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[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat. 

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?” 

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented. 

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth. 

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him. 

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy. 

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too. 

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing. 

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more. 

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for. 

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you. 

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule. 

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner. 

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?” 

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end. 

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well. 

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name. 

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned  black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh. 

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say. 

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?” 

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why. 

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked. 

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away. 

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head? 

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain. 

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them. 

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.” 

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all. 

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this. 

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way. 

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence. 

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself. 

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake. 

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight. 

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.” 

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue. 

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.” 

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you. 

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him. 

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him. 

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role. 

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role. 

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting. 

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. 

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help. 

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship. 

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face. 

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best. 

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well. 

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason. 

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply. 

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer. 

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks. 

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope. 

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you. 

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away. 

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people. 

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat. 

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed. 

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him. 

“Not really, but I’ll manage.” 

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained. 

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief. 

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic. 

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously. 

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains. 

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do. 

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable. 

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing. 

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile. 

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer. 

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would. 

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does. 

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities. 

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence. 

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement. 

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy. 

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives. 

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial. 

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos. 

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous. 

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form. 

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film. 

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes. 

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now. 

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing. 

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs. 

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well. 

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone. 

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished. 

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks. 

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.” 

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store. 

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests. 

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan. 

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with. 

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them. 

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through. 

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future. 

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car. 

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option. 

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier. 

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him. 

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how. 

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you. 

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face. 

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside. 

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away. 

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them. 

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them. 

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time. 

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue. 

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks. 

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?” 

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him. 

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum. 

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around. 

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–” 

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result. 

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now. 

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work. 

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door. 

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea. 

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you. 

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his? 

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words. 

He smiles to himself. 

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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[love-belle]

you were my summer love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them missing each other while their friends go crazy over their relationship.

or

for when you know they'll be your love for all eternal summers. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

prequel - i want sweet revenge and i want him again ⋆·˚ ༘

warnings - language, mention of vodka once.

author's note - i am in fact not dead :) i hope u all like this <3 i will be back with a new post 4 months later jk I LOVE U THANK U

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, y/n4eva, gasly10 and 56,828 others

paddock.club pierre gasly and celine d'souza have called it quits on their relationship after almost three months of dating, sources close to the pair reported. the pair started dating back in august after gasly broke up with his "summer love", y/n y/l/n, affectionately named as augustine by gasly and his fans. although their break up was kept hush for a long time and so was their relationship, pierre wasted no time in moving on and with none other than social media influencer, celine d'souza. "there is no bad blood between them," sources claimed, "they just didn't fit well and it was no good trying to make it work." for more details about their short-lived relationship and the driver's summer romance with the singer, click on the link in our bio.

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liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, landonorris and 2,518,916 others

yourusername yeah i miss the way he kisses and the way he grabbed my ass but i can't do anything about it so idk i cry

14,782 comments

username GIRL WHERE IS UR FILTER

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username girl get UP

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username the gasp i js gasped

charles_leclerc go stand in the corner and THINK

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username every day i wake up and every day im amazed that she has managed to attain unattainable levels of delusion

-> username no bc im TIRED

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username the lyric change gawd dayum

username is it bad i kinda want her to do something about it ????? like do it for US im off school for weeks and i need entertainment

-> yourusername thank u for supporting my delusions 🙁

-> username GIRLYPOP NO

landonorris i say we start treating y/n like a bad kitten every time she makes a bad decision

-> landonorris that came out wrong

-> danielricciardo i see your vision here

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username i genuinely do not know what to do with this information

username THE WAY HE GRABBED MY ASS OMG

lewishamilton i would genuinely appreciate it if you gave me back my son

-> yourusername he's mine now move along

-> lewishamilton i will never forget that you called me weird

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-> username they're FRIENDS

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-> username im eating up every second of this

username now i js need max and nando to be besties 🤞🤞🤞🤞 with y/n and my life will be complete

-> yourusername i don't want them they're annoying

-> fernandoalo_official this is why pierre chose the other girl

-> yourusername SO LOW

-> maxverstappen1 the reason i like you is because you were drinking pure vodka out of a sippy cup at 8 am without blinking

-> yourusername this is why charles doesn't follow u x

-> maxverstappen1 THAT'S A LOW FUCKING BLOW

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,156,976 others

pierregasly do something about it

15,729 comments

username SCREECHING WHAT THE FUCK

username i have never ever been this invested in someone else's life THIS BETTER BE WORTH IT

username oh he's BOLD bold

username i know my girlie is panicking rn she did not MEAN for this to happen

username mf say this to HER

username bitches wouldn't be in this situation if they js TALKED FFS

username no bc i KNEW that something was gonna happen when he posted that song on his story

-> username fr like "when i touch her i feel like im cheating on u" BABE????

username cheating on u by charlie puth is actually so y/n and pierre coded it's INSANE

-> username the way my jaw dropped

charles_leclerc i should confiscate your phone for this

-> pierregasly you were the one who held an intervention for me so that i would "get my shit together"

-> charles_leclerc you don't HAVE to get your shit together if it means that i wouldn't be seeing her everyday

-> pierregasly just say that you're scared of her and MOVE

-> username charles is so valid bc she scares ME

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username im BEGGING y'all pls get back together

username the sigh that left me when i heard that pierre and celine broke up like 😭

username i live in fear that y/n and pierre will get back together and we won't be getting any more angry petty bitchy songs

username motherfucker MAKE A MOVE

username i know the grid is conspiring to get them together like they're MY menacea

-> username yeah and their most effective method (according to them) is locking them in a room

-> username do u think they know that one of them will not be making it out of the room and it'll probably be pierre 🧍

username i am a child of divorce this is christmas of '07 all over again 😔

landonorris i did NOT see you post this and then throw your phone up at the sky and screech as if someone just turned your ribs inside down to make you feel like a fairy

-> pierregasly stay away from me

-> oscarpiastri oh my god that was you??? i thought one of the cars ran over a cat on the track 😭

-> pierregasly okay mctwinks let's get you back in your playpens

-> landonorris unprovoked ☹️

-> oscarpiastri i would say watch your back but you're in the BACK so ☺️

-> pierregasly I WILL RUN YOU OFF

-> pierregasly i'm sorry my team told me i can't say that

username my head is wrapping itself around all this information like a shawl im going INSANE

username i know pierre is on all fours trying to get y/n to take him back

-> username as he should be idgaf

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, lilymhe and 2,628,826 others

yourusername yeah i really missed the way he kisses and the way he grabbed my ass so i did something about it

tagged pierregasly

18,628 comments

username IDK WHETHER TO BE MAD OR HAPPY BUT HELLO???

username im gonna scream bc wtf

username NO WARNING WHAT THE FUCK

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-> yourusername im 182729291% sure charles is gonna murder him if he acts a bit silly again so i'd say it's looking pretty good!!!!

-> charles_leclerc alex hates it when y/n is sad and they both make it MY problem so i'm sorry if i wanna make pasta in a peaceful and tranquil environment instead of bitching about my best mate

-> alexandrasaintmleux you were the one who came up with the most creative insults every time don't LIE like a LIAR

-> pierregasly charles???

-> charles_leclerc they're LYING they LIE they're LIARS

username why am i js figuring it out that y/n is AUGUSTINE like from august by taylor swift

-> username BABE 😭😭😭😭 HOW DID U NOT KNOW

username something about pierre going from her summer love to love love (we don't talk abt what happened in the middle ☺️)

username someone sedate me they're BACK

username i just KNOW charles is pulling at his hair rn bc i know my man has so much dirt on pierre but they reconciled a bit too quickly

-> charles_leclerc I DIDN'T GET TO TELL HER ABOUT THE DUCK INCIDENT

-> pierregasly ONE WORD AND I WILL ERASE YOU FROM THIS EARTH

-> yourusername charles ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ don't be shy ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ i always liked u the most out of ALL his friends ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ please elaborate ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

-> yukitsunoda0511 death would've been kinder than this ☹️

-> yourusername STOPPP U KNOW UR MY FAVOURITE I HATE THAT CHARLES MF HE TRIPS ME EVERY TIME I SEE HIM

-> charles_leclerc for the last time, i REALLY did not see the puddle exactly in front of you and i'm really really really really really sorry that you fell in that puddle. and ruined your dress. and made me pay for it. and then pushed me into a fountain.

-> alexandrasaintmleux say away from my gf charles_leclerc 😡😡😡😡😡😡

-> username i have a migraine

username the lore slowly coming to the surface

-> username NAH BC UR TELLING ME THAT YUKI AND Y/N ARE BESTIES???? ALEX AND Y/N ARE LIKE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️???? CHARLES AND Y/N HAVE BEEF???? HE PUSHED HER INTO A PUDDLE AND SHE PUSHED HIM INTO A FOUNTAIN????

-> username they kept us in the dark for so long we could've had it all 💔💔💔

username time to go on a vacation and make it a mission to hate the dude i meet and then fall in love with him

-> username HATE????

-> username pierre and y/n HATED each other when they first met but then long story short y/n saved him from a jellyfish and then it was lovers part of enemies to lovers ❤️

-> username oh the lore is WILD

username don't be a coward and record get him back with these lyrics 😡😡😡😡😡

-> yourusername i would but pierre would cry if i sang that song again now that he's back in my good books 😔💔

-> landonorris this is why you need to break up again x

-> pierregasly don't make me break check you next weekend

username is it a good time to mention that i saw u at lax and u looked WRECKED so im really glad ur both back together so that he can grab ur ass again

-> yourusername 😭😭😭😭 thank u my love

-> username tears

pierregasly thank you for doing something about it because i could NEVER

-> yourusername someone has to go to the counter and say "he asked for no pickles" in this relationship babe ❤️

-> charles_leclerc i have seen you both TREMBLING at the prospect of human interaction

-> yourusername why are u friends with him pierregasly

-> charles_leclerc not just him now 🥰

-> yourusername i am ready to break up with pierre if it means that i can get rid of this annoying parasite

-> charles_leclerc i go, alex goes

-> alexandrasaintmleux no you go away, i go to yourusername

-> yourusername DEVOURED AND BY HIS OWN GF

pierregasly all jokes (charles included) aside, i love you ❤️ thank you for hearing me out instead of pushing me down the stairs of instant death like charles told me you'd do

-> yourusername i love you 🫶🏼 i could never push u down the stairs, stair (singular) maybe but no ☺️

-> username why r u like this 🧍

username everyone cheer her crisis is GONE

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 2,578,826 others

pierregasly you were my summer love and now you'll be my forever love

tagged yourusername

17,629 comments

username STOP TEARS ARE LEAKING

username can't believe this is the guy u told y/n she was trippin (she was btw ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

-> username character development and threats from f1 drivers does wonders to ur personality

username can't believe we're not gonna get anymore petty and bitchy songs anymore 💔💔💔

-> username maybe the petty and bitchy songs were all the comments from this group we collected along the way

username y'all cannot convince me that charles didn't at least TRY to tell y/n to let pierre GO simply bc he's a little shit

-> yourusername can confirm, the reason it didn't work was because then i'd have to AGREE with 🤮 charles 🤮

-> charles_leclerc you act as if i'm not actively gagging while talking to you

-> pierregasly so good to know that the reason i have a LOVING girlfriend is that she just hates my best friend

username pierre will forever be catching strays as long as y/n and charles remain friends 💔

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord that i exist in a world where pierre and y/n are together and that a dying jellyfish was the cause of it all ❤️❤️❤️

username real talk!!!!! how did mama gasly react when y/n told her that her son sucks

-> yourusername i didn't have to, she called me and told me that herself

-> username iconic

-> pierregasly i'm leaving the country and shaving my hair

username "forever love" i will be on the highway don't test me

username god i have seen and noted what u did for the others

username i love it when men are unapologetically in love with their gfs

lewishamilton happy for you both. please tell y/n to return my dog.

-> pierregasly she's currently cuddling roscoe and asking me to tell you to fuck right off

-> lewishamilton godmother privileges PROVOKED

username i will never be able to wrap my head around the fact that lewis hamilton and y/n y/l/n are FRIENDS like how'd THAT happen

-> username do u think they exchange fashion tips and pointers

-> username they deffo talk shit abt charles' fashion choices

-> username they should add him in the gc and TALK to him bc those choices are HORRENDOUS

username y/n 🎤🎤🎤 did u really key his car 🎤🎤🎤

-> yourusername my lawyer advises me to deny this false allegation

-> pierregasly she did something worse.

-> yourusername OKAAYYYYYYY U R NOT ALLOWED TO TALK HERE

-> pierregasly she put glitter ALL over the interiors

-> username WOAHAHSHSKSKSKD

-> username u deserved it 🗣️‼️

username i need a step by step walkthrough of exactly HOW these two got together and i need it NOW

username so when y/n hates publicly on a dude, she manages to make him her bf but when i do it, i make him my mortal enemy??? make it make sense 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

username it is so sexy of me to continue life even when life (instagram) throws obstacles (y/n and pierre being cute and shit) at me

username i will lay in my grave and dream of a love like theirs

-> username aahh haha didn't mean to get so philosophical mb

-> yourusername that was crazy babe

-> username it's true 😔💔

username me patiently waiting for a summer love that will have me ripping my hair off my scalp 🧍

username YOU WERE MYYYYY SUMMER LOOOVEEEEEEE

-> username one direction 🔛🔝

yourusername 4ever is not so bad after all ❤️

-> pierregasly with you it won't ever be enough ❤️

-> yourusername stop making me cry i have a reputation on here 🙁🙁🙁

-> username she says as if her personality isn't js crying over things all day long and being a Hater

-> yourusername OH FUCK OFF

yourusername i love you 🪤

-> pierregasly je t'aime mon cœur but the emoji? (i love you my heart)

-> yourusername it was the closest thing i could find to a tripod

-> landonorris 🔭 this is right here and also GROSS

-> username why are u all like this

yourusername off topic but i accidentally set off the fire alarm and now im locked in the bathroom bc the lock broke and im kinda Panicking

-> pierregasly why are you a fire hazard

-> yourusername THAT'S WHAT UR CONCERNED ABOUT

username i love it when bitches are chaotic like yessss!!!!!!! go and show us that unhinged energy!!!!!!!

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly au #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x ex!reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you

[uhohnotthisagain]

I Will Always Save You

Summary: You get caught by a demon. Its up to Dean, Sam and Castiel to find you before its too late.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel.

Warnings: My first fic ever (pls be kind), angst???, kidnapping, blood, torture, swearing, anxious dean.

Word count: 0.8k

My masterlist

--- You feel your lungs burn as you try to take in breaths of air. Your eyes are wide as you stare into the demon’s black ones in front of you, hand wrapped tightly around your neck. Your legs are dangling freely as he has you pinned against the wall. 

He grins as you grip his wrist, trying to free yourself. “This is simple, Y/N. I just need answers and then you’re free to go.” 

“Fuck. You.” You spat back at him. 

His hand tightens around your throat. “Wrong answer.”

Your body is flung across the room, slamming into a cement wall before falling down. You gasp for air as he charges towards you. You’re on your hands and knees, trying to stand up without visibly wincing in pain. Just as you get to your feet, a punch lands right at your temple, knocking you out instantly. 

–

“Where is she? She was supposed to be back an hour ago.” Dean paced across the motel room. 

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m trying to ping her cell for her location but it’s taking a minute to load.” Sam is sat at the small table, rubbing his hands over his face, brows furrowed as he stares at the screen in front of him. 

“Got it, it says she’s near a gas station.” Dean’s out the door before Sam finishes his sentence, quickly following after him. 

–

“Fuck!”

Your car is found, parked at the gas station, door open and phone found on smashed on the ground. 

They had been searching the area for a while when Cas showed up to help them look for you. It had been at least 8 hours since you had left so who knows where you could be. 

“Guys! I found something.” Sam called out from around the back of the building. The necklace that Dean had given you was lying there, having been ripped from your neck. The gas station was located at the edge of a forest, meaning they would have to trek through miles of trees and bushes with no other evidence of where you could be. 

“The gas station guy says the cameras are there just to scare off crooks, they don’t work.” Cas sighs. “And he said he didn’t see anything happen.” 

Dean is wandering off, seeing if you had left any other clues nearby when he spots scratch marks in the trees. “Found something else, we need to go this way.” He yells, spotting more scratch marks on more trees, praying that these led to you. 

—

“You’re just making this more difficult for yourself.” 

You spat blood back at him that had been pooling in your mouth. You were currently tied up, hands bound together hanging from the ceiling. You were exhausted from the constant beatings and torture. You no longer had energy to fight back, instead just hanging in silence, the only sound coming from you was the grunts and moans in pain. 

You had been praying to Cas to come and find you, and praying that Dean and Sam were coming as well. But slowly you were losing hope.  

“Alright, if this doesn’t make you talk, I’m ending you. The Winchesters can’t save you if you’re dead.” The demon lifts a metal poker and holds it over the firepit that was the only source of light in the room. You had been moved into a different room, this one had no windows or any other escape apart from the one door. He lifts it to sear it into the skin of your chest. 

Suddenly, there were crashes heard from outside the room you were kept in. The demon whipped his head around towards the door. He drops the poker and walks towards the door but before he could open in, Dean had crashed through it, knocking the demon out of the way in the process. With the demon blade in hand, he stabbed the demon in the chest, the body falling to the ground immediately. 

With a sigh of relief from the both of you, Dean rushes to help you down. “She’s in here! I’ve got her!” He calls out. 

“Is she okay?” Sam rushes in to help, Cas following closely behind. “I think so, just really beat up.” 

Cas reaches foward as you are held in Deans arms, to exhausted and in pain to hold yourself up. He gently places two fingers on your forehead as a calm warmth comes over you, healing you. 

“That should heal all her injuries but evidently not her exhaustion. Lets get her back to the motel room so she can rest up and eat something.”

Dean picks you up bridal style to carry you to the car, tossing Sam the keys for him to drive so Dean could make sure you were alright. 

–

“Thank you for saving me.” You whispered later that night, in bed with Dean. You were laying with your head on his chest, looking up at him with a small smile. He looks down at you, whispering back, “I can’t live without you, of course I will always come and save you.” Even though that wasn’t a promise that was easy to keep, you knew Dean did everything he could to keep you safe, and you do the same in return. And that was all that mattered. 

#supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #supernatural imagines #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #sam

[sinsandsweetness]

across the hall - part 2 (Frank Castle x fem!reader)

part 1

cw- eventual smut, 18+ , nothing crazy<3

notes- definitely placed in the beginning of season 1. I know he goes by a different name at that time but… I don’t really care lol. I have no clue where this is going but it’s all my fingers will type today so I’m rolling with it. lmk what we think:)

Frank opened the door in plaid pyjama pants and a grey tee. Rubbing at his eye with his palm and leaning up against the doorway.

“Hey,” he seems a little surprised. Like no one has ever knocked on his door before. “You lose your keys again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by the stretched fabric across his body. Muscles in his arms bulging and flexing involuntarily as he crosses them against his chest.

“Oh, um, no I just- uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the other night. You didn’t have to do that and … yeah just, um, I made you this.” You bring attention to the casserole dish in your hands. “Just as a little thank you.”

He wants to smile but for whatever reason he bites it back. Nodding slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “Was just bein’ a good neighbour.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you didn’t have to. It was just really nice and I, um, I appreciated it. A lot.” You shift on your feet. Glancing down at your bunny slippers and pyjama pants.

“What is it?” Frank opens the door even more, nodding to the dish. He’s inviting you in. Not verbally. But he backs into his apartment and expects you to follow.

“Uh, lasagna. Hope you like it.” You step in and he closes the door behind you. “It’s still needs to go in the oven. A half hour?” You suggest, handing it to him.

He turns the oven on and places the tinfoil covered dish inside. Turning around and looking you up and down. You figure you weren’t supposed to notice that.

With his gaze on you, you find yourself suddenly a little self conscious of your pjs. White top, probably a little see through though you didn’t want to check. Faded pink striped pyjama pants and those fucking slippers. Why couldn’t you have just slipped on some flip flops. Anything else.

“Kinda late for dinner, no?” He cracks a smile to let you know that he’s not being rude. Just making conversation, acknowledging both of your attire.

“Well you work late, right? I mean at least it seems like it… I don’t know when you get off work or anything-“ you’re rambling. You do know when he gets off. Almost every weekday at 8 pm you hear his door unlock. It’s sticky, catching on the wooden frame. That’s how you know. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the hall. And, most of the time, you get home from college at the same time. Running into him in the elevator and walking alongside him to the two of your doors. At least on the days you decide to study.

Frank nods. Leaning up against the counter. A little smirk visible in the dim lit apartment.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Oh, no I’m ok. I should get back to bed anyway.” You stutter, motioning towards the door.

“You’re gonna make me eat this whole lasagna all alone?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“Stay. Have a beer. Or water. I have water. Wine? Think I got some wine somewhere in here,” Frank is already in the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. Same as the other night.

“Beer’s good.” You finally answer.

“Here. Take a seat.” He hands You the bottle and pulls one of the stools at the island out for you.

You sit there and wait for the timer on the oven to go off. He asks you what you do. What you’re studying in school. How you like it. You ask him about work. What he does, how he likes it. Typical small talk, only this time you’re here on purpose. Not out of necessity.

When the timer goes off he makes you up a plate. Sitting next to you at the island, you eat with him. You’re not very hungry, seeing as you’d already eaten dinner. But you didn’t really want to leave. Not after his comment about eating alone. That pulled at a heart string.

“So…” you try to come up with more conversation. An empty plate and a fork in front of you both. Only a few sips left in your beer. “You live alone?”

He nods. Taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh. So you don’t… have a girlfriend or anything?”

He doesn’t know wether he should smile. Instead he just shakes his head. No girlfriend. Ok. You don’t want to admit it but you’re glad he said no. Even though you don’t know him very well, you feel drawn to the man. Big and burley and quiet. Handsome of course. And something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You uh,” he swallows, “you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you huff a little laugh. Though it’s not very funny.

“So your buddy from the elevator…?”

“Oh no. That’s- he’s just my roommate. He’s got a girlfriend. Several actually,” you laugh awkwardly and wish you could smack your forehead.

“Lady killer, huh?” He cracks a smile.

“Somethin’ like that. Definitely thinks he is,” you smile back and take a few more swigs of beer. Not really feeling a buzz but definitely more relaxed. You don’t know why you’re always so anxious around Frank. He’s much more kind than the energy he puts off in the hall.

Two more beers and a few awfully raunchy roommate stories later and you find yourself back on his couch. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. your slippers are kicked off and across the room. You’re sitting there, criss cross applesauce beside him and demonstrating the size of a hot pink dildo that your freshman year roommate forgot to take out of the shower. Frank is laughing and covering his face with a palm. Like he’s actually embarrassed for the girl. But you’re both a little tipsy so it really doesn’t matter.

“So what, you’ve never been the bad roommate?” He asks. His hand so close to your knee it’s burning hot.

“I mean…” you bite your lip. Trying not to smile and give yourself away.

“Ok. So you have. How?” He nudges your leg with his own. Urging you on.

“I have not!” You laugh. Trying to uphold your dignity.

“I’m callin’ bullshit. Pretty girl like you? No way you don’t have a few skeletons in that closet.” His hand is on your knee now. Undeniably there. Resting. Squeezing.

You blush. You can’t help the way your face heats up. He called you pretty. And he’s touching you.

You swallow, “I- I’ve had a couple of hookups that, maybe weren’t exactly the quietest. Or… safest.” You try to keep it brief. Hoping he’ll let it be at that.

“Safest?”

“Well… there was a bathtub incident, where he, um, broke his foot. And a… well a bed frame incident as well…” you’re face is burning. You can’t believe you’re admitting this to your neighbour. One that you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing shirtless again. One that you’ve been picturing in your bed for a much longer time than you’d care to admit.

“Hmm,” He hums a little laugh but he doesn’t bother asking for any explanation.

“What?” You ask. Nervous of the answer.

“Nothin’,”

“No, you were about to say something, go on.”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t strike me as that kind of girl. Always carrying all those books around. Seemed like the kinda girl who goes to school and to church and that’s it. Just… I don’t know. You surprise me.”

“I’m full of surprises, Frank. I think we both are.”

He nods. You have no idea.

“Besides, I don’t even go to church,” you finish off your bottle with one last sip. Placing on the floor beside the couch leg.

“No?”

“Why did you think that?” You ask.

“You’re up at 8 every Sunday. Dressed all nice. Figured that’s where you go.”

He notices you every Sunday. How does he notice?

“I meet a friend….for brunch. Been sort of a ritual since school started,” you explain, “how do you- how do you know that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that i’m up at 8 on sundays?”

“I see you, walking down to the corner of the street,” He points to the window. “Hear your keys in your hand as you leave the hallway. And I know about 4 minutes later, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. Going towards the lights.”

“So you’re spying on me?” You tease. Smiling like an idiot. He notices you! Frank notices you and he has for weeks. All while you’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him in the elevator or the hall. He’s been doing the same thing.

“It’s not spyin’ if it’s general knowledge. Anyone can see you leavin’ the building.” He defends himself but you know he’s smiling.

“Yeah but you’re obviously the only one who notices.” You sit up straighter. Suddenly feeling really close to his face. Looking into those deep brown eyes.

“Trust me when I say, I’m definitely not the only guy who notices you.” His eyes keep darting away. Like he’s afraid of you seeing into them. Seeing into him.

You bite your lip. Not knowing what to say. It’s a compliment, though you’ve never been very great at taking those.

“Hey, Frank?” You ask, redirecting his attention back to your eyes. Your voice is quiet. Shy. “Would you wanna go for brunch sometime?”

“I got a better idea. Stay the night, and I’ll make you breakfast this time. How’s that sound?” His hand on your leg is squeezing you gently. And his words are pulling you even closer.

“I’d like that,” you breath out, nose almost touching his. Hand coming up to the side of his face, “I’d like that a lot.”

You press your lips to his and your suddenly thankful for all the beers he gave you. Feeling a hundred times more courageous than you typically do.

His hands are wrapping around your waist on no time. Pulling you around to straddle his lap. To kiss him and feel him underneath you. Hands roaming his broad shoulders and down his chest. His own hands dragging under the thin material of your long sleeve, sending pinpricks down your arms from the touch.

Your tongues taste of beer as they trace over each others lips. Muffled moans threaten to creep up your throat as you feel him grow hard underneath you. Grinding against his bulge, only the thin fabric of your pyjamas between you.

He picks you up by the backs of your thighs. Lifting you and him both to maneuver you around. He wants you underneath him. Your back hits the leather couch and his forearms frame your face. Coming back down to meet your lips again, you reach for his shirt, pulling on the hem. He lets you lift it over his head. Your own shirt quickly after. Pants being tugged down all rushed and inpatient before you find yourself inviting him in between your legs. Heels wrapped around the small of his back and your nails dig into his shoulder blades while he enters you slowly. Giving you a minute to adjust to his size.

His kisses are hungry. Warm and, somehow, already familiar. His beard tickles your jaw but you can’t complain. It feels too good. Him. Inside of you. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulling you closer as he fucks you. The sofa is creaking with every thrust but he doesn’t seem to care. Whispering sweet nothing in your ear. You can barely hear them you’re so high. Intoxicated by the taste of him. The feel of him. Nothing is going through your mind except him and how fucking good he feels.

“Frank, I’m- oh god I’m getting close,” you let him know with your lips brushing his neck the whole time. You want to kiss every inch of him. Every spot you can reach. He doesn’t mind. Going even faster at your announcement. Determined to get you there before him, because at your words, he’s trying so fucking hard not to finish in your tight, warm heat right here and now.

You press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling and tugging and silently telling him that you’re there. Your breath hitches and he feels you convulse around him. Your orgasm takes over and a warm, euphoric wave spreads throughout your core. Frank pulls out and hot, white ropes coat your lower belly. His own face pressed into your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs through his spine.

You catch your breath in his hold. Gripping his arm and the back of his neck. Trying to pull him back for one last kiss.

He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and leaning back, forcing you to follow and sit up with him.

“Sorry, I- you can shower. I’ll go get it started.” He days between kisses. But you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

“No I shouldn’t of-”

“I liked it.”

He nods. Eyes closing and melting back into your kiss. Hands still refusing to leave your body. Feeling and memorizing every soft curve of your waist. Your hips. Your ribs and the dip in your spine.

“Can I stay? Can we- can you-“ you take a deep breath, “will tou take me to your bed, Frank. Please?” You ask and he feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants to fuck you in his bed until the sun rises. He wants to tell you to stay every damn night for the rest of your life. To move on in and give him a damn kid. He knew he was hooked from the first kiss. Screwed really. There’s nothing he can do except see it through. Ride it out and let the universe do the rest.

Before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you through the apartment, lips on his the whole way to the room. His foot must have tapped your empty bottle, knocking it over to roll along the floor, clinking against the linoleum.

Distracted by eachother, you don’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t seem to care.

#frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank x reader #Frank x you #Frank x y/n #frank daydream #Frank imagine #frank castle drabble #frank castle imagine #Frank castle fanfiction

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: aaaaahhhhhhhh sorry this one took ages. I suddenly had a bunch of personal things going on so I struggled to find the time. Also this chapter is wild, I’m so sorry for the complete train wreck that it is. I just keep writing without questioning it too much. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 1

Morning soon rolled around; my alarm waking me from my deep dreamless sleep, eyes wearily blinking open as I stared blankly at the old ceiling. Turning off the repetitive beeping, I flung back the covers and climbed out of bed, pacing to the bathroom to freshen up before heading down to breakfast. I was in desperate need of a laundry day as I was down to my last couple of clean items: a cropped black tank top that said ‘Singers Salvage Yard’ across the front in old cracked and over washed lettering, paired with a short denim skirt with frayed edges. It was an a-line fit a long time ago, but as I got older and my figure changed it just got tighter and shorter. I don’t even know why I still have the thing. Paired with my boots and some comfy socks poking over the top of them, I looked like I should be getting paid to wash cars. I grimaced, knowing full well that Dean was going to make a comment.

Dean.

My mind raced back to last night with his parted lips and black lustful eyes - I couldn’t tell if he wanted to push me against a wall or be at my mercy, it was hard to say. Both sounded spectacular.

I strode into the central study room where the boys did all their research, looking for my flannel when I noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye. Instinct took over and I grabbed the nearest item to me - a lamp from the middle of the table - and held it up like a bat, ready to swing. The man flinched but held up his hands, an apologetic expression on his ruggedly handsome face.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” his voice was monotone despite his peaceful words.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“CAS!” Suddenly Deans voice rang through the open room and we both spun to see him standing where I had just walked in, Sam following behind.

“Dean I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle her, I wasn’t expecting you to have visitors,” this Cas guy spoke, his tone forever unchanging.

“This is (Y/n), Bobby’s niece. She’s staying with us for a while to help with research,” he explained, before turning to me and giving me a stern look, holding his hand out.

“(Y/n) give me the lamp.”

I did as he asked, placing the cool metal into his palm as he returned it to the table. We shared a look for a second and I was unsure of the meaning behind it - was he mad about me almost bludgeoning his friend? Was it because I was going to use a lamp of all things? Or was it about last night, and the fact I left him hanging? Who knows, but I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Dean was about to turn away when the monotone voice of Cas spoke up.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), please forgive me for startling you. Although…” he paused, looking me up and down and then almost knowingly between myself and Dean, “I have personally been caught off guard here as well - I was unaware that Dean was involved with someone.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked up at Cas, getting ready to snatch that lamp back. I saw Dean pinch the bridge of his nose and mutter an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“You’re sexual endeavours with Dean,” Cas looked at me like I was the one missing something here. Clearly I am. Cas continued, “you’ve been intimate, have you not? This means that you are a couple from what I’ve learned.” Suddenly his eyes went wide and he looked straight at Dean.

“Or is this a pizza man situation?”

“CAS STOP TALKING,” Dean bellowed, embarrassment creeping across his face. I’m assuming he’s not used to that emotion as he was getting very frustrated. I couldn’t help but stand there in disbelief.

“How the actual FUCK do you know about me and Dean after saying that you weren’t aware of me even being here before you arrived?”

“He can smell it,” Dean said quietly, arms now crossed over his chest.

“What?”

“He can smell… me… on you,” as the words left his lips, his eyes locked with mine for a split second sending a jolt down my spine and hair prickling on my skin. I tore my eyes away from him and looked back at Cas.

“So wait, this weirdo can smell that I slept in one of Deans T-shirts last night?”

“You slept in one of his shirts?” Sam asked, piping up for the first time since this conversation started. Dean grinned like the cat that got the cream, embarrassment dissipating for a second.

“Yeah, she did.”

“Hmmm,” Cas mumbled, “No it’s not just that… It’s stronger, like there is part of Dean in her somehow. Or at least there was; not so much anymore.”

My eyes went as wide as the moon and my cheeks felt like they’d been set on fire.

“OH MY GOD,” I hid my face in my hands, wanting the ground to swallow me up. Whilst I tried to hide my entire existence, Dean cackled, leaving Sam confused.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” He asked, looking between all three of us. I couldn’t say a word through the white hot embarrassment, which left Dean to explain. He turned and looked Sam dead in the eye.

“You know how much I love pie, Sam,” he paused to see if Sam was catching on, which he wasn’t so Dean continued. “All sorts of pie. Like, uh, apple pie, cherry pie… cream pie…” Sam’s eyes shot open as wide as they could and he almost went as red as me.

“Nope!” He declared, promptly spinning on his heel and leaving. Cas looked confused.

“I smell no pie here.”

“Never mind, Cas,” Dean patted him on the shoulder before urging him to catch up with Sam who I’m assuming is in the kitchen by now. When it was just Dean and I left I peered at him through my fingers, my face still burning up.

“Dean what the fuck just happened?!”

He tried to suppress his laughter, explaining that Cas was in fact ‘Castiel’ and an Angel of the Lord, which explained his rigid behaviour and a weirdly strong set of senses.

“Why didn’t you butt in and explain who he was before everything got so embarrassing!”

“To be honest it was all pretty hilarious.”

“No it wasn’t! That was NOT an enjoyable moment!”

“Ok I’m sorry,” Dean paused, looking down at me with softer eyes, a slight smile still on his lips. He stepped closer and I pushed on his chest.

“You better be! You owe me big time for that one Winchester.”

He grinned as the furious redness on my face simmered down, just leaving a pink glow on my cheeks.

“Ok ok! Look let's just go and get some breakfast and put this behind us,” he put his hand on the small of my back, urging me towards the kitchen. I hummed, walking with him. There were a few moments of silence as we made our way down before he suddenly spoke up again.

“Did you know that he once smelt a bladder infection on a dead guy?”

*

Breakfast was uneventful. I was unable to make eye contact with Castiel, and it seemed that Sam was unable to make eye contact with me. Dean however was completely unphased. Once we were all finished and I’d cleared everything away I made my way to my room, grabbed my dirty clothes and then headed to the laundry room - today was going to be a practical one as I officially had nothing else to wear. Upon arriving I couldn’t help but grimace; a mountain of mens clothes covered in mud, blood and black goop sat in the middle of the floor by the washers.

“Gross…” I winced, the smell of dirt and iron filling my nose as I got closer and poked the pile with a pipe I found off to the side. I half expected the mass of clothes to sprout legs and walk off. The boys could probably find lore on the thing with how long its been sitting here. I huffed, scooping my hair into a high ponytail before shoving a bunch of my washing in a machine and turning it on before returning for face the Winchesters laundry. I can’t leave it here, that goes against everything clean and hygienic that I stand for. I could burn it? They would definitely complain about having to replace all the plaid shirts. Should I sort it or just hope for the best? Do I check the pockets? Knowing all the crap they carry around, I should definitely check the pockets before a load of bullets or a hex bag goes through one of the machines. I set to work, sorting out colours, blacks and whites - unable to differentiate between lights and darks at times - and search every pocket as I go. The amount of women’s phone numbers I find on napkins and receipts is ridiculous. I can’t help but feel a little deflated, knowing I’m probably just a name on Deans list. I put them to the side in a pile, keeping them separate from the numbers from Sam’s pockets. I load up another machine and turn it on, picking up the stacks of numbers and leaving the room.

I find the boys sitting in their usual places at the tables, surrounded by piles of books and files. Castiel was nowhere to be seen. I walk up to them and slide the collection of phone numbers over to them.

“I thought you might want to keep these,” I said, not understanding the tone in my own voice. They both took a few seconds to realise what it was that I was handing them and they both responded in an abashed manner, shooting each other a knowing look before staring at the accumulation of digits, not once making eye contact with me. Sam nodded a quick ‘thank you’ before I turned to leave, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him crumple them up and throw them away in a carrier bag on the floor next to him. At the same time, I caught Dean shoving his collection into his jacket pocket, which was hung on the back of his chair. I hastened my actions and turned away quicker, not wanting to have the knowledge that he was keeping them. A pang of something shot through my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, sadness, rage or self pity. Whatever it was, I needed to get the fuck away from Dean.

*

A few hours passed and I was still sorting laundry. My clothes were officially clean and dry and away in my room, however the task at hand was now the clothes belonging to the Winchester boys. I was a few minutes away from the final load of washing being dry, and I’d managed to arrange the clothing into piles of ‘definitely Sam’ and ‘definitely Dean’, with a ‘really not sure’ pile in the middle. The jeans were easy enough to tell apart and due to Deans T-shirt I wore to bed last night, I now knew that he wore a slightly larger shirt size than his younger brother. I guess he had bigger shoulders, despite Sam being taller. My train of thought snapped as I suddenly heard a door slam upstairs and a female voice call out. I recognised the voice immediately. I stopped everything I was doing and headed upstairs, my feet carrying me with purpose as I reached the study room; Sam and Dean also emerging from another corridor.

“Charlie!” Dean beamed at her, going to give her a hug before I caught up to them and shoved him out the way.

“Don’t you EVER abandon me again like that,” I said, embracing her tight. “I’m fucking annoyed at you…. But I’m glad you’re here. These guys are like wild animals.” She patted my hair softly before I stepped back and she had an apologetic look on her face.

“I knooowwww I’m sorry! But you were in such a slump I really had to do something. Plus these guys really needed whipping into shape,” she spoke the second half of her sentence quieter and we both peered at the boys, fully aware that they could hear every word we were saying.

“Anyway!” She exclaimed, moving away and plopping her backpack onto the nearest table, “I think I have a case for you guys…” her voice was excited but the way her expression changed when she looked from the boys to me was slightly concerning. Sam seemed to pick up on this too.

“That’s great, but what’s the catch?” He asked. Charlie bit her lip and looked between the boys and me again.

“It’s in a strip club and we will need (Y/n) as bait.”

“What?!” Both me and Sam spoke up at the same time, and all that Dean could muster was a huge grin.

“I’m gonna need more details than that Charlie,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Right, yes, I probably should have started with the other details. Anyway, I’m pretty sure this club is run by a bunch of vamps, using girls as bait to lure in unsuspecting men to feed on in the private rooms.” The brothers nodded, like they’d seen this sort of thing before. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve had a hunch about this place for a while and did some digging, and it turns out that just last night they advertised a new position available and they want someone that looks just like (Y/n). This is a perfect way to take them down from the inside.” Charlie finished speaking and scanned our faces for any sort of response. I shrugged.

“Sure I’m in.”

“No way, we aren’t putting you in the line of fire like that,” Sam turned to me, a look of worry already smothering his features.

“I agree with Sam, this will be more dangerous than the last case. We’ll find another way to take them down,” Dean said, before he added in an almost snide tone “plus I bet you can’t even lap dance. How would you ever fit in?”

I scoffed.

“Fuck you, I can lap dance just fine.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I don’t need to prove shit to you.”

“Guys,” Sam held his hands up, “not right now.”

I turned back to Charlie.

“Look I’m in, can you make sure that no one else gets hired?” She grins, opening her backpack and pulling out her tablet.

“Absolutely!”

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Up Next:

Chapter 8 part 2

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester enemies to lovers #eventual smut #enemies to lovers #supernatural smut #slow burn #supernatural #spn

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: none? word count: 1.2k a/n: hi!! this is my first fanfic on here so im still getting used to the tumbler format but this will be a series. pls lmk ur thoughts or feelings or concerns or all of the above <3

pov: third person

Layla walked down the busy hallway, making a B-line for her locker that was further away than she needed it to be. She didn't want to be at school any more than she had to. The only reason she still went was to ensure she didn't get expelled for her attendance or lack thereof. Her shoulders were slouched as she pushed through the busy narrow hallway, her peers rushing to their classes.

The bleached blonde girl didn't care if she was late to her English class, it was the easiest class for her to pass even if she wasn't there. As the hallway started to filter out, she reached her locker and quickly punched in the numbers on her padlock. She swung the door open lazily, regretting her choice of rolling out of bed already but knew she might as well follow through with her choice now that she was here.

After throwing her bag into the locker, sliding her phone into the pocket of her black sweatpants that matched the black hoodie she wore. As she always did, she had her black leather jacket over the top since the cold Boston air seeped into her hoodie easily. She left her headphone in, grabbing her books for English even though she knew she would barely use them. She slammed her locker closed, easily heading to her English class now that no one was in the hallways.

She reached the closed door that was her class, swinging the door open and instantly felt the eyes of her peers bore into her. She closed the door, her teacher giving her an unsatisfied look but clearly not surprised.

"Layla, you're late," her teacher stated the obvious and Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes, hearing that sentence at least twice a day.

"I'm aware," she replied blandly, earning a scowl from her teacher.

"Take a seat," Miss Piler demanded and Layla didn't respond as she slid through the students, eyes pouring into her. She brushed their looks off, being used to it by now, "And take your hood off."

Miss P glared at Layla as she sat down in the back left of the classroom. With a sigh, she slid the hood off of her head, her hair still covering the headphone that was playing music at full volume in her ear. The lesson continued as per usual but Layla could feel someone looking at her as she stared at the wall blankly.

She turned her head to the right to see a pair of blue eyes staring at her from across the room. She instantly recognised the cocky smirk that was plastered on the brown-haired boy's face, rolling her eyes as she looked back to the wall in front of her.

"What are you looking at dude?" Chris whispered to his brother who was looking to his left before he spun around to face Chris again.

"What?" Matt whispered back and Chris leaned back, looking over his brother's shoulder at what he was looking at, realising he was looking at Layla.

"Why were you staring at her?" Chris questioned, keeping his voice low so that the teacher wouldn't scold them. Matt shrugged, a smirk still on his face as he looked back to whatever the teacher was writing on the whiteboard, hardly paying attention.

"Was just looking," Matt mumbled back, giving a vague answer. He heard all the rumours about Layla, how much bad news she was. He also heard all the rumours about himself, all of the lies that people conjured up to make him seem better than he was. He wondered if it was the same situation with Layla, if the rumours about her were lies people made up to make her seem worse than she was.

The rest of the class, his mind wandered to all the things he had heard about her, realising that he never paid much mind to her. That wasn't unusual for him, he never paid much mind to most people except his immediate friend group.

Layla sat in the corner, drumming her fingers against her desk to the beat of the songs that played in her ears as she scribbled random doodles on her paper. Since English was the one subject she found came to her easily, she spent it daydreaming. She wondered why Matt was staring at her, he had never paid any mind to her before.

She didn't want to let it bother her, people stared at her all the time at school. But for the most loved guy in the school to be staring at her, it felt weird. He only paid attention to his friends on his hockey team and the cheerleaders that were always neat and tidy with their hair and makeup done pristinely, their outfits put together and a tad bit revealing but never enough to get dress coded.

Before she knew it the bell rang loudly through the school, interrupting her thoughts and students lept out of their chairs, desperate to talk to their friends in the hallway before their next class. Layla followed behind her peers, always being the last one to leave the room and the last one to enter.

After doing her routine of trudging her way back to her locker, grabbing more books she needed for her next class and being told she was late, again, she realised she would have to continue this cycle until her lunch break which was at 5th period.

+++

Layla had finally made it to her lunch break without leaving the school and she decided that she would give up on her last classes of the day, her brain already half-fried from the math and social studies classes she had just endured. She pulled her bag out from her locker, throwing the heaping pile of math books back into her locker with a groan. She suddenly felt a presence next to her and she looked to her left to see none other than Matthew Sturniolo.

"Hi," he beamed at her, leaning against the locker beside hers as he crossed his arms, his letterman jacket rustling as he did so, "I'm Matt."

"I know," she blandly replied as she started placing the books that she needed to take home into her bag.

"You're Layla, right?" he asked, earning nothing but a quick glance at him from her deep brown eyes, "I don't think we've ever actually talked."

"I wonder why," she mumbled sarcastically, only driving Matt to talk to her more. She observed him from her peripheral vision, taking note of his brand new blue jeans and white air forces.

"What class do you have after this?" he asked, clearly wanting to keep the one-sided conversation going that she had no interest in. She slid the bag onto her shoulder, sliding her hood back on.

"None," the quick reply from her didn't stop the dark-haired boy's attempts to talk to her further.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pure confusion on his face as she slammed her locker closed, turning to face him with a deadpan look.

"As in, I'm leaving," she spoke slowly as if she were speaking to a child and Matt nodded, biting his lip so he could think of something to say before she left.

"Mind if I come with?" he asked hopefully and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Not thinking he was serious, she replied with, "Knock yourself out."

She began walking down the hallway, hearing the rattle of lockers behind her as she walked towards the exit with her squeaky old white high-top converses. By the time she reached the door, she heard a pair of footsteps jogging down the hallway and she turned around to see Matt holding his backpack on one shoulder with a smile still on his face. With a roll of her eyes, she opened the door and he followed behind her shortly.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

~

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

~

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

~

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

~

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

~

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

~

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #gavisuntiedboot #gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi fluff #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo gavi x reader fluff #fc barcelona #pablo gavi angst #gavi angst

[ilyasorokinn]

omgggg happy 3rd anniversary to you!!!! here's to many more to come 🥂 for this celebration can i please request, from the general fluffy dialogue prompt list number 8 + 9 with mat barzal pls? thank you!

WINNIE MARTIN’S FAVORITE PERSON

this is the first of my tumblr-versary blurbs, so if that annoys you, block the tag 'taylor's tumblr-versary' love ya <3

8. "who let you be this cute today?" 9. "can we wait a second? i wanna take a picture of you right now." (from this prompt list)

you tried to go to as many games as you could, but you had a job so making it to every game was impossible. but, when you could make it to games, mat made sure to plan ahead and make sure you were gonna have a good time.

"you have a ride, right?" mat asked from the bathroom where he was still getting read.

"yes, i have a ride." you sighed. a moment of silence enveloped you and you knew something was wrong, "you okay? you need help with anything?" you asked.

"...yes." he hesitated.

"you can't tie your tie, can you?" you smiled.

"no." you could see the pout on his face as you made your way into the bathroom.

"ooh." you teased, "mathew barzal, who let you be this cute today?" you teased, enjoying the shy smile on his face.

"stop please. just help." he handed you the tie he wanted to wear, but you shook your head, "what?"

"mat, i love you, but your sense of style is awful." you winced, recalling every bad fashion choice you had seen him make. you set the tie on the counter and grabbed a different one, one that better matched the suit he was wearing, and began tying it.

"i should.be offended." the smile on his face told you he wasn't.

"i'm saving you from ending up on people's worst dressed." you shrugged.

he rolled his eyes, "so, before i go, can i see what you're gonna wear tonight?" it was no secret that you loved dressing up for games. it was fun and you liked doing it. you usually had little pieces with his name, number, or team colors. something to show your support, and mat loved it.

"nope." you shook your head.

"what? why not?"

"that ruins the surprise," you told him.

"you're gonna make me wait till after the game to see." he pouted.

"i don't know. maybe i'll be there at warmups." you shrugged, smiling when he perked up, "i think syd's bringing win, so maybe i'll go down with them." she was your ride, so going down to the ice for warmups made sense.

"okay, well, i guess i might see you during warmups." he kissed your forehead.

"maybe." you shrugged, wrapping your arms around his waist, "try not to fall, okay?" he rolled his eyes.

"i don't do it on purpose." he insisted.

you smiled, "score goals." you told him, leaning up and giving him a quick peck.

"for you, always." he hummed.

after he left, you got ready as quickly as you could and before you knew it, sydney martin was pulling up outside your building, "y/n yl/n, you always put the rest of us to shame."

"oh, stop it." you smiled bashfully.

"i'm serious. how you do it astounds me." she ran her finger over the sleeve of your jacket, "doesn't y/n look pretty, win?" you looked to the backseat where winnie was sitting, clutching a stuffed animal.

"pretty." she smiled.

"thank you, miss win." you winked before getting into the passenger side.

true to your word, you followed sydney down to the ice for warmups and helped keep winnie entertained. you could tell sydney was a little tired, so you did your best to keep her attention.

when the boys came out, you couldn't help but smile when mat tossed a couple of pucks over the ice to a few kids. winnie's eyes were glued to the ice as she watched all the guys skate around.

matt skated over, making his daughter laugh, blowing her kisses and even tossing her a puck, which she clutched to her chest along with her stuffed animal.

when your mat finally skated over, sydney took her daughter back so you and mat could have a moment. he smiled, taking notice of your jacket. he spun his finger, and you gave him a little twirl so he could see your jacket.

he gave a thumbs up and a nod, which made you laugh. he tossed a puck over and nodded to a kid behind you, whose eyes were glued. on mat, watching him mesmerized.

you nodded and waved. as he skated backward, he waved and winked. you rolled your eyes before looking at the puck. you smiled when you noticed that mat had signed it.

you turned around to the kid, who looked at you, probably after having seen mat point at him. you laughed before you handed it to him, "this is from barzy." you told him, "have fun tonight."

you turned back to sydney, who had her phone out and was probably recording and taking pictures of the whole thing, "you guys are so cute." she hugged you, "now come on, let's get some drinks." you smiled when winnie raised her arms in your direction, a signal that she wanted to be picked up.

after the game, and an ot goal scored by mat, you waited with sydney and the other girls in the tunnel. you were sitting with sydney, and the entire game, winnie was in your lap. somehow she had gravitated from her seat into your lap, but you didn't mind.

"look, win, there's your dad." you pointed when you saw matt walk out. she gave him a wave, but yawned and laid her head on your shoulder, "i'm tired, too." you patted her back, making the martin's smile.

you waved when you saw mat walk out. he made his way over to you and hugged you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "i'm proud of you. overtime goal!" you cheered quietly, not wanting to disturb winnie too much.

"i know. all for you." he smiled into your hair before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "you ready to go?" you hummed.

"wait, wait, before you guys go." sydney stopped you, pulling out hr phone, "can we wait a second? i wanna take a picture of you right now." she begged.

"fine." mat rolled his eyes playfully, but posed for the picture nonetheless. after the picture was taken, you were going to hand winnie off to her parents, but she clung to you.

"come on, we gotta go home, winnie." sydney sighed, flashing. youan apologetic smile.

"how about this? i'll carry you in the car, but after that, i gotta go." you offered, and she nodded, "all right, let's go." you switched arms and started heading int he direction of sydney's car.

mat walked by your side, holding your hand and talking to you about whatever. unbeknownst to you, sydney, who was trailing behind you and mat, was snapping pictures.

you set winnie in her car seat and waved, "bye, winnie girl." you blew her a kiss and she blew you one back, which you accepted and held close to your chest, which made her laugh.

you walked back to mat's car, "that felt very domestic." he told you.

"keep dreaming, barzal. let's stick to babysitting."

"i know, i know." he raised his hands in surrender.

as you got waited for mat to get into bed later that night, you saw sydney's tag and checked out the instagram story. it was a photo she had taken, without your knowledge, of you and mat walking towards the parking garage, hand-in-hand, winnie in your arms, her head on your shoulder with the caption 'her favorite person ever ❤️ @/yourusername'

mat hopped into bed next to you and saw the post, "you're right. we do look domestic." you smiled.

"let's stick to babysitting." he joked.

taylor's tumblr-versary!

#mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #mat barzal blurbs #mat barzal #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders imagines #new york islanders blurbs #new york islanders fic #new york islanders #taylor writes #taylor writes: hockey #taylor's tumblr-versary

[vintagexherry]

Treasure for Three Days [8][Finale]

Pirate!Miguel x Princess!Reader

//Smut, Kissing, unprotected sex, oral, throat fucking, overstimulation, first times [pls comment if I miss anything]

A/N: Thank you for your patience

Previously

"Just couldn't stay away from you, hermosa." He chuckled at your flushed state.

"Yeah....I notice" You smiled.You glanced back at the shoreline, seeing your father shouting for you to come back.

This time, though, you're sure you don't want to.

You don't how you ended up here, but you sure as hell this is what you meant by taking your mundane life away.

Sure, running, piracy, and chasing wasn't the exact scene that comes to your head, but it's better than you could expect.

Lovely even.

The sun is setting, a mixture of orange and subtle purple paint the sky, and the shoreline of your kingdom is long forgetten in the distance.

Right now, you inhale the salty yet fresh air of the ocean, your face ached from smiling so widely from the event that transpired, but you can't find yourself to stop smiling.

The crew seemed to be happy that your back, saying things like keeping the captain in control.

You chuckle at their words, you only spent three-ish days with them yet you felt a deep bond.

"I see you're still nothing but a deep thinker, hermosa."

Your head turned around to see Miguel approaching you with a smirk.

He slightly bends down to kiss you on your lips, and you smile even wider.

"Hello to you too," you mused.

"Mmm, missed the taste."

Miguel seemed to stare into your soul with his piercing red-brownish eyes, and you can't help but shiver.

"Glad I didn't make you marry that snob of a prince."

"You met my fiance? Is that how you got your royal clothes from?"

"Fiance? No more of that bebita. And maybe... Maybe threatened him with a sword against his neck for good measures."

You chuckle.

"Sword agaist his neck? Sounds a bit familiar don't you think?"

He seemed to think for a while and laughed at the memory.

"Glad I did it." He smiled to you. His hands caressing your waist.

"Cap'n! The sails are okay and wind is steady." A crewmate reported, breaking you and Miguel in your bubble of light flirting.

"Good. Keep her busy, if im needed I'll be in my quarters."

You lightly yelp as you were dragged by the waist and made to follow Miguel to his room.

Once you both arrived and the door was shut, Miguel didn't waste time diving to your lips.

Your eyes widened a bit but you quickly returned his affection.

"Eager, are we? I didn't expect the infamous Miguel O'hara to be smitten." You teased.

"That's right, big bad, Arachne captain got the hots for a little princess. Now I wonder if that princess is willing to fix the problem?" He teased back as his hands go at the back of your dress, untying the corset as he does.

With the corset starting to loosen, you kissed him again.

He chuckles

"It's a yes then? Well what are we waiting for hm?"

With that, he suddenly carried to bridal style and promptly dropped you to the bed.

He didn't waste time kissing you feverishly.

While kissing, you didn't notice him taking a dagger nearby. He disconnected the kiss for him to slice the fabrics and threads that held your dress.

"Wha-Hey!-"

"Shhh, I'll get you a new one, as many as you like. Maybe more than your wardrobe."

He threw the dagger randomly on the floor and ripped the rest of your dress with his hands.

His lips returned to you and moved down to your neck.

You shuddered as you felt soft lips tracing the veins in your neck and down to your collarbone. The dress finally removed, and he threw its scrap randomly on the floor alongside the dagger.

"Mmm- Miguel"

"Relax for me bebita, that's it."

His hands caressed every skin that it could find, rubbing circles on your arms, until it reached your thighs, and then your knees.

While his lips are occupied for leaving you marks, his hands spread your legs apart to give him room.

You lightly gasped when you felt his bulge slightly drag at your clothed pussy.

He stopped his mistrations with his lips and hissed a cursed.

His eyes looked down at your underwear, he glared at it as if it did a grave sin agaist him.

In this scenario it probably did.

His hands left your knees and immediately went to remove your underwear.

Once off, your suddenly felt shy. Causing you to close your legs a bit but Miguel is quicker stop you.

"Mmnh, non of that hermosa, don't go shy on me now."

You bit your lip and slightly nodded as you opened your legs a bit again.

Miguel is still fully clothed. Your hands went to the buttons of his blouse.

Miguel seem to be happy with your intiative and let your unbutton his blouse and next were his pants.

When he finally slid off his clothes you gulp as his stature.

Miguel is big, his muscles, his height...

And that horse between his legs.

Miguel sensed your nerves and one of his hands raised up to pet your head.

"We'll take it easy, hermosa, But who knows, maybe next time I wouldn't if you keep looking at like that." He teased.

"Ego is as high as ever." You smiled.

Your eyes focused on his dick, it's size made you question how'd it fit into your mouth before, and now you want to question how it will fit into you overall.

You suddenly think 'fuck it'. You just ran away from your home and you finally gonna get the life you wanted.

A little rod down your throat should'nt stop you.

You raised your body so you could go down on your knees, Miguel's member just right in front of you.

You took your hands and gently wrapped it around it's length, Miguel hissed at the contact.

You find your lips connecting to his tip, licking off any excess precum that's starting to drip off.

Miguel hissed more, biting his bottom lip. His hands automatically held the back of your head, not pushing you further but enough to encourage you.

You took the sign and continued licking his length. After a few more licks, you sucked his tip.

"fffffuuck, that's it bebita. go o-on."

Your movements made his hips buck, almost putting his length into your mouth.

You licked and sucked a few more times, and finally, with a deep breath of courage and a whole lotta confidence to do it, you took his length halfway making it hit the back of your throat.

"Ah, ¡Mierda!"

His hand is now gripping your hair, giving you a bit of a sting but who cares at this point.

You bobbed your head, each bob making you take his length deeper into you.

If Miguel was known to be the fearsome and strongest pirate captain out there.

He's also known for not being patient.

With you almost taking his length down your throat, Miguel uttered a word you couldn't hear and the last thing you know was both of his hands holding the side of your head and ramming his cock down your throat roughly.

"Hgrk!" You gagged, your nose hitting his pelvic area and your senses are filled with Miguel.

Miguel didn't seem to mind since all he did was move your head for you while thrusting his hips to the same rhythm.

Your ears hear nothing but your own gagging noises and Miguel's swearing and grunts.

"Shhhit, a-amor that...thats it!"

With a few more thrusts, he held your head to stay in one place, then you finally felt that familiar warmth down your throat.

After a few minutes, Miguel finally let your head go letting you let his length out of your mouth.

Miguel above you was a panting mess, but you were much worse.

Make up the maids put on you this morning was all ruined with tearstreaks ruining the eye makeup and drool smudging the lipstick.

You might look worse but Miguel could beg to differ.

While you also took a breather, you notice his cock twitching back to hardness, and it did nothing but make you throb for it.

"Breath in as much as you need hermosa, it's gonna be a long night."

------

"Mi-Miguel!"

Your pleas go from one ear to another since Miguel was too busy ramming into you as if it's your last day all over again.

Both of you don't know if minutes or hours has gone by.

But sure as hell you both are enjoying it.

Miguel took his time to prepare you and your body, giving you praises here and there. Caresses are placed everywhere. And you thank the gods for being able to survive the thing between his legs.

"So good...So goo- fuck!"

While you were writhing in overstimulation, Miguel was busy enjoying himself.

His dick hitting that one spot you swore you saw stars with.

Forget stars. You were seeing whatever Galileo Galilei saw in the telescope.

Your moans and Miguel's grunts fill the room entirely that you weren't surprised if the entire ship could hear it.

But you can't think right now, no thoughts go in your head when Miguel started increasing in speed, the bed creaking with his movements.

You screamed his name but he doesn't seem to care.

His hands being on the side of your head, started gripping the sheets hard, a tale tell sign his close.

So were you.

You were now babbling mess beneath him, your mind felt pleasure no where near imagination.

"Come with me hermosa, come with....Fuck!"

His hips stuttered in movement as he finally gave one last thrust into you before you felt warm liquid flow inside of you.

You body convulsed at the feeling, shockwaves spread around your muscles making them tense and shake.

You said Miguel's name one last time before your body went limp.

You gaze above Miguel and he does the same to you.

His face was lightened only by the moonlight through the window.

Miguel gazed down onto you, he felt nothing but admiration for your being. You look like a divine being and him, just a mere mortal.

As both of you catch your breath, Miguel finally laid down next to you, wrapping his arms around you and you felt nothing but safety in the arms of your lover.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

While you and Miguel are busy resting.

The crew was busy distracting themself at the scenery.

"Bloody hell... Those two finally shut up." Hobie muttered with a sigh.

Miles chuckled.

"Well, at least we finally have someone who can hold back Captain with his mood swings."

Hobie hummed in agreement. Resting his eyes

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes in realization. Hobie looked at Miles with a smirk.

"I know that look, I dont like that look."

Hobie didn't say anything but lend his hand out.

Miles looked at it and sighed deeply. He reached out his back and put out a pouch of gold. Throwing it to Hobie who catched it happily.

"A bet is a bet mate, so are rules." Hobie chuckled. "Told ya I always win"

"Oh shut up." Miles scoffed but that didn't erase his smile.

As much as the crew didn't get enough sleep that night they were glad your back. Someone who can laugh at their shenanigans and someone who can be of assistance when talking to Miguel.

And Miguel was nothing but glad he got his treasure back.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

taglist:

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @autismsupermusicalassassin @lionhearted-soldier @hearts-4-lanadelray@sukioyakio @chshiresins @ginger23 @amelialysm @serpentstarr @s0lm1n @saturnistireddd @manooh

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #history #pirates #miles morales #hobie spiderverse #astv miguel #across the spiderverse

[plutowrites]

𝘼𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣'𝙨 𝘾𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙉𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪! (reworked)

important: I rewrote this fic (favorite Levi piece i’ve ever written) because I’ve been planning to do so for ages. I remember writing the original version in one night, and it was the most fun I’ve had writing a fic. I wanted to rewrite it because I knew it could be improved significantly, and in my humble opinion, this version is indeed a million times better! Just like the first time, I had so much fun working on this and making changes to improve the flow, fix typos, and include some extra fluff here and there. If you’ve read this before, I hope you can give it another try! mwahhh ♡

➸pairings: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

➸synopsis: the one where levi gets you as an assistant against his will and it turns out he needed you more than his company ever did

➸genre: enemies-ish (levi is just levi and y/n doesn’t get him yet) to friends to lovers, pining, modern au, fluff

➸contains: lots of sarcasm (Levi), profanity (again, Levi), mentions of food and eating. if there’s anything i missed pls let me know! Also completely sfw btw (as it usually is)

➸wordcount: 5.7k (updated word count)

➸(original) note: ok so I totally forgot Levi’s bday takes place on christmas so just ignore that fact, thank you :) i really hope you guys enjoy this one, i really enjoyed writing it. like a lot. as in this is my favourite piece i’ve ever written ♡

“Prior work experience?” Mr.Ackerman asks, his dark eyes scanning over you like you’re a puzzle he can’t be bothered to solve.

As the question hangs in the air, you find yourself shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. The impulse to talk with your hands, a habit when you’re feeling nervous, fights for release. You can sense mr. stone-face in front of you might not appreciate such animated conversation, or a one-person mime show so you resist the urge. “Well, let’s see,” you start, trying to recall your job history. “I was a sales associate at a retail store, a freelance writer for a few local magazines and websites, a long-term babysitter for three very naughty yet wonderful french children, oh and I briefly worked as a waitress— that was when I was eighteen but—”

The man interrupts you with a dry click of his tongue, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I mean, do you have any experience in this line of work?” 

His question catches you off guard, prompting a frown. Isn’t he aware that every job has its messes? You’ve been part of the cleanup crew more times than you can count, and not to mention when you were a babysitter, you had to constantly tidy up after school aged children and the mess that always seems to follow them wherever they go. Whose fault is it that he’s not impressed by your eclectic job history? 

Mr. Ackerman pinches the bridge of his nose, cutting through your thoughts, and exhales, “Can you f—cking clean?”

“Of course I can clean,” You snap back, your own patience fraying. “You hired me for this position, right? Besides, I’ve already passed the interview so why this interrogation now?” 

Ugh. You were not expecting to get grilled at 8:30 in the morning today. Is this what the onboarding process at Mr. Ackerman’s Cleaning Services looks like?  

He looks past you, probably wishing he could swap you with the agreeable plant behind you. “I didn’t hire you, Erwin did,” he clarifies, like that’s supposed to mean something to you. You watch him take a sip from his mug. The way he’s holding the cup intrigues you with his long, slender fingers barely clasping its rim yet he manages it with an effortless grace. 

You remembered Erwin during your interview, the handsome blond man with broad shoulders and thick eyebrows. He was the one who asked the majority of the questions while his counterpart remained oddly quiet. Mr. Ackerman did, however, chime in near the end to pester you about how often you washed your hands. You fold your arms across your chest, defensively, “Had no idea you were against the idea of me.”

You remember when you got the position; a quick phone call with Erwin approximately 30 minutes after your interview, where he tells you that you had in fact gotten the job. You felt impressed with yourself. You knew it was the shorter, dark haired man that ran the business, and considering how indifferently he was behaving during the interview, you were already looking at new postings online when your phone rang. Getting the job was like passing a test you thought you had completely bombed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was against hiring at all; I don’t need an assistant.” His tone is dismissive, yet his physical state—a sling on his right arm and a fracture boot on his left foot—tells a story of necessity, not choice. You want to teasingly ask how the other guy looks but you bite your tongue instead.

Maybe he’ll share what happened to him over time but for now, you won’t pester him about it. Based on this interaction alone, you know asking him such a personal question is not the best route to go. Mr. Sunshine seems like the type of no-nonsense, stick-in-the-mud that doesn’t appreciate a little conversation to make the day’s work go by faster. Unluckily for him though, you were the opposite of that.

“Mr. Ackerman,” you call out his name uneasily, feeling a mix of dread and embarrassment. Your boss had left you alone to retrieve something and in that time he was gone, you had already made a huge mistake. As Levi comes back into the kitchen, you notice his focus is on trying to put on thick, black sterile gloves instead of your blunder.

“Just Levi,” he corrects you without turning to face you. You grow more nervous.

“Okay, Levi…” You draw out his name, hoping it might soften the blow. “Um, where might one find a mop?”

His turn is cinematic, a perfect pivot of disbelief as his eyes land on the ocean of sticky raspberry lemonade—and you, the unfortunate island at its center. The same lemonade the kind owner of the house you were cleaning left out for you two to drink. The jug, now empty and rolling to a stop at his boot, seems to mock you both. He can’t seem to peel his eyes away from it.

 “I was gone for five f—cking seconds.” The utter shock in his voice, evident. 

“I didn’t peg you as a lemonade type of guy. I can make you some more if you’re that sad about it,” you awkwardly quip, trying to ease the tension in the room and failing, pathetically.

Levi’s response is flat, “You were supposed to help clean up messes, not create—or become them.”

Ouch. 

By the end of the shift, Levi ended up doing most of the work which thoroughly impressed you. You’re certain that if he wasn’t limited by his fractured bones, he would cut his cleaning time by, at the very least, half. Still, he completed all the tasks before the client was back and with time to spare at that. Your role, it seemed, was relegated to fetching and carrying— you were simply a mobile extension of his toolkit. Disinfectants, buckets, and other cleaning materials pass from the van to his waiting hand, and your efforts were aimed at being useful, or at least not a speed bump in his way.

Anything Levi could do with one hand and one leg, he’d do it and everything else, he’d at least try. You felt more like a liability than an employee but that only made you more determined to be better next time, you wanted to prove to him that you could actually do your job and be good at it. 

You are good at things. 

You just needed to mess up a few times first.

Here’s what you know so far about your boss: He’s mastered the art of drinking tea while driving, never spilling a drop, even one-handed. His social circle is super tight-knit, featuring exactly two friends—one being Erwin Smith, who you’ve met already, and the other is Hange, who, from your top-notch eavesdropping skills, seems to bear the brunt of Levi’s scolding. 

And lastly, you’ve learned that Levi’s vocabulary is dripping with colorful language.

“That’s not clean,” comes his voice from behind you, prompting an eye roll before you shove the plate back under the running faucet. A half-hearted swipe with the sponge and a too-forceful toss into the sink’s other side result in a loud clash. “Dirty and probably f—cking broken now, too,” Levi comments, sounding bored.

“Sorry,” you mutter. This marks the first time today he’s felt the need to correct you—a personal victory. You’ve been improving, receiving fewer icy critiques with each passing day. Maybe Levi’s just run out of energy for constant corrections, or perhaps he’s grown accustomed to your unique… flair. Either way, you’re grateful for the silence.

“You’re done, brat. Go home.”

“Don’t you need help with the counters?”

“I got it.”

You nod at this, turning off the water and drying your hands on the apron’s front-pocket towel, relief washing over you as the day wraps up. You can’t help but wonder what Levi does after hours—probably waits for you to leave so he can meticulously re-clean everything. But, you figure, if he really doubted your skills that much, he wouldn’t bother waiting for your exit to do it.

“Good job today.”

Levi’s words catch you off-guard, nearly causing you to gasp. The Levi Ackerman, offering praise? Have you smelled too many cleaning solutions? Are you imagining things?

He doesn’t see your shocked expression, your mouth hanging open in surprise. You quickly stifle a smile.

Maybe, working with Levi Ackerman won’t be the nightmare you had anticipated.

It was uncommon for the Ackerman company to have a client that requested cleaning services for any place other than their home but on some rare instances, the business would get one that would request Levi for a much larger setting.

Today, you two were cleaning hotel rooms. 

“I take it this isn’t your first rodeo,” you comment, noting how Levi, despite being down to just two operational limbs, zips through tasks with astonishing speed. Your job is to vacuum the ugly, vomit green carpet, while Levi single-handedly makes the queen beds look pristine—a feat that seems Herculean.

He signals you over, instructing you to strip the beds so he can check for bedbugs. “I’ve cleaned here before, yes,” he says with a frown, urging you to lift the mattress higher. “No, higher. Y/n. Higher. Are you making fun of my height?”

“No!” you protest, but the smirk on your face betrays you. You could swear you see the corners of Levi’s mouth twitch in response. This is the first time you’ve ever seen your boss smile.

Kenny Ackerman, Levi’s uncle, is the polar opposite—always grinning and brimming with charm. His visits, armed with homemade lunches for Levi and flirty comments for you, are a welcome break from the norm. Levi, one time catching you staring at the lunch Kenny brought in a brown paper bag, admits his uncle started bringing food over when he first got hurt.

“Is Ken really your uncle, or more like a family friend uncle?“ You inquire as you both move to the next suite, settling into a comfortable work rhythm. Levi seems unfazed by your curiosity, which you’ve piqued frequently over the past few weeks.

He ignores your question but raises an eyebrow at you, “Ken?”

You press on, asking if Kenny might be a close friend of his dad’s, given their dissimilar appearances. Levi’s reaction to the mention of his father is a clear signal to change the subject.

"Fluff the pillow on your side, brat,” he instructs next.

You’re not sure what constitutes fluffing but you attempt to do so anyway by gently pressing down on the soft pillow. You can feel the heat of Levi’s glare torching you but when you look up at him, he looks sort of amused.  “What palace were you raised in?”

“Huh?”

“Let me rephrase that then—do you not know what fluffing a pillow is?”

“I just did it!”

“No. What you did was give that pillow a shitty massage. Give it to me.” After you hand it to him, Levi aggressively demonstrates what he wants you to do but it looks awkward because he’s doing it with one arm. “F— ck,” he curses under his breath. “Maybe I should hire an assistant for this shit.”

You can’t help but smile, recognizing this interaction for what it is—Levi’s way of opening up. These past weeks have shown you that his gruff exterior hides a form of friendly banter, warming you from the inside out whenever you get to experience it. 

You’ve actually begun to look forward to Levi’s humour.

Odd.

You have got to stop staring and you know this. It’s just whenever he’s preoccupied with something and his concentration is laser focused, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You’ve convinced yourself that this was the safest way you could be semi-creepy and so far, it’s proven to be effective.

Right now, he’s on a very urgent and pressing phone call, at least that’s what it looks like to you. Just the mere thought of Levi taking notice of you gawking at him from above through a crack in the curtains is enough to send you spiralling. And yet here you are…still…

“Y/n, you’re staring.” 

Shit.

Thankfully, it’s Erwin who catches you, not Levi. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you scramble for an excuse. “No, I w-wasn’t. I was j-just—”

Erwin’s laughter cuts you off, deep and rich. “It’s fine. I stare at him all the time. The difference is he doesn’t cuss you out the way he does me.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean? You think he’s noticed me staring?” You sneak another glance at Levi, who’s now expressing his disdain for the caller, blissfully unaware of your current predicament.

“Most definitely. And his silence on the matter is telling,” Erwin says with a reassuring smile. But his words leave you more curious than comforted. What does Levi’s silence mean? He continues, “It’s his birthday tomorrow since I know he wouldn’t dare tell you. Do what you wish with that information.”

As if he had a special sixth sense that alerted him that he is the topic of discussion upstairs, Levi waltzes into his office and squints with suspicion at the two of you huddled in a hush-hush conversation. “Oi, eyebrows. Don’t you have a vulnerable citizen to harass for their vote somewhere?”

Erwin shakes his head as he laughs. Looking at you, he says, “Don’t listen to him. I’m not a dirty politician.”

“You’re definitely dirty, get off my chair.”

One thing you wonder about when you see these two in action is how they ever became friends. They aren’t exactly drowning in similarities or mutual interests but you couldn’t deny that there is a deep-rooted respect that goes further than what you’re able to decipher. You do know that Erwin owns the entire building and he lets Levi rent office space and storage rooms here but you question which came first: the business relationship or the friendship?

“Before I head out,” Erwin turns to face you, “I can count on your vote, right? For the upcoming election?” He asks, raised eyebrows and all. The surrounding air is filled with his scent. His woodsy cologne is thick but pleasant—it suits him.

Before you’re able to answer, Levi cuts you off, “My office is not a breeding ground for your pathetic campaign efforts.”

“My building.”

“F—ck off.”

You smile at their banter— their exchange is a familiar dance, one you’ve grown accustomed to observing. But your thoughts are elsewhere, pondering Levi’s upcoming birthday. You’re grateful Erwin mentioned it; he’s right, Levi would never share that information himself. 

You find yourself wanting to do something for him— maybe get him a gift? What started off as a hostile, awkward work relationship has blossomed into a real friendship and you would never let a friend’s birthday go by without doing a little something special for them.

Levi also is a great boss, who deserves a birthday treat. 

Perhaps there’s more to your admiration than you’re willing to admit quite yet. 

Arriving at Levi’s office early in the morning, you’re greeted by the sight of him on his laptop, deeply engrossed in his work, his fingers flying across his keyboard. The morning light catches in his dark hair— the sun rays highlighting his intense gray-blue eyes. You can’t help but be captivated as he brushes his hair back with a weary hand.  You lose your mind when he does that; he’s blissfully unaware of how mind-blowingly attractive he is.

You linger in the doorway awkwardly, feeling suddenly out of place, reminiscent of a child caught in a mischievous act. When Levi finally notices you, his sigh fills the room. “It’s your day off.”

Taking his acknowledgment as an invitation, you step inside, cheerfully reminding him, “It’s your birthdaaaay,” your voice in a tune.

Almost immediately he retorts,“Exactly why I gave you a day off. A treat for me.” 

You ignore him. “I wanted to take you out for breakfast.”

“I don’t pay you that much,” he scoffs, still tapping away on his keyboard. 

He’s wrong, Levi pays you more than you’ve ever been paid in your life, even more than when you were working at that super pretentious magazine that bragged about how well they treated their employees. Turns out their idea of spoiling their staff was a pizza party every third Sunday of the month. It was pitiful. Levi Ackerman believes in a living wage. Levi Ackerman is a good man.

“Sit down, will you? You’re stressing me out just standing there,” he says, his eyes softening at you for a moment, allowing you a glimpse of his gentler side.

With a sheepish grin, you pull up a chair, the noise seeming to amplify in the quiet office. You quickly apologize for the disruption, settling into the seat across from him.

“We can grab something to eat once I’m done with a few things. Is that okay with you, princess?”

“Anything for you, birthday boy,” you respond warmly, beaming at him.

He veils his amusement with a face of semi-disgust, “Vile.

“You know, when someone says they want to take you out for breakfast, there’s usually a time limit involved.” It’s now 12:03 pm, and your patience, though thinly stretched, hasn’t snapped—yet. Levi’s gaze softens, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes. Rushing to lighten the mood, you add, “I’m kidding. I’m more of a brunch person, anyway.”

“And what about my preferences?” His voice, gentle and distant, pulls at something inside you.

“Of course, it’s your birthday,” you remind yourself aloud, tapping your fingers against the edge of his desk. “So, what do you like, Levi?”

The pause before he answers is loaded, his look implying you ought to know his preferences by heart. “I like silence when I work,” he finally says.

Right. You nod and mime locking your lips, leaning dramatically back in your chair, only to find yourself fighting off sleep shortly after.

“Time to wake up, princess. I have a task of royal importance for you,” Levi’s low, velvety command has you instantly alert. “You’re going to answer all my texts. They’re birthday wishes; just read them out and reply.”

Grinning at the trust he’s placing in you, you take his phone and start sifting through the messages. “Wow, didn’t peg you for Mr. Popular,” you tease. Levi rolls his eyes and then urges you to continue, unfazed.

Your eyes widen as you encounter messages from unexpected senders. “Uhm, I see some local celebrities in here. Wanna explain, Levi?"

“Just friends. And mind your business,” he grumbles.

Reading a message from Hange aloud, you watch his reaction closely. “Happy birthday, shortstack. I promise I’m not planning anything extravagant for you but just so we’re on the same page, define extravagant winky face,” you echo their playful tone. 

“You’re smiling,” you point out, unable to resist.

“Hange’s full of it. Skip that one,” he dismisses, though his brief grin tells another story.

As the day stretches into evening, with work piling up and plans going awry, you can’t help feeling a mix of disappointment and defeat. Was this the universe’s way of suggesting you rethink your interest in Levi?

“I’m sorry,” Levi finally breaks the silence, noting the time—6:17 pm. Your attempt to brush off the day’s letdown with a smile doesn’t fool him.

“I’m sorry you had to spend your birthday in an office,” you shrug.

“It’s not about my birthday, I just hate making you wait,” he says, sincerity lacing his words.

You try to wave it off, “Water under the bridge.”

He surprises you then, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

“It’s your birthday,” you protest, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he quips, his signature dose of sarcasm in his voice.

“The whole point of me coming here was to take you out Levi!” 

He sighs while standing up. Reaching for his coat, which had spent the day forgotten over his chair, he juts his chin towards the door. “Fine. So take me out then.”

You had pegged Levi for the type to frequent pretentious, overpriced restaurants — the kind that serves a single asparagus spear drizzled with truffle oil and charges a fortune. So, when he mentioned knowing a place for dinner just a couple of streets over, you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Despite dressing decently for Levi’s birthday, you weren’t in anything particularly fancy. And Levi, always impeccably dressed as if he were campaigning for office alongside Erwin, would surely fit in anywhere he chose. You remind yourself to relax; after all, it’s just dinner.

“I hope you like Indian food,” Levi says as you reach the destination. He holds the door open for you, the gentleman that he is at heart. You didn’t just like Indian food; you adored it, savored it every chance you got.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it,” you shrug casually, trying to mask your excitement.

Once seated by a friendly teenage waitress, you take in the ambiance of the restaurant. It’s a cozy, bustling hole-in-the-wall, filled with lively conversation and vibrant energy. It’s loud enough to make you reconsider Levi’s alleged preference for silence. If he can enjoy his time in a place like this, he can surely handle your occasional chattiness at work.

“This is a cute little place,” you admit, taking in the bright decor and the charming, unlit lanterns on each table.

“Family-owned too,” Levi grunts, passing you a menu.

You beam at him, “I like that.”

After ambitiously ordering nearly everything on the menu, eager to sample the array of dishes, you start bombarding Levi with questions. “Have any siblings?”

“No, and you’ve already asked me that before. Running out of questions?” he teases.

“Pets?”

“No.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He chokes on his water, fixing you with a stern look. “Y/n.”

“What? You know I’m nosy. You should be prepared by now,” you lean in, undeterred by his reaction, “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in one right now?”

A beat passes. “No." 

His hesitation sparks your curiosity further. "But you hesitated. Why did you hesitate, Levi?”

“Holy shit—” He’s cut off as the waitress returns, skillfully balancing the array of dishes you’d ordered. You offer her an apologetic smile, silently vowing to tip generously for the trouble.

As the tantalizing aromas of the dishes fill the air, you resist the urge to dive in immediately, mindful of the impression you want to leave on Levi. However, his encouragement, “Eat. You’re not fooling anyone,” paired with your enthusiasm for the rogan josh placed directly in front of you, quickly shatters any pretense of sophistication.

“Shut the hell up,” you gasp between bites, your initial reservations forgotten in favor of savouring the delicious food.

“Oi, slow down. You’ll choke,” Levi warns, amusement lacing his voice.

“This is so good, Levi,” you manage to say, your expression one of pure delight.

He chuckles to himself, looking away as he does so. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him laugh like that. You study his face, wishing you could capture this moment in a recording so you won’t ever forget it. It’s fine, you think to yourself. You just have to memorize the sound of his laugh and live off of it forever.  

Eventually Levi says, “Why don’t you try this one too,” he pushes the plate of lamb biryani over to you, patiently waiting for you to take some.

 This has to be your love language—sharing food. 

You’re so happy you never want to leave this table, or Levi. Mostly, Levi. And this biryani.

“Do you like your job?” His question startles you. It came out of nowhere. 

You swallow your food. “I do.” 

Cocking your head to the side, you watch as he struggles to find the right words to use to form his questions. His eyes lock with yours and this time they stay there. “I’m not too…overbearing?” he asks, gently. Almost shyly.

“You’re the perfect amount.”

“Are you happy?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Levi Ackerman, owner of Ackerman’s cleaning services?”

“That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do.”

“I’m happy working. I’m actually happiest working with you,” you admit, heat rising to your cheeks. Levi doesn’t say anything but you read something on his face. Relief? Maybe.

Eventually you realize it was Levi looking pleased with your answer.

“Cleaning is an honorable job,” you say after Kenny has left. He had made some stupid joke about Levi’s work despite how popular and very needed his services are.

“Y/n, quit it. Seriously. I don’t give a shit.”

“No, I know. I do, I just…” You take a deep breath in and turn to face him. He’s wearing his usual scowl on his face—the curve of his mouth slightly turned downward and his nose is scrunched up the tiniest bit. You could just about kiss that wrinkle between his eyebrows away if he’d let you.  Smiling, you finish, “I just wanted you to know.”

“I enjoy spending time with you.”

You feel your stomach perform its now-famous acrobatics, seemingly attempting to tie itself in knots. Laughing nervously, you manage to say, “That’s good because we do spend a lot of time together. It would be awkward if you didn’t like me, right?”

Levi exhales deeply, a sign you’ve missed the mark. “You’re not getting it. With other people, I’m always on edge, wondering if I’m being friendly, engaging, or polite enough. Constantly checking if my permanent resting scowl has scared someone off again. It’s exhausting. People drain me, but the ones who don’t… I prefer to keep them close.”

“So, you’re saying you want me around indefinitely?” you push, hope coloring your tone.

“I’m saying thank you. You—” he stops himself when he catches you hanging onto every last word coming out of his mouth, waiting for the rest. He rolls his eyes a little bit which makes you smile even harder.

“Yeah?” You pester him, not willing to let the moment pass.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“F—ck off.”

Undeterred, you flutter your eyelashes in a playful, last-ditch effort. “Please? I’d really love to hear what you were about to say.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he relents. “You make it okay to be myself.”

You laugh, “Levi, I don’t think you’re aware of how okay you are.”

He smiles the tiniest bit,  “Charming.”

“No, you know what I mean. You’re obviously more than okay!”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, beginning to walk away but not without leaving his hand lingering in the air behind him—a silent invitation to grab onto it. If there’s anything you look out for, it’s the opportunity to touch Levi and in this case, to hold his perfect hand in yours. You follow him as he leads you back to that restaurant he first took you to.

“Have you guys kissed yet?” Hange leans towards you, excitedly waiting for your response. You catch Levi’s eyes on you from across the room but lately, they seem to always be on you. He’s pretending to be engaged in a way too animated conversation with Erwin and his politician buddies. Poor guy.

“Please, we’re not even a thing yet,” you snort, waving away the ridiculousness of the question.

“Okay, well, does Levi know that you’re not a thing? Because he already bought matching stuff for you at his condo.” 

“What? really?”

Hange lists the items: cat mugs, slippers, and even matching gloves.

“He’d have a fit if he knew you spilled this top secret info,” you say, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Hange waves off the potential threat to their well-being with a scoff. “Oh, he’d definitely kill me. But it was too juicy not to share,” they wink, leaving you grinning from ear to ear.

You were finally at Levi’s impeccably clean and tidy place and you have to stop yourself from looking around for all the things Hange mentioned earlier. You’re sitting in the living room, on his comfortable green couch while Levi is making you a cup of tea in the kitchen. You wonder if he hid the matching mugs in the back of his cabinet. When will he think it’s an appropriate time to show them? 

Or.

What if they weren’t even for you—what if there was someone else in his life he’s willing to be all matchy-matchy, cutesy-cutesy with?

Levi eventually comes out with two non-matching mugs; one for you and one for him. You feel a little disappointed when you see them but you swallow it down. “I should’ve been the one making the drinks. I’m not the one who’s injured.”

“Please, you watch me mop floors and wipe windows on one foot without ever offering to help. I even catch you smirking sometimes.”

You bite back a grin. “Hey!” You shout. He’s not entirely wrong but you know he would never let you intervene with his little tasks like mopping the floor or wiping down windows— they were therapeutic acts to him. What kind of monster would take that away from a man? Exactly.

“I hope you’re not completely traumatized by that gathering. I needed you there, I wouldn’t have been able to survive it without you.”

“I’m glad to be your knight in shining armor tonight,” you tease, taking the cup of tea from him and turning your body towards his. “Does Erwin usually host stuff like that?”

Levi sends you a look. “Always. And of course I had to choose a f—cking politician to be friends with.”

You chuckle, “Between Erwin, Hange, and me, you’re good to never have another social interaction for the rest of your life.”

He laughs out through his nose, similarly to how a dragon would breathe fiery flames out its nostrils. “I must be some extrovert magnet.” 

“You are! Even with that permanent scowl on your face.” Your beautiful, beautiful face, you want to add. “Levi Ackerman, you are a prize. The prize.”

His eye-roll is theatrical, but you catch a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Are we a thing?” you ask gently, after some time.

“A thing?” He repeats after you, quietly.

“Like, you know,” you bite your lip. This could potentially be a dumpster fire of a conversation. Awkward and embarrassing depending on how he responds. “—like a couple.”

He sets down his cup on the coffee table, probably sensing the seriousness of the moment, and you do the same. “We can be.” 

Oh okay, not the worst possible answer there is.

“Do you like me?”

He looks as if you just stabbed him, or more like you stabbed his mother in front of him and he had to watch in horror. “I’m going to be honest, y/n, i’m kind of f— cking devastated you’re asking me this.”

“I can’t ask?”

“No, it’s just… Shit.” His eyes dart frantically between you and the floor, a clear sign of the turmoil within. It’s evident he’s wrestling with a multitude of thoughts, and all you yearn for is a glimpse into even just one of them. After a tense few seconds, he straightens up and meets your gaze directly, a pained expression etched across his features. “I’m upset at the fact that you’re walking around not knowing that I like you— and the fact that you even have to ask? That there’s any doubt about my feelings for you?” He pauses, taking a deep breath before he adds, “I’m sorry. Yes, I like you. I’m upset at myself that I didn’t make myself very clear about how I feel about you before. I’m sorry.”

You can feel your eyes beginning to burn and you don’t even know why you’re about to cry. You just wanted Levi to like you, so, so much. 

The realization that you’re panicking both internally and visibly prompts you to stand, aiming for a quick escape. "This is good. Okay. So, I’ll see you at work tomorrow morning?”

Levi chuckles at your abruptness, “Yes, you will, but could you maybe not try to flee the scene?”

“I have to go,” you insist, though your feet betray you and show no intention of moving.

“F—cking hell. You planning an escape route?” Levi raises his eyebrows.

“I’m not escaping…” you confess, surprising even yourself.

“Then sit,” he commands gently, softening it with a, “Please?”

“I’m so nervous. Stop making me nervous.” You blurt out but decide to sit down anyway. The way he’s staring at you like you’re bonkers out of your mind right now is enough to make you burst into laughter. You snort against the back of your hand. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Can’t make you nervous, can’t look at you. Is there anything I can do? Should I turn around and face the wall?” He mocks you, lovingly. His tone doesn’t say it but his eyes do. Everything he does to you is with love. No wonder you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

“You do realize you’re my boss, right?” you giggle, a sound so foreign to you. “I haven’t giggled like this since middle school. What’s happening to me?”

Levi beams at you, “Great, just what I needed, a subordinate with a crush. Now I have to navigate office politics, power imbalances, get HR involved…”

He pulls you onto his lap.

Your arms wrap tightly around Levi’s chest from behind him, as you rest your chin in the nook of his neck. He’s writing an email to someone, as he usually is during this time of the day.

Jokingly you ask, “When are you going to promote me, huh?”

“I did promote you,” you can hear the smile in his voice. He stops his typing to bring your hands to his mouth. He peppers them with a thousand pecks.

“Employee to girlfriend does not count”

“Shit,” he mock curses, then grins at his screen which you catch in its’ reflection.

“I have another question,” you announce, sensing an opportunity to delve into one of the many mysteries surrounding your lover.

“You always do,” he shoots back without missing a beat, fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard.

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, savouring the coolness of his skin. “But seriously, honey. You never did tell me how you managed to break your arm and leg.”

written 2021, reworked 2024

© 2024 plutowrites

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot x reader #aot imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #levi x you

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You're Alone, Do You Let Go? ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin

Here I go and I don't know why I spin so ceaselessly Till I lose my sense of gravity

- Patti Smith, “Dancing Barefoot” (1979) [click here to listen]

Pittsburgh || Early October, 1988

Five knocks had been their signal all tour.

He had told her that she could just walk in – that she was always welcome in his dressing room, that nobody else would disturb them. Yet she still didn’t feel comfortable doing that – respecting his space, and the quiet time he needed to collect himself before every show.

Never mind that these days, more often than not Jamie would bolt the door so that they could love each other quickly and quietly before he went on stage.

She was always ready for him – but tonight, when he answered the door, she knew he would need something different.

At about half of the concerts this tour he would wear a simple black tank top with his jeans. For the other half, he’d forgo a shirt entirely. Not that Claire minded either way, though she did love how the tattoo of her name over his heart would be proudly on display for the world to see.

Tonight he had opted for no tank – which is how she quickly noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as he took very quick and shallow breaths. Eyes wide and unfocused, piercing into hers, impossibly blue amid his black eye makeup.

“Jamie,” she breathed, rushing inside and closing the door. “I’m here. Tell me.”

He swallowed, pushing her against the dressing room wall. Hips flush with hers as her cool hand rested over his heart, fingertips tracing her name inked on his body.

“I…” he gaped, then closed his mouth. Breathing deeply. Eyes wild. “I…Claire…”

“I’m here,” she repeated softly. “I love you. Do you love me?”

“Forever,” he choked. Hand fluttering under her Print t-shirt, thumbnail digging into the bone of her hip.

“I’m here, Jamie. I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallowed.

“Let me call Raymond right now. We have his home number for a reason, that’s what he told us when we called last week. We have time before the show. Everybody can wait. You have a phone in here, right?”

He shook his head. "No. Not tonight."

She frowned. “Did you take anything?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “No. No. Definitely no. Wouldn’t do that to you. To us.”

Her fingertips skimmed down the inside of his arm, and his gaze followed. She turned her hand palm upward. “Do you see your letter on me, Jamie? The one you inked yourself, in Boston?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Reached a fingertip to touch the J tattooed below her thumb.

“Focus on that. How much I love you. And do you remember when I inked my letter on you?”

He turned over his hand to proudly show her the C tattooed below his right thumb. “Your touch. Always with me.” He swallowed. “Every note I play, it’s with me.”

“That’s right, Jamie. I’m always with you, and you’re always with me.” She reached up to caress his cheek, smiling at the rasp of his stubble. “We have time. Do you want to love?”

Her hand drifted down across his chest and rested on the belt loops of his jeans. Waiting. Giving him the choice.

He leaned down for a long, slow, sweet kiss.

She felt the tension seep from his body.

“Want to wait to love you tonight,” he whispered against her lips, hips still flush with hers. Teasing. “But only if you can wait, too.”

She nodded, kissing his lower lip. “I can. But I’ll be thinking about it the whole show. How amazing it will be, later. Will you, too?”

He deepened the kiss. “Fuck yes.”

“And not here,” she gasped between kisses. “Back at the hotel. I want to take my time.”

He bit the side of her neck.

Three pounds on the door. Colum’s signal for five minutes until showtime. Because he knew better than to barge in. The one time he had…well, that was enough.

Jamie pulled away only slightly, his body still pressing Claire’s against the wall. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. Breathing deeply. Inhaling the scent of her skin.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “One of the fans at the meet and greet told me that I inspired him to get clean. Go to AA. Deal with his shit. He actually thanked me.”

“Oh, my love.” She kissed him. “That’s so wonderful.”

He sought shelter in the safety of her neck. “I fucking did that, Claire. I can’t believe it. It's...it's unreal.”

She nodded, arms winding tight around his shoulders. “You did do that, Jamie. That’s so amazing.”

“He was so fucking happy. So proud. I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s all right. You don’t need to say anything. Knowing is enough.”

He kissed her collarbone. “I just can't get over it. For all this time, I've only thought that all that shit I used to do could only have one result. That it was all bad. And now it's messing with my head to know that my fuck-ups actually helped someone. Kind of makes me happy in a weird way that all that shit happened, because it helped him.”

She carded her fingers through his hair. “It makes it worth it. Will you promise to tell Raymond about this?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk with him about this. Not gonna lie, it's fucking with my head a bit. Because I’m nobody’s hero, Claire. Nobody in this world who has any sense should look up to me. I’m an addict, and a musician who just got insanely lucky.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Jamie smiled. Thrust his pelvis into hers. Smiling when she whimpered.

“I think it's impossible that with all the records we've sold, and with all the sold out shows this tour, that only that one person has changed their thinking. So what about..."

He swallowed, a bit unsure. Claire ran her thumb over his cheek.

"Maybe...maybe I do something official. Like, launch a sobriety support program for fans. Encourage them to have sober meet-ups with each other.”

She smiled, ecstatic. “That would be so amazing, Jamie. We should tell Colum - he can get the publicity people on it right away. You’ve got a voice – you should use it.”

Four loud knocks.

“Kiss your bride goodbye, Jamie! Everyone is waiting!” Colum yelled through the door.

Claire smiled. “You’re gonna do so great tonight. I’ll be right there with you.”

Jamie smiled. “I do have a voice, Claire. And I sing for you.”

He darted in for a kiss. And another. And another.

Neither heard the door open, until –

“For fuck’s sake!” Colum screamed. “I said kiss her, not swallow her!”

Jamie pulled away. Light. Happy.

“See you after the show,” she smiled.

“Can’t wait,” he grinned. Slung his guitar over his shoulder. Waited for her to find and pick up her medical bag. Gripped her hand. Led her to the stage.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

[cat3ch1sm]

Hello bb 😭💕 I've been such a huge fan of your work for ages now. I hope you are feeling better and taking care of yourself 🥺

If you are comfortable/want to, I was wondering if I could request some kind of nsfw perverted!hisoka x fem reader (the girl he's determined to make his) is now "coincidentally" stuck in a small space together 🤣 reader has avoided him bc she feels the same way but entirely embarrassed

If not pls ignore this request !

--kateaesthetic ✨️

🫖~ hello my love i missed u<33 im so so glad ur a fan, it means the actual world to me that i have supporters like you. here is your request, enjoy 💚💚

notice for my other followers- if you’ve sent me a request, im definitely working on it, i haven’t chosen to ignore any of your requests😭 it’s just i have a lot to work on outside and inside of this app, so it may take me some time. however, i really appreciate your patience, and i love you all endlessly and am so so grateful for your support.

*ೃ༄ nsfw ahead, perv hisoka😭, degradation, fem!reader˚◞♡ ⃗

“Alright, Y/N- thanks for staying so late,” your boss told you with a smile, which you returned politely. “Would you mind locking up the boutique for me? I’d do it myself it it wasn’t my little boy’s birthday, and I absolutely don’t want to miss it.”

“It’s no problem at all,” you assured her. “I hope your son has a wonderful birthday- but I’m sure it will be far more wonderful if you’re home on time! You’d better get going; I’ll be done in no time.”

“Thanks so much. The keys to lock up are on the counter beside the register. Have a great night, Y/N- see you tomorrow!” your boss called, and you waved as she went out the door.

You smiled to yourself. You were very fond of your boss; she’d never been unkind or unfair with you, so doing her this favor didn’t bother you in the slightest. Hanging up one of the dresses you’d been holding on the racks, you started to walk to the front of the dress shop to retrieve the keys.

Before you made it to the counter, though, you heard something that surprised you- the windchime dangling above the front doorframe suddenly made a gentle jingling sound- indicating that somebody had just walked in. You were perplexed upon hearing the noise- all of the lights were off in the building, so you couldn’t imagine why someone would enter. Then it occurred to you- perhaps your boss had just forgotten something. Yes, that’s what it had to be. Relaxing, you walked to the counter and picked up the keys before looking up.

“Oh, you’re back? Did you forget something?” you inquired, your gaze still focused on the keys beneath you, which were frustratingly getting tangled into one another. “I’d be happy to get it for you-“

When you finally looked up, though, you knew instantly that the dark figure who had just entered the shop wasn’t your boss. It was about a foot too tall, and even among the shadows you could tell the build was that of a man. Most notably, though, was the peak of hair that stretched above his head- seemingly defying gravity.

At first, you didn’t recognize the man, and found yourself even more confused. “Uh- sir?” you ventured, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at the figure. “We’re closed right now, but we reopen at 8 am tomorrow- perhaps you could return then?”

“Oh, but my dear- that’s far too late,” the man drawled, inching closer to the counter behind which you were standing, and with every step he took you could hear the clicking of heels on the marble floor. “Can’t you make an exception for me, sweetheart?”

You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. Hisoka. He was the one who had been pursuing you for weeks, appearing around every corner you turned. And now, he’d managed to find you at your job.

Hisoka had made very clear his intentions with you a number of times- not quite bluntly, but in a manner that you couldn’t mistake. You, in return, had avoided him as much as you could- you simply couldn’t muster up the boldness and slyness that Hisoka possessed, and while you knew something deep inside you wanted Hisoka to want you, you were frankly just too embarrassed to admit it. Nobody had ever really wanted you the way Hisoka claimed to, and you didn’t know how to react.

“Hisoka.” It was all you could come up with. You absently picked up the keys, now disentangled, and habitually singled out the one that locked the closet in which the store kept the custom dress orders. “I… don’t think you should be here.” Quickly, you turned your back on him, already feeling heat rush to your face at his mere presence, and briskly walked over to the dress closet.

In the dark, you heard Hisoka chuckle lowly. “Ah, even in the dark, I can tell you’re blushing. You’re simply adorable.” His tone was amused, but you didn’t miss the familiar notes of ardor beneath his voice.

Throughly flustered, you thrust the key into the closet’s lock, turning it in the doorknob. You avoided turning to face Hisoka, and not knowing how else to escape, you rushed into the closet, brushing past the flouncing, poofy petticoats and the long, flowing skirts of the dresses inside. You retreated to the very back, up against the wall, stomach fluttering and hoping Hisoka didn’t see you.

“Hiding, are we?” Hisoka queried slyly, and you saw from behind a particularly fluffy dress his shadow come closer and closer to the closet door. “I just adore games like these.”

You startled as he entered the closet, his face now mostly visible in the dim light. Keeping your back pressed against the wall, you didn’t dare to even breathe, foolishly hoping that the magician would simply bore of your antics and be on his way. However, that wasn’t the case- and you were absolutely sure of this when Hisoka promptly shut the closet door behind him, locking the two of you inside.

Your eyes flew wide open with shock, a million thoughts racing through your head. Shit! I’m locked in. No- we’re locked in. Damn it- I’m locked in this closet with him. With Hisoka. Why didn’t I wait until after he was gone to lock the stupid door?

In your internal frenzy, you made a noise in the corner- instantly drawing the sharp stare of Hisoka. In no time, you felt his piercing yellow eyes burning into your face, and you knew you’d been spotted.

Your eyes rose higher and higher as Hisoka came closer. You didn’t want to look away from his face in case you missed something, but Hisoka only gave you that smirk that somehow made your knees weak whenever he did. Before you knew it, you were looking straight up into his gaze.

“Why do you even bother running from me, sweetheart?” Hisoka took your chin in his grasp, his clawlike nails barely scratching your skin, and lifted your head up to meet his eyes directly. “While I enjoy a good game of chase, you certainly didn’t think you were about to win, did you?”

For a few seconds, you were frozen, heart beating a million beats a minute and your lips sealed shut. Finally, though, you managed to speak. “Hisoka- what do you want?”

“Don’t play stupid.” Hisoka’s smile grew wider. “I believe you already know the answer to that, Y/N.”

Before you had a chance to react, Hisoka’s hand wrapped itself around your upper neck and pulled you into a gentle kiss. Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut and you felt a blush spread across your face again, caught off guard by how soft it was. However, the surprisingly tender moment was disrupted when you felt a second hand slither around your waist, down your back, and eventually settle on your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You squeaked in surprise and pulled away from Hisoka, whose expression told you that he knew exactly what he was doing. “Hisoka!”

“My apologies, darling, I just couldn’t help myself.” An unapologetic grin spread across his face. “But I must add- you don’t seem to mind, my dear.”

Your body had betrayed you yet again- here you were, face hot and blushing like a fool. Embarrassed, you dropped your eyes down to the ground.

Above you, you heard Hisoka let out an amused chuckle. “Don’t be so shy, sweetheart- you’re just adorable when you look like this. It only makes me want to have you even more.”

Before you could respond, your lips were pressed into Hisoka’s again, one of his slender hands around your neck while the other took hold of the hem of your shirt and effortlessly tore it from your body; you felt as if the sound of the fabric ripping could be heard for miles. You allowed yourself to kiss Hisoka back for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“Take off your shirt.”

Hisoka’s thin eyebrows raised in surprise before his expression morphed into one of twisted delight. “So demanding…” he mused, golden eyes burning into yours before he complied with your demand, sliding his shirt over his head and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

For a moment you were in a daze, captivated by Hisoka’s glistening pale skin and his beyond impressive figure, a rippling 8-pack flowing down his abdomen and toned pecs and biceps protruding. It was only after Hisoka’s hands wrapped around your exposed waist and gently lowered your body and his to the ground that you snapped back into reality, the sensation of his lips on your neck and his hands slithering up your thighs suddenly overpowering.

“I’ve always imagined that I’d get you in this position one day, Y/N… but you’re even more inviting than I’d anticipated,” Hisoka hissed, running his tongue from your collarbone to the bottom tip of your ear. The soft warmth and wetness drew a gasp from you, and you felt Hisoka’s lips curl into a smile against your skin.

“Such a pretty sound, darling… be a good girl and make much more of those cute little moans for me, alright?”

You barely heard yourself murmur, “Alright,” before Hisoka nudged your bra straps off of your shoulders and began kissing down your chest. You allowed yourself to throw your head back, lewd gasps escaping your lips as Hisoka’s tongue teased your breasts, flicking each of your erect nipples and circling around the skin softly. Then, moving his head down your abdomen, he took hold of one of your breasts in his head, gripping it tightly as he licked a hot, wet trail from just above your bellybutton to in between your breasts, deriving an unhealthy amount of pleasure from the equally surprised yet passionate moan you emitted. One of your hands came down to tangle itself in Hisoka’s multicolored hair, silently urging him to keep going.

Hisoka obliged, and you felt some control slip away from him, his touch growing rougher and more ravenous as his fingers came down to your legs, dancing up your thigh and slipping beneath your skirt but stopping just before brushing your dripping opening.

“It’s a good thing you wore this cute little skirt for me today, huh, sweetheart? I can already sense how wet you are for me.”

Having his hands so close to where you needed them most but not quite there yet was torture, and you knew Hisoka could tell by the ragged way you were breathing. “Hisoka- please stop teasing me…”

Hisoka made a mock pout at your pitiful demeanor. “Aw, so needy already? You’re dirtier than I thought, my dear.” He flipped up the hem of your skirt, revealing your darkened panties and making you shudder. “But don’t be embarrassed- it’s cute.”

Hisoka finally inched his fingers up higher, running the tip of his sharp nail down your covered slit and making you groan, arching up into his touch. He allowed himself another satisfied chuckle before tugging your panties aside and rubbing the pad of his thumb along your wet entrance, moistening his finger before he began rubbing your clit in circular motions- slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.

“Ah- mm, Hisoka,” you moaned, thrusting your lower half into his fingers. Hisoka simply pushed his middle finger into your entrance, drawing a long, pathetic whine from you as the sensation of his finger inside of you took over your body.

“Oh, Y/N- I’ve only just started using my fingers and you’re already shaking,” Hisoka remarked coyly, slowly moving his finger back and forth inside of you, silencing you whenever you tried to say something with a broken cry. “How long has it been since your needs were satisfied, dear?” he mused to himself, pretending to be deep in thought. “Seemingly far too long, yes? Especially for you to be behaving the way you are, already such a filthy whore beneath my fingers.”

Your face flushed for what had to be the thousandth time tonight. “I’m not a who- ah! Fuck- fuck, Hisoka-“

“You’re not doing a good job of proving it, sweetheart,” Hisoka teased, two fingers now pumping inside of your hole while his thumb continued to trace your swollen, sensitive clit.

“Shut up,” you managed breathlessly, the pleasure building up both within your clit and your vagina and rendering you unable to speak properly.

Hisoka laughed and took his thumb from your clit, eliciting a displeasured cry from you, but it was quickly replaced with his tongue, flicking back and forth in rapid movements along your clit. The noise that it drew from you could only be described as a scream, and Hisoka kept it up for a little while longer, relishing in your shrieks before promptly sitting up, removing his fingers and mouth from your sex.

You were dismayed, about to ask why Hisoka had pulled away, when you lifted your head and noticed the straining tent in his pants as well as the almost frightening lust in his eyes, running up and down your body hungrily. Wordlessly, he stood up, slipped out of his pants and boxers, and bent back down to your quivering form on the floor.

Hisoka was quite an impressive size- you almost felt obliged to look away, but Hisoka’s hand came up to cup your jawline and forced your face towards him before releasing you, your eyes wide.

“Don’t get nervous now, dear. I want you to see exactly what I’m going to do with you.”

You could only watch, aching and sensitive and anticipating as Hisoka positioned himself at your dripping hole, the tip of his dick at your entrance making you quiver before he pushed himself inside of you, every inch he forced inside of your body eliciting a broken whimper from you. Hisoka’s face tightened ever so slightly as he entered you, but once he was settled and began rocking his hips against you, an borderline sinister smile graced his lips.

“How I’ve fantasized of this moment, my dear,” Hisoka purred, eyes fixated on your face as your eyes rolled back into your head with every movement he made, lips parted in silent ecstasy. His next words, though, were lost on you.

“Such a pretty, useless thing. Surely you didn’t believe I truly desired you, sweetheart. But even so- you’re mine.”

#hisoka x reader smut #hxh headcanons #hisoka hxh #hisoka smut #hisoka hc #reader x hisoka #hisoka x reader #illumi x hisoka #hisoka x illumi #hisoka x you #hisoka headcanons #you x hisoka #hisoka morow x you #reader x hisoka smut #hxh memes #hunter x hunter #hisoka morow #hxh smut #hxh imagines

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 8: Summoning

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

WC: 9.5k ohhhh

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, cruelty, frightening depictions of Hell and things in it, terror, blood, fear, name-calling, more tension muahahahaha, i think that's all if there's anything i missed pls kindly let me know

This chapter could be frightening/disturbing to some readers, pls read at your own discretion

Previous

A few hours later, JK walks over to the small fire that's still burning brightly. 

His eyes fall to the sleeping figure curled up on the ground by it.

Your cardigan is wrapped tightly around you; your hands clutching it closed in the front even as you sleep. 

The demon's gaze drifts over you; your bare feet are covered in ash and mud, blood still staining the cloth that doesn't have a single speck of white left on it. If they weren't so dirty, he's willing to bet bruises would be visible. 

Your legs are tucked up into your skirt and out of his view, so his eyes drag along your torn dress all the way up to your bloody and ripped cardigan. The sleeves are practically in shreds, but the rest of it seems fine. Blood can be seen on the skin of your arms through the tears in the sleeves. 

Your hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in weeks, falling over a part of your cheek as you breathe steadily; some of the strands blow gently from your breath. 

His gaze stops moving when he notices the streaks on your cheeks. There's grime all over your skin, but it looks like you cleaned little random lines of it off. 

That's when he realizes you must have been crying.

Eyes lingering a little longer on your face, he sees your eyelids twitch and a small frown appear. 

Your breath starts to quicken and your face scrunches a little as it becomes apparent that you're having a nightmare. 

"-'m sorry," he hears you mumble as a single tear slips over the bridge of your nose and drops to the ground. 

He can't tear his eyes away from the fascinating image of you without your walls up. 

You’re completely vulnerable.

It occurs to him in that second that he's been so incredibly foolish. Everyone has a weakness, he's just been looking for yours in the wrong place. You won't be swayed by riches, by anger, by lust. Nothing that benefits you.

No, your weakness is love. 

This boy you're in love with, this bestfriend. 

He's your weakness. 

A few ideas flit through his mind, but none of them stay very long. 

He doesn't have to think of anything anymore. 

You're here for this boy, not for you. You'll get to the Flame and the only choice you'll have is to trade it for your soul. 

All he has to worry about now is getting you there. 

He was so worried before that you would try and pull a fast one on him, but there was no need to worry so much. You'll do anything for this boy, there's no way you'll go back on your deal. 

He thought this revelation would bring relief, but instead, a strange, uncomfortable, and unfamiliar feeling settles in his chest as he watches you shift in your sleep. 

The demon shakes his head to clear it and turns to walk away. 

He's been around a mortal for longer than usual and it's making him lose his nerve. 

-

You jerk awake suddenly, the nightmare finally bringing you out of your deep slumber.

Almost immediately, you see him sitting on the log you had previously been sitting on; his eyes locked on his hands as he fiddles with something small that you can't see. 

"How long has it been?" You croak, seeing him jump and look at you. 

"A few hours," he mumbles as he tucks whatever he was looking at into his back pocket. 

"Are you all done?" You ask. 

"Am I done with what?" 

"Making deals," You say quietly. 

He just looks at you for a minute before saying, "For now."

You nod, then rub the sleep from your eyes. 

JK stands up suddenly, startling you, "Come on, we don't have time to sit around."

You stand up reluctantly, "Ok."

He starts walking and you follow behind, only turning back when the sound of the crackling fire ceases. 

It's gone, just like every time before. 

You turn back and keep your eyes on him as you walk around the rocks until you can see the Devil's Backbone again. 

Just looking at it gives you a creeping feeling that crawls up your spine. 

"Through it?" You ask uncertainly.

He nods, "Through it."

It only takes about fifteen minutes to get right up on the creepy stones. 

You look around, noticing it looks almost like a maze of rocks in front of you. There doesn't appear to be any way through them though. 

"How do we get through?" You ask, turning to look at him. 

Except he's not there. 

"J-"

"Are you coming or not?" He snaps from over to your left. 

You stumble over the rock-covered ground to him. When you reach him, you still see no way through. 

Casting a doubtful glance over to him, he smirks, "What?"

When you say nothing, he points and you look, just barely seeing a small opening. You would never have seen it if you didn't know where to look. It's camouflaged, only visible with a trained eye and the right position. 

"You should trust me more, little human. Have I let you down yet?"

You make eye contact with him, keeping it a little longer than normal. 

His eyes fall to your wrist, then go back to looking into yours. 

A nasty smile twitches at his mouth, "You asked for that."

You look back over to the opening, deciding not to waste your breath; you'll need all you can get.

Wordlessly, he walks over and slips in, sliding between the two rocks seemingly without effort. You follow him, slipping in as you gather your courage.

The fit is a bit tight, which makes you wince when your wings get pinched uncomfortably while they're still folded in your cardigan. 

The second you're all the way in, a chilling breeze sweeps into the small crevice, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs as the sound of a ghostly sigh reaches your ears. 

You flinch and look around, seeing nothing but red tinted rocks that reach high into the sky. The space is small and you can see little paths leading in different directions from where you are. 

The jagged stones are thick at the bottom, probably five times the width of the largest tree trunks you've ever seen. As they go higher, they also begin to thin out. You can barely see the tip of the rock you're standing next to as you crane your neck to look up at it. 

You're willing to bet the top of the stones are still thicker than you could reach around. 

"Stop gawking and walk."

His voice echoes in here even though he's not even ten feet in front of you. 

You hold the ends of your sweater in your hands as you walk to him and join him in the middle of a small open area that sits in front of the paths, "How do we know which way to go?"

He groans loudly, "Are you seriously back to asking those idiotic questions? I thought you were done with that."

"I'm not asking idiotic questions," You say defensively, "I just want to be prepared in case you ditch me again and I have to find my way. What if I get lost?"

The demon leans close to you as if to tell a secret, which is useless since his words still bounce around the room. Anyone within a mile radius could hear him. 

"Then you're not worthy enough to take the Flame. Did I not tell you that you need to earn your way there, mortal?"

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth and chew on it anxiously. 

"I most certainly did," He says with a little more force, "Didn't I?"

When you don't answer right away, he snatches the collar of your white dress and pulls you closer, making you flinch. 

"Use your damn words and answer me."

"Yes," you choke out, refusing to look at him. 

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, you told me that," you close your eyes when he pulls you closer still.

"If you get lost here, if you lose all hope here, there is no one to blame but yourself. Do you understand that?"

You nod. 

He lets go of your collar and you stumble back a little, still not looking at him. 

"Just for that, I don't think I ought to join you after all."

You're about to protest, to beg him not to leave you again, but then you see the look on his face as he waits for your reaction and you snap your mouth shut. 

That's exactly what he wants you to do. 

He wants you to beg. 

You finally meet his eyes, "I guess I'll see you on the other side then."

That was clearly the last thing he was expecting you to say, you can tell by the way his face falls. 

His eyes narrow and jaw tightens, then he steps closer to you just to hiss, "Good luck, little girl,” Before he's turning and walking away, going into one of the paths. 

Then he's gone. 

Your lip trembles slightly as you stare at the path he went through. 

As much as you hate to be alone and wish he was still here, you know that you made the right decision not to fall into his little game. The fact that he was angry about your words means you didn't make the wrong choice. 

Glancing at the other paths, you debate on whether you ought to follow the one he went through. He might have been trying to throw you off. You're sure that no matter which one he chose, he'd end up wherever he wants anyway. 

All you can see in each direction is a dark crevice leading deeper into the Devil's Backbone. There are four different choices in front of you. He went through the second to last one. 

You step closer to get a better look. 

The first crevice doesn't shed any light, but a foul smell wafts from it. You step back and gag, then gather yourself before walking over to the second. 

Again, there is no light. There isn't a foul smell either. 

There is however, a strange sound, like that of random tapping echoing. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, extremely unsure. 

Moving to the next, the one he went into, you see the smallest amount of blood-red light showing the way when you get close enough. 

Nothing else, no smell, no sounds. 

The last crevice has nothing. No light, no sounds, no smells, nothing but pitch blackness. 

For some reason, that one gives you the most anxiety, so you step away quickly. 

What do these things mean? 

What would smells, sounds, lights, or lack of all of them, indicate?

There is one thing you are absolutely sure of: none of them will be easy. Perhaps some are more difficult than others, but you must not underestimate any of them. 

As you stand there and stare at each of them, the sound of a tiny giggle echoes from the second crevice. 

You jump and back away, staring at it as if you'll see something or someone crawl out of the shadows. 

The creepiest images begin to plague your mind as you stare into the blackness. The giggle doesn’t happen again, but then you realize the tapping has also stopped. 

Whatever you do, you will not be going into that one, that's for sure. 

You can probably handle the smell, you did it in the third circle. How much worse could this one be?

You walk back over to the first path and peer inside. 

The stench is awful, but it really doesn't seem impossible. 

The one he went into seems too easy, so does the last one. Those appear to be a trick at the entrance, there's probably something much worse waiting inside. 

You are not going into that second one. You get goosebumps just looking at it. 

Ten grueling minutes pass as you mull over the paths. 

You can't stay here, you need to make a choice. 

Walking over to the first crevice, you hold your breath and start walking in. 

____!

You jump back, not having gone in yet. 

Whipping your head around, you don't see anything or anyone. 

Not that way. 

A chill runs down your spine as you realize that you nearly made a mistake. The chill only increases as you begin to understand that you need to go into the one you're most scared of. 

You close your eyes, breathing deeply. 

The sound of a tiny giggle reaches you and you jump back again, eyes flying open as you stare at the dark crack it's coming from. 

No more of this, ____, you chide yourself, you are an angel, this does not frighten you. 

You clench your fist, staring into the pitch black as you gather your head.

"Ok," you say out loud, "I'm coming in and don't you dare think you can scare me."

Before you have the chance of changing your mind, you march into the second crevice, the opening large enough to where you don't need to crouch or squeeze, you can just walk normally. 

JK sits crouched on a ledge about fifteen feet up, his eyes narrowing in confusion when you walk into the giant crack, soon disappearing from his view. 

What made you change your mind so suddenly? 

And why the hell would you turn around and pick the worst one?

-

The darkness is so deep, so thick that it feels almost tangible. 

You keep your arms out to the side, the tips of your fingers brushing against the cool stone walls. 

Looking up doesn't change anything, not here. Before, you could see the red sky above the Backbone, now it seems like light has just ceased to exist altogether. 

It's almost worse that there's no sound right now. You feel on edge, as if there's about to be a sound when you're least expecting it.

But still, there's nothing. 

Ever since you stepped foot into this pathway, it's felt like there's been someone walking behind you. You try not to think about it as you keep moving forward. It helps a little to think of perfectly natural causes if there comes a small sound.

You can't help but flinch a little though, when you hear a distinct footstep behind you. 

You definitely didn't mistake that.

Freezing right where you are, you hold your breath, as if the sound of it will cause all hell to break loose. 

When there isn't another sound for at least two minutes, you gulp and start moving again. 

But the sound of hurrying feet behind you makes you stop once more. 

"JK?" You call out, the sound of your own voice startling you a bit after silence for so long. You cringe, feeling like you physically broke the delicate quiet and something bad will happen now. 

The dead silence that stretches on for a good while seems even more terrifying than it's been. 

For some reason, you can tell it isn't him behind you, as much as you wanted to make yourself believe it was. You've come to know the feeling of his silence. 

And this isn't it. 

You clear your throat and blink a few times, even though it doesn't really matter when you can't see anything anyway. 

Do not act afraid. 

You nod a little. 

These things prey on fear, it gives them energy. Demons have always sought to wreak havoc and terror. 

You can't let it show. 

I am an angel. 

I am an angel. 

You do not scare me. 

I am an angel. 

I do not fear you.

You repeat these things in your head as you start to walk again, trying to hold yourself in a way that looks like you have more confidence than you do. 

The footsteps eventually start up again, but you do not stop. 

You will not stop, not until you need to. 

This continues for a few minutes, the presence not far behind as it makes no effort not to be heard. But you don't react. You keep your head up and arms stretched out to touch the walls. 

You're starting to gain the confidence you feared you lacked, keeping your mind on the goal. 

Just get out. 

That's when another giggle reaches your ears. 

It sounds like the voice of a little girl that's just played a prank and finds nothing more amusing. 

You flinch violently, using everything in you not to start running like your life depends on it. 

Closing your eyes, you decide you'd rather not see whatever might decide to show itself. 

You start walking a little quicker, but keep in mind not to run. 

The prayers repeating in your head are like a loud mantra that you're screaming internally, trying to block out the sound of the pitter patter of little feet running behind you. 

You have a horrid urge to turn and look to see how far behind it is, but you dare not. You probably wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. You're more scared though, that you will see something. You keep hurrying, fingers beginning to get sore from dragging along the rocks.

"Wanna play a game?"

A scream bursts from your lips and you flinch back at the little girl's voice suddenly appearing right in front of you. 

Slapping your hands over your face, you push yourself up against the wall. The feeling of the hard rock pressed against you brings the tiniest bit of comfort that at least something isn't behind you.

You don't want to see it. 

You don't ever ever ever want to see whatever it is. 

Or whatever it is pretending to be. 

Silence. 

Painful silence. 

A whimper gets caught in your throat. 

It feels like there's something standing right beside you, even though you can hear nothing. 

Don't bother thinking anything, just keep going. 

You have to force your legs to move. 

A million thanks pour from your heart when you feel nothing blocking your path as you continue forward, hands trembling as they leave your face and return to the wall on either side. 

-

JK walks back and forth in the small dimly lit area on the other side of the Backbone. 

Every once in a while, he glances up at the crevice that reeks of terror even as it just sits there. 

He's so confused. 

How could you even physically make yourself walk into that pathway?

No living soul has ever walked into that crevice and come out sane enough to tell the tale. 

The fear itself consumes them until they go mad and try to off themselves. 

He's a demon. 

He's the one that strikes fear in the hearts of humans, of all living things. 

And he will never step foot into that pathway. 

How could a small human girl call out to the darkness not to scare her and walk in without fear?

It's not possible. 

Nothing could make him face the entity that lurks there. 

He glances at the opening again. 

He might as well call it a bust and leave. 

She is not coming out of there. 

-

As you walk, you start to think of any memory you can to distract you. 

The tiny running feet picked up again, but you act like you can't hear it. 

Remember when we played hide and seek for the first time? You ask yourself. 

Yes. You do. 

You close your eyes, and the scene comes to your mind in crystal clear recollection. 

Yoongi was the first one to seek, telling you and your best friend to run and hide quickly, before he counted down from twenty. He said you weren't allowed to go anywhere outside of the gate. 

Taking off right away, you followed him to the old barn. 

"Come on Apple, let's hide here."

He held your hand as you climbed into the big barrel with him. Pulling your legs up to your chests, you tried not to giggle. 

Yoongi found both of you within a few minutes, laughing at you and telling you that you weren't supposed to hide together, you were supposed to separate so at least one of you could be the winner. 

Neither of you would hear of it, though. 

You would just need to find a better hiding spot. 

As the years came and went and more kids joined in, your hiding spots got better and better. 

Eventually, no one wanted to play with the two of you anymore because you were always the winning pair. 

They said it was stupid that you hid together and got caught together, stupid that the two of you insisted on seeking together. That it was cheating. 

You told them they were just too bad at the game to win with two seekers. Your best friend always nodded along, teasingly sticking his tongue out at them when they talked back to you, even when the two of you were young teens. 

A smile spreads on your face, your sore fingers starting to become numb as they keep rubbing and rubbing along the rough wall. 

You can see him waggling his fingers at them and mocking their taunts right back. 

A laugh bubbles up and bursts from your lips. 

Then a creepy giggle follows right after, close to your ear, which turns your stomach to rot. 

Ok. 

How about when you had the eating contest?

You gulp and conjure up the memory, refusing to open your eyes. 

It was his idea. 

The stupid ones always were. 

Well...most of them. 

"I bet I could eat more rice cakes than you." He had said one day.

You opened one eye to peek at him doubtfully. 

"Which ones? Honey?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I could eat a lot more than you."

That got your full attention and you sat up on the rickety cot he had placed in the corner of the abandoned shed a few months prior. 

Both of you had been putting whatever you could find that no one wanted anymore in there, slowly but surely making it your own special place. 

He smirked at you from his place on the ground. 

"You could not."

"Mother said I could," he sneered, "I'm a growing boy after all. She said because I'm eleven now I'll be more hungry than usual. And girls don't eat as much at this age, cause they don't need to."

He laughed at the red tinge that came into your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

That always meant you were annoyed. 

"We'll see about that," You clambered off the cot, flinging straw everywhere as he jumped up too. 

With the help of some friends, you gathered as many honey rice cakes as you could manage without the grownups finding out. It was more than you thought you could get. 

Then the two of you sat in front of the plates piled high, your friends cheering you on as you ate and ate and ate those stupid sweets. 

You won, but at the cost of swearing that never again would you eat another honey rice cake as long as you lived. 

He made the same vow. 

He also apologized for his taunts and said he already knew you'd win. He just wanted to see you get competitive. 

Your mothers never could figure out why the two of you were sick for the rest of the day and you swore you'd never tell. 

You never did. 

The grownups never solved the mystery of where all the rice cakes went that day either. 

A shaky smile spreads on your face again, the memory warming your heart even as it clenches with fear. 

One step after another, you do not stop or slow down. 

It helps a lot to think about the past, so you wrack your brain trying to find something more to hold onto. 

The sound of footsteps running over to you from ahead this time, startles you enough to make you stumble and stop for a moment. 

Even though there is no audible or visual proof that there is something standing in front of you; you know there is. 

You swallow the lump in your throat but keep your eyes closed. 

"Open your eyes," Something hisses in the dark. 

You flinch when it outright speaks but make no move to listen to its order. 

Just act like you can't hear it. 

Don't engage. 

Gulping, you take an unsure step forward. 

Please, don't let me run into some little demon girl. 

Another step and there's still nothing in your path. 

I am an angel, I do not fear you. 

You take another step, then another, and another. 

It seems like whatever it was, has left. 

Picking up the pace, you start to wonder when you're gonna reach the end. It feels like you've been walking for a lot longer than it ought to take. 

Just as you're starting to think you might be reaching the end, you run right into a protruding rock. 

The feeling of a sudden object makes you shout as you stumble back. Then you put a hand to your chin and gasp a little.

You can't see, but the wet feeling on your fingers and the radiating pain are telling enough, you definitely hurt yourself.

What the heck?

You reach a trembling hand out until you feel what you ran into. Upon further inspection, running your hands up and down and to the sides, you realize with mounting horror that you've reached a fork in the road.

The rock you slammed your chin into is a long divider, the separator of the two paths. 

See, this. 

This is exactly what you were dreading. 

That thought brings a new wave of fear when you think of something else. 

This tunnel...is it always the same?

Your eyes widen and you reach out helplessly to feel your way down the left path. You don't have the time or the sanity to sit here and debate. 

You just realized something that you really wish you hadn't thought of. 

You were under the impression that this path was the scariest, but that it was always the same. Now you've figured it out. 

It brings your worst nightmares to life. If you imagine something you fear, it will happen.

Do not think. 

Do not think of anything but good. 

Tears build in your wide eyes as you feel the wall and hurry as fast as you dare in the dark. You don't want to be around when your nightmare inevitably takes form.

-

JK sits on a rock in the corner of the small room, staring at the opening. 

He's not sure why he hasn't left yet. 

You're not going to walk out of that path, he already knows that. You'll go insane and-

He picks up a small stone and tosses it against the wall, not even flinching when it echoes loudly. 

Of course you had to go and ruin his plan. You're so stupid. 

Of fucking course you chose the worst path. Now he gets nothing. He knew you'd fuck him over; he did all of this for absolutely nothing. 

Grinding his teeth, he picks up another little rock and chucks it at the wall angrily. 

-

I need to think of more memories. 

You keep walking quickly, trying desperately to grasp any memory you can, but they flit through your frazzled mind quicker than you can snatch them. 

Honestly, it's so much worse now that you figured it out. 

Now your mind is betraying you and shuffling through everything that's always scared you even as you scream at it not to. 

It's like that time when Yoongi told you not to think of a bowl, and that's immediately what you pictured in your head. He would always laugh at that and he would get you every single time. It always annoyed you, you tried so hard to think of anything else but always pictured what he said not to.

The mind is a tricky thing to control at times. 

Especially when clouded with fear. 

Your stomach plummets to your feet when you hear maniacal laughter coming from somewhere far behind you. 

Nope. 

Nope, you gotta think of something good. 

You smack your head, trying to pound a memory into it. 

Oh!

Yes! That’s it!

You keep walking as you try to picture when you and your best friend had finally been allowed to sleep in the shed overnight. 

Your mothers never wanted you to sleep anywhere away from home the whole night, always insisting you two get back before everyone went to sleep. 

It was incredibly annoying, especially when you became teenagers just wanting some independence. 

But finally, it happened. 

It was on his seventeenth birthday. You had turned sixteen shortly before and both of you had begged your mothers, insisting you were more than old enough to spend the night away. 

It was honestly ridiculous, your mother had been scolding you for not getting married yet, and here she was not even letting you spend a single night away. 

"You act like you're so mature, that you can handle being in the woods at night, and yet you're not mature enough to be married? All of your friends are married. Aren't you embarrassed??"

"Why should I be?" You stomped your foot, "I don't want to get married yet!"

"Why not?" Your mother had gasped, "You want the whole village to see you as the old maid that couldn't get a man? Or perhaps the village whore that runs off into the woods with her boy best friend?"

Your mouth twisted in anger, and you said some things that made your mother pause. You felt bad for hitting where it hurt, but it was true after all. 

Then her face hardened. 

"All the more reason to get married and have children quickly. Maybe spending the night away from home will knock that into your stubborn head."

You had stormed out after that.  

A frown graces your features as you hurry through the path. 

Maybe this wasn't the happiest memory to choose from. But it's a good distraction so you stick with it. 

You met him by the old swing where he told you he was allowed to go. Honestly it was silly of him to ask at that point, he wasn't considered a failure and could do whatever he wanted. 

He was a boy after all. 

You had a feeling he only asked because he cared a lot about what his mother thought of him and always wanted to do what she wished.  

It wasn't the same for you. You always tried so hard to do your mother’s will. 

But no matter what, you never felt good enough. 

She was never going to be proud of you.

So, you stopped trying. 

You shake your head and make yourself jump to the part that will bring you comfort. 

He ran on ahead, encouraging you to go faster until he had you laughing. 

The shed was looking the best it ever had, with a small table by the bigger cot you shoved in, and the torn curtains hanging from the little window above the cot. 

There was also a chest where you kept extra clothes. 

"Finally! This is going to be great," he jumped up and down and clasped his hands, "Are you not excited, Apple?"

You nodded enthusiastically, your sour mood completely gone, “I am!” 

He walked over to the chest and opened it, pulling out two pears he had hidden there previously and presented them to you with a fancy flourish. 

You laughed and took one, bowing in a silly manner to match his. 

He grinned at you, "No one can reach us here, Apple. We've got all day and all night to talk about whatever we want, to do whatever we want."

It was such a relief. 

To be away from prying eyes, to not be the center of gossip for once in your life. 

The two of you munched on the sweet fruit and gossiped about everyone else in the village. You talked about how you suspected your friend Jisoo was with child and he shared how he had caught Minho with one of the Kim sisters in the barn. 

That was the thing. 

Everyone else in the village was actually doing questionable things, yet the two of you were always the ones being accused of it. Simply because you were a girl and best friends with a boy and how you were still unmarried at the crippling old age of sixteen. 

They didn't care to know the truth, they liked to come up with their own stories of how the two of you snuck away to do sinful things in the woods. 

You both tried not to let it bother you, but when it came from your parents and friends, it was more painful. 

The only two people in the whole village that cared to see things how they really were, were Tae and Yoongi. 

That night was wonderful though. 

He even taught you a lullaby when you began to get spooked as the sun went down. 

You had always convinced yourself there was the ghost of a teenage girl in the woods like everyone said there was, the most horrific images coming to mind whenever it was dark. He never failed to fight those fears off. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly when you hear the sound of weeping. 

Oh no. 

No, no you did not just think of her. 

A chill shoots down your spine as the weeping grows louder. 

How foolish could you be??

"It doesn't exist," You whisper to yourself, "It was a silly rumor that someone made up and spread around for fun."

She was never there and isn't here now. 

It's all in your head. 

You start walking faster when the weeping gets closer.

That's when you remember the lullaby. 

Ok. 

You start whispering it to yourself, mumbling the sweet tone as you keep going forward. 

Forward, don't stop, keep going forward. 

Please don't stop. 

It's not real, silly. 

But you cannot stop.  

-

JK is about to walk out, then he hears the softest sound. 

A sound that has never breached the walls of Hell. 

Is someone singing?

He stops in his tracks, listening carefully. 

It is someone singing. 

What the fuck?

He looks over at the opening. 

It's barely audible, the person must be whispering, the sound traveling through the slender path as it bounces off the walls. 

It's not the creature in there, this voice is something that thing could never imitate. 

Just as he takes a step closer, a loud wail sounds, the color draining from his face as he freezes and stares into the empty blackness.

-

When a sudden wail bounces off the rocks, you collapse on the ground and cover your ears with your hands, shaking like a leaf.

It's not here. 

It's all in your head. 

Singing the lullaby was actually helping. 

That must be why it changed tactics, to get your attention. 

You sit there curled up for a minute, the weeping calming to a soft cry once again.

You need to move. 

Now!

The sound of bare feet suddenly sprinting down the tunnel towards you makes your heart fly to your throat as you jump up and take off running like your life depends on it. 

An anguished cry echoes down the path behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. 

You don't even care about being careful anymore, you're running with arms pumping at your sides as you pray that you don't run into anything. 

And that nothing catches up to you. 

"Wait!" The voice sounds guttural and insane.

You trip and fall, arms and legs sprawled out against the ground for a second before you try and pick yourself back up. 

"Don't, please-"

The sound of a crying girl begging for you to stay sends a chill into your bones that you've never felt before. 

She's right behind you. 

"Help me-" she croaks out. 

Still shaking, you turn and look behind you.

A foolish idea. 

It's still incredibly dark, but now you can see the silhouette of a girl that doesn't look much younger than you. 

A raggedy dress hangs from her skeletal limbs and knotted hair falls past her shoulders. 

You can't see her face; just the contorted position she's standing in. 

You want to close your eyes. 

But you can't. 

It's like they're being physically held open so that you can watch yourself be tormented by whatever this is. 

"Won't you help me?" Her voice is low and scratchy, it sounds like she needs a drink. 

"You're not real," you whisper weakly, more to yourself than the figure in front of you, "You're not real..." 

"Help me." Her voice is stronger this time, as if you're starting to anger her. But still she only stands there, legs bent at an odd angle and stick thin arms hanging limp at her side. 

Her head cocks, and you notice that her hair is covering her face. 

For some reason, it's getting light enough for you to see more of her, but no more of your surroundings. 

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, body frozen in complete and utter terror as you stare at her. 

You've never been more terrified in your entire existence. 

It isn't real. 

A skinny hand reaches out and towards your figure still cowering on the floor. 

"H-h-h-help me," A choking sound bubbles out of her throat and she starts to twitch, a strange convulsion that looks like she can't control. 

Moving as slowly as you can, you start to stand. 

The figure just seems to watch you through her curtain of matted black hair, hand still outstretched. 

"Why do you need help?" You ask quietly. 

Another foolish idea.

Her head cocks to the other side so suddenly it startles you, but you keep your eyes locked on her. Through the strands of hair, you see an unnaturally large smile spread, full of teeth that look too big for her mouth. She stands half a head shorter than you. 

"I want you to be my friend, forever," She whispers in a horrifyingly teasing voice, “You always ignored me, even when you were a little girl. Both of you played without me,” Her voice breaks tearfully but the smile grows.

You need to get out of there. 

Now. 

You're too scared. 

You cannot move. Especially knowing what will be behind your back and will be watching as you go. 

She knows about you and your best friend. 

What else does she know? Was she always there, watching us in those woods?

It doesn’t matter.

There's nothing more you want to do than turn and run, but you're frozen. 

Give me strength, please. 

You are an angel of God, do not fear her. 

Suddenly you feel your limbs unfreeze and you turn to walk away slowly. 

You can feel her staring as you walk off. 

The end has to be close; you can make it. 

It seems like you might actually get away, but then a loud screech sounds and you're tackled to the ground. 

You flip on your back and start trying to fight her off, then you freeze in horror when you see her hair has moved and she's staring at you with huge eyes that bulge out of her head as she screams wordlessly in your face. 

Out of your control, your body seizes up and starts shaking so hard you can't even move as terrified screams rip from you. Her hands wrap around your throat and start to squeeze. 

The scene in front of you continues to send you into a state of pure panic over and over again. Her insane eyes as she screams and screams until blood dribbles from her mouth. She's straddling your chest, bony limbs pressing into you. 

I can't breathe. 

I can't breathe. 

It feels like you’re about to lose consciousness, no matter how hard you fight it.

Then you suddenly feel a small flame of anger light in your chest, and you grab her wrists, squeezing them as hard as you can even as she continues to choke you. 

You are not about to let this hag ruin everything. Not after all you've come through already. You are so close.

A pained gasp leaves you as you pull with all your strength and separate her hands from your neck long enough to scream as loud as you can, "In the name of Christ, get away from me!!"

It's like some invisible force rips her from you as the ground starts to tremble. She flies back and onto the floor, the most horrendous shrieks coming out of her as she covers her ears and flails like she's being tortured. 

You watch as her back arches from the ground and she convulses. Her lips are tearing from the enraged wails she's letting out. 

Then you're up and running. The ground quakes and you stumble. Stones begin to fall as if the giant rocks are splitting, but you don't stop. There are inhuman shrieks echoing all around you as you run full speed ahead. 

Finally, there's a sliver of red light. 

You charge for it and hurl yourself out right before a big rock falls on top of you. 

Curled up and shivering, you let out a horrified sob as you lay on the ground. 

You did it. 

You made it out. 

Eventually, it feels like the earthquake stops. You open your eyes and look around. 

Then you see him.

Sitting up in surprise, you stare at the figure to your left that's on his hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably. 

"JK?"

You stand up, wobbling a bit before you walk over to him. 

He looks up at you and you see sweat dripping down his face as it scrunches in pain. His eyes look dazed, then they focus on you and anger flashes in them. 

JK stumbles to his feet, towering over you as he grabs your shoulders and drags you closer to him and shakes you, "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He screams, "Why did you-"

He cuts himself off, then shoves you away, his hands quivering as he grabs at his head and stumbles back into the wall. 

"Fuck!" 

You step back, hands coming up in small fists as you tuck them under your chin and watch him anxiously. 

"W-what did I do-"

The demon's glare fixes on you again, seeing you looking quite small standing there in confusion as you look at him with huge innocent eyes. 

Innocence. 

That's what causes him so much rage. 

Your stupid innocence. 

He walks over to you until you need to crane your neck to look at him. 

"What did you do?" He pants, "Do you think there's anyone else as stupid as you that would utter that name here?"

Oh. 

That makes sense, you were just so distracted you didn't think about how it would affect more than that demon in the tunnel. 

Oh, well. 

Not like they don’t deserve it.

"Oh, is that all?" You shrug and walk around him, "Where's the exit?"

His jaw clenches as he stands there for a moment before turning to look at you. Long dark locks fall over his eyes as he stares at you in enraged disbelief. 

"Are you serious?"

"Am I serious about what?" You ask, this time he notices how scratchy your voice sounds. 

You stumble when his hand grips your arm tightly and he yanks you over to a different pathway, pulling you through it without a word until you two come out.

The red sky greets you, the smokey air even thicker than it was on the other side of the Devil’s Backbone. 

He shoves you, letting go of your arm as he does. You fumble for a second on the loose rocks but keep your footing. Then you turn and look at him, noticing how heavy he's breathing. 

"You are the most despicable creature I've ever come across," He seethes, chest rising and falling in angry breaths, "You're lucky that you have some use, or you'd be so fucked you wouldn't even believe it."

Straightening your back, you look at him steadily, "Oh yeah? You keep making threats like that," You walk over to him, "And yet I can bring you to your knees with a name."

You see him gulp as he stares daggers at you.

"You can hurt me, demon. But I can break you," You whisper. 

The demon's jaw clenches so hard it nearly shatters his teeth. 

The stare down lasts for a full minute.

"Who are you?" He finally says through grit teeth, voice quivering with rage. 

"I'm the one you promised to bring to the center of Hell," You still don't break eye contact, "And you will get nothing from me until I say so."

The fact that a mere human has the audacity to speak to him like this puts him in a state beyond anger, beyond hatred. 

He despises you with every ounce of his being. 

You don't flinch when he grabs your injured wrist and squeezes it harshly. 

"Hurt me all you want," You snap, "I'll take you down with me. If I'm in pain I might as well give you a hard time too, don't you think?"

He pulls you closer, his lips hovering above your own, so close you can feel his breath against your mouth. 

"Wanna call a truce?" You ask with a smug smile.

"Fuck you," He seethes, then lets go of your wrist and steps away. 

A truce then. 

You finally let out the breath you were holding, noticing that your hands are shaking slightly. 

Glad that worked. 

For a minute there, you were worried it might not. 

Lifting your head, you look over to the long stretch of mountains, burnt and smoking. Not far off, you can see flames rising and hear the sound of screams echoing. 

You close your eyes. 

Just hold on, ____. 

You can do this.

Opening them again, you look over to see him glaring at a rock on the ground. 

A scratchy laugh leaves your throat, and he looks up to see you holding a hand to your neck and wincing. 

Seemingly recovering quickly, you bring your hair around to the front and give him an amused look. 

"Don't be too mad at me," You call over, voice breaking, "It only means you can't hurt me anymore."

He scoffs, "I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Ok."

You start walking down the slippery slope, ignoring his glare following you. 

"I'm choosing not to hurt you right now," He calls after you, "It has nothing to do with-" 

You nod and give him a thumbs up, trying to focus on your footing and not fall on your bottom and go sliding down to wherever this leads. 

JK breathes out slowly and stalks after you. 

________________

A few hours go by of just slipping and sliding and trying not to tumble down the mountain and end up in a heap at the bottom. 

You're tired but feel a spark of hope inside that keeps your energy up. 

"Where is the bottom??" You eventually gasp out, grabbing onto a rather large rock and holding a hand to your chest. 

You hear him scoff somewhere to your right. 

"What? Now you're complaining about walking down a mountain? Can't even do that, little mor- ah, fuck!"

Your head whips to the side when you hear rocks falling and a surprised shout. 

A laugh bursts from you when you see him on his butt, a look of bewilderment on his face as he sits on the side of the mountain. 

When it hits him that he just slipped and fell, his face turns red and he looks over at you. Anger is quick to take over as you see him clench his hands. 

You're laughing so hard you can't even really hold yourself up. Your grip on the rock slips and you scream as you fall to your hands and knees, grabbing the rocks so that you don't slide. 

"Ha!" He shouts from where he's slowly getting to his feet. 

A smile tugs at your lips at the way he very gingerly walks over to you. 

"Look who's falling on their ass now," He huffs when he reaches you. 

"I'm not though, am I?" You laugh as you look up at him from your position on your hands and knees, "That was all you, buddy."

His face falls, then his mouth twists in irritation. 

"Call me that again and I'll throw your ass down this mountain."

"Gonna help me up?" You ask, reaching a hand out. 

"No," he snaps, then starts making his way down the slope again. 

You can't help but laugh some more even though it hurts your throat; he's acting like a spoiled toddler that didn't get the cookie he wanted. 

Fumbling, you finally get to your feet and follow him carefully. 

Ten minutes go by and neither of you have said a word, just quietly looking for your next steps. The end of the mountain isn't far now. 

You swallow, your sore throat making you wince.

A few times, you make a wrong step and start to slip, but you're able to keep your balance. 

Thank goodness the bottom is close; your legs feel like jelly and your whole body is aching all over.

He doesn't look back once, just keeps trudging forward, face set in a scowl. 

As you wave the smoke from your face, you're not looking where you're going for only a moment, but that's all it takes for you to step on a loose rock and stumble forward. 

The steep mountainside makes it impossible to stop with your momentum. Your arms flail in the air and then you're falling. 

"Ach!" 

He turns at the sound of you shouting and rocks falling. It's a split second before you fall past him when he reaches out and grabs you. He's not sure why he did it, but there's no time to dwell on that. 

It all happened too fast, he didn't even think before acting, didn't brace himself before catching you. 

You collide into him and knock him over, sending both of you tumbling down the rest of the way, feet flying over your heads. 

You only stop when you reach the bottom. 

The sound of both of you panting is all you hear for a few moments. 

"Fucking hell," he eventually groans. 

Opening your eyes, you're met with his dark ones staring right back. 

A few seconds go by but neither of you move. Then you realize you're on top of him. 

JK doesn't tear his eyes away from your face as he watches the realization of the position you're in dawn on you.

"Oh," You say slowly, "Oh! Sorry."

You scramble off of him and onto the ground, small stones digging into your knees. 

He doesn't move for a second, just stares at the sky, then you see him gulp and sit up. 

"Remind me to actually break your wrist when this is over," He snaps, "Idiot."

"Don't count on it," you say quietly, then give him a small smile when he looks at you. 

He just stares at you blankly, then turns away. 

"Come on," He grunts as he stands up, not offering you a helping hand. 

Not that you expected it. 

"Are we in the sixth circle?" You ask, looking around. There's nothing but mountains, the flames you saw are on the other side of the mountain you're standing at the foot of now, "Don't tell me we have to climb up and then down this one too." 

He looks over to see you looking up at it and shaking your head. 

"I should make you climb it, but no." He sighs and rubs his temples as if he’s got a massive headache, "Yes this is the sixth circle, no I won't tell you anything more, please just shut up for a minute."

You say nothing, but only because you're confused about his simple answers and the fact that he even said 'please'. 

"Just-" He rubs his hands down his face and sits there for a minute. Then he snaps his fingers, and the small fire appears right in front of you, making you jump, "Just-...let's just stop for a minute."

"Ok," you say with a small voice. 

He walks over to a rock and plops down onto it, his hands going into his hair and gently yanking on it. 

You hear him muttering to himself. You think you catch him cursing you out, but that doesn't surprise you. 

Deciding to just sit on the ground, you pull your legs to your chest and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin between your knees. 

"How did you get out of there?" 

You look at him when he speaks, then you put your chin back where it was. 

"I thought you knew. That's why you're so mad at me right now, isn't it?"

He scoffs, "Right now? When the fuck did you ever think I was anything other than pissed at you?"

You shrug, still staring at the fire. 

Silence goes on after that for a few minutes, then he clears his throat. After a moment passes and he doesn't say anything, you lay your head on your knees and close your eyes. 

A broken cough rips from your chest and you wince, hand going to your throat as a reflex. 

Without any warning, he gets up and comes closer until he's standing over you. 

"Get up."

"Why?" You whisper tiredly, voice cracking, "I thought you wanted to rest-"

Your sentence gets cut off when he takes your arm and pulls you to your feet. 

"Why can't you just listen to me?" He snaps. 

You don't fight him when he takes your shoulders and faces you towards him. 

As much as you hate it, your heart starts hammering in your chest when he leans closer. 

"How old are you?" He asks quietly, his eyes going back and forth between your own. 

You gulp and avert your gaze, refusing to look at him. 

"Nineteen," You choke out. 

"Nineteen?" He says in what seems to be disbelief, "How can a nineteen-year-old girl take on the entity you faced?"

"I don't know," you say, trying to pull away. But he keeps a hold on your arms.

You start coughing again, a sharp pain slicing down your throat as you try to get a deep enough breath. 

"What happened in that passage?"

"What do you mean?" You look at him, then you immediately look away again. You’re not sure why you can’t face him right now. 

Before you can move from his grasp, you feel a hand on your jaw. He gently turns your face, then moves your knotted hair until he can see the bruises along your throat. 

"She did this?" He asks softly, a tinge of something more in his voice that you can’t decipher.

Your eyes fly to his, your heart thundering so hard you feel like you might pass out. 

"Yes."

The sound of your voice seems far more broken than you meant it to. You're just so tired, you don't know how much longer you can keep up this strong act. Your body aches so deeply, your bones feeling infected with exhaustion.

Without your consent, tears start to brim in your eyes. You haven't even gotten the chance to process the past few hours yet. It was so terrifying, and you had to just go from one thing to another without a moment to think. 

You close your eyes. 

Give me strength. 

The feeling of a gentle thumb running along your cheek makes your eyes fly open and meet his. 

His other hand falls to your throat. 

A shiver runs through you when the feeling of soft fingers brushes against the marks on your neck. 

"Why won't you give up?" The demon whispers so quietly you barely hear him, his eyes drifting over your face. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and lock eyes with him, not letting yourself look away this time. 

"Because if our places were reversed, he would never give up on me."

He stares at you for a moment longer, then he takes a step back. 

You pull yourself from his grip and walk over to the other side of the fire.

Dropping yourself to the ground, you curl your legs up and hug them again, stuffing your face into your knees before a sob can escape. 

He watches wordlessly as your shoulders shake with silent grief and you hold yourself tighter. 

The demon eventually sits down on the rock again, thumb moving to his mouth as he bites at the nail absentmindedly, his eyes glued to your figure on the other side of the fire. 

If this is what love does to humans, why do they dream of it and never want to let go?

JK tears his eyes from you and focuses on the fire. 

If this is what it breaks you down to, he’s glad that he will have no part of it. 

Imagine being so pathetic you’d lower yourself to that.

Love is weakness and misery. 

Then your words pop into his mind, and he swallows thickly. 

“You’re already in Hell, how much lower can you get?”

____________________

a/n: tysm for reading, hope you liked this long chapter!!

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#jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook demon au #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts #bts reactions #bts angst #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts demon au #demon!jk #demon!jungkook

[oliviax727]

Physics Friday #3: No Seriously, why is 1+1 = 2? (and what a real number really is)

Refer to this link if you're confused as to what this is all about.

If you were wondering where my part 2 to the Dark Energy vs. Dark Matter post is, it'll come next week. I just wanted to divert for a bit and stick my head into mathematics. I generally won't do two parts back to back.

Preamble

Education Level: Middle School (Y6 - 8)

Topic: Logic and Construction (Mathematics)

Introduction: 1 + 1 = 2 because I said so

What is 1+1?

Why does it equal 2?

How can we say such a simple thing without falling into the depths of chaotic mathematical thinking?

What is a number?

What does it mean to be real?

Many people are asking this ...

Well, really to answer those questions directly. Mathematics, unlike a lot of other subjects, is founded on the principles of hard logic. Definitions and statements that derive new definitions and statements. Truth follows from more truth.

But in order to have true statements, some of those statements must given i.e. we just have to assume or declare they're correct. Otherwise we wouldn't have true statements to begin with!

Consider the logical statement "The sun is a star".

In order to prove that this statement is true, we need to:

Define the existence of an object called "the sun"

Define what a "star" is

Define what it means for an object to be "is" another object

We could then come up with these statements:

The sun exists

A star is a bright burning ball of gas

An object is something else when that object has the traits of that something else

But then we are faced with a problem: how do we know that the sun exists? Well, we can see it of course!

But this doesn't apply to maths - after all, can you see the number 1? Like, can you see the concept of the number 1?

The answer is that we have to just accept some statements as simply true, no questions asked. These statements are called axioms.

In any mathematical system, we have a set of rules, or axioms, that dictate how our system works.

In most cases, we say that 1 + 1 = 2 by definition. That the number 2 is purely defined by 1 + 1. Any properties it has, like 2 representing an amount of objects (cardinality), or 2 coming after 1 (ordinality) is merely coincidental, an aspect of the system itself, or entirely irrelevant.

Real Numbers

Let's start off with how we can play with these numbers, using the Reals and an example.

A real number is real simple. Here's some examples:

2

16

2/3

-8

-9091/2311

0.0404583439484328423490 ....

Pi

It's basically any number that you've dealt with before: decimals, fractions, integers, and the like.

But how did we get to this stage? Like how can we define the real numbers to mean a specific thing?

It's important to have such rigorous definitions in mathematics, because without them, we won't be able to generate new theorems about how our world works.

The real numbers are known as a complete ordered field. What that means is it has three properties:

A field describes a particular set of numbers with some simple arithmetic laws attached to them

A ordered set is one which as a notion of order

A complete field has no gaps

The Field axioms are as follows. A field is a set of numbers that/where:

Contains two non-equal numbers, 0 and 1

Has a definition for the + and × operators

For any number a:

- a + 0 = 0

- a × 1 = 1

- There exists a number (-a) such that: a + (-a) = 0

- There exists a number 1/a such that: a × 1/a = 1, unless a = 0

For any numbers a, b, and c:

- a + b = b + a

- a × b = b × a

- (a + b) + c = a + (b + c)

- (a × b) × c = a × (b × c)

- a × (b + c) = (a × b) + (a × c)

(Note: I dunno how to format bullet lists properly pls help)

Pretty simple eh? Well there are actually quite a lot of things that are fields. For example the set of all rational numbers (fractions) are a field.

There's also the order axioms. An ordered set is a set of numbers that/where:

Has a definition of something being less than another or a < b

For any numbers a, b, and c:

- If a < b then a + c < b + c

- If a < b and b < c then a < c

- Either a = b or a < b or b < a exclusively

An example of one of these ordered sets is the integers!

Lastly we have the completeness theorem. The completeness theorem is a bit more complicated, and it might be worthwhile to spend a whole topic on it:

Say I were to define a new operation within this set. For example f(x) = a + b + x

A complete set, no matter the definition of the operator, would always evaluate to a number that remained within the set as long as no rules of the set were broken.

i.e. x can be any number, and f(x) can be any operation involving x. But if x and f(x) can be defined entirely by what we had originally, then f(x) will always equal a valid number given that we don't divide by zero.

The rational numbers, for example, is not complete. Here's a small proof:

Define the operator a^2 := a × a

Define the operator sqrt(a) as being sqrt(a)^2 = a

There does not exist a rational number that equals sqrt(2)

Therefore the rationals are not complete

It turns out that the real numbers is the only complete ordered field in existence. That by setting just these axioms, we can have a unique set of numbers.

So how does 1 + 1 come into this? Well, 2 is defined as being 1 + 1. And 1 + 2 = 3, and 1 + 3 = 4 ...

Here's an example proof for 2 + 2 = 4, the bane of all who know about Gregory Orsen's 1894:

2 + 2 = (1 + 1) + (1 + 1) = (1 + 1 + (1 + 1)) = 1 + 1 + 2 = 1 + 3 = 4

Note that these axioms leave out some rather important identities, like:

Any number times 0 is 0

0 = -0

0 < 1

-1 < 0

a < b implies 1/a > 1/b

But the whole point is that we don't need these statements to be axioms! We can prove these from the ones we already have alone!

Set Theory, Peano, & Recursive Addition

There are, of course, other ways to construct mathematical frameworks.

The real number axioms are an example of constructing a system by having a set of rules and then proving afterward that these rules produce a unique set of numbers.

But what if we wanted to go more general, and have numbers not defined by axioms, but have the axioms describe more general maths.

Well, there are several ways in which we can do this:

Set Theory Construction

Lambda Calculus Construction

Surreal Numbers

I'll mention only set theory. A set is something I've used before. What a set essentially is, is just a collection of things.

We can use sets to define numbers, for example:

0 := { } (i.e. the set containing nothing) 1 := { 0 } (i.e. the set containing, the set containing nothing) 2 := { 0, 1 } (i.e. the set containing, the set containing nothing, and the set containing the set containing nothing)

With this, we have numbers! It also comes with the added benefit of:

"The number of elements in a set corresponds with what each number means linguistically in terms of amount".

But what does this even do? Like what about addition?

Well, we can use what's known as a recursive definition to help us figure out what addition is. But first we need the notion of a successor.

Peano arithmetic, that is, arithmetic with integers, can be constructed from set theory by defining the immediate successor of a number:

S(n) = { n itself and every internal object within n }

We could then use this to redefine our numbers as:

0 := { } 1 := S(0) 2 := S(1)

This is very similar to our 1 + n example back in the real numbers.

From this, we can define what addition is using our recursive action:

For any numbers a and c a + S(c) := if c ≠ 0 then S(a) + c otherwise S(a)

This definition is recursive, as it contains itself. But in order to stop us from going infinitely into the negatives, we must stop the process when c reaches zero.

Here's two examples of our definition

1 + 1 = 1 + S(0) = S(1) = 2

2 + 2 = 2 + S(1) = S(2) + S(0) = 3 + S(0) = S(3) = 4

And thus we have that 1 + 1 = 2!

Conclusion

At last, we have reached the end. Congratulations, if you read this all the way through, you have read an entire tumblr post (and a long one that is) on why we can say that 1 + 1 = 2. This is a very broad topic that I have barely scraped the surface on. Here's some other interesting related subjects:

David Hilbert's formulation of mathematics

Peano Arithmetic

Lambda Calculus

Fields, Ordered Sets, and Completeness

Real Analysis

Zermelo-Frankel Set Theory

As always, feedback is very appreciated! I'm an astronomer, not a mathematician. A lot of this stuff I was taught in my first year of university. And I hope you enjoyed reading this. Feel free to follow if you like seeing stuff in the realm of physics, astronomy, mathematics, and computer science.

#mathematics #mathblr #math #logic #stem #stemblr #academics #numbers #learn

[stwritings]

I Warned You

Synopsis

The aftermath of Eddie and reader's night together following a bad drug trip. Requested part 2, you can read part 1 here!

What To Expect/Warnings

This is a rather heavy topic and potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. ♡

No use of y/n, smut, 18+!!!, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use & peer pressuring, alcohol consumption/intoxication, brief mentions of eating/description of food, anxiety/brief mention of panic attack, hurt/comfort, violence, angst, mutual pining, slight emotional & physical cheating (reader is aware of it and feels bad), happy ending.

Let me know if i missed anything! (also this is my first time writing smut so pls bare with me🥺)

Dawn broke in the Munson's cozy home when the sound of the trailer door shutting stirred Eddie out of his sleep; his uncle had returned from work.

It took Eddie a few seconds to gather why he was laying on his back, seeing as he was normally a stomach sleeper. His body also seemed to be overheating, which was also cause for confusion. Post inspections of his surroundings quickly cleared up his confusion as he noticed the weight of her head on his chest, along with the heavy blanket draped on top of them. The trailer usually didn't offer much insulation from the cold outdoors, so this newfound warmth from her presence felt nice. The feeling was foreign, but nice nonetheless.

He lightly hummed in content and began shutting his eyes again before quickly snapping them wide open.

The events of the night prior came flooding back, dragging him out of the moment. A mournful feeling washed over him as he thought back on the state of fear and discomfort she was in. He still couldn't believe how little compassion or care was shown from her boyfriend. Was he even one bit worried about her unknown whereabouts? Her safety? For all he knew, his girlfriend could be in serious danger or worse... Sadly, Samuel didn't seem to care. He had shown his true colors that night, and they weren't pretty.

Despite this, Eddie couldn't help this gnawing feeling of guilt starting to build in the pit of his stomach. Samuel didn't deserve an ounce of sympathy, but Eddie was a good person, and he felt pretty scummy laying in bed with his girlfriend, no matter how pure his intentions were. He also worried about her reaction once she woke up, would she have any recollection of the events that had transpired? The last thing he wanted was for her to think he had taken advantage of her while in such a vulnerable state.

Not wanting to risk making her feel uncomfortable, he attempted to get out of bed by gently sliding from under her. After successfully freeing one of his arms, his efforts were overshadowed by her readjusting even closer to him, letting out a tranquil sigh once she was settled. Eddie froze, his prior discomfort regarding the situation had now worsened now that her body was tangled tightly around his. He briefly thought of waking her, but upon glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he figured he would let her sleep in some more. Besides, it was only 6 am.

_

Eddie stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity following his failed attempts at falling asleep. He laid in bed listening to the tv quietly playing from the living room and tried following along with whatever show Wayne had put on. He quickly gave up after a while, the volume being too low for him to understand anything. He gently leaned over to get a glimpse at the clock now reading 8:35 am. She was still fast asleep, not showing any sign of waking up soon. He figured he may as well relax a little and untense, accepting that he'd be there a while. He began lightly stroking her hair as his arm was once again trapped under her head. He thanked his lucky stars neither of them had been scheduled to work that weekend.

-

10:51 am

She began to gently stir awake, her eyes remaining closed. She fought to stay asleep for as long as she could, not wanting that feeling of serenity to fade. She leaned into the man embracing her, momentarily forgetting she had spent the night at Eddie's. She took in the feeling of him, appreciating his presence with all of her senses. His warm body holding her while his hand lightly caressed her head. His shallow sleepy breathing causing her head to gently rise as his chest did. His sweet yet musky scent filling the air. It was unbelievably comforting, the feeling overwhelming in the best way possible.

The moment was perfect, and she never wanted it to end.

She shifted slightly in an attempt to get closer to him, despite already having most of her body resting on his form. Her movements yielded the results she was hoping for as Eddie pulled her closer as his grip tightened lovingly. He sighed sleepily and hummed in content, the small reaction made her stomach flip. No longer able to fight her state of consciousness, she slowly opened her eyes scanning the room around her while being careful not to disturb Eddie with any harsh movements.

The reality of last night's events started to dawn on her, and she was quickly met with the feeling of her aching body. She was now painfully aware of the searing headache, along with her desperate need for water. This was far worse than any hangover she had felt before, granted, she had never done hard drugs before.

She felt like she was rotting from the inside; body, mind and spirit... She felt drained in every sense of the word, but especially mentally. The come down from whatever she had taken wasn't done messing with her yet, taking a toll on her well being well into the next day. There was an overwhelming sense of dread looming over her, one she couldn't seem to shake.

She knew there would be hell to face once she returned to her apartment, no matter how hard she'd try to keep the peace. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Eddie's shirt, her body becoming rigid. Unbeknownst to her, Eddie wasn't asleep but rather resting his eyes and was quick to notice her change in demeanor. Worried he was overstepping or making her uncomfortable, he loosened his hold and inched away slightly, tilting his head downwards to face her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his tone low and husky.

His sudden words startled her slightly, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. She paused for a moment, admiring his face while taking in his beauty. It was almost unfair that he looked this lovely in the morning. His hair fell perfectly, only a few strands out of place. There was a shimmer in his eyes that she had never noticed before. He still had a few pillow markings on his face, most likely caused from sleeping on his face at some point in the night. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his worried gaze softened into a warm smile of his own as he waited for her response.

"Hi" she whispered, unintentionally ignoring his previous inquiry.

"Hi" he responded while chuckling lightly.

They stared at one another for a few minutes, unsure of how to break the silence. Their faces were inches away from each other, her body still tangled with his. The air was thick with unspoken feelings becoming harder to ignore. They were both painfully aware of their longing for one another, trying to gage what their next move should be. Her morals were becoming greyer by the second, her feelings for Eddie taking precedent. Eddie on the other hand was hoping she would make the first move while cursing himself for thinking this way. For a brief moment, she came close to giving in, feeling her face begin to move closer to his. She reluctantly halted her movements, knowing in her heart that it was the right thing to do.

Eddie's heart just about stopped in that moment. He was so hopeful and it broke him to see her change of heart in real time. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, to cherish her for all she was worth. But it wasn't his place, and he certainly wouldn't be the one to bring up romantic feelings.

She began to withdraw from his hold, sitting up on the bed to face him. The feeling of loneliness found it's way back to her heart the moment she left his embrace. Eddie noticed her shift in behavior and began to worry he had in fact overstepped. He couldn't help but think that their friendship would forever be changed. He was plagued with a million questions, none of which he truly wanted the answers to. The biggest one being, what now? Does life resume as it once was with no mention of that evening? Would there always be these unresolved feelings that wouldn't be acknowledged? Eddie knew he would forever see her in a different light, unable to bare the mere mention of her boyfriend. It was all too much. All he could do was smile apologetically at her as they sat in silence. After a few seconds, the quietness in the room was growing uncomfortable and she felt obliged to speak. "I'm sorry about all that" she began.

"'Bout what?" he replied genuinely.

"Everything"

Her body was slightly slumped over now, eyes glued to her fingers she was picking at nervously. She wasn't sure how to elaborate on her apology. She was overcome by a massive wave of guilt, feeling as though she was letting everyone down. She knew Eddie had feelings for her, now more than ever, and it tore her up. Putting him through all this crap, subjecting him to Samuel's antics. She felt horrible, Eddie deserved nothing but the best and she was giving him the opposite.

Eddie didn't respond right away, unsure what to say. He instinctively reached out his hand to place it softly on top of hers in a comforting gesture. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She sighed heavily, shutting her eyes tightly in an effort to suppress her tears forming involuntarily. "I shouldn't have stayed here..." she let out weakly.

Eddie's heart sank once again. "Look, I... I didn't mean to make things weird between us. I'm sorry if I did. I can drive you home now if you want?" he offered, trying his best not to sound crushed.

"Could you?" she asked, still unable to make eye contact.

"Of course, let me uh, let me get changed quick."

She nodded and began getting out of the bed, heading towards the bedroom door. Eddie was quick to stop her, not wanting to risk the possibility of Wayne being woken up. He offered for her to wait in his room as he excused himself to the bathroom after grabbing a fresh set of clothes. She nodded, plopping back down onto his bed.

As she waited in his bedroom alone, the dam broke. Tears began to spill from her eyes uncontrollably, her attempts at composure unsuccessful. Eddie returned to the bedroom quicker than anticipated, catching her off guard. Upon noticing her distress, he quickly crouched down in front of her just as he had the night before to try and mend whatever was causing her to be this upset.

She met his concerned eyes and noticed the amount of sincerity and love behind them. For whatever reason, this made her incredibly emotional. She had reached a breaking point and was now sobbing violently. It was the type of cry that makes a person fold over, wrapping their arms around themselves in an attempt at self-soothing.

"Oh.." he voiced in a broken tone. Eddie quickly wrapped his arms around her. He swiftly pulled her onto his lap, his previous posture being slightly awkward and hard on his knees. He began slowly rubbing her back in attempts to sooth her as she buried her face in his chest.

He hated seeing her this upset, no matter the reason. He never wanted to see it again, for the simple fact that it absolutely broke him. She was trembling in his arms from the force of her sobs, nearly hyperventilating. He whispered sweet nothings in an attempt to comfort her. A combination of 'you're safe', 'I've got you', 'it's gonna be okay', 'breathe', etc.

They remained in this position for well over 20 minutes, as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Once her sobbing had subsided, she slowly lifted her head off of him. She stared into the distance, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. Eddie brought his hand up to her face and slowly guided her to look at him.

"Hey..." he said softly, smiling meekly. With his hand still cupping her face, he started gently stroking his thumb on her damp cheek, trying to wipe away some of her tears. She took a few shaky breaths while attempting to return the smile. This panic attack had absolutely drained her and she was exhausted. Her body melted under his touch as she rested her head against his chest once more, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, placing one hand onto the back of her head, the other hand rubbing her back still.

"I'm sorry..." she muttered into his chest.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked once more.

She sighed at the thought, lifting her head off of his chest. "I don't know."

"Okay, why don't I get you some tissues?" he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, that's a good start." she said, laughing lightly as she noticed Eddie's tear stained shirt.

"Alright. Be right back." he replied gently patting her back, signaling that she needed to get up in order for him to complete the task at hand. She got the message and moved off of him, sluggishly getting back into his bed. She wrapped the blankets around her head as she had the night before, seeking any form of comfort during Eddie's absence. He returned to the room quickly with the box of tissues, extending his arm out to hand them to her. She grabbed the box and began to blot at her face. Eddie remained standing while she freshened up, slowly pacing around his room, pretending to look at anything else. Once he thought he had heard the last blow of her nose, he turned towards her. "May I?" he asked while gesturing to the bed.

She nodded, silently giving him permission to climb in next to her. He sat up against the wall, wanting to give her space, while she sat opposite of him. "Could I stay here a little longer?" she asked quietly, her eyes once again fixed on her nails.

He smiled at her request. "You can stay as long as you like." he answered.

A shy grin formed on her face and she slowly crept closer to him, once again resting her head on his chest as she laid beside him. The room grew quiet, leaving Eddie with his thoughts. He understood that now, more than ever, comfort was what she needed most. He gently stroked her hair until she eventually fell asleep, undoubtedly exhausted from her intense emotions over the last 24 hours.

-

1:22 pm

Unaware that she had drifted off, she woke up once again curled up in Eddie's hold. She groggily lifted her head looking up at him only to be met with a warm smile.

"Afternoon." he greeted in a low voice, grinning as he admired her sleepy face. She hummed in response while rubbing her eyes. She contorted her body to get a view of the clock, noting the time. A sinking feeling rushed over her; she knew she had to get back to her appartement sooner than later. Her head fell back gently onto Eddie's chest, groaning in frustration. Eddie couldn't help but snicker at her grumpiness, she seemed to be feeling more like herself. Upon hearing him laugh, she raised her head off of his chest, leaning on her left shoulder for support as she looked up at him. He offered a warm smile, his eyes gleamed inquisitively as he waited for her to speak.

She found herself at a loss for words, once again enamored by the man mere inches from her. Her eyes kept darting from Eddie's eyes to his lips and it didn't go unnoticed. Eddie seemed visibly nervous now, his cheeks slowly turning into a light shade of pink as he waited in anticipation. She felt herself moving closer to him as if her body had a mind of it's own.

Impulsivity took over and before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the gap between them, softly kissing his lips. She withdrew almost instantly, realizing what she had just done. She moved away ever so slightly to analyze Eddie's face, desperately hoping that this wasn't a mistake. He stared at her, expressionless, unable to process what had just happened. He felt as though he had imagined the whole thing. He had to remind himself to breathe as he inhaled a big gulp of air while blinking rapidly.

She began to stutter while moving her body further from his on the opposite side of the bed. She stuttered, trying to formulate a sentence as she scolded herself for her reckless actions.

"I.. I'm so sorry Eddie... I shouldn't have done that. That was stu-"

Her words were interrupted by Eddie carefully leaning forward and placing a hand on the side of her face. He paused, gazing into her eyes lovingly then brought his other hand next to her on the bed to provide support as he leaned in. The moment she felt his lips on hers again, she felt immense relief. He kissed her with intent, but it wasn't aggressive. It was... loving.. longing. She felt like he had been waiting years to kiss her and that no person or other-worldly force could separate them in this moment.

As he gently broke away, they exchanged flustered gazes and chuckled excitedly. It had been a very long 24 hours, and this sweet moment was exactly what they needed. Eddie leaned back in to kiss her once more, this time with more passion and certainty. The force with which he kissed her made her arms give out, her body falling backwards onto the mattress. This didn't stop them but rather added fuel to the raging fire. The intensity of the kiss made for a few awkward mishaps of teeth clattering and unsynchronized movements, but they eventually found the perfect rhythm.

Her tongue danced it's way into his mouth, in a desperate search for his. This sudden action cause Eddie to gasp lightly as he obliged and reciprocated the movement with his own.

Eddie adjusted his body ever so slightly causing her to part her legs, inviting him to rest comfortably between them as they continued to kiss. The room was getting warmer, their actions growing more desperate. All these months of pent up longing was finally being released as they explored one another. Her hand had found it's way to his messy head of hair whilst his found her waist.

It had been a very long time since she had felt this level of intimacy or crave for someone and it was taking over her. Consuming her mind and clouding her better judgement. Their bodies began to shift simultaneously, both desperately seeking some sort of friction to relieve the building ache they were feeling for one another. She wrapped her legs around his hips, resulting in his body pressing up against hers.

She could feel Eddie's hot breath as he moved to kiss her neck, his hips stuttered as they lined up perfectly with her core. Even through the fabric of both of their pants, the feeling sent shivers down her spine. He was big, she could tell. A stifled moan escaped her lips but Eddie was quick to shush her with a kiss, suddenly remembering that his uncle was only a few feet away from them in the living room. He continued his movements, grinding against her core as she matched his pace. Her cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the moment, it was as if the whole room was spinning. She broke away from the kiss suddenly, breathing out Eddie's name as she did so. He froze for a moment, once again fearing he had crossed a line.

“I just…I don't want you to think that…that this is just….” she trailed off, sighing deeply in frustration. Of all the times she could be tongue tied, now was not the time! She closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to find the right words, then opened them in search of Eddie's sweet doe eyes, desperately wanting to convey sincerity. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, I just couldn’t…”

Eddie picked up on her intended words right away, smiling down at her as he nodded quickly. He felt relief along with a slight sense of validation. It was nice to know that he wasn't imagining this chemistry between them. And hearing that she felt the same as he did? Well, that just sent him over the moon. He began planting gentle kisses on her cheek before looking at her face once more. “I know, baby. I know... Me too.”

She returned the same excited smile he adorned and leaned up to kiss him once more. Her quick movement upwards coupled with Eddie's downward motion led to their teeth clanking together awkwardly. They both froze and began laughing at the silly moment. Her head fell back down onto the bed, and she brought her hand up to his face, gently rubbing her thumb along his cheek. Eddie closed his eyes and hummed, this sweet gesture of intimacy had him reeling.

"If this is gonna happen, i think we should..." she trailed off and paused before correcting her choice of words. "I want to do this right."

She always knew Eddie was a respectful man, a gentleman, but it never failed to make her heart skip a beat when he would display this type of character. At her words, he instantly withdrew from her hold, sitting upright in front of her as he ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his now, very, tight pants. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, of course, whatever you need." he assured lovingly, still flustered.

-

After quietly exiting the Munson residence and completing the half hour drive, they arrived at her apartment complex. She knew she couldn't stay with Samuel, nor did she want to, but she worried about returning home, even for the brief moment that it would take her to pack her essential belongings and end the relationship. She feared the worst reaction from him, but unfortunately, confrontation was inevitable. She wasn't sure how to go about doing it, she just knew that it had to be done.

She nervously opened the car door and smiled weakly at Eddie. He offered to come upstairs with her, but she knew that would only make things worse. He reluctantly obliged and waited in the car as she made her way to the entrance of the building, but not before giving him the appartement number just in case. She soon disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator, hoping for the best.

As she reached her front door, she couldn't help but notice the blaring music coming from their unit. She reached for the doorknob, assuming she wouldn't be needing her key to unlock it and slowly pushed the door open. As expected, Samuel was home laying on their sofa with a nearly empty bottle of gin in hand. He didn't seem to notice her come in initially, so she took this opportunity to hurry off to their bedroom.

Fearing the worst, she felt it was best she end things with him in the morning when he wasn't intoxicated. She was hoping he had passed out on the sofa as he often did, and began to pack a bag as quietly and quickly as she could. Her hopes were quickly met with disappointment when she heard the bedroom door swing open and Samuel stumbling in.

"Nice of you to show up." he slurred, anger coating his tone. She didn't respond right away, which further aggravated him. "Where the fuck have you been?" he persisted.

"At a friend's." she lied, feeling it was best to bend the truth for her own safety.

"That's not what i'm asking." he spat, clearly referring to the unaccounted two days.

"Can we not do this right now? Let's talk in the morning when you've sobered up." she pleaded, knowing reasoning with him in this state was next to impossible.

"I'm fine, you know what isn't though?" he began, starting towards her aggressively. "Whoring yourself around and then showing up 2 days later acting like nothing happened."

His eyes with red with anger. He took another swig of the bottle before letting out a sinister laugh as he spoke. "Going home with some guy you met at the party? After everything I've done for you!"

He was mere inches from her face now, his hold on the liquor bottle tightening as he became angrier.

"You left me, Samuel!" she fired back, no longer able to suppress her emotions. "I wasn't okay, and you just left me! You didn't care. How long did it even take for you to realize I was gone?" Tears began to form in her eyes but she blinked them away, refusing to succumb to the hurt he had caused her.

"Oh my.. Don't fucking cry and try to turn this on me. You always do this." he yelled as he retreated to the living room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Her legs weakened and she sat back down on the bed feeling completely defeated. Her mind quickly went to Eddie, who was anxiously waiting for her downstairs, giving her some much needed strength to power through. She continued packing, grabbing her favorite articles of clothing and a few items in the bathroom before making her way to the living room to grab whatever valuables she had. Samuel was quick to notice, immediately stumbling up from the couch to confront her. "What the hell are you doing." he asked menacingly.

"Leaving you." she responded matter-of-factly as she kept packing.

Another dry evil laugh left his lips as he followed close behind, moving through their shared space. "That's funny." he said dryly.

"I'll be back tomorrow to pick up the rest of my stuff." she paused, turning to face him. "I'm done, Sam. I can't do this anymore."

Her words did nothing but anger him further. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her arm tightly. His nails digging into her flesh. She winced at the contact, thrashing her arm in an attempt to free herself from his grasp.

"You can threaten to leave me all you want but you know damn well you're not gonna find anyone that's willing to put up with your shit like I do. I give it a day, you'll come back." he growled lowly, roughly releasing her arm before taking a big swig from the bottle he was still holding.

"Keep telling yourself that." she muttered coldly under her breath as she retreated to the bedroom. She took a moment to catch her breath and examine her arm. Blue markings were already starting to form from his rough hand. Her eyes widened, Samuel had never laid a hand on her before so his sudden aggressive behavior was the final push, screaming at her to get out now. She hurried towards the front door and shrieked once she opened it when she bumped into someone's chest; Eddie.

Relief instantly washed over her and she flung her arms around his torso, embracing him into a tight hug. "I told you to wait in the car." she quietly whispered whilst holding onto him.

"I got worried, you were taking so long." he responded, kissing the top of her head.

Samuel overheard the commotion and began observing from the living room. The sight of his now ex-girlfriend embracing another man lit a fire under him. He made his way towards them, flinging the botte of gin mere inches from her head. It made contact with the wall and shattered, glass flying everywhere. A small shard ricocheted off of her face, drawing blood. Shock and adrenaline prevented her from feeling the cut, she was frozen in place as her eyes locked with Samuel's who was marching over to her. Eddie was quick to step in front of her, anger now prevalent on his face.

"Is this the guy you've been screwing?" he yelled without slowing his pace. He seemed unphased by Eddie's presence, trying to bypass him to get to her. Once face to face, Samuel tried to shove his way passed Eddie unsuccessfully given his smaller form. He tried shoving his way through again, growing more agitated at his failure to do so. In a final attempt, he used both of his hands to push Eddie in the chest, yelling out insults and trying to instigate a fight. Eddie pushed him back, causing him to stumble a few feet away.

"Cool it, alright. Before I beat the shit out of you." Eddie said sternly before leaning down to grab the duffle bag she had dropped while hugging him.

This gave Samuel a clear view of her, a frightened expression displayed on her face. She couldn't think of anything to say, fearing it would trigger a negative reaction from him. He starred at her with an icy expression, before retreating to the kitchen.

"Come on, let's go..." Eddie spoke softly, gently placing a hand on the small of her back guiding her out of the appartement. They stopped in their tracks as they heard more glass breaking from the kitchen. Against her better judgement, she slowly inched back into the entrance, Eddie following closely behind her.

Once in view of the kitchen, she could see the source of the racket. Samuel had picked up a baseball bat they kept by their balcony door and was smashing hanged pictures on the wall. Glass littered the floor along with broken picture frames.

"You did this!" he yelled. "You ruined us. You stupid bitch!"

He flung a slew of insults at her while smacking the bat against any fragile surface he came into contact with.

"Sam, please stop." she cried, her eyes filling with tears once more.

He ignored her request and continued on with his rampage, making his way towards the living room. He began hitting their shared stereo, the music that was still blaring began to distort until it ultimately stopped completely. She was frozen in place, horrified by his outburst. Eddie gently placed a hand on her shoulder, quietly suggesting they leave before things got any uglier. She obliged, a sob involuntarily escaping her lips.

They were halfway out the door, Eddie leading the way, when he heard the distinct sound of the bat smacking against the wall. Too close for comfort. He spun around as he heard her yelp out in pain and was met with rage. Samuel had made his way to them once more. This time, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her backwards while uttering threats as he forced her head inches from his face.

Now, Eddie wasn't a violent person. Contrary to popular belief, he had only ever gotten in a couple of fights, none of which he ever instigated. That being said, he was very protective of the people he loved, and god help anyone who dared threaten their safety or well being. In this moment, Eddie saw red. The pent up anger that had been building following the night of the party where he saw first hand the mistreatment she was facing, most likely on a day to day basis was all he could think about. The flood gates opened and without a moment of hesitation, he sprung into action. He hurried back into the apartment, carefully maneuvering past her and grabbing onto Samuel's shirt as he began hitting him with his free hand. Samuel's grip on her hair instantly released as he fell to the ground. Eddie dropped to his knees, his punches never slowing as he continued to hit him. Bringing a hand up to soothe the sore spot left from Samuel's harsh grasp, she watched on in shock.

"I warned you, you piece of shit!" he kept yelling in between punches. Samuel attempted to fight back at first, but it was no use. Eddie had overpowered him early on, and the sheer force behind each hit lead to a total knock out. It was the she felt she needed to step in.

"Eddie... stop..." she muttered quietly, still stunned by the scene unfolding before her.

He didn't stop though. He was in a anger-fueled trance that prevented him from hearing her words. He finally snapped out of it and spun around quickly after feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder. His fist was still clenched as he came back down to earth, a mixture of both his and Samuel's blood splayed over his knuckles. Once he registered who he was looking at, he lowered his fist. His pupils were blown out and he was out of breath. He turned to look at the damage he had caused and instantly felt remorse. Two punches would have been plenty, this was overkill.

From the looks of it, he had broken Samuel's nose and given him black eyes. His face was already starting to swell and he was out cold.

"Oh my god... I..." he stuttered, falling back on the heals of his feet. He was starring at the ground, shock painted on his face. She kneeled down next to Eddie and placed a hand onto his functional one in a gentle, comforting gesture.

"It's okay, he'll be fine. This isn't the first time he's gotten the shit kicked out of him." she reassured.

"But I..."

"You're okay, it's okay." she interrupted, speaking quietly, reassuringly. Her other hand met his cheek as she gently lifted his face to meet hers. His eyes, now glossy, met her gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, noticing the cut on her cheek. He slowly brought his hand up to her face, being careful not to touch the open wound.

"Yeah... Yeah, im okay." she reassured him in a quiet, loving voice. "Can we please go?"

"Yeah um, what about...?" he trailed off motioning towards her ex boyfriends stilled body behind him.

She gently shook her head no as she stood, extending her arms in an offer to help Eddie up. He understood immediately. She had ran out of sympathy or care for Samuel, he was no longer her problem to fix.

-

Back at the trailer, they stumbled through the front door sluggishly, the adrenaline now fully worn off. They came face to face with Eddie's uncle who quicky sat up from the couch after seeing their disheveled states.

"Jesus..." he gasped under his breath while staring at Eddie. "Boy, you look like hell. What happened?" he asked, a confused but concerned look growing on his face. His eyes met hers and he instantly rose from the reclining sofa. "Let me get the first aid kit."

Eddie nodded in agreement, making his way to the sofa as she followed close behind him. Wayne returned with the small box of supplies, handing it to her.

"There you are, darlin'."

"Thank you Mr. Munson" she replied sweetly.

She began to work on patching up Eddie's hand, gently dabbing at his sore knuckles, attempting to remove the blood that had coagulated. Every wince of pain that came from her gentle touches was followed by soft apologies as she tried her best to remove most of the gunk from his hand. His skin was raw, and she quickly realized that most of the blood on his hand was actually his. His hand had swollen twice it's normal size, and she suspected he had broken a knuckle or two. If not, they were definitely bruised to the highest degree. She applied bandages once the cleaning process was complete and quietly excused herself to the bathroom.

The men stepped outside for a much needed cigarette and Eddie filled Wayne in on their hectic afternoon. He admitted to feeling guilty and despising how violent he had gotten, especially in front of her. He worried that his behavior may have altered the way she thought of him or that she might be afraid of him now.

"Boy, you and me both know that ain't never gon' happen. What you did back there was justified."

"You didn't see his face..." he responded while staring at his feet.

"Don't need to. Been in enough fights myself, kid. I reckon you beat him pretty good." he said while motioning to Eddie's mangled knuckles.

"Hell, I would have. Lost his damn mind thinkin' he can hit a lady..." he trailed off, shaking his head while bringing the cigarette to his mouth. "Look, you feelin' bad about it just proves that you're a good person. I wouldn't have, what does that say about me?"

A smile crept on Eddie's face at his uncle's words. He thought the world of him and could say with absolute certainty that he was a good character, despite his admission. "Thanks uncle."

"'Course. Now go check on your lil' lady, make sure she's alright." he ordered with care.

"She's not my lil' lady." Eddie smiled bashfully.

"Well you better go on and change that!" Wayne retorted sassily.

Eddie chuckled, brought his hand up to his uncle's shoulder to give it a pat and headed inside the trailer. He made his way towards the bathroom where the door was ajar. He lightly knocked, opening it after hearing her quietly grant him permission to enter. She was sitting on the edge of the bath tub when she looked up at him and smiled. He walked towards her, closing the toilet seat lid to sit on it.

"How you holdin' up?" he asked. She wasn't crying and appeared to be calm, which surprised him.

"Is it awful to say, good?" she spoke carefully, contorting her face slightly. "I don't know, it's like this massive weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. All this time i never realize how much he was weighing me down..." she trailed off, staring at her hands.

"No, i get it. Makes perfect sense." he spoke softly, matching her tone. His eyes never left her face, admiring her every feature including the newly added band-aid on her cheek. "How's your face?"

"S'fine, surface level cut."

"Good." he replied with care while staring adoringly into her eyes.

Their moment was interrupted by Wayne poking his head into the bathroom. "Sorry to interrupt, i'm fixin' to start on dinner soon, will you be joining us?"

She looked up at Eddie, seeking approval, not wanting to impose. He met her gaze with a warm inviting smile which she returned before turning to face his uncle. "If you don't mind..." she replied gratefully.

Wayne nodded before making his way to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. They were once again left in each other's company and Eddie suggested they exit the bathroom to find a more spacious area to hangout in. She agreed, letting Eddie lead them to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them to give his uncle space in the kitchen. Wayne was a simple man who seldom said much, he especially enjoyed peace and quiet while he was cooking.

Once in the room, she settled on his bed as she had grown comfortable doing so while Eddie pulled out the chair by his desk to sit on. Despite everything they had been through in such a short period of time, he still worried about overstepping and wanted to ensure to respect her boundaries and give her space when really, he was burning with love and desire.

Unbeknownst to him, space was the last thing on her mind. Ever since Eddie had held her in his arms and demonstrated such gentle love and care, she had been craving it. Craving something she never knew she so desperately needed. His touch was something she had never felt before, it was electric. Without ever saying it, Eddie had showed her just how much he cared and had restored her faith in love. It wasn't until she felt his touch that she had realized just how awful her relationship with Samuel was, and how desperately she craved to be loved.

She gazed up at him, an involuntary smile creeping on her face when she noticed he had been observing her from across the room. She didn't want to waste any more time dwelling on the the past and decided to act upon her feelings.

"You comfy over there?" she asked playfully.

"You know, it's actually much more comfortable than it appears" he replied, using his legs as propellors, gently spinning the chair.

"You know what else is comfortable?"

"What's that?"

"Your bed." she quipped with a cheeky smile while patting the empty space next to her.

Eddie was quick to get up, making his way to the bed. He playfully stretched both of his arms the way an athlete would while warming up before a work out and dived into the bed next to her. The sheer force of his body hitting the mattress jolted her up slightly and she yelped. Eddie turned onto his side to face her, admiring her smile as she came down from the high of laughing. She was laying on her back, turning her face to look at him. "Hi." she said quietly.

"Hi" he repeated, a big dorky smile plastered on his face.

She shifted to her side, her body now facing his and pulled the covers up to her nose.

"Oh, gettin' shy on me now, are ya?" he teased.

"M'not!" she playfully snapped back, the blanket muffling her voice.

"So what's this about then? You get cold all of a sudden?"

"I like your bed, it's cozy." she replied closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

Her words brought him back to the night she first stayed over. He couldn't stop thinking about how his presence alone helped to comfort her in her state of distress. The idea that someone he loved could potentially feel the same way was almost overwhelming. His stomach was constantly fluttering when she was around; he was lovestruck.

"What's your uncle cooking up for dinner?" she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Your guess is as good as mine, we never have guests so he's probably gonna try to show off his skills."

His response elicited a laugh. "Well whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be good." she paused, wanting to craft her next reply carefully. "Thank you for letting me stay here while I sort all this out."

"Of course..."

They exchanged loving eyes for a few moments before she inched her body closer to his in an attempt at cuddling. Eddie repositioned himself so he could pull her into a tight but comfortable hug. They laid together in comfortable silence until Wayne was overheard calling for them to come get some food.

They made their way to the kitchen, the smell of chicken parm prominent in the air made them realize just how hungry they were. She was pleased to see the delicious food waiting for her, not used to this kind of service at home.

"This looks amazing!" she exclaimed, quickly grabbing a plate.

Wayne politely shrugged off her compliment, muttering something about it being nothing special. Eddie refused to let his modesty cast a shadow on the quality of the meal, and reinforced her praise. This evoked a timid smile from his uncle, as he insisted they stop with the pleasantries and have a seat before the food got cold. Given that the dinner table only seated two, they made their way to the sofa to enjoy their meal allowing Wayne to sat at the table, facing the pair.

-

They sat in the living room for a solid half hour once they finished eating, continuously praising Wayne for the quality of their meal. She eventually got up with her and Eddie's plates and made her way towards the sink. She returned to retrieve Wayne's dish before being abruptly stopped.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Wayne protested, pulling his plate towards him and furrowing his brows.

"Oh, uh I was gonna do the dishes." she replied unsurely.

He hummed shaking his head in response. "You're a guest in our home, I certainly won't be havin' you doin' chores. Eddie can take care of those."

She turned to face the now less than pleased looking metal head grimacing over the sudden task he had been assigned. She stifled a laugh by pressing her lips together before looking at Wayne once more.

"It's the least I can do! Really, I'm happy to do it." she persisted sweetly. "Besides, don't you have to work tonight?'

Wayne reluctantly handed her the plate, thanking her while doing so. He gave Eddie an impressed look once she turned her back. His nephew had only ever brought home a couple of girls, but she was by far the most well-mannered one to date. He assumed Eddie had told her he worked nights at the plant, but having her take note of it and be so considerate of his schedule was much appreciated. He motioned with his head for Eddie to go help her tidy the kitchen, excusing himself to the bathroom to freshen up for work.

-

By the time the dishes were washed, Wayne was heading off to work while wishing them a good night. Eddie suggested they watch a movie which ended up being more difficult then either of them had anticipated. For the first time since they had known each other, they were met with a conflict; picking a movie. Eddie was a big fan of the horror and thriller genre, watching almost exclusively those types of films whereas she didn't care for that type at all. She enjoyed romcoms or westerns, two genres that happened to be Eddie's least favorite. Such a small clash in taste lead to a playful yet heated debate yielding little results.

"I'm telling you, if you just give this movie a chance i bet you'll enjoy it!" she stated with certainty.

"No way, I've seen my fair share of lame westerns no thanks to Wayne and they're all the same!! Old men in the desert shooting guns and riding around on horses. It's garbage!"

"It's classic." she corrected him. "And I could say the same about those scary movies you like so much. Why does being scared while watching a movie sound appealing to you, anyway?"

"It's exciting!! Keeps you on your toes!" he exclaimed.

"You know what else is exciting? Action movies, which, if i'm not mistaken, The Shadow Riders falls into that category..." she trailed off, her tone raising in a sing-songy way.

"No westerns." he insisted, punctuating each syllable.

"Fine." she sighed, snatching the remote from his hold. "What about The Breakfast Club? Have you ever seen it?"

"Nope, don't want to either." he replied stubbornly.

"Eddieeee...." she whined, collapsing dramatically on the couch. Her actions elicited a laugh from him as he snatched the remote back.

"Alright, alright. Let's see..." he trailed off as he scrolled through the catalogue. "Child's Play?"

"What's that about?" she mumbled, her face still buried in the sofa cushion.

"A murderous doll on a rampage." he stated matter-of-factly.

"Sure."

"Wait, really?" he exclaimed excitedly.

She lifted her head off the sofa before saying: "No." with a playful grin.

Eddie, now mimicking her prior dramatics went limp, sliding his body off of the couch and onto the floor letting out a pained grown. She laughed, joining him on the ground.

"This is brutal." he said while chuckling.

"Tell me about it. Got any games we could play instead?" she offered, admitting defeat in their attempts at compromising on a film to watch.

"We've got cards somewhere, let me have a look."

After a few minutes of searching random drawers in the dining area, he returned with a small deck of cards.

"Uh, this is all we have..." he offered timidly.

Upon observing the pack, her face lit up and she grinned wildly. "No way, Wizard?! I love that game!" she exclaimed.

"You do?" Eddie's smile was growing by the second. Next to D&D, Wizard was his favorite game to play. Truthfully, he was pleasantly surprised that she had even heard of it, let alone seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.

"Don't act so surprised." she retorted with feigned offence.

"No, it's just... I didn't think you were into this kind of stuff." he said, inadvertently blushing.

"Nerdy stuff?" she quipped. "Well, I've only ever played once... But I loved it!"

"Shall we play then?" he said excitedly while lightly shaking the deck of cards side to side.

"Let's do it, I ought to warn you though, I annihilated my friends last time." she provoked.

"Alright well I'll have you know, I've never lost a game, so..." he trailed off making a silly, challenging face.

"You're on." she playfully retorted.

-

A couple of hours and a few beers deep led the pair to lose interest in the card game. Eddie had won most of the matches anyway. They were sprawled out on the living room floor, deep in conversation when she suggested they move to a more comfortable spot, noting how sore her elbows were getting from propping herself up off the ground. Eddie agreed and guided them to his bedroom, feeling a bit tired himself.

Once in the room, Eddie gathered some clothes and excused himself to go change in the bathroom. This gave her time to pull out some sleep shorts and an oversized tee and get dressed herself. Once comfortable in bed, Eddie walked back into the bedroom wearing checkered pajama pants and a CCR band tee. She glanced at the shirt, then at his face with a cheeky grin.

"CCR, huh?" she playfully questioned, brows raised.

He paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by her comment. "They... You know, they're a good band!" he paused as he noticed her struggling to keep a straight face. "Shut up!" he exclaimed playfully while getting into bed.

She giggled before responding. "I never said they were bad! I just didn't take you as a fan!"

"Yeah, well... You can thank Wayne for that..." he chuckled while shaking his head, the memories of his uncle and him bonding over this genre of music came flooding back into his mind. She smiled at his response and got closer to him, her head once again finding it's way onto his chest. She pondered for a few minutes, then chose to speak up, not wanting Eddie to succumb to his tired state.

"Thank you... For everything." she said while her fingers traced patterns on his chest. He squeezed her shoulder lovingly in response and kissed the top of her head. A silence lingered in the room as the pair waited for one another to speak up. It wasn't awkward by any means but simply quiet, peaceful, as they both laid together.

Thoughts of Samuel began to plague her once more, until she felt Eddie's warm touch, rubbing her arm soothingly. She suddenly was brought back to the present, realizing that her ex boyfriend no longer had a hold over her. He could no longer dictate her actions or jeopardize her happiness. She felt her heart flutter, feeling a sense of newfound freedom and excitement washing over her. She gazed up at Eddie who returned a loving glance and smiled from cheek to cheek, blushing slightly. She felt a lump in her throat from excitement and pushed herself to make the leap. Fuck it.

She inched her body forward, close enough to give Eddie a sweet kiss on the cheek. She talked herself out of a proper kiss on the lips, wanting to gage his reaction first. As she pulled away, she once again looked at him sweetly and paused. The ball was now in his court.

Eddie couldn't believe this had all worked out in his favor. In both of their favors. He was so incredibly relieved that she was able to get away from Samuel, while selfishly praising every deity there was for giving him a sliver of hope that, maybe... Just maybe... He could get the girl. Eddie was so caught up in his thoughts that he just stared on, admiring her features. He finally snapped out of it when she leaned in once more, this time committing to his lips.

Despite having kissed before, this time felt different. The intensity of it grew rapidly, Eddie making quick work to sit up against the wall and help pull her up onto his lap. She straddled his thighs, trying her hardest to never break away from the kiss. Her hand found it's way to the nape of his neck, while the other was exploring his body, moving from his chest to his waist.

With the house being vacant apart from the both of them, Eddie was a lot more vocal that he had been earlier that day. His breathing quickened the more they kissed and small breathy moans began to escape his lips with every small rhythmic movement her hips would make. She snaked her hand under his shirt, making her way to his back. There, she lightly scratched it with her nails, resulting in an elongated groan from the riled up metal head. He took her face into his hands and began kissing her more intently, expertly slipping his tongue into her mouth. This warranted a positive reply from her as she grinded her hips harder against his now very hard cock. She retracted her hand from his backside and broke awake from the kiss, urgently working to remove Eddie's shirt. He obliged, hurriedly taking off the band tee and chucking it across the room. Before he could do the same to her top, she was already tossing it to the ground, exposing her breasts to him for the first time.

Like a deer in headlights, Eddie froze, his mouth hanging agape as he gazed upon what was, in his opinion, the prettiest set of tits he had ever seen in his life. She halted her movements, analyzing his reaction to her exposed chest and couldn't help but giggle at his frozen state.

"You okay?" she asked shyly.

Eddie blinked rapidly as he now looked her in the eyes. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry... I uh.. I mean, wow..."

She giggled once more at how flustered he was and leaned in to kiss him once more. She resumed her movements, earning a strained moan from Eddie as he kissed her passionately. His hands found their way to her chest, as he gently but firmly began to fondle. He winced slightly at the pain from his sore hand but desperately tried to ignore it. (Priorities, am I right?)

He broke away from her lips and began planting soft kisses on her neck. She sighed, moving her head back to expose more of the area. Eddie gently nibbled and sucked onto the sensitive spot, making sure to leave a mark. He grinned in the nape of her neck when she let out a near pornographic moan and grinded harder against him.

"Take these off." he instructed as he gently moved his hand to her thigh and tapped it.

"Only if you do." she responded playfully. She couldn't help but stare at Eddie's bare chest. His tattoos seemed to have been placed by the Gods. He was toned, especially in his arms and shoulders, though he had a small pudgy stomach that drove her crazy. She could feel her mouth watering and her eyes drowning in desire as she waited for him to undress. She was so caught up in her daze that she almost forgot their pact. It wasn't until Eddie started to shift away from her to gain access to his bottoms that she clued in and began removing her sleep shorts. She tossed the fabric onto the ground and settled on the bed once more, where her eyes found Eddie's now fully nude body. She could feel her eyes widen and her mouth salivate as she gazed upon his large member. Her ex boyfriend wasn't small by any means, but he definitely wasn't this big.

Eddie noticed her stunned state and began feeling self conscious but those thoughts only lasted a second, fading into oblivion as she moved towards him, gently pushing his chest down so he could rest against the wall once more. She made quick work of straddling him once and leaned in for another kiss. This one is slow, sensual, she wants to take her time. She feels insanely comfortable with him, which is very new and oh so intoxicating. By now, she can feel her arousal sticking to Eddie's thighs as she continues to rock back and forth against him, desperately seeking friction to relieve this ache in her core. Finally, her hips move upwards just enough, causing her heat to grind against Eddie's throbbing cock. A strained groan escapes his lips, forcing him to break away from the kiss.

"Honey, do you... Um.." he seems conflicted, debating whether or not he should finish that thought. She looks at him, trying her best to catch her breath as she waits for him to complete his sentence.

"Uh... fuck... I don't have condoms..." he says reluctantly, palming his forehead. He begins to shift backwards, clearly understanding that this unfortunate hitch in their desired plan shouldn't be ignored.

This hitch doesn't seem to phase her though, as she softly shakes her head and leans in for another kiss. "I don't care... Just pull out. Please, i need this." she desperately moans into his mouth.

Eddie is less than convinced, knowing that the responsible thing to do would be to post-pone their sexual activities until he can get proper protection. She moves to his neck, gently planting kisses before whispering in a needy tone into his ear: "I need you, Eddie... Please... Please fuck me"

Eddie never knew he had thing for begging until this moment, but apparently that was all it took for him to throw common sense out of the window. He groaned, half in lust, the other half in slight defeat as he knew how grave the consequences could be, but nevertheless he caved. He kissed her passionately, tangling his hand into her hair. His free hand found it's way to her ass, as he grabbed a fistful and gently squeezed. She lifted herself up onto her knees in response, readjusting so she could line herself up to his member. Once there, she began grinding her hips against him, transferring her slick onto him. Eddie already felt like he was gonna bust from the friction alone, but was holding on for dear life, not wanting this moment to be over one second too soon.

As though she had heard his thoughts, she gave him one more deep kiss before smiling excitedly, and lifting her hips up once more. Eddie took the hint and took his hard cock into his hand, stroking it a few times before lining it up to her entrance. As soon as he felt the tip begin to probe at her tight hole, his eyes shut tightly and a guttural moan left his mouth. He forced himself to open his eyes once more, not wanting to miss the girl of his dreams sinking down onto him in pure bliss and pleasure.

When she finally started to sink down on his length, she couldn't help the small gasp that escapes her lips. She froze momentarily as she presses her lips together. Eddie admires her, thinking she truly is a sight for sore eyes. He brings his hand up to gently caress her cheek while he stares at her beautiful features. Her brows are tightly knit and her eyes shut. He begins to trace along her cheek with his thumb in a comforting way. “You okay?” He asks in a hushed tone, as he patiently waits for her to resume her movements.

She snaps out of her meditation and looks down at him, shooting him a timid smile. “Sorry…M’not used to it”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow, unsure of the meaning behind her comment. “Oh, are you…uh..” he trails off, he can't imagine that he would be her first, unless her previous relationship just wasn't a sexual one...

She quickly realizes that her comment was misinterpreted and quickly acts to clarify. “No, god no…” she giggles before continuing. “I mean I’m not used to it being so big…” She sighs once more as she makes another attempt at lowering herself onto him, her eyes fluttering as she does.

Eddie can’t help but feel a huge rush of adrenaline as her words give him confidence. Soon enough, she begins moving once more causing him to groans while his head falls onto the pillow. His hand that was once holding her cheek falls by his side as he brings the other one to rest on her hip. He squeezes it encouragingly as she slowly, but finally sits perfectly on his entire length. She takes a moment to get used to the feeling. Eddie’s eyes sparkle with admiration as they dart from her beautiful face to her chest, slowly rising as she sighs in pleasure. She's grinding against him as she tries to get used to the feeling of being so full. Her nails that were resting on his chest begin to slowly drag along his skin as she lifts her body, only to slam it back down onto his. This causes Eddie to groan once more, only this time its much louder, needier. She smirks down at him and begins setting a slow but steady pace.

Her jaw becomes slack and her eyes gloss over as it is now her turn to admire the man below her. Though she had fantasized about this moment many times before, nothing compared to the present. Both of his hands had made their way to her hips, slowly guiding them to keep up with the pace she had set. Eddie’s low moans were music to her ears, but she craved more. She bent down to kiss him whilst still riding him at a steady pace. As she began to focus more on the kiss, her movements faltered slightly. Eddie took this as his cue to take over, snapping his hips upwards at a quicker pace. The sudden movement drew a lewd moan from her and she began to whine into the nape of his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart" he rasped as he continued to pound into her. "Been dreamin' about this..."

Her stomach fluttered as she processed his words and she moaned in response. Hearing Eddie being so vocal was a stark contrast to her previous relationship and it ignited a fire deep within her. She liked it. Alot. She was definitely the vocal type during sex as well, but always held back per her ex boyfriend's request to "tone it down". Given how vocal Eddie was, it just felt natural to do the same. She began moaning and whimpering more freely, as a way of testing out the waters. This seemed to be received well as Eddie responded with an even needier groan from hearing her. She planted a kiss on his neck before moving to regain control of the pace, returning to her previous position. She expertly rolled her hips with deep, slow movements. The friction caused by her clit brushing against his pubic bone was sending her over the edge. Eddie noticed right away as he felt her walls tighten and her legs get shakier.

'Yeah, that's it baby..." he encouraged breathily, admiring the way she moved on top of him. "Ride it out..."

"M'so close... Love feeling you..." she whimpered in a hushed, whiney tone.

Eddie swore he had died and gone to heaven, he was enamored by her beauty and so incredibly close himself, he was certain this had to be a dream. He adored seeing her in this position, so much so that he grew desperate to know how she would look underneath him. He swiftly halted her movements by placing both of his hands on her hips. "Let me get you there." he pleaded, quickly flipping her onto the bed and getting on top of her.

She spread her legs, allowing enough space for Eddie to settle between them. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then her lips as he, without warning, slid into her tight core once again. She sighed in pleasurable relief, the new position feeling amazingly unfamiliar. Eddie was quick to set a rapid pace, wanting to get her to where she so desperately wanted to be. The sound of his balls smacking against her ass along with whimpers and moans were echoing throughout Eddie's small home. Soon enough, she could feel the all too familiar ache begging to be released from her lower abdomen. Her breathing quickened as she chased the high. Eddie's bangs began to cling onto his forehead as small beads of sweat began to form. His arm muscles were very prominent as he propped himself up, fucking her senseless.

"Come on baby, cum for me." he encouraged breathily, feeling his own release fast approaching. He shifted his position slightly, hitting her g-spot perfectly, again and again. She moaned loudly, screwing her eyes shut as she felt her orgasm fast approaching.

"Fuck, Eddie! Right there!" she blubbered, struggling to get the words out between quick gasps.

Eddie took her words as a challenge and began fucking into her quicker and harder than before, desperate to see her come undone. His movements made her exclaim, expelling what little air was left from her lungs before she quickly took a sharp breath in.

"Ed's, I'm cumming!" she gasps, screwing her eyes shut. Eddie feels her tightened walls begin to spasm as her orgasm crashes into her. He continues to pound into her while she rides out the high, trying to get to his own release.

"I love you" she breathily whines, completely fucked out. Eddie's movements falter, and his rhythm slows. He can't comprehend what just happened. All he knows is that her words are actively pushing him over the edge. He moans while he reluctantly pulls out, spilling his seed into his hand as he pumps his dick a few times, letting out strained moans. A few seconds pass before he opens his eyes again and his knees give out from under him. His gazes falls upon her, laying on her back still, gazing at him lovingly while still catching her breath.

He returns a loving smile in her direction while chuckling lightly and shaking his head. He breathes in deeply then gets up to retrieve some well needed tissues from his desk. As the true gentleman he is, he prioritizes her comfort over his and gently cleans her up. She winces slightly over the sensitivity but thanked him nonetheless, blushing slightly. After tossing the used tissues into his small trash bin, he climbed into bed, tugging the blanket up so they could both be covered once again. They settled in bed, cuddling up to one another, despite how hot and humid the small bedroom had gotten from their heated night.

The feeling of discomfort grew, resulting in Eddie reluctantly getting out of bed to open the small window in his room. His hopes that the night would offer a cool breeze were met with satisfaction as he felt instant relief from the cracked window. He hurriedly got back into bed, desperate to feel her close once more.

As she lay on his chest, she was growing anxious at her spontaneous love confession mid-climax. She cursed herself, fearing that, despite how true her words were, they were spoken far too soon. She tried to muffle her overthinking thoughts, opting to sleep and deal with them tomorrow.

"Night Eds..." she quietly spoke, raising her head off of his chest to give him a small peck on his abdomen.

Goodnight... "he responded, squeezing her arm lovingly.

The room grew silent, long enough for her to start feeling drowsy, mere seconds away from slumber, when Eddie leaned over. He kissed the top of her head a few time then uttered ever so quietly: "I love you too, by the way."

_

the end

_

Thank you for being so kind & patient with me while i wrote this out!! I'm sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoyed it :")

Thoughts & comments are appreciated!♡

Tag List: @addie0ffset , @thatmultifandomlovingmf , @took-me-hours-to-steal-those , @basketcaseeeeee , @erinsingalong , @captainonaboat , @ghosttownwherenoonegoes , @bimbobaggins69 , @mygirlchaos , @mrsjellymunson

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x hurt/comfort #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiic #eddie munson x female reader #st4 eddie #hurt/comfort #eddie munson smut

[astraysimp]

Gini's New Friend

Gini’s New Friend 

~Hi besties! This is the poll winner, Cat sitting with Lee Know; I hope you all enjoy it! Pls, who doesn’t love Lee Know with kitties 

Summary: you and Lee Know catsit for your friend and Gini- your and Lino’s- kitten makes a new friend

Warnings: Y/n and Lee Know share an apartment together, Soonie,Doongie and Dori live with Lee Know’s parents, soft Lee know, G/n!reader, pet names(for you and the kitties), yeobo is a term of endearment meaning Honey in korean, kitty cuddles, lee know maybe wanting another cat (will he ever have enough?), SUPER FLUFFY AND CUTE

You and Lee Know were excited– more so Lee Know– because the two of you would be cat sitting your friend’s cat Nara. Earlier that week, you received a text from your mutual friend Haerin, telling you that she’d be going on a weekend trip–leaving Friday and Coming back Monday– and needed someone to cat sit Nara. She’d asked and you gladly accepted. You and Lee know had already met Nara– Haerin’s sweet,8 month old, gentle fluff ball– and you loved her. You and Lee Know had your kitten Gini for about 3 months and Nara would be her first friend, outside of Soonie,Doongie and Dori. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

Friday~4.32 pm

It was, finally, Friday and that meant Haerin would be dropping her kitten off soon, before she went on her weekend trip. She had just texted you she and Nara were on their way– and you and Lee Know were excitedly playing with Gini, while waiting for their arrival. “Gini-ah, you get to make another friend. Are you so excited?” You told your Gini, rubbing behind her ears, as she crawled into your lap. “Gini, you’ll have a playmate, this weekend.” Lee Know added, from where he sat beside you on the couch. He leaned over and planted a kiss to your lips and Gini’s head. “Oh my baby, my little Gini. My sweet girl, mommy and daddy are so excited, for you.” You smiled, as she let out a meow, seeming to have understood you. About 10 minutes later, you And Lee Know were interrupted of playing with Gini by a knock on your door.

You smiled and clapped,gently placing Gini on Lee Know’s lap, “Oh, she’s here!” You exclaimed, walking to the open, opening it to see Haerin holding Nara in her carrier.”Hi y/n! Thank you so much, for watching her, both of you.” She smiled and walked into your living room, where Lee Know and Gini were still sitting on the couch. “Oh, it’s no problem! We love Nara, and Gini gets another friend!” You giggled turning to Lee Know , as Gini let out another meow. “Hi Haerin! Nice to see you!” Lee know added, still softly petting over Gini’s back. Haerin smiled and set the carrier on the floor, unlocking the door.” Hi Minho, nice to see you too!......C’mon Nara. Gini wants to meet you,” she smiled seeing Nara walk out of the carrier and Gini jump out of Lee Know’s lap. “As much as I would like to see our babies play, I do have a flight to catch,” Haerin laughed, standing up and heading to the door.”Oh, of course, love!” You smiled, petting Nara as she nuzzled against your leg.”Enjoy your trip! Nara is in good hands.” Lee Know smiled, waving to her as she exited your apartment and you closed the door.

You smiled, walking back to the living room, Nara following behind you. Taking a seat on the floor, you called out to Gini, as Nara sat in your lap. “Gini-ah, come here, sweet girl.Come meet your new friend,baby.” Lee Know smiled, joining you on the floor, as Gini slowly approached Nara. “Jagi, I’m so proud of our baby.” He smiled at you, kissing your temple.”Me too, Min. Our precious girl.” You smiled, seeing Nara and Gini, sniffing each other to get used to one another’s scents. Gini and Nara are , both, gentle and friendly–so of course they’d get along. Which was a relief to you and Lee Know. Seeing the two kitties somehow reminded you and Lee Know of the two of you– playing with each other, nuzzling into one another, sharing soft looks, laying next to one another– and it did make you (slightly) emotional. The sight was too cute, seeing them run around together, nap together…..you and Lee Know HAD to snap some pictures.

Hours passed and dinner was eaten. Which, speaking of, was another way too cute sight. Gini and Nara were sat next to one another, their tails swishing on the floor as they ate. Gini had finished her food first and waited for Nara to finish. Then, and only then, did she go to the living room, with Nara in tow. You and Minho were doing dishes, making small talk, letting out small yawns. Then you heard it…. Two soft meows. The sight you and Lee Know would turn around to see, would make your hearts ache with the cuteness. You turned around first, seeing Gini and Nara cuddling.Nara and Gini spooning–much like you and Lee Know would–with Gini as the big spoon, and their tails intertwined. “Oh….my……gosh…..” You gasped, tapping Lee Know on the belly.”Min, min,babe. Look, look at them.” You pouted, slightly tearing up at the sight. “Jagiya, is everything okay?” He questioned, once hearing you and feeling you tap his belly. “Yeah , Yeobo…look at them.” You said, pointing at the two cuddled up kitties. “Are they okay,jagi?” He asked, turning the tap off , turning to see what had you so captivated. Then, he saw it, saw the same sight that had your heart clenching in adoration.”Oh, oh my goodness…they’re cuddling. Jagi….they’re cuddling, like we do.” Lee know whispered, pulling you into his arms, eyes slightly watering– the sight too cute. “Oh they’re so cute, our baby. Gini and Nara. I need to take a picture. So, I can send it to Haerin.” You whispered back, noticing how the kitties had fallen asleep, and silently snapped a picture, before pressing a kiss to Lee Know’s lips. “They’re just like us, baby.”

Another couple of hours passed, spent playing with the kitties(once the woke up), or watching Tv or an anime. Now, it was bedtime. 

You and Lee know had changed into your pajamas, and made your way into the bathroom.You see, Gini had this thing where she would sit on the closed toilet seat and waited for you and Lee Know to finish your nightly routines, before following you to your bedroom for her nightly cuddles. And, if you thought that was cute, it got even cuter. Gini was sitting in her spot and Nara was sat beside her, licking her and softly pawing at her. Not only was Nara cleaning Jini , but Gini cleaned Nara,too. Once you and Lee Know finished your routines, you made your way back to your room, calling for the kitties to come along. “Gini-ah, bed time. Nara-ah, bed time,” you’d said, climbing into your bed. Lee Know smiled, climbing into his side of the bed ( the left side, which was closer to the door) and patted the space on your bed. “Gini-ah, Nara-ah, come here, babies.” He said, signaling for them to join them on the bed. Gini was first to climb onto the bed, meowing and settling herself on the unoccupied.Then, she let out a meow, as if to tell Nara to join her.. Next came Nara, shyly climbing on bed and curling herself into Gini, spooning like they were in the kitchen. Smiling at Lee Know, you cuddled yourself into him, your back to his front, spooning– the same way the two kitties were. “Only feels right, they’re spooning. And so should we,” you smiled, feeling Lee Know press a kiss to the back of your head. “I suppose so ,jagi.” He whispered, gently petting Nara, as you were petting Gini. “I love you , jagi,” Lee Know whispered, pressing a sleepy kiss to your lips. Smiling, into the kiss, you nuzzled further into his chest, your hand slowing as sleep overtook your body. “Mmmm, I love you too, yeobo.” You whispered back, eyes starting to fall shut. Seeing you, Gini and Nara asleep, Lee know shut the lights off and let himself go to dreamland as well. “Sleep well, my loves. And you too, Gini and Nara, sleep well.”

If this was what his weekend cat sitting would be like…he could die a happy man. His loves and Gini’s new friend, soft moments, kitty cuddles and happy memories. What more could he ask for?.....Maybe another cat. But, he’d figure that out another time.

#skz fluff #stray kids texts #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #seungmin fluff #seungmin x reader #han jisung fluff #jeongin x reader #bang chan #changbin fluff #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know and cats #leeknow fluff #petracha #soft minho