the role as general physio - I'm Y/N L/N." Quickly, the woman begins typing into her computer, skimming blurbs of information until she finds what she needs. "Welcome to the club Y/N, please take a seat while I contact the head physio." I nod in response and take a seat facing towards the television.

After around five minutes, a man appears from the corridor. "Y/N, Que tal! Please follow me." I leave my seat and follow my new coworker, Beau Martine. "How are you finding Spain?" I pick up on a French accent, pleased to not be the only non-Spanish person. "Ah. it's definitely an adjustment for me." I pause before continuing. "I thought I'd pick up on the language a little easier but I guess that's something that'll improve while I'm here." Beau opens a door, allowing me in first.

"Take it from me, it does get easier." A smile quirked the man's face, instantly calming some of my worries.

We're in a small, but manageable room. "This is your office Y/N." I take a look around, it's nothing flashy, simply a desk with two chairs and a cabinet. "It definitely needs some decorating, but here you will be completing paperwork and doing general admin." He continues "Your programmes and duties will not be run in here, but further down the hall in the recovery room." Beau points to the door, signalling a further examination of the building.

Walking a few meters, we enter a large room. Already, there are two physios, a man and woman, massaging and rehabbing players. I smile at them before Beau introduces me. "Saludos, this is Y/N, our new physio." Before the two could introduce themselves, Beau speaks, "Maylin and Christos are our recovery coaches, both specialising in post surgery recovery." They smile at me, while still attentively helping their patients.

"Training begins soon, so we'll head out to the fields to supervise the boys."

Once we arrived at the ground, I could feel the eyes of a few players, obviously aware of my lack of Barcelona gear, confused by my presence. Now, more than anything, I am grateful that I don't need an introduction. I am so totally okay with just standing and observing.

While another coach directs the warm up, I evaluate the players, concluding how absolutely beautiful some of them are.

I would be lying if I said that I hadn't watched edits of the players before-hand. But to me, that was simply all research. Throughout the session, my gaze found it's way back to a certain player. A certain player whose aura mesmerised me. Pedri.

Sharp but smart moves were a constant by him, and I was in awe by his calmness on and off the ball.

With about twenty minutes left, a player fell to the ground with a high pitched yelp. Immediately engaging Beau and myself to his aide. Looking down, it was Ferran Torres. He clutched his knee in agony.

I put my hand on his knee, evaluating any type of inflammation. "Vamos Ferran, vamos a llevarte adentro" (Come on Ferran, let's bring you inside). Beau and I helped him up, ensuring no pressure was put onto his affected leg.

Making our way into the recovery room Beau says to me "He's all yours, work your magic Y/N." I smile appreciatively at him while we lay Ferran down. Soon enough it's just Ferran and I, and I can feel my heart beating erratically.

I've never been this nervous to evaluate an injury before, so why do I feel as if I'm about to vomit everywhere?

Ferran, now completely quiet looks up at me. "You new here?" I nod in response, praying that he won't speak to me in Spanish. "I'm Ferran." He holds his hand out for me to shake. "I'm Y/N." His smile fades when he remembers his pain.

While I assess his knee, he continues with conversation. "Are you American?" I look at him, slightly unamused. "Not at all. Australian born and raised." I touch his knee causing a groan. "I know this hurts, but you've hyper-extended your knee."

"Joder." His only response. As I search for ice, he breaks the silence again. "You know, a few of the guys out there were calling you pretty." I look at him, slightly blushing. "I think it was Balde who said he'd get injured just so he could talk to you." My eyebrows raise. For such serious athletes, they sure do have interesting perspectives.

"Well I guess I should be lucky to be in here with someone who is actually injured." Ferran looks towards me. "So if you're a graduate physio, how old are you?" Almost instinctively I reply, "Twenty. I did accreditations for university while I was still in high school, so I was able to graduate before my peers." Impressed, Ferran tilts his head. "Hm, you're similar to Pepi's age." The next sentenced he mumbled, although I could perfectly understand what he said. "Probably his type too." I look up, pretending not to hear his additional comment.

"Who's Pepi?" At that exact moment, two players had walked into the room. "Joder Ferran, what happened?" Alejandro had walked over to his friend and immediately diverted his walk when he saw me.

"Ella es igual de hermosa de cerca." (She's just as beautiful up close.) I smiled nervously, not understanding a single word. Ferran responded, making Pedri blush "Es el tipo de Pepi." (She's Pepi's type.)

I've never once envied people for speaking Spanish, more than I feel right now.

"Sorry for their interruption, they're just a little curious." Ferran had said, playfully pushing Pedri. "Ale, Pepi, this is Y/N she's the new physio." Suddenly Alejandro gripped his hammy.

"Fuck I think I tore it." Instinctively I rushed to him. I went to feel his leg before he and the rest of the boys began laughing. "Just kidding querida." I awkwardly laughed before placing ice on Ferran's leg.

Ferran, Pedri, and Alejandro continued to talked while I scribbled an outline of Ferran's recovery. It would involve consultation regularly, with physical therapy to assist his knee. Luckily he wouldn't need surgery, which meant he was my patient for the next few weeks.

Walking to Ferran, I explained his recovery process. He would be out for a few weeks and wouldn't be kicking a ball for at least another two. He attentively listened, and by the time I had outlined what we would do in our meetings, Pedri and Alejandro were lifting him up. I helped the boys out, while making my way to my office to write an article of review.

After writing a page or so, a loud knock came to my door. "Come in."

In walked the head coach, Xavi. "Please, have a seat." I signalled to the seat opposing my desk, allowing him to sit down.

"Lovely to meet you Y/N." He smiled at me. "I know this is your first day, but here we follow tight procedures in terms of injury reduction and recovery." I nodded, allowing him to continue. "To my understanding, Ferran has hyper-extended his knee. And according to him, you've already began a recovery plan." Wait, was I not meant to do that? Fuck I should've talked to Beau first.

"If you have a plan, I'd like to see it." I turned my computer to face him. He skimmed what I had written. "This is great. You should be proud." Unknown to him, I had written plenty of recovery plans for hyper-extended knees. This was second nature to me. "Do you mind forwarding it to me? Here I'll write my Email and number down so you can contact me."

Camp Nou. It was stunning. The crowd, the lights, the atmosphere. All of it. I sat on the bench, next to Beau and Maylin, watching the game closely, ready for any disturbances in play.

Ferran, still sidelined smiled at me occasionally, it was good to know that I had a friend. His recovery had been going well, however I hadn't allowed him to begin running yet, it would put too much of a strain on his body.

It was an incredible game, close between the two teams, however, Barca was victorious after the ninetieth minute. Xavi huddled staff and players into a circle, giving a quick talk before the players went to the showers.

"¡Qué juego! Jugaste de manera excepcional, estoy orgulloso de este equipo." (What a game, you played exceptionally, I'm proud of this team!) God I needed to brush up on my Spanish if I had any hopes of understanding anything here. I looked forward, locking eyes with Pedri.

His hair was wet with sweat, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink. We held eye contact through Xavi's short speech, and I couldn't help but blush at the attention. He was just so gorgeous. By the time Xavi had finished his speech everyone dispersed. Walking away, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I realised it was Pedri.

"Hi." I shyly said. He smiled. God that smile was infectious. "Hey." We stood there for a few seconds until he began speaking. "A few of us are going out tonight to celebrate the win. I was wondering if you'd like to join us."

"Oh." I replied "I'm sorry but I'm going out tonight." It was true. I had agreed to go out for drinks with my barista. To me it was less of a date, and more of an attempt to make friends. "No problem. I'll see you around." He awkwardly walked away. I definitely just fucked up.

Once I had gotten home, I began getting ready for tonight. The barista, Elijah, was a fellow Australian, although he had been living in Spain for the past few years. I'd been going to the same cafe every morning since I landed in Barcelona, and once Elijah had picked up on my accent it was nothing but polite and short conversation about our hometowns.

Arriving at the bar, I found a seat right by the bartender. Now, I don't normally drink but today I wanted to let loose, I wanted to celebrate the success of my new job.

"I'll grab an old fashioned." The bartender nodded and began pouring my drink. Soon twenty minutes had passed and there had been no sign of Elijah. I pulled out my phone and began texting him, to no surprise there was no response.

As time passed, it became increasingly obvious that I had been stood up. After calling Elijah to no avail, I left the bar.

How shitty was that? To not even text and say that he couldn't make it... And especially considering that I am in a foreign country late at night. Classy.

Making my way through town, I noticed the flashing lights of a near by club. Similar to alcohol, I don't usually go clubbing, but with the amount that I've drunken tonight already, I deserve to at least check it out.

I get in easily and scope the crowd out. Lucky for me it's people mostly my age.

Walking up to the bar, I order a Margarita, swig the glass and walk onto the floor. The music was blasting a mix of Latin Pop and Old School Classics. Firstly my hips swayed, then my entire body. Soon enough I was dancing amongst plenty of people. All of which good looking.

After a solid ten minutes, I make my way out and successfully find an empty seat to relax for a few minutes. Fuck Elijah, this is already fifty times better then having a sophisticated chat over wine.

When I got back onto the floor, my shoulder was lightly tapped. I spun around. "Having fun?" My eyes focused on the figure in front of me. Then I realised who it was. Pedri.

Already tipsy, a shot of confidence sparked through me. "Oh my God! Pedri!" I hung my arms around his neck. "I'd much prefer to be out with you tonight." He looked down at me confused.

I began dancing while he stood their in shock "You're lucky you're a footballer because oh my you're a terrible dancer." I earned a chuckle as he placed his hands on my hips and began dancing with me.

"For a girl whose generally shy, I can't say that I'm surprised that alcohol loosens you up." I smack his shoulder. "Be polite! I'm pretty much your boss." He raised his eyebrows laughing to himself. "I don't think that's how it works Carino."

We continued to dance until we were interrupted by a loud voice and quickly removed our hands from each other's bodies.

"Y/N! My saviour!" For a split moment I sobered up and scolded Ferran. "You shouldn't be partying and dancing! You need to rest your knee otherwise you could end up more hurt."

"You crack me up, come on let's take a seat." I followed Ferran while Pedri followed me to the bar. We sat together, me between the two boys, and ordered our drinks.

"So, how was your little date tonight?" He nudged me. God I had forgotten that I told him about Eli.

"Uhh." I fiddled with my straw. "He was kinda a no show." Shocked, Ferran placed a sympathetic hand on my arm. "Trust me, baristas will never be someone's soulmate."

"Speaking from experience Fer?" Pedri chirped up. "Hmm something like that." Ferran responded.

"Hey Y/N, I want you to meet my girlfriend Sira, I think you two would make great friends." Ferran stood up to find his girlfriend, leaving Pedri and I alone.

Pedri looked at me and spoke. "Eres tan hermosa." I responded, rather annoyed with his choice to speak his native tongue. "Enough with everyone speaking Spanish here! Like okay I get it, you all have sexy accents and think it's romantic to converse with me in a language I don't understand. I'm getting lessons okay! It's just so hard to be here by myself." Soon enough tears began to stream down my face. I need to remember to stop drinking after my second glass.

Naturally, Pedri pulled me into a hug, allowing me to let all my frustrations out.

I didn't realise how upset I had become about my time here in Spain. Through the facade of cheap eats and my dream job, I forgot who I really was.

"I'm sorry for annoying you Carino. All I said was that you looked beautiful." I blushed, still not looking at him. "You see, I get nervous around pretty girls, and you happen to be the prettiest that I have ever seen." He knew exactly what to say to get my heart racing.

"I miss my home too. Especially my mother." At this I look up at him. He wipes the tears off my face with his thumb. "But I understand. You've come here all by yourself to work a new job without anyone supporting you. You're so strong." He smiled at me.

"I think we need to bring you home, I don't want you be late to work tomorrow." I sighed as he helped me out of my seat.

"Do you live nearby? I'm happy to walk you home." I accepted his offer.

Walking through the streets of Barcelona, Pedri made sure to explain his teammates and their personalities.

"Ale might just be the biggest flirt so don't mind him."

"Oh trust me, I can tell." I replied, still wandering through quiet lanes.

"And your best friend Ferran, he's a nutjob but such a good kid."

"Isn't he older than you?"

"Eh, to me he's a brother."

We began to approach my apartment. "This'll be me." I indicated towards the building. "Would you like me to walk you in?" I shook my head, not wanting to keep him out here any longer.

He grabbed my hand as we held eye contact. "Maybe we could do this again. I really enjoyed hanging out with you tonight. Even if it was a short amount of time." I smiled agreeingly.

Then it got quiet, we were both obvious to what should happen, so I leaned in. Immediately he took a step back.

Holy fuck he had just rejected me? Sweet talk all night and now he wouldn't even kiss me??

He looked down at me. "I'll see you tomorrow." I smiled awkwardly and took a step back.

God Spanish men weren't for the fainthearted.

"Are you okay Y/N." Looking up from my clipboard, Ferran was in my eyesight. "Yup, just slightly hungover."

"I heard a certain someone followed you home." He smirked while lying down on my physio bed. "Ha ha very funny." I sarcastically responded.

I began to unwrap the tape on his knee, making sure to not pull too aggressively. "I never got to introduce you to my girlfriend. Here let me find a photo to show you."

"Not now Ferran. Just let me do this." I snapped at him.

It had been two and a bit weeks since he originally injured his knee, and in my eyes, he was ready to begin training with the squad again, however with restrictions to ensure his safety.

"What's wrong doc?" He asked me, genuinely concerned.

"I'm just a little on edge." Continuing, "I don't know, I think I pissed Pedri off." Ferran laughed. "Yeah trust me you didn't." Sighing, I began to feel around Fer's knee. "You're all good to train." His face lit up. "Seriously!?" He was ecstatic. "You'll be doing a strict 15 minutes training to 5 minutes rest tempo. And no tackles yet. I'll talk to Xavi."

Ferran rose and gave me a huge kiss on my cheek. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I smiled at him, happy for him to be returning.

Once he left, I headed into my office, writing an integration plan for Ferran, to give to Xavi. My door was wide open, and in walked Gavi.

I hadn't really spoken to him much before so I was slightly confused as to why he was in my office. "Hey sorry to interrupt, but we're going out to the fields so..." I stood from my chair. "Right, yeah thank you."

As soon as I had gotten to the ground my eyes found Pedri, luckily, he hadn't noticed me yet.

"Hey Y/N, is Ferran ready yet?" Xavi approached me. I gave him the plan and explained to him what I explained to Ferran. Pleased, Xavi took my paper and walked back to his squad.

Throughout the session I made my way to players, taping a few shoulders and ankles, massaging a few calves. Watching Ferran get back on the grass was a happy moment. Although he'd only been out for a few weeks, his comeback proved my competence as a physio. people now trusted me.

I noticed Pedri limping after an awkward tackle with Raphina, however he insisted to his coach that he was fine to play on. I however, noticed that he was in discomfort so I watched his movement.

By the end of training, Pedri was visibly in pain. Truthfully, I didn't want to face him so I avoided him and Beau in an attempt to not be assigned to him. But Ferran had other plans.

"Yo, Y/N. Can you check Pepi's ankle?" Awesome. I made my way to the boys. Pedri leaned slightly on Ferran's frame. "Come on let's get you inside."

Pedri seemed okay to walk in with minimal assistance, and soon it was only him and I in the recovery room. "Take a seat I'll get you sorted." He sat up on the bed as I helped him remove his boots.

"Please don't let this be awkward." I looked up at him after his words. "Strictly professional." I felt his ankle and evaluated the bruising. "It's not good is it?" He asked looking at me defeated. "I'm not sure as of right now but I think I need to bring in the doctor."

"What do you think it is?" He asked my naively.

"I can't indicatively say but I think its a tendon tear." I could see him cringe at my answer. "But I haven't done any tests so I can't say for sure."

"I'm gonna go find the doctor." Suddenly he grabbed my wrist. "Wait, I need to speak to you." The emotion on his face indicating that he really needed me to stay with him. I didn't respond, instead sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I'd wanted to go out with you again." He looked at me sympathetically. "And I didn't kiss you not because I didn't want to. I wanted it to be at the right moment." I look around the room. The silence is killing me. "Now I know that I'll be injured for a little while but would you like to come around to my house tonight? There'll be a few of the guys over and I'm cooking." He smiled. That smile.

I couldn't say no to him but I wanted to keep him on his toes. "I'll let you know by the end of the day." Smiling cheekily he held onto my hands. "But first I do need to bring the doctor in, so hang tight."

By the time I had come back in, Ferran and Gavi were next to Pedri. Dr Nicholson evaluated Pedri's ankle as a torn ligament and sent him off for a few X-Rays. "Soooo anything happen?" Ferran asked me playfully. "No Ferran, now I need to get back to work and so do you. Get to the gym."

By the time I was packing up my files a shadow appeared in my doorframe. "Decided yet?" His smirk tugging at his lips, instantly causing me to do the same. "Good afternoon to you too." He walked forward to me, closing the door behind although not without some difficulties as a result of his crutches.

"You look pretty pathetic with those things. I don't know how you're going to be cooking." He took a seat in my spare chair as I continued filling. "Eh, I might get some help from one of my friends." God he was so flirty I genuinely couldn't keep up with this man.

"Now I would offer to pick you up, but unfortunately I'm in a bit of a predicament right now. Should I send someone to pick you up or would you like my address?" I could not stop smiling. "Send me someone."

I pulled out my phone. "What's your number? I'll send you my address." After we exchanged numbers Pedri stood by the door. "I'll see you later then Carino."

Okay so Pedri didn't exactly discuss with me what the dress code was. I knew that it would be his teammates and their girlfriends I seriously didn't know what to pick. Something casual? Something Classy? Barca merch??? I decided to play it safe and be comfortable.

I slipped on sweatpants and a white top and called it a day. Pedri had told me that I'd be getting picked up at 6:00 so I headed down to the street by outside my complex. I wasn't quite too sure on how the driver would know to collect me, but as soon as a reached for my phone a car pulled in front of me. I didn't recognise who it was, "Y/N?". I nodded and proceeded into the back of the car.

The drive was supposed to be thirty minutes, but a large pause of traffic delayed time. By the time I had gotten to his house it was 6:50. There were already three cars parked in the driveway and suddenly I felt an indescribable wave of nervousness.

So do I walk up to his door and knock on it? Or do I message him or do I try and get in. I stress too much.

Once at the door I knocked. It was loud enough to be heard from the story above, and soon enough the door was answered. An enthusiastic Ferran picked me off my feet, I made eye contact with Pedri.

"Sira ven rápido, ella está aquí!." (Sira come quick, she's here) While he ran to find Sira I met Pedri's gaze. "You look beautiful tonight, Carino." In an attempt to divert my blush, I focused on his ankle. "How are you holding up, does it feel okay?" Smiling, he replied, "You worry too much Y/N come in."

I walked into his home and oh my was it gorgeous. The ceilings were raised and huge windows adorned the frame. I can't believe he lives here.

"Everyone's just in the living room." As we walked in, I recognised Ferran, Gavi, Fermin, and the girl cuddled up with Ferran.

"Ayyyy she finally came!" Gavi said, raising his glass in the air. I took a seat on the couch facing the fireplace, and as soon as I had sat down, it felt as if I had found my place.

Pedri was in and out of the kitchen, cooking on an injured ankle while attempting to keep conversation. Bless his heart.

I had spoken to Sira a lot, and we had much in common. By 7:30 Pedri had called us to the dining room.

We sat down, a seat empty next to me (assuming it was Pedri's). He brought out the dishes and to say I was impressed was an understatement. Truthfully, I didn't recognise most of the dishes but by the looks of astonishment on Fermin and Gavi's face I knew it was impressive.

"Es una locura ver lo que te hace una chica bonita!" (It's crazy to see what a pretty girl does to you.) Gavi said aloud, cracking everyone up.

Pedri took his seat next to mine and whispered in my ear, "He said that beautiful girls make me do crazy things." My cheeks reddened, he remembered.

The meal was delicious, conversation was flowing effortlessly, you could tell that they all loved each other. Suddenly the chatter was drowned out as I felt Pedri's hand land on my thigh. I looked at him but he was still engaged in conversation with Ferran.

As we finished up, Pedri was banned from cleaning anything (specifically by me, doctors orders.) "Okay fine I'll take a seat, but I need the physio to check out my ankle so you're on your own guys." They all groaned in unison that I was allowed to rest.

He laid upright on the couch, signalling for me to place myself between his legs. Without a second thought, we were cuddling together, talking about our lives.

I found myself telling him about my home, and how much he'd enjoy it if he went.

He was playing with my hair and giving me scalp massages when someone walked in.

"Hey Pedri, we're gonna head home now. Would you like us to drop you off Y/N?" Ferran called out, the only one able to see what we were doing. Immediately I called out, "I'm all good, I'll grab a cab." Ferran smiled at us and the rest all called out their goodbyes.

"You're a great cook Pedro." His body jolted, shocked at what I had said. "I like how you say my name." He was so cheesy.

"Is that the only thing you like about me?" I reply in a sassy but playful tone. He knows that I'm trying to gage how much he likes me. "No, I also like how good you are at your job." I pretend to be mad, "Well with enough years of uni, anyone could be as good as I am." Standing up, I leaned slightly over his face.

"You're so beautiful that it hurts." Curious at what he said, I pry him for more. "I can't look at you, let alone in the eyes without my heart racing. You do something to me and can't tell what it is." He is going to be the death of men.

Before I had time to react, he kissed me, passionately. He held my chin in one hand, while both of mine reached for the spot behind his ear.

It was ecstatic, electric, nothing I had ever felt before. But then it ended.

"Wow." The only word that fell from his lips before we started laughing. By this point I was already on top of him, so I flattened myself on him as we held each other, shocked by our actions.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while." I say to him. He looked at me with a shy smile. "What do you man Carino?" Embarrassed, I told him about my 'research' that I had done prior to accepting the job at Barcelona.

He laughed at me but found it 'cute'.

After some conversation, I found myself getting sleepier. I could barely keep my eyes open. I rationalised with myself, just a quick power nap then I'll head home.

By the time I had woken up I was tucked under white linen, puzzled by where I was. Soon enough I realised what had happened. I searched for my phone to find it charging by my bedside. 7:42. Shit I was gonna be late.

I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I needed to get home. As I made my way down I found Pedri by the kitchen counter cooking up some eggs. "Morning Carino." He smiled sweetly at me.

"Can you call an Uber? I'm going to be late for work." Still smiling, he pointed towards the counter. "Sira brought over some clothes. I've also got a few Barca tracksuits if you wanted to wear that instead."

I looked at him puzzled, he still hadn't answered my question. "Gavi is gonna pick us up, I think he'll be here by 8 so you better start getting ready." Jokingly, I replied "You trust him to drive?" while picking up the clothes left by Sira and Pedri.

I was ready by 8, declining the eggs Pedri had cooked. I tried my best to look presentable with the minimal amount of beauty products left for me. I decided to wear the jumper from Pedri as it was an exact replica of my own one from the club, but opted for leggings that Sira had left for me.

By the time we had arrived to the training grounds it was 8:30. I was running late. Bursting in, I made my way to my office, writing up the plan I was supposed to make for Pedri.

It had been three months since Pedri had played minutes in La Liga. When Xavi waved for him to come on with twenty minutes left in the game, my stomach turned. I was so incredibly proud of him, but I was so fucking nervous. Since he was post-surgery he had no longer been my 'patient'. We rarely spent time together at work due to a clash of schedules, and barely went out. Only a few people knew of our situation and to not put either of our jobs in jeopardy we hadn't really defined our relationship, agreeing however, to be exclusive.

Although not officially dating, I knew how I felt about him.

Smiling back at me, Pedri changed from his warm-up gear into his match shirt, walking to Xavi who whispered instructions to him.

His entry to the field was applauded by a wave of celebration from the crowd. We were all so happy for him, although maybe not the away fans.

Tonight was decisive in the title race, Barca sat at 48 with Madrid on 50, a win would put Barcelona first. The game was tied 2-2, both goals from Lewa.

As we were approaching the final minutes of added time, Barca was building up from the back. Intelligent bounce passes gave them enough space to exploit, especially for Pedri. Frenkie raced down the flank of the field, cutting inside as he reached the box, carefully delivering a rolling ball. To Pedri.

The goal came so fast that everyone leapt out of their seats. We had got the points, and it was all thanks to Pedri. My Pedri.

Routine to his celebration, Pedri lifted his hands to make glasses, and while he ran back to the half for kick off, he blew me a kiss.

Undoubtedly the squad currently on the bench and the coaches spun around to see who his actions were for - my blushing cheeks probably didn't help.

When the whistle blew to signal full time, we all ran onto the field in celebration. Although it was a team that we were predicted to defeat, the number of injuries and tightness of the game really pushed the boys.

Making my way to the ground I went to find anyone to hug, I truly didn't matter who it was. But then I was suddenly lifted from behind.

"Carino!" Knowing who it was, I felt much more comfortable. As he put me down, he immediately picked me back up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He pulled me in for a kiss which was cheered by Ferran.

"Is it the right time to ask you to be my girlfriend?" I looked down at him and nodded. He again attacked my face with kisses, and when he finally put me down, Ferran, Gavi, Fermin, and Sira pulled us all in for a group hug.

I had found my family.

"So Pedri, firstly, congratulations on the return to football. It is understood that your process of recovery was tiring and long."

"Ah yes, although I am so grateful to have the club and my beautiful girlfriend supporting me through it all."

"Now, I know you may be focused on the goal and the win, but currently everyone is freaking out over your girlfriend."

He laughed, "Yes Y/N."

"The people want to know, how did you meet?"

"You all didn't see me blowing a kiss to the bench?" The journalist laughed. "Well it definitely wasn't to Gavi." Again causing a laugh.

"But in all seriousness Y/N is a physio here at Barca. She was the sole reason as to why I was able to perform today. Without her, I'd have no motivation, and would definitely not be ready to play a match."

"She has made my days so much better. Every session I spend in recovery and training with the team, is for her. I want to make her as proud as she makes me."

I think I'm starting to like Spain.

Thank you for reading!!! Please give me suggestions on any footballer and trope so feel free to request!!

#football #football fanfic #football imagine #pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fic #pedri fan fic #fc barcelona #ferran torres #pablo gavi #fermin lopez #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x y/n #pedri x you

354 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

A request for our boy - can you do something with Elijah starting to get older and goes partying w his friends and makes some bad decisions while drunk. Id imagine Charles to be the most understanding and even tho lando is usually more shy he would be furious because he always says he doesn’t drink and it would catch Elijah reader and Charles off

Party Boy

Words: 1.4K

Warnings: Attempted drunk driving, being drunk, alcohol, blood, hurting friends

Rating: PG-13

Our Boy Masterlist

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" Cheers erupt as Elijah drinks from the funnel. Sneaking out was the best idea ever. At 19, Elijah was in F2, taking the sport by storm, clearly inheriting all 3 of his father's talents for driving. "Hell yeah!" Elijah yells as Diego, Rafael, and Beau all cheer him on.

"Easy there, you're drinking too much." Elijah shakes off Erza, his Uncle Max's son, older than them all at 24. "Leave me alone. I'm having fun! That's what you all wanted me to do, right? Have fun!" Elijah staggers off, bumping into people as he heads for the kitchen. Beau follows after, telling Ezra he'll watch him. "Yeah, right, you'll egg him on." Waving him off, Beau joins his best friend in the kitchen.

"Elijah, slow down." Beau pleads, seeing Elijah take shot after shot. "Beau, I'm 19 and smoking hot. I don't need to slow down." Elijah laughs, taking another shot. "Maybe this was a bad idea," Rafael whispers to the quiet one of the group. "It's not a bad idea, Raf. I needed to let loose, and I am. Being the oldest, always watch over Cecile. Helping Ma with Callum, I deserve this one night." Elijah garbles, words starting to slur.

"Okay, let's go." Ezra storms into the kitchen, but Elijah throws him off. "Fuck off, Ez." Ezra stumbles, throwing his hands out. The sound of glass breaks, smears of red marking the counter. "Ezra!" Diego moves, grabbing a towel and putting pressure on his hand. "I'm fine, Diego. Check on him." Nodding, Diego spins as Beau and Rafael try to calm him down.

"Oh, shove off!" Grabbing a beer bottle, Elijah throws it, another thing breaking. "God damn, he's drunk drunk." Beau curses, trying to control Elijah. Able to get free, Elijah stumbles out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys. "No, Elijah!" Ezra scrambles up as they rush after him. "You can't drive. You're drunk." Trying to reason with him, Elijah shrugs them off.

"Go away, I can drive. If I can drive dangerous cars for a living, I think I can handle this." Moving quick, Diego snatches the keys, Elijah stumbling but falls to the ground. "Okay, who do we call? We can't call our parents they'll kill us. And we can't drive; we've all been drinking." Diego whines, not liking this. "Hang on." Ezra keeps the towel tight around his hand, digging through Elijah's pockets.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly gets in, dialing a number. "Who are you calling?" Beau asks, making sure Elijah doesn't vomit. "His father."

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

"Ugh," Sitting up, Elijah presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. A jackhammer was going off in his head, and he was trying to remember how he got this way. "You're awake." Elijah makes a sound of disimprovement, not wanting to talk.

"Father, please, my head hurts, and I," Elijah stops, looking over and seeing Nico leaning on his counter holding two mugs. "Oh god," Nico says nothing as he walks around, placing the mug in front of his son. "Ezra and your friends brought you over. They're currently sleeping it off." Elijah nods, everything that happened a few hours ago blank.

"You should know I called Y/n, Charles, and Lando." Elijah whimpers, feeling sick, but Nico seems not to care. "What you've done and could've done will have serious consequences. You're lucky your friend Diego took your car keys from you." The pit in his stomach grows bigger hearing those words. "I," Taking a deep breath, he blows it out. "I almost drove drunk?" Turning to look at his father.

"Yes." Nico stares at Elijah, wanting to say more, but this isn't his place. "You're not going to yell at me?" Nico places his mug down, rubbing his forehead. "No, that is up to your parents. Your fathers." Elijah looks away, hating that Nico still doesn't see himself as his father. "You're one of my fathers." Nico laughs, standing as he starts to pace.

"Elijah, I'm not your father the way they are. We had this conversation 3 years ago, not again." A piercing ring has Elijah whimpering, covering his head as Nico goes to answer the door. "Where is he?" Rushing past Nico, you spot your eldest son on the couch, cradling his head. "Elijah." Sitting down next to him, you rub his back. "Mama, I feel sick." Charles sighs, adjusting Callum on his hip, the baby fast asleep.

"It's going to be okay. You're lucky Nico came a picked you up." Charles hated that Elijah got this drunk. It happened to everyone, but the fact his son went so far as to almost drive drunk made him a little sick. "Thank you for doing that." You nod at Nico, who says nothing, glancing at Lando. "It's going to be okay? What the fuck is that, Charles?" Lando sneers, furious beyond means.

"What? Lando, why are you so angry?" You whisper yell, Charles bouncing Callum to keep him asleep. "Angry? I'm fucking furious. I could kill you myself, Elijah." Flinching at his Dad's words Elijah hides his head farther in his knees. "Lando, don't speak to him like that." Charles scolds, but Lando pays him no mind. "Do you understand what you've done tonight?" Not receiving an answer, Lando throws his hands up.

"You shoved Ezra, cutting his hand on the glass. You then proceeded to try to DRIVE DRUNK!" Lando roars. Callum's little body jolts as little whimpers turn into loud cries. "Dammit. I'm sorry, little mouse." Lando whispers, rubbing Callum's back. "Lando, you don't need to yell at our boy like this. He made a mistake." Elijah refuses to look up; he wants nothing more than to cry.

"A mistake? Y/n, he was going to drive drunk. He could've killed someone." Elijah peers up, seeing how furious his Dad is. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dad." Lando turns, his heart aching, noticing the redness of his boy's eyes. "Elijah, I can't understand why you would try to do this. Why would you drink?" Charles moves, giving Callum to you as he takes your place, comforting his son. "Lando, we all drink and get drunk. It's part of growing up." Charles tries to reason with his husband. "I don't." "Don't what Land?" Callum's little cries die down, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

"Drink. I don't drink. It's bad for you. It makes people do terrible things. So I don't drink." Elijah giggles, unable to help himself. "Dad, I've seen you drink before. Uncle Carlos and Max always bring your favorite beers for you." Elijah nods, leaning into Charles, who plays with his hair. "Virgin." "What?" Unable to stop your laugh. "They're virgin, nonalcoholic. For this very reason, they bring them to me because they know I don't keep beer at home." Lando opens his arms, Callum being passed to him now.

"Elijah, I don't want to ever see you drink again. Do you understand me? Not in my house. If you can't control yourself, you can't drink in my home. Not with Cecile and Callum living there." Charles studies Lando, knowing why he stopped drinking and looks away. He still regrets that night. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry." Lando steps forward and crouches down.

"Elijah, I love you so much. You....you took away a piece of my trust again. So, your punishment. You're not allowed to drive in the F2 Championship race." Bolting up, Elijah blinks away, the room spinning. "What, NO! Dad, come on, I have a chance of winning it all! A chance to get an F1 seat and drive next to you and Pa. Don't do this." Elijah pleads. You should learn the responsibilities of what it means to drive, Elijah. I won't allow you behind the wheel of any car until you understand what you could've done tonight." Elijah drops back to the couch, now really wanting to cry.

"Elijah, you could've died or killed someone. This might seem harsh now, but you'll understand when you have children. Now let's go home." Elijah nods, lumbering out of the apartment not even saying goodbye to Nico. Lando stops, the last one to leave, as he stares at Nico. "He might have your blood, but he's my son. I only agreed to him having a relationship with you to save my marriage and family. But don't think I'll ever forgive you for what you did. But, thank you." Lando walks out, Nico slamming the door.

576 notes · View notes