#so it's only in pt 4 and 5 and 6 that a few words need to be changed

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter six: In the Quiet of the Storm

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 P t 3 P t 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

The night air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The rain was coming down in thick sheets, but instead of offering any comfort, the sound of it pounding against the windows only seemed to highlight the emptiness of the sitting room. You stood there, staring out at the sprawling ocean, your thoughts just as clouded as the sky outside.

It had been a day since the games began. One. One day. The moment that loud, obnoxious and robotic voice blared across the compound, it felt like everything else in the world just… stopped. The strange, suffocating tension between you and him had taken a backseat to the madness that had already started. And yet, you couldn’t help but find your thoughts drifting back to him, over and over. It seemed that he was the only thing you could think about sometimes.

The whole day had been consumed by the task of redesigning the VIP room. You’d tried to throw yourself into it, tried to use it as a distraction, but the room’s original design—gold and black jungle motifs with naked models in every corner—felt like a grotesque reminder of everything wrong with this place. You had to change it. You had to. But how could you make it feel… right? And more than that, how could you do it without drawing attention to yourself?

———————

It was late now. Hours had passed since you’d last seen him, and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of him lingering in the air. Everything felt like it was on the edge of shifting. But what? You didn’t know.

The sound of the door creaking open behind you snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel him.

“You’re still up,” his voice was low, rougher than usual, like he’d been carrying the weight of the world all day. But you didn’t answer him right away. The air between you both was thick with something unspoken, and the last thing you wanted was to break the silence.

When you did finally speak, your words came out without thinking. “I couldn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t just the rain, or the work. It wasn’t even the games. You just felt… restless. Like everything in this place was slowly swallowing you up, and you couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard you tried.

His boots clicked against the floor, a soft, deliberate sound as he approached. When you finally turned to face him, you met his gaze—those cold, unreadable eyes. They hadn’t changed since you first met him, but you could swear there was something different about the way he looked at you now. It wasn’t softness, but maybe something like… exhaustion? A weariness that didn’t belong to the mask he wore so carefully.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with something you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was concern or frustration. It felt like both.

“I have my reasons,” he replied, the words curt, but there was an undercurrent of something else in them. Something that made you want to press further, but you didn’t. Not yet.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you hesitated. “Is it because of that night?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and immediately, you regretted it. It had only been a few days since that awkward exchange by the window, and you still weren’t sure what to make of it.

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, just enough for you to catch it before the walls slammed back into place. The mask fell over his face like a curtain. “That night was… unnecessary,” he said, his voice low, tight.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to say that everything about this was unnecessary, this marriage, this life, this twisted game you both were stuck in. But instead, you swallowed the words. Silence filled the space between you.

“I don’t know how to do this, you barely speak to me, I don't even know your name!” You didn’t know what else to say, your voice was barely above a whisper. It wasn’t just the two of you, it was everything. The games. The VIP room you were redesigning, trying to make something decent out of the mess you’d been handed. The loneliness that was starting to settle in, creeping up on you every time you thought about what was happening outside.

He took a step closer, and this time, you didn’t look away. You noticed the exhaustion in his posture, how the usual rigidness in his stance had softened just a little. His eyes, usually so guarded, seemed… worn. Tired. “Neither do I,” he admitted quietly, his voice rough, like admitting it hurt. “But I don’t have a choice.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had always known, in some way, that neither of you had a choice in this. But hearing him say it so plainly, so quietly, made it feel real. Too real.

“You don’t have to keep doing this alone,” you said, your voice barely audible, but there was an honesty in it that surprised even you.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, his gaze flicking over your face like he was trying to figure you out, trying to understand what you meant. Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff. “I’m not doing this alone.”

Before you could process what he meant, his fingers brushed lightly against your arm. It was so quick, you almost wondered if you imagined it. But the shock of it was real—his touch sent a jolt of warmth through your body, like a bridge snapping into place between you.

For a split second, the distance between you seemed to vanish. It was a fleeting moment, but it was there. And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He pulled his hand back, his usual indifference sliding back into place. “I should go,” he said, his voice cold once more.

You nodded, but before he could leave, your voice broke the silence. “Wait.”

He paused but didn’t turn around.

“You… you don’t have to be alone, either,” you said, your voice shaking now, unsure whether you meant it for him or for yourself. “I don’t want you to be.”

There was a long, agonizing silence. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. You could feel his presence like a weight in the room, but there was something about it—something vulnerable in the way he stood there, even with his back to you.

When he finally spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

And with that, he was gone. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving you standing alone, the rain still pounding against the windows.

———————

This is chapter six! Let me know how you like it! I have more ready!! :)

Tag list:

@sunny21200

@lucinda-reads

@shakysif

@whoisbriannaa

@allmylovegoestomusic

@swthrtbyeol

@strawberrychita

@hoddystark

@livelaughcelica

@foulbreadpaenut

@write-from-the-heart

@angelofthorr

@sylviavf

@missroro

@siloveyourmoms

@luv1ze

@audrey223

@khaylin27

@gay4hotmilfs

@mimis-u3u

@captainlunaxmen

@cdej6

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG

NSFW, for adults ONLY, MDNI or I'll block you. No idea how many parts this will be. Let me know which BSD men you want to see ;)

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fyodor

Walking in on him touching himself is REALLY surprising because he doesn't seem the type to masturbate, in your mind. You straight up couldn't imagine him touching himself until the very second you walked into his office and saw his bottoms around his ankles, his top hiked up around his chest, and his hand furiously pumping over his pale dick.

His head is thrown back, eyes closed, mouth lazily hanging open. You've never seen so much skin on him before. He's PALE pale which makes the brightness of his mouth and tongue and the tip of his cock seem so much brighter.

"oh love, yes, yesss" he moans, and your whole body flushes red with embarrassment and arousal at the same time. You shouldn't be seeing this but you're having a hell of a time turning away from him. You need to leave the room. You need to go. You need to turn around.

"y/n," he purrs, tilting his head and opening his eyes half-way, looking so fucked out and erotic. "do you like what you see?"

You can't formulate an answer, you're standing in the doorway short circuiting, trying to make words but only noises come out

"since you're standing there I thought you might be interested," he says as slow and calm as ever. Even jerking himself off his voice doesn't hitch or raise or speed up and it's honestly really hot right now. "Care to join me?"

"i-i, um... I'm really s-sorry, f...fyodor."

He moans softly biting his lip while still staring straight at you.

"say it again," he purrs. "say my name."

"fyodor..."

"again," he moans, hand working faster.

"Fyodor."

you walk in and close the door behind you.

Poe

You two scheduled a hang-out at his place but despite how many times you knocked on the door, he wouldn't answer...so you try the doorknob, and hey, it's unlocked! You've been to his place many times, you don't mind letting yourself in and don't suspect he'll mind either.

After you put your stuff down and take off your shoes, you register a quiet noise coming from a different room. you sneak closer and realize two things: it's crying, and it's coming from poe's bedroom

you open the door and rush in without thinking. "poe! what's wrong, why are you-- OH FUCK"

you rushed right into him kneeling at the edge of his bed, bouncing on a dildo and not crying, whimpering, moaning.

he calls your name and you can't tell if he meant to moan it but he absolutely moans it and he sounds like a wreck and he looks pathetic and fucked out, and you feel it when he says your name.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been this, I'm gonna go home--" you say, turning and rushing out of his room. he calls your name after you, multiple times, moaning and moaning and moaning--

you sink down against his front door, still slightly able to hear the sounds of him moaning and whining from his room. you're so horny now, absolutely drenched through your panties/rock hard in your pants. You know you should leave, you know you shouldn't still be here, but he never told you to go, he just kept saying your name...

a few minutes later, after the noises have subsided and the apartment has gotten deadly quiet, his bedroom door creaks open and he slowly peeks his head out. he must be crawling still because he's near the floor.

"[y/n]," he sighs, "I didn't want you to find out like this."

it takes you a second to collect yourself, but you manage to ask "find what out?"

"that i... i think about you... a lot..."

Chuuya

you're on a PM mission with chuuya and several other PM members. you've got to share a room with chuuya, but at least you have separate beds. it's fine. it's whatever. until.

until you wake up one morning--the clock on the bedside table saying it's only 6:23 a.m.--to the sound of a rhythmic slapping, some occasional huffs, a-- a moan?

you sit upright in bed quickly, your head turning toward chuuya's bed.

"are you fucking serious?"

"what" he huffs, and through the tiny bit of daylight creeping through the curtains you can see movement beneath his sheets.

"are you jerking off right now? dude we're sharing a fucking room."

"you were asleep," he says defensively. "not like you noticed yesterday."

"dude!!!"

"get over it, it's fuckin' natural," he says and his voice is getting tight and higher almost like he's biting back a moan or getting close to cumming.

"it's disrespectful when you have someone in the same room, chuuya," you say softer, subconsciously still trying to hear the sounds he's making. you're embarrassed at how intrigued you are

"i'm not stopping you," he says. "you can jerk it too for all i care."

"to what... to you jerking it?"

you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he says "I never said anything about that, so you thought that up all on your own. is that what you're into, pet?"

[stormxpadme]

Me: It's good I can deal without a beta because no one's invested in my shit enough or got time and spoons to proofread the amount of words I write.

Also me: Literally writing a million of words of a verse set primarly in a school, casually checking the story timeline and suddenly remembering summer breaks exist.

Me:

Me:

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 6/?)

Choosing your poison is easy; it's living with the consequences that truly haunts you. Silco's venom is intoxicating, and deep down, you know it will be the death of you, yet you find yourself craving every drop.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 7,6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, light bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, biting, possessive behavior, you are a prostitute, slight hints of reader's past, sex and restrained freedom being terms of a agreement, Silco (and Sevika) POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

━━ Sevika's Pov ━━

Sevika had two absolute certainties in life. The first was never to hesitate, because in the undercity, one second too long could cost you your life. The second, even more important, was never to meddle in Silco's personal affairs unless he directly ordered it. These seemingly simple rules had ensured her survival and her position alongside the most powerful man in Zaun. So why, in the name of everything sacred—or profane, in this case—was she standing there, hand halfway to the door of his office, reconsidering what seemed to be a trivial task?

The noise on the other side made her hesitate. Wood creaking, muffled but rhythmic. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on in there. Sevika raised an eyebrow, already feeling a mix of embarrassment and exasperation bubbling up. Seriously, boss?

She huffed as she debated internally whether it was worth interrupting or if it would be better to just come back later. She opted for the latter. It was safer—for both of them.

Turning back down the hallway, she spotted two guards posted near the stairs. "Hey!" she called, her deep voice cutting through the silence. "Don't let anyone upstairs, especially that blue-haired brat."

The two nodded without question, though one of them looked briefly confused before returning to his watch. Sevika didn't explain. It wasn't necessary, and she didn't have the patience to deal with stupid questions.

Back at the bar, she plopped herself down on one of the stools, resting her right forearm on the counter as she observed the nearly empty room. The night was already wearing thin, with only a few stubborn, lonely drunks still clinging to their bottles and cigarettes. She allowed a tired smile to slip, one that quickly turned into a low, ironic laugh.

If someone had told me Silco would ditch his paperwork to fuck, I'd have laughed in their face.

It was surreal. The man was the very definition of a workaholic, always with his head buried in conspiracies and strategies to keep Zaun under control. But two months ago, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Silco approached her asking about a decent brothel in the city. She didn't question it, because, after all, who was she to judge? Everyone needs a little relief now and then.

But things had taken an unexpected turn. She knew the girl—maybe too well. Those big, deceptively innocent eyes always hiding something. Sevika had always known there was more behind that angelic façade. Maybe that's exactly what had drawn Silco in. And, frankly, she even agreed: good taste couldn't be denied.

The sound of a glass sliding across the counter pulled her from her thoughts. The bartender was looking at her, wearing the expression of someone who already knew what she wanted. Sevika grabbed the glass and downed the amber liquid in one go.

"Another." she ordered curtly, pushing the glass back toward him.

As she waited, Sevika let her eyes wander around the room, though her mind was still stuck on the scene. Silco, so methodical, so controlled... and now? Succumbing to his own desires. He wasn't even completely sure that it was the same woman from years ago, and yet he orchestrated all of this to have her around. She wasn't sure whether to find it amusing or concerning. 

Whatever he's scheming, it better be worth the effort.

When the next glass arrived, she held it between her fingers, swirling the liquid before taking another long sip. At least tonight, she'd allow herself a few moments of peace.

"Tough night?" the bartender asked, his tone casual, as if he already knew the answer.

Sevika grunted, not even bothering to look up. Small talk was far from her priority. She emptied the glass in one gulp, feeling the warmth of the whiskey burn its way down her throat, momentarily easing the irritation brewing inside her.

"Is it true Silco's keeping a girl up there?" the bartender let slip, leaning over the counter with barely concealed curiosity. His voice was low, but the words carried too much weight for Sevika's liking.

She paused, spinning the empty glass between her fingers before glaring at him over the rim with evident impatience.

"Who told you that?"

"One of the morning shift guards." the man shrugged like it was no big deal. "Said they were ordered to let a woman in but not out. Thought kidnapped folks stayed at the warehouse, not here."

Sevika scoffed, rolling her eyes as she poured herself another drink. It was always the same with people like that: gossips who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.

"She's different."

The bartender simply nodded, wiping the counter with a rag that, to Sevika, seemed more dirty than useful. Finally, silence returned, and she silently thanked the universe for the reprieve. Or at least for a few seconds. Because, of course, he couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.

"Wait! That woman, is she THAT... prostitute?" he asked, his voice laden with a curiosity that bordered on offensive.

Before Sevika could deliver a cutting response, a high-pitched voice sliced through the room like a knife.

"What's a prostitute?"

Sevika turned her head toward the voice, as did the bartender, and both found Jinx standing at the damned bar counter, hands on her hips and her eyes sparkling with curiosity, as if she were genuinely interested in the answer.

"How the hell did you get here at this hour?" Sevika asked, slamming her glass onto the table with force. Her patience, already worn thin, was nearly gone. "Shouldn't you be in your room or, I don't know, in your cage?"

Jinx made a face, an attempt at intimidation that wouldn't have scared a mouse.

"I don't live in a cage, you one-armed brute."

Sevika rolled her eyes. "Great. Just what I needed." without another word, she slid off the stool, grabbed the girl without any care, and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Put me down, you savage!" Jinx started thrashing, kicking the air and grumbling like a feral cat.

Sevika kept walking, unbothered. She was used to the brat's dramatics, but her patience wasn't infinite, especially after the night she'd already endured.

"Keep squirming like that, and I'll let you fall flat on your face." Sevika muttered, an empty threat she'd never dare follow through on, considering how much Silco doted on the girl. "You're not going upstairs."

Sevika thought about how the situation had spiraled into something even more ridiculous than she'd anticipated. Not that she really cared about Jinx—"Babysitter? Not a chance in hell."—but the last thing she wanted was to deal with the trauma of a kid discovering what her "dad" did behind closed doors. Even Zaun had its limits to chaos.

Jinx ignored the threat entirely, her fists pounding against Sevika's back with as much force as her skinny arms could muster. "Why not? Is it because of that prostitute? I don't even know what that is!"

"If you stop squirming, I'll tell you on the way."

To Sevika's surprise, Jinx actually went quiet.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco looked at her body, her hair spread over the table as he thrust into her from behind. He loved how her skin felt against his, and the way she moaned softly whenever he touched her. Her body was so soft and warm, and he couldn't get enough of it. He held her wrists tightly behind her back as he pounded into her, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. Silco could feel his own pleasure building up inside him, but he held back, wanting to make this last as long as possible. He wanted to savor every moment of having she beneath him, submitting to his every desire.

Silco's thoughts were a jumbled mess of lust and desire. He loved how responsive she was to his touch, how she seemed to melt under him as he claimed her body. He knew he was being rough with her, but he couldn't help himself. The rough, animalistic nature of their coupling was a stark contrast to the refined elegance of his office, and he reveled in the delicious contradiction.

As he fucked her harder and faster, Silco leaned down and bit her shoulder, leaving a mark on her skin, which made her whine even more. He loved the idea of claiming her, of making sure everyone knew that she belonged to him now. She was his, and his alone, and he would make sure she never forgot it.

"My lovely dove." he growled into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "All mine."

Silco felt her body trembling beneath him as he continued to thrust into her, his grip on her wrists loosening slightly. He could feel her pushing back against him, her hips meeting his with each stroke. He released her wrists completely and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other snaking up to grip her throat lightly. He didn't squeeze, just held her in place as he slowed his pace, savoring the feel of her tight heat surrounding him.

Silco's mind drifted to thoughts of the future, he would keep her by his side for a long time, that was for sure. He had no intention of losing her and even though his thoughts darkened, imagining every single thing he would do to her, Silco found himself becoming increasingly tender with her. He wanted to worship her body, to show her the depths of his desire even though she was angry with him and technically just doing her part of the deal. But for now, he contented himself with the feel of her in his arms, her body pressed against his as he continued to thrust into her.

"That's it..." his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered to her. "You're doing so well for me."

He wondered if she knew what she was getting herself into, if she understood the depths of having made that deal. She herself had said that accepting something from him was not so different from agreeing with the devil, which ironically she had done. But then again, he didn't really care. All that mattered was that she was his now. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he thrust harder, deeper, claiming her body as his own.

Silco's hand slid down from her hip to between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed slow, firm circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He could feel her tensing beneath him, her breath coming faster and harder. He knew she was close.

He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered to her. "You're so beautiful like this." he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "It's okay... Let go. I've got you."

Silco continued to rub her clit, his fingers slick with her arousal. He could feel her tensing beneath him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, with a final thrust of his hips, he felt her coming undone. Her walls clenched around him, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. He held her close, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he continued to thrust, drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible.

Only then, when he knew she had finished, did he allow himself to let go. With a harsh groan, he buried himself deep inside her, his own release pulsing through him. He collapsed against her back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Silco pulled out of her slowly, savoring the feeling of her walls fluttering around him as he withdrew. He stood for a moment, watching as she collapsed onto the table, her body spent and limp. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, of pride, at having brought her to such heights of pleasure.

He moved to his chair and sat down, his gauze never leaving her as he fixed his pants. She looked so small, so fragile like this. It was a stark contrast to the strong, defiant woman he knew

He leaned forward and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her off the table and onto his lap. He didn't care about the mess, about the fluids smearing across his pants. All he cared about was having her close, feeling her warmth against his skin.He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, slow and steady, matching his own. He knew he should let her go, let her clean up and rest. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to keep her here, in his arms, for as long as possible.

Even though the weight of exhaustion clawed at his every muscle, Silco refused to relinquish her. His arms remained locked around her, firm yet careful, as if afraid she might slip away the moment he loosened his grip. The embrace was neither casual nor fleeting—it lingered, speaking volumes in the silence. It was an act that could mean many things: dominance, possession, a fleeting moment of vulnerability. But most disturbingly, in a way so distorted it almost felt like sin—affection.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing still uneven, the faint tremor in her body betraying just how far she'd been pushed. He rested his chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

She was undone. Raw. Stripped of the mask she so often wore—the provocative, infuriating facade that seemed designed solely to challenge him at every turn. Here, in his arms, she was something closer to her truest self, a woman laid bare by the weight of her own humanity.

And God help him, he enjoyed both versions.

The stubborn, sharp-tongued temptress who dared to stand toe-to-toe with him, who infuriated and intrigued him in equal measure—that version of her was a spark, a fire he couldn't help but want to stoke. But this? This quieter, unguarded moment? This was something else entirely. A glimpse of the woman beneath the armor.

His hand moved almost unconsciously, fingers brushing against the damp strands of her hair before trailing down to rest at the nape of her neck. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle, a rare softness that would have shocked anyone who knew him. And though he told himself it was a fleeting act of charity, of magnanimity, the truth was far more selfish. He simply liked holding her this way.

"You'll ruin me."

Her voice was barely a whisper, so faint it might have been lost in the stillness of the room if not for the fact that Silco was holding her so close. It was raw, unguarded, and it hung in the air between them like the blade of a guillotine, poised to fall.

He didn't respond. He didn't need to. Her words weren't a question, nor did they require an answer. They were a truth, a bitter acknowledgment of the tangled web they'd both willingly stepped into. And it wasn't as if he could deny it, anyway. Ruin was inevitable, and it was something she had said herself during their earlier clash. This was simply the echo of her own warning, now laden with the weight of their proximity.

Silco tightened his grip around her in lieu of words, pulling her just a fraction closer, as if to say, Yes, I will. And you'll let me.

"Rest." he commanded, his voice softer now, though still tinged with that unyielding authority that brooked no argument. His hand splayed firmly across her back, anchoring her against him. "For once, don't argue. Just rest."

Without resistance, she surrendered to sleep in his arms, her breathing evening out as her body grew heavy with exhaustion. Silco stayed there, unmoving, his eyes half-lidded as he stared out into the dim haze of Zaun's morning light filtering faintly through the industrial gloom. The sounds of the city, muted and distant, echoed faintly through the room: the hiss of steam pipes, the clatter of machinery, and the occasional murmur of voices far below. It was a sound he'd grown so accustomed to that it often faded into the background, yet in this moment, it seemed louder, more insistent.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks and shadows that had once provided solace in the solitude of his nights. But this morning, they seemed to mock him. Unbidden, the memory crept in — that bridge, the suffocating smoke, the acrid sting of betrayal. He could almost hear the anguished screams and the crackle of fire, smell the blood and oil mingling in the air. That day had been a reckoning, one where every choice he made seemed to collapse beneath the weight of inevitability.

The bridge where Felicia died.

The bridge where Vander betrayed him.

Silco's jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if expelling the memory itself. He would not dwell on it. What was done could not be undone, and revisiting the past served no purpose. Regret was for the weak, and Silco had no patience for weakness — not in others, and certainly not in himself.

Still, the ghost of that day lingered at the edges of his mind, a specter of all that had gone wrong. Choices that had seemed so clear, so righteous at the time, had led only to ruin. The kind of ruin that left scars too deep to heal, both on the body and on the soul.

His fingers twitched slightly, tightening their hold on her for just a moment before loosening again. She stirred faintly in her sleep but didn't wake, her face soft and unguarded in a way that tugged at something deep within him.

Ruins were where he had been forged. And if ruin was where he would return, he would do so on his own terms.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

You felt your body sinking. The underwater currents were relentless, tossing you back and forth like a lifeless ragdoll as the darkness closed in around you. You realized the faint shimmer of the surface was growing farther and farther away. But, strangely, there was no panic. There was no desperation to fight, no frantic hands trying to reach for that light. Something inside you decided that here, in the depths, would be your final resting place.

The silence of the water, the relentless cold, the sense of abandonment. It all made a morbid kind of sense. You let your arms float beside you, surrendering to the darkness that clouded your vision.

But then, something changed.

You felt a tug at the collar of your shirt—rough and unexpected. There was no gentleness in the motion, only urgency. You tried to open your eyes, but the water burned your retinas, leaving everything blurred. Still, you could tell you were rising—fast. The muffled sound of the water became a chaotic mix of bubbles and currents. Something—or someone—was determined to save you.

"Stay with me, little one. Hold on."

Then you finally managed to open your eyes. The cracked ceiling, marked by softly dancing shadows, was the first thing you saw as you returned to reality. There was no longer the sensation of being submerged, nor the voice that had seemed so close just moments before. Vander's voice had felt so real, but now it was just a distant echo, as unreachable as the rest of your memories. A deep emptiness settled over you. It had been so long since you'd felt something like this. Maybe since... Well, better not to think about it.

Sitting up slowly, you took a better look at the room around you. It was comfortable, simple, functional. It had everything a room needed but lacked any personal touch, giving it a cold, almost impersonal feel. The lighting was far too dim for your taste, with shadows pooling in the corners.

That's when you noticed: your clothes were arranged neatly, as was your lower body, with no trace of what you had done hours earlier on that damned table. Silco had likely cleaned and adjusted everything. He'd even ensured you rested without wrecking your back, unlike before on the couch—ironic, coming from someone like him. On the nightstand, a pitcher of water and a glass waited for you, without notes, without explanations.

You poured yourself a glass, feeling the cool liquid soothe the dryness in your throat as you leaned back against the headboard. The weight of the situation finally hit you. You were screwed, weren't you?

For someone who prided themselves on being immune to Silco's games, who claimed—proudly—that they'd never be manipulated, here you were: completely caught in his web. And worse, you were here willingly.

But it had to be worth it. It had to be.

Your mind spun, piecing together the fragments of information you had gathered so far. Silco and his supposed "daughter." Jinx. It was impossible to ignore the gaping hole this story left in your reasoning. Silco had no wife, and absolutely nothing about the man suggested he could have maintained a relationship close enough to father a child. In fact, you might be the closest thing to that.

So why had Finn hinted that Jinx was a scandal?

You pieced the fragments together hesitantly, almost afraid of what it might mean. What if Jinx was... Powder?

The thought was absurd. Or, perhaps, not so much. After the night of the massacre, the only bodies reportedly found were those of Vander, Mylo, and Claggor. There was no trace of Violet or Powder. It was unlikely that both had survived, but unlikely didn't mean impossible.

What if Powder was alive? What if Silco had found her in the chaos and taken her in? The idea was horrifying, yet it made a disturbing amount of sense. Could that be the origin of the scandal? That Silco had taken Powder, turning her into the weapon he now called Jinx?

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts. It was all speculation. You had no proof, just disconnected hints. But it didn't matter. You would find out who Jinx was, no matter the cost. And if there was even the slightest chance of finding Violet or Powder, you wouldn't waste it. You had made a promise to Vander on his deathbed. You would find and protect his daughters, and Silco might just be the key to achieving that.

If the hunt for Jinx led nowhere, you could still use Silco's resources covertly to track down anything about them. Even if it was just their bones so you could finally have some closure.

You didn't know how long you sat there lost in thought until your own body protested from staying in the same position for too long.

Rising from the bed with your resolve renewed, you stretched slightly, your muscles still complaining from the strain. You crossed the room toward the door, but before you could touch it, it was abruptly opened. Standing before you was that same tattooed man from the previous morning, his face carrying the same expression of near-permanent indifference. He tilted his chin up in a simple gesture before saying:

"Silco wants to see you."

Without even waiting for your response, he turned and began walking down the corridor. You hesitated for a moment but eventually followed. As you walked, you noticed how the Last Drop was surprisingly busy for that time of morning. Men and women were engaged in various tasks, carrying crates, adjusting equipment, and speaking in hushed tones. It was a completely different scene from the almost ghostly atmosphere of the day before when you had arrived.

Not that you were surprised by this change, not after everything Silco had been pulling.

You arrived at the infamous door to Silco's office. The tattooed man knocked twice, firmly, before announcing: "Sir, I've brought her."

The response came almost instantly, and the door opened, revealing a familiar figure.

Ah, yes. Her.

The woman was there, her imposing presence intact, though her eyes carried a weary air, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. There was something both unsettling and captivating about her posture—her shoulders squared, her chin slightly tilted upward, as if daring the world to knock her down. For a brief moment, your eyes met. You held her gaze, tilting your head slightly, until a memory flashed in your mind like lightning.

Oh...

Now you remembered where you knew her from.

She seemed to notice your realization, but said nothing. She simply stepped aside, creating space for you to enter the office.

You crossed the room with the confidence of someone who felt at home—even if you weren't. Your steps echoed lightly in the space as you stopped in front of Silco's desk. He held some papers in his hands, apparently reports, his eyes scanning the text with calm precision. He didn't bother to look at you, as if your presence was expected but not significant enough to interrupt his focus.

You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms and shifting your weight slightly to one side. "Should I assume I've been summoned for something important, or did you just want my company this morning?"

He merely gestured with his hand, dismissing the two people still in the office. Yet, even as the door closed, he remained in that position for a few more seconds, calmly finishing whatever was written on the papers before setting them aside. Only then did he lean back in his chair.

"Well, keeping me company is part of your new job, isn't it?" His voice was low and velvety, carrying a familiarity that bothered you as much as it intrigued you. With a lazy gesture, he indicated the chair in front of him. "Sit. We have matters to discuss."

Without wasting time, you settled into the chair, crossing your legs in a deliberate motion, assuming the posture of someone ready to play at the same level. If Silco wanted to turn this into a performance of business negotiations, you wouldn't fall behind.

"I've been thinking." his voice smooth as silk. "Perhaps our agreement needs a few... adjustments. Some additional clauses, so to speak."

Silco leaned back slightly, his fingers interlaced beneath his chin, the posture of someone entirely in control of the situation. "But before we get to that, I think it's wise to review the main terms of our current arrangement. Just to ensure we're aligned."

You shrugged with feigned indifference, though irritation pulsed beneath the surface. Of course, you knew every line of that damned agreement. How could you forget something that had been presented more as an ultimatum than a real negotiation? When Silco proposed the deal, you barely had a chance to voice your opinion. Not that your opinion would have mattered much—the power in that room belonged exclusively to him.

If he wanted to, he could have simply imprisoned you, tied you to a bed, keeping you captive by force. In fact, considering Silco's style, perhaps he still might—but in a twisted way, involving power games and sex.

When he presented the contract the night before, the scene was almost comical. You weren't even remotely surprised to see that he already had the document prepared, flawlessly drafted, waiting only for you to sign your name. However, what truly surprised you was that he agreed to some of your conditions, though they were few.

"Go ahead."

Silco then pulled the paper from the drawer, placing the document on the table with the two signature spaces clearly visible: one with his name, marked by that precise and meticulous handwriting, and the other with your name, marked by the nervous haste of your rushed signature.

"You agreed to spend three weeks of each month at my service." he began to read, his voice low and laden with an authority that sent shivers down your spine. "You will serve me in whatever way I deem necessary. This includes physically, of course. In return, I will provide you with everything you need, as well as ensuring your safety and comfort."

He paused, his eyes following the text with the precision of someone who had recited these words countless times. His expression was one of absolute delight behind the indifferent façade; you could tell he was savoring every syllable he uttered. Every detail seemed carefully crafted to trap you.

"And during the fourth and final week of that same month, you will have your freedom. I will not touch you, nor demand anything from you. You will be free to do as you please, within reasonable limits."

Silco pushed the folder toward you, the gesture as casual as it was threatening. "Naturally, you will have an escort at all times. To ensure your safety and to prevent you from deciding to run. After all, I wouldn't want to lose my new toy so soon."

You took the contract, your eyes scanning the words you already knew. But before you could even pretend to conduct a detailed review, Silco's voice cut through the air again, laced with something almost playful.

"Now, dove." his soft tone masked the venom behind his words. "Please, say out loud what the consequences are for breaking your part of the agreement."

Your gaze shot up from the paper to him. Your superficial reading stopped at that sentence, your fingers clutching the document tightly enough to crease it slightly. Of course, he was going to demand this. It was Silco's arrogance at its peak, forcing you to admit the terms you despised aloud. His smile widened as he noticed your hesitation. He was savoring the moment—every second of your reluctance was a small victory for him.

"If I break the agreement, all the freedom granted to me will be revoked. I will be under your constant supervision, without any autonomy." you wanted to kick him under the table, but you forced yourself to continue without resorting to violence. "And I will be subject to whatever punishments you deem appropriate, with no right to question or refuse them."

You hated the way he looked at you in that moment. That intense, cruel gaze that made every hair on your body stand on end. It wasn't just the intensity—it was what lay beneath it. There was something deeply wrong about the satisfaction Silco displayed, the twisted pleasure in reminding you, silently, of the reach of his power in Zaun—and now, over every aspect of your life.

He tilted his head slightly, the treacherous smile playing on his lips. "And?" he pressed, his voice low, its softness nothing more than a façade. "Don't keep me waiting. Say the rest."

You swallowed hard, choking down the rising urge to unleash a string of curses at him. Instead, you responded with a coldness you didn't truly feel.

"You would burn the brothel."

The words were difficult to say, but you forced them out, trying to mask the vulnerability they carried. In Zaun, few things could really hurt you. With no family and no significant ties left, you believed you were beyond the reach of emotional threats. But then, there was the brothel. And Silco knew it.

Not that you particularly liked the work of being a prostitute. As you had told Silco the day you first met, it wasn't as though you had much of a choice. It was a job that didn't attract attention, and that was exactly what you needed.

But the brothel wasn't just a workplace. The people there, even if they weren't your closest friends, were something you could call your community. Co-workers, confidants on hard nights, people who had shared the same roof with you since Babette took you in. She gave you a chance when no one else would—a place to stay, a job to support yourself, a sense of stability in a world that seemed to crumble around you. And now, because of you, the brothel was in danger. Just like Kate had been... and you knew how that ended.

He leaned back in his chair with the confidence of a king on his throne, intertwining his fingers beneath his chin. "Ah, yes. The brothel. Such a charming establishment, isn't it? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to it."

"Just say what you want to add, Silco."

The words came out steady, but you knew they weren't enough to fool him. Silco always caught the nuances—the smallest cracks in your façade, the ones you tried so hard to hide. And there he was, with that almost imperceptible smile, carved perfectly to provoke you. It was the kind of expression that made you feel as though, somehow, he was always in control.

"Always so direct." he murmured in that slow, deliberate voice, reaching for a cigar from the drawer. The way he handled it was almost theatrical, every movement carefully calculated to stretch out your anxiety. "Well, the proposal is more of a suggestion. I believe it would be far more convenient if you moved into one of the rooms at the Last Drop. During the weeks you're serving me, you would stay there."

You blinked. Once, twice. His words echoed in your head as you tried to absorb the weight of what he was saying. When you agreed to the arrangement, there had at least been one small consolation: the idea that, at the end of each day, you could return to the place you called home. Your little space. Your bubble of freedom. A place where you could continue your investigation far from Silco's watchful eyes and maybe remind yourself that you were still a person, not just his "property."

But now, even that illusion was being taken from you.

"This is your way of keeping me under custody?"

Silco laughed. A low, rough, and dangerously amused sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he watched you with an unwavering gaze. The intensity of his orange irises, like burning embers, held you captive even when you wanted to look away.

"Keeping you under my custody?" he repeated, with a mock indignation so convincing it was infuriating. "Dove, you've wounded me deeply with such a heinous accusation. I thought we had something special here."

He lit the cigar with a silver lighter, the metallic click echoing in the heavy silence of the room. The scent of tobacco began to fill the air, mingling with the almost tangible tension. Silco took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke with a sigh that seemed laden with satisfaction.

"But, if you insist on putting it that way..." he let the sentence linger, releasing another slow puff of smoke before continuing, as though savoring the moment for as long as he could. Dragging it out too much for your taste. "Yes, I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing."

You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes—a gesture meant to be full of disdain but softening into an ironic smile you couldn't quite suppress. There was something about Silco—that poisonous mix of brutal honesty and blatant manipulation—that left you unsure whether you should hate him or just play the game alongside him.

Somehow, his cruel transparency made it impossible to be as angry as you should have been. Deep down, what you really wanted was to cross the desk and punch him, but instead, you just raised an eyebrow, defiant.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You stood up from the chair calmly, your eyes locked onto Silco's as you made your way around the desk. He, of course, followed every step with that sharp, almost predatory gaze. As you rounded the desk, you noticed the subtle way he adjusted in his chair, shifting slightly to track your movements as though he anticipated exactly what was coming next.

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, sitting as if it were the most natural, casual thing in the world. Ironically, it was. Silco had, in an unexpected way, become your favorite "seat" and you were sure he was well aware of it.

"So." your tone deliberately provocative as your hands came to rest on his shoulders, "I don't think I have any other choice but to accept this clause. Although, I do have a few conditions."

Interest flickered in his eyes, but it was in the blue one that you noticed something new. His pupil dilated slightly—a reaction you'd never observed before. A small detail, but one that, in that moment, felt like a silent triumph. Silco leaned back in the chair, his body relaxing as though he'd already won the argument. He brought the cigar to his lips, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke to the side, away from you. It was an unexpectedly considerate gesture—almost... sweet, if you had the nerve to admit it out loud.

His free hand, however, didn't waste any time. His fingers began to wander over your body, gliding along the curve of your waist, lingering at the line of your hip, before settling firmly on your thigh. The touch was possessive, demanding, as if he wanted to remind both you—and himself—that, in this moment, you were his.

"And what might these conditions be?"

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you reached out and, without a hint of shame or hesitation, took the cigar from his hand. Silco's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't protest. You brought the cigar to your lips, inhaling with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before—even though it was your first.

The bitter taste filled your mouth, and the smoke wrapped around your senses. You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke escape deliberately as you kept your gaze fixed on his. There was something intensely intimate in the exchange, a sexual charge you hadn't planned but now felt inevitable.

"I want permission to roam freely around here." you said at last, your voice calm but carrying an undeniable tone of firmness. "After all, when you don't need me, I'll need some way to entertain myself, don't you think?"

You smiled—that mischievous smile that had gotten you into trouble more times than you could count. It was the same smile that, in a way, had landed you in this situation with Silco in the first place. "A fair request, in my opinion."

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. He seemed to be considering your words, but you could tell it was more than that. He was savoring the scene—every detail about you. The way you held the cigar, your posture on his lap, the interplay of smoke curling around your face... He seemed entranced.

"Permission to wander freely, hm?" Silco finally broke the silence, his voice heavy with provocation as his fingers on your thigh tightened their grip slightly. "I suppose that's reasonable, but don't think for a second that I won't be watching you."

You maintained your composure, letting the cigar's smoke fill your lungs before leaning slightly closer to him. As you exhaled, you released the smoke near his lips, watching as his blue eye darted momentarily to your mouth while the orange one stayed fixed on you. It carried a silent threat, a void of unspoken challenge that seemed to dare you to keep testing his limits.

"That's more than enough for me."

Boldly, you let your lips brush against his in a touch so fleeting it was almost ghostly, before pressing a gentle kiss—light, without any intent to deepen it. But as you began to pull away, you didn't get far. Almost instantly, Silco's hand gripped a fistful of your hair, firm but not harsh, pulling you back to him.

And it was he who deepened the kiss.

Silco's lips crashed against yours with a demanding, possessive force. There was nothing gentle or hesitant about it; he was taking what he wanted, and you knew in that moment, it was you. His tongue invaded your mouth with unrelenting confidence, exploring and claiming every inch. The taste of smoke lingered on his tongue, the bitterness of tobacco blending with an unexpected hint of sweetness—a contrast as singular as Silco himself.

There was something more in that kiss, something that sent shivers racing through your body as he held you captive within it. The last time the two of you had kissed, it had been different: rage had clouded your mind, turning the contact into a fierce clash. But now... now it was something else entirely. There was still roughness—Silco wasn't a man who did anything softly—but the hatred, the defiance, was absent.

If someone asked why you had kissed him, you could lie. You could claim it was a calculated move to ensure he wouldn't rescind his agreement to your request. A strategic play, nothing more. But deep down, you knew that would only be half the truth. The reality was, something within you had driven you to do it, to seek out that connection again, even if you didn't want to admit it.

You provoked him because you knew Silco would take the lead. It had always been that way. No matter how much you wanted to, it was never going to be you who initiated. Not with him. The power always had to appear to be on his side, even when you managed to twist it to your advantage.

The cigar slipped from your fingers, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. You registered the faint sound, your mind distantly aware of the minimal chance the ember might start a fire. Yet you didn't move to pick it up. Instead, your hands rested against Silco's chest, attempting to support your weight and keep your body from fully collapsing against his. Though, by the way he pulled you closer, it was clear that idea didn't bother him in the slightest.

A rough sound escaped Silco's lips—a low, restrained groan that you almost thought you'd imagined. Almost. His grip on your hair tightened, angling your head perfectly so he could deepen the kiss even further. His other hand wasn't idle; it moved slowly along the length of your thigh, his fingers pressing into your flesh with enough force to leave a mark.

When Silco finally broke the kiss, his lips began to trace a path along your jaw to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You couldn't stop yourself—your body arched toward his, as if responding to an unspoken command.

"Don't provoke me, dove," he growled against your skin. "You know very well what happens when you do."

You laughed, but the sound came out short, almost breathless. It was hard to concentrate when Silco kept trailing kisses down your neck, occasionally interrupted by sharp nips that left your skin throbbing with sensitivity. One particular bite was harder, enough to draw a small gasp from you. Your body reacted instinctively, jolting slightly in his lap—and that was enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from Silco.

From the way his eyes glinted and his grip on your thigh tightened, you knew he was just as affected as you were.

"Why not?" you murmured, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you tried to catch your breath. "We're already in position, after all."

Silco pulled back slightly, just enough for you to see his expression. The gleam in his eyes, especially the blue one, was a dangerous mix of amusement and something darker, more intense. It was as if your words had sparked a new idea in his mind, one he was clearly considering with.

"Why not, indeed?" his hands slid to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled you even closer, as if it were possible to get any nearer. "Especially when you seem to enjoy this position so much."

Your fingers traced the contours of his face, exploring the unique texture of the scarred skin. When you reached the rougher, uneven area, you noticed something you hadn't before: a slight layer of powder there, likely applied to soften the appearance of the scar. You frowned slightly, intrigued. A question hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you decided to save it for another moment. After all, provoking Silco was always more interesting.

The prolonged touch seemed to captivate him, his gaze locked on yours as you explored his face with your fingertips. A charged tension lingered between you, and you realized that, in that moment, he was completely at your mercy—even if he hadn't noticed it himself.

"Well..." your voice carrying a faintly teasing tone, "You're the one above everyone in Zaun, so it's only fair someone gets to be above you, isn't it?"

With a mischievous smile, you shifted your hips slightly, emphasizing your words with the movement. The effect was immediate. Silco drew in a sharp breath, his own hips moving almost instinctively to match your motion.

"Someone has to keep things balanced around here." your tone suggesting the idea amused you. "Besides, you don't seem the least bit bothered by it."

His hands gripped your hips more tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh in a possessive gesture that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He stared at you now with an intensity that made your heart race. There was nothing innocent about that look. On the contrary, the gleam in his eyes seemed almost profane, as if he were contemplating something both sinful and indulgent.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. The closeness sent a shiver through your skin, and his voice, low and gravelly, seemed designed to ignite something inside you.

"Bothered?" he murmured, each word weighted with a gravity that made your stomach flip. "Not in the slightest, dove. In fact, I'd say I'm enjoying the view from here. The way you look at me from above, with those eyes..." he paused, his warm breath fanning over your skin. "It's enough to bring a man to his knees."

You couldn't help the smile that curved your lips, a hint of amusement and even satisfaction at having him in this position. But the smile lasted only a second. Before you could even respond, you felt his fingers gripping your chin, firm, almost possessive, tilting your face so he could look directly at you.

The tone of his voice shifted. The soft murmur now carried a raw authority, irresistible, as though he'd decided exactly what would happen next.

"But I prefer you in this position."

The intensity of his words made something in your chest tighten—not with fear, but with anticipation. In that moment, you knew exactly where this was going. He tilted his head slightly, as if savoring your expression before continuing.

"Now, be a good girl and get on your knees."

Part 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please read. I said I'd be back and I'm going to give you a spoiler: the next chapter it will be completely in Silco's POV and with a dose more smut than it normally would have. So suggest kinks that you'd like to see written in this series (I already have what I want to write in mind, but if I see an interesting idea that fits I'll add it, remember I can always use your idea in another chapter) And yes, in this story we fuck with Sevika! Remember when Babette tells VI that she's a regular customer at the brothel? I took this canon very seriously, but don't worry, there won't be a love triangle. Btw did you like Jinx's quick appearance in the chapter? (and yes, technically she would know what a prostitute is, but in my canon I can imagine VI punching Mylo at the exact moment he opens his mouth to explain. Our VI would protect our little and innocent Powder) I'll probably be back next year so HAPPY NEW YEAR! See you again in 2025.

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[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday

You should have worn more lotion. 

The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind. 

It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it. 

To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in. 

You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”

“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.” 

Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.

“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”

Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently. 

“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door. 

“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude. 

Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety. 

“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.  

You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…” 

Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see. 

The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end. 

“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly. 

“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.” 

“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue. 

You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather. 

It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside. 

Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this? 

As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling. 

It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team. 

But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.

Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did. 

However, 

Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside. 

I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara. 

“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!” 

Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”

Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.” 

“Let me at least walk you to your desk–” 

“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.” 

Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly. 

Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded. 

He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety. 

“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.” 

“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.” 

The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum. 

He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?” 

Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.” 

“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.” 

Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.” 

Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?” 

“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.” 

This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.” 

Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.” 

“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?” 

“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.” 

Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?” 

“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.” 

There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not. 

But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company. 

You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you. 

“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash. 

Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!” 

His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed. 

You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously. 

His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity. 

But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at. 

What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

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[wearebarca]

11. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 11

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9* - Part 10

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 5,6k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

A/N: This is the beginning of the end mes amis/es

Running long distances puts the mind and body through a multitude of states. It usually starts with exaltation from the feeling of being surrounded by people moving together. This feeling was usually followed by a sort of calmness that washes over ones self.  Alone in your thoughts, only one thing remained, the finish line. 

The first few miles were  crucial, they separated the ones with a time goal from the rest. By the fifth kilometer there were very few people around the photographer, which was a good sign. 

She was satisfied with her pace when she reached the first drink station at  the seventh kilometer. With her eyes on the prize and the world around her muffled by her earphones, she almost missed them. They were all wearing caps and sunglasses to not be recognized, but the amount of decibels emanating from the little group alone pulled the woman from her focus. Panos, Irene, Patri and Pina were standing on the side of the road  cheering. Rosalie almost lost it when she read the sign the youngest was carrying. “Pain is just French for bread.” 

She gave them all high fives, grabbed a cup of water and kept her pace. Seven kilometers later, she was met with another little group. This time, it was Frido, Ingrid, Aitana and Mapi who were just as loud. Mapi even ran a few meters with her while Ingrid took a few pictures. There was a group at every drink stop. Arsenal and Barcelona players mixing together, for today they were not only footballers and rivals, they were here to support their friend.

There’s this thing which every runner fears during a race. It’s almost inevitable. It’s this threshold where it feels like your body is giving up. Where your energy runs so low that you think your legs will give out under you if you take another step forward. It’s that point in the race where you wonder if you should just stop, give up, where you wonder if this is all worth it. It’s the breaking point. Most runners know this moment as “hitting the wall” 

This moment lies at a different moment for each person, and is often always at the same stage in each race. Experience runners know exactly at which kilometer they will face their wall, and Rosalie could feel hers arriving at the thirty fourth. That’s where breathing became more of an issue, when each step felt like she had lead in her feet. Her arms felt heavy and her head was pounding. Her steps faltered and the pain made the photographer slow down considerably. But still she ran, she was in complete autopilot, unable to focus on anything else but the pain she could feel coursing through her body. It couldn’t end here, not when she was only eight km away from the end. But her body was so heavy, she wasn’t sure if it could carry her to the finish line. 

Alexia had chosen the last drink stop. She had a feeling. The kind that she could not explain but told her that this would be where she was needed. She had driven there and parked on the side of the street. Upon arriving at the drink station, she saw that Sara, along with Lucy and Keira had already made themself comfortable. They were surprised to see the Spanish woman arrive alone, thinking she would be with the rest of the team at an earlier stop. They greeted her with a hug still and made some space in their little stop for the captain.

 “So what made you choose this stop to cheer?” Keira asked, knowing damn well that the brunette wouldn’t have told Alexia that this would most likely be her worst moment of this race.

“I do not know Keira,” She said perplexed, “ Is this not a good spot?” She asked. The woman's expression had sprinkled doubt in her mind. It almost felt like she shouldn’t be here. 

“Lucia?” She said towards the English woman, seeing as the younger woman had turned towards her, not knowing if she should say anything to her captain. 

Lucy took a big breath. “This usually is the point in a race where Rosalie breaks.” She said with a slightly worried expression. “No one besides us and her trainers knows about this.” She said her eyes went back to the street for a second before coming back to the blonde. “She doesn’t like to be seen like this, so we’re usually the only ones allowed at this stop when she runs this many kilos.” 

Alexia understood this. She hated when people witnessed her weakness. She understood why the brunette preferred to only have her family here when she was at her lowest, but she also felt deep down that she was right to be here. 

The first racers zoomed past the station, running at a pace that looked impossible to keep. They were professionals and it showed. While the footballers spoke, Sara stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the street, her phone out with the chrono app opened. She had tracked the race with the help of the other Barcelona players who had texted her at exactly what time Rosalie had reached each hydration stop. She knew that the photographer was not far behind this wave. Three hours and forty five minutes was the goal time, and at seven kilometers from the end and three hours and seven minutes passed, Rosalie should be at this station in less than five minutes. 

So when Sara first saw the outline of Rosalie’s silhouette, she was surprised. She had been faster than what they had both thought. Sara was aware of Rosalie’s wall. They had talked about it extensively, and seeing her this early only accentuated her worries. She stood up to try and catch a better look at the woman and realized two things. First, the brunette wasn’t running in a straight line, she was slightly zigzagging in the street, clearly unstable on her feet. And second, her head was hanging low. Her sudden movement startled the footballers who instantly rose to their feet and to see. 

Lucy had a worried yet knowing look upon seeing her friend running towards them. Keira took a step towards the road, but was met with Lucy’s arm keeping her from taking a step.

 “But she’s…”One look from the woman was enough to shut her up. Meanwhile Alexia stood frozen in place, torn between running towards her and staying here. In the end, Sara was the only one who met the French-Canadian in the street. She simply ran next to her, muttering encouraging words and telling her how fast she had run this race and how close she was to the end. But Rosalie registered none of it. She didn’t need to. All that was important to her was knowing that she was with people she loved right now and that was what made her keep moving. 

She saw Lucy’s proud expression, Keira’s quiet excitement, but the thing that hit her the most, was Alexia. Alexia who had chosen this specific stop without knowing, who’s gaze was filled with pride and something that looked a lot like reverence was fixed on her. Those bright hazel eyes that shone in the sunlight. She was smiling, and clapping with the rest of the small crowd, but Rosalie’s whole perspective seemed to narrow down to her. 

Something being thrusted in her hands pulled the brunette from her trance like state and reminded her of her current predicament. Upon looking down, she realized that she had been given some glucide gummies and a granola bar. She shoved the gummies in her mouth and gave back the bar to Sara along with a look that meant, “It’s ok, I’ll be ok.” 

The pain was still very much present, but so was the determination to finish this race. When she passed in front of the English woman, she winked at them and smiled, which pulled a laugh from them both. Alexia had her hand out, waiting for the photographer to grab it, which she did and let herself be pulled in a quick embrace.

 “You are amazing.” She heard the words being whispered in her ear before letting go of her hand and running towards the finish line with a newly lit fire. 

Catching the sight of the red inflatable archway was definitely in the top ten most euphoric moments of Rosalie’s life. She had pushed farther than she ever had and this was the tangible proof of her unrelenting efforts. The last 300 meters had the street flanked by gates with people twice as loud as they were at the beginning. Even if the runners were at their very last flicker of strength, the energy of the crowd and the sheer euphoria was enough to carry them to the line.

The closest she got, the wider her smile was stretching. Gone was the looming pressure in her abdomen that had been her companion for the last ten kilometers, gone was the heaviness in her legs that made her drag her feet. This was it, and her whole family was here to witness it. Beth was the first she spotted, most likely because she was the loudest one of the bunch, and around her, the rest of the Arsenal girls and Barcelona team were also cheering loudly. The moment her feet crossed the finish line, her head snapped to the group, on her face, the brightest smile they had seen her make in a long time. Collecting her medal was only an afterthought in her mind, the most important thing was to run to the gate and launch herself in the arms of this group of footballers who she considered her family. Only one person was allowed to cross over the gate with her. Usually, it was either Lucy or Leah who did, but this time, Rosalie caught herself wishing the blonde captain would. But nothing was official between the two, hell, they haven't even talked about anything remotely related to that subject. She was also aware of the presence of cameras all around, and the fact that the footballers had clearly been recognized by the looks that were sent their way. 

So she was not hurt when a volunteer ushered the player to cross the barrier only for the captain to decline and let Lucy pass. She would get her moment with the photographer later, and she would make sure Rosalie knew just how proud she was. As soon as the English player had passed the barrier, she grabbed the photographer in a bone crushing hug and lifted her off the ground. A multitude of photographers had converged towards them and captured the euphoric moments between sisters. 

Lucy did not put her down, but instead, started to walk towards the big screen a few meters from there. It displayed the arrival time of the runners and in which place they had finished the race. It had not even occurred to her that she should go see her time. Rosalie could feel in her bones that this had been a very good run but never had she thought that she could be high on the positions. So she began her search for her name at the bottom of the screen, and the more her eyes travelled up, the more incredulous she was. 

Twenty thousand runners in total. Twenty thousand people and she had placed fifth. Second, fastest woman, fifth place at her second marathon. She was frozen in place, with Lucy’s arms still around her and the crowds screaming around her. She turned around again to meet this captivating hazel gaze. The smile that stretched Rosalie’s features filled the captain’s heart with so much pride as she extended her arms, waiting for the brunette to crash into her. 

“I’m all sweaty and disgusting,” She whispered in the crook of her neck.

“I don’t care.” Alexia responded, holding her fiercely, not caring anymore about the gate between them nor all the eyes fixed on them. 

From there the afternoon flew by in a blur for the photographer, who got to collect her medal and met up  with the rest of her group under the restaurant / bar tent. It was easy to forget her body’s exhaustion when the atmosphere around her was so electric and festive. She got the chance to take pictures with all her friends and even some with the Barcelona players who had come to support her. She knew the media team would have a field day with those and for once, she would not mind the spotlight. 

No one had picked up their phones other than for pictures, so no one was aware of the shockwave some of those pictures were creating in the football world. This time was not meant for worries and public image, but for celebration. Rosalie was in the middle of a conversion with some of the runners she had met when a hand grabbed hers and gently guided her out of the tent. She was now in a calm, secluded spot outside, once again, in the arms of the woman who had quickly become such an important part in her life. 

“How does it feel to be one of the best?” Alexia asked playfully.

“You already know, I don’t need to describe it to you.” The brunette said. Alexia smiled at that, her hand moving on its own accord and tucking a stray strand of hair behind Rosalie’s ear. 

“I know you’re probably exhausted, but I was wondering if you would come over to my place tonight.” She said, bending down so her lips were leveled with the brunette's ear. “I want to show you just how proud I am of you.” She whispered in a low husky voice that made Rosalie’s breath hitch. Alexia’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear and Rosalie’s eyes closed, trying to concentrate on staying upright. Too caught up in the moment, none of them heard the click of a camera, nor the rapid movement of someone exiting the premises. 

After dinner, it was agreed that the Arsenal girls would head back to their hotel and they would all make plans together in the afternoon to let Rosalie relax. As the group started to gather their stuff, Rosalie headed to the spot where she had left her bags and was followed by Alexia and Lucy. ALexia picked up most of the burnette's bags and Lucy sent a look her way, quickly understanding that the marathonian would not ride back with her. She gave one last hug to the girl, telling her again how proud she was and that she would call her in the morning to plan something with her and the rest of the arsenal girls. She then headed back to the table, but not without teasing the duo one last time. 

Stepping into the space, The first thing Rosalie noticed was the hurried sound of little steps coming their way. It only took a second for the small dog to make its appearance in the corridor. Nala beelined for the photographer who, not without wincing, bent down to collect the fluffy beast. 

“Wow I see how it is.” Alexia chuckled as she took her shoes off and bent down to unlace Rosalie’s trainers. Rosalie sat down on the small bench and let the footballer slide her shoes off. She took Rosalie’s free hand and guided her deeper into her home. 

The long corridor was framed by a multitude of jerseys all from different teams and with different names. Rosalie recognized most of them, some being legends and others she had heard of. 

“These are all from jersey swaps.” Alexia said, noticing the brunette’s interest. “All from games that matter a lot to me.” She said, her gaze distant as it stopped on a particular England jersey. It was Lucy’s, from the 2022 Euro final. Suddenly, something changed in those hazel irises. “I know you are biased, Rosalia, but this is our time.” She said with determination.

Rosalie could only admire the strength and determination Alexia was showing, but she also was dreading this tournament for this exact reason. Both of the teams were likely the favorites and the chances of facing each other in the finals were high. 

Alexia seemed to come out of her trance and guided the brunette deeper into her space. The corridor led to a very spacious open kitchen concept. The apartment was on two stories, with a high ceiling and a mezzanine that likely led to the master bedroom and bathroom. The walls were white and decorated with minimalist artwork. The space was dimly lit which brought a cosy feeling to this big open space. It was all very Alexia. Very simple, almost bare, but homely nonetheless. 

“There’s not much to look at, I know.” The blonde said. “I just don’t like to feel cluttered.

“Non non it’s very nice, I like it.” Rosalie said with a smile. Alexia answered with her own as she made her way up the stairs. She motioned to the photographer and she followed, not without struggling to climb the stairs with her exhausted legs. Before she had reached the top, she heard the sound of a bath being drawn. When she arrived in the master bathroom, Alexia had lit up a myriad of candles and was sitting on the side of the bath to test the water temperature. “You don’t have to Ale.” 

Alexia stood up and walked the few feet separating her from the brunette. “I know, but I want to, hermosa.” Alexia left a gentle kiss on Rosalie’s forehead and left the bathroom, allowing the brunette the space to undress and relax. Rosalie lost track of how long she stayed there, but by the time she pulled herself out of the tub, the water was lukewarm and her skin had pruned. She wrapped her towel around her and walked out of the bathroom. She peered over the railing to see if the taller woman was downstairs but there was no sign of her. She walked down the corridor to what she assumed was Alexia’S bedroom, where she could hear faint music playing

She stopped at the door, taking in the room, and the woman inside. Alexia had changed from her jeans and hoodie, to comfy looking linen shorts, and what appeared to be Rosalie’s college T-shirt. She smiled at the thought of Alexia stealing the piece of clothing and imagined her going around in her apartment with it on while the photographer was away in London.

She then took in the rest of the room. The same decoration style translated from the rest of the apartment to Alexia’s bedroom, but the space seemed more personal with a few pictures hung on the walls. Some were with familiar faces, teammates from barça or some she recognized from the national team, and others that featured women who shared a striking resemblance to the captain.  One in particular caught the photographer’s attention as she stepped in the room and stepped in front of the frame. 

They were at the beach. Alexia was wearing the same bikini she had on the day they all went together. She was clinging to an older woman and kissing her cheek while the other one, a younger brunette, was kissing the other cheek. Joy seemed to seep out of this photograph and Rosalie could not help but smile at it. 

“ This is my sister and my mother.” Alexia said as she made her way towards the brunette and wrapped her arms around Rosalie’s waist.

“ You guys look close.” Rosalie said. The words felt bittersweet in her mouth as a fleeting thought of her own relationship with her mother crossed her mind. “You are lucky.” She finally said with a small smile playing on her lips.

“ Oh I do not know about that.” Alexia chuckled. “Alba can be a pain in the ass. Tan entrometida.”

“Aren’t all siblings?” Rosalie said laughing. Alexia paused for a second, impressed by the fact that Rosalie caught what she had said.

“Yes, I’ve been working on my Spanish.” She said with a cheeky smile as she turned in Alexia’s arms, facing her. “So Capitana, mind telling me what this setup is for?.” Rosalie said, motioning to the bed behind them.

Alexia took the brunette’s hand and guided her to the bed, she lightly pushed her down,but with her level of exhaustion, it didn’t take much for the photographer to tumble down on the bed. Only then did she realize a towel had been laid down on the sheets. 

“ Mais qu’est-ce…” Before she could finish her sentence, Alexia left her side to pick up a bottle that Rosalie recognized as massage oil. “ Oh, tu es parfaite.” 

Alexia smiled, having understood partly what the French-Canadian had said. “ You relax now, bonita.” She said, popping the cap opened. 

Alexia’s hands felt divine as they worked through the muscle of her legs. She worked with precision, applying pressure where she felt knots and easing the tension in the muscles. Every swipe of her hand threatened to pull a moan from the photographer.

 “Alexia this is..” Rosalie could not even finish her sentence because a particular press at the muscle of her thigh forced a groan from her lips. “ Where did you learn this.”

“ I have had my fair share of physio appointments to have learned a thing or two.” When Alexia was done, the photographer was half asleep on the bed, body like jelly and in a state of relaxation she wasn’t sure she had ever experienced. “Rosalia,” Alexia whispered, “We have to wash away the oil, come.”

Rosalie could only hum at the blonde, who laughed and picked up the smaller woman and carried her to the bathroom once again. They showered together, scrubbing the oil away, but not without getting carried away in the process. When they finally slipped back under the covers, it only took a minute for the photographer to be whisked away in a deep slumber. Alexia pulled the brunette in her embrace and settled behind her, soon following her in the realm of dreams. 

If you’d ask Rosalie about her favorite types of morning, she would tell you something along the lines of early breakfast, a good run, a shower and a late brunch alone  or with good company. But that was before this morning. Before she knew that it was possible to be woken up by the crescendo of her release rapidly approaching. She woke up gasping, her body jolting, but powerful hands were holding her hips down on the sheets, trapping Rosalie under Alexia’s relentless mouth. 

One of her hands grabbed her pillow as the other tangled itself in blonde locks. She could feel Alexia’s lips curl into a smile. “Bon dia Rosalia.” She all but purred, the vibration sending a shock through her whole body. 

Rosalie didn’t get the chance to answer the captain because her sentence was cut short by a guttural moan escaping her lips as she felt two fingers enter her. 

Alexia met no resistance as she lazily pumped her fingers, matching the rhythm of her tongue on her clit. She knew that Rosalie was close by the way she was squeezing her fingers. She switched the movement of her tongue to wrapping her lips around her clit and gently sucking. She curled her fingers and found that specific place which pushed Rosalie over the edge, the sensation growing so strong, she lost control of her body. Her mind going blank, she finally surrendered completely to her release. 

Alexia held her through it, her fingers slowing down but not stopping, wanting to drag out every ounce of Rosalie’s orgasm. Only when the fingers in her hair started to pull lightly did she finally pulled her fingers out and kiss her up the runner’s body. She was simply mesmerizing. Her chest was heaving still, her brunette hair was sprawled on the pillow in a hollow and a light smile was playing on her lips. 

“How are you feeling, little champion?” Alexia whispered before kissing her cheek lightly. 

“Wonderful.” She answered, feeling her body grow heavy once more and her eyes closing on their own accord. 

“You should get more sleep, you deserve it.” She said, tucking the brunette in the covers. 

Alexia grabbed her phone and a large t-shirt and left the bedroom, but not before checking back to the photographer, who had already drifted back to sleep. 

The Arsenal girls knew that there was no way Rosalie would be able to get up at the same time as them today. They knew how demanding the day before was and were glad to know the brunette was finally relaxing. The were all gathered aroud a little table in a coffee shop near Steph’s hotel, along with Lucy and Keira,when all hell broke loose.

Beth was the first to see the pictures. It was hard not to, they were circulating online at record speed. She first passed the phone to Leah, who was the one closest to her. It was the England captain's expression that caught Lucy’s attention. She saw her features go from shock to anger in the space of a few seconds. Then, it was the look in her eyes, like she was ready to end someone’s life right there and then. One look and the phone was passed to the older brunette. 

The first one was of the club. It had been taken from the bar where the person had a clear view of the dancefloor. You could see the team dancing and having fun, but in the far corner, There was Alexia, with a very recognizable expression, dragging a clueless Rosalie to the confines of the club bathroom. Anyone could guess that this was not a normal gals chat waiting to happen. The second one was of them exiting the club. Clearly disheveled and in a hurry. Force was to admit that these two could have been taken by any paparazzi or fan present that night.

But the others. Those were worrying. One was taken from a high point of view and panned down to the pitch where Alexia was standing very close to Rosalie, her hand on her hips and smiling down at the brunette. The other was of them, behind the tent the day before. The person had caught them kissing, arms wrapped around each other. The next one was the same settings, probably a few seconds after and showed them both smiling like idiots. Lucy took a second to really look at it. They looked happy and it warmed her heart to see it but soon enough, the reason she had these pictures ignited her anger again. 

The last one was the one that worried her the most. It was of Rosalie and Alexia walking up to an apartment complex. One Lucy knew well. This person had knowingly or not, divulged Alexia's address on social media.  

Lucy stood up abruptly and pulled out her own phone for her pocket. She prayed that the two women were still wrapped in their little bubble, too caught up in each other to check their phones. 

Her first call was to Marcello. She wanted to know who had posted these. Turns out, the new head of social media was already on the case. Then her finger hovered on her captain’s contact name. She knew that when it came to her private life, Alexia became fiercely protective. So she decided that it would be better if Alexia was coaxed into the news rather than discovered it like the last time. 

She waited for the woman to pick up, and at the moment she was about to give up, the line opened and all she could hear were rapid spanish cursing and loud clattering. “Alexia?”

“Aye, mierda, un momento Lucia.” she heard far away as more clattering followed by a string of very colourful words. 

“Ok ok, que quieres?” The poor blonde sounded overwhelmed. 

“What in the world are you doing Ale?”

“Burning breakfast.” Her answer followed by the sound of plates clattering. 

“Ok ok is Rosie still knocked out?” An awkward silence followed her question and Lucy cringed internally. “Don’t answer that. Have you been on your socials today?”

“No, why?” The silence that followed sent a chill in Alexia’s veins. She put the English woman on speaker and opened instagram. Lucy simply waited, listening to the blonde’s breathing in the speaker. She allowed her the time to process all this, and only spoke when she heard the sound of a chair being pulled and a long exhale on the other side of the line. 

“Ale?”

“Who.” That single word was laced with so much anger, it surprised the older woman. 

“We don’t know yet. Marcello is looking into it.” Another silence. 

“Did you see the comments?” Alexia asked, her voice cold and deadly. Lucy paused. She had not thought about that before and a ball dropped in her stomach. She had an idea of what exactly she would find if she was to scroll down the comment section and the thought alone drove her mad. 

“Lucy there’s people outside.” Alexia said. Looking out her window and seeing a bunch of people with cameras on her street.

“Ok you need to call management now Alexia. And please, this is going to be hell for her too…” Lucy started, but was cut off by the blonde. 

“Si, I know, do not worry.” She said, hanging up after. 

It took another hour for the Brunette to wake up. She threw on  an oversized Barcelona t-shirt she found laying on the dresser and made her way down the stairs. By then, Alexia had managed to get a hold of the disastrous breakfast situation and was sitting at the kitchen island. There was soft music playing in the background and everything was set up for a relaxing breakfast, and yet the atmosphere felt extremely tense. Rosalie could see the tension in Alexia’s posture and the way her shoulders rose then fell in rhythm with each shaky breath. 

It was like being splashed with cold water. Rosalie froze only a few feet from the captain, who seemed to sense her presence and pivoted on her stool. Her wild gaze seemed to soften at the sight of the photographer, but hardened once more at the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter. 

« What’s… what’s going on Alexia? » Rosalie asked, stuttering a little. 

“Where is your phone?” Alexia asked quickly. 

“I don’t know. It’s probably still in my bag, I didn’t take it out when we arrived.” Rosalie answered, confused about the question.

 “Why? Did someone try to reach me? Is everything ok?” She asked, panic starting to rise and making her words stumble out rapidly. 

Alexia stood up. She could see that her state was affecting the photographer. She made her way to the smaller woman and took her hands in hers. They had started shaking and shiny green orbs were piercing through her, waiting for an explanation. 

“Someone put some pictures of us online.” She said softly, as if her gentle voice could erase the message it had to convey. “They stalked us and caught us together. They even posted pictures of the front of my apartment.”

Only now did Rosalie register the noise coming from the opened window in the living room. She made a move to go see but Alexia didn’t let go of her hands and pulled her closer to her. “No no no Rosalia please listen to me.”

Rosalie’s breathing was quickening. In Such a short time, her privacy had been invaded twice. Plastering on the wall her life and shattering once again the fruits of her healing. She had already come so close to losing this connection with the captain and now once again, she was being thrusted into the spotlight against her will.

She could not stand to be this close to the woman she was sure would hate her again. She tried to pry away from her grip and put some distance between the two but strong hands kept her still.

 “Rosalia look at me” The words were muffled by the ringing in her ears, which seemed to intensify with every second. Her eyes were flying around the room without being able to focus on anything. She could feel herself slip into a state of panic, the feeling overpowering her. 

“ I’m… I’m sorry so… Merde… Je suis désolé Alexia please I’m…” words were stumbling out and she simply had no control over her own reaction. She was rapidly spiraling when warm hands connected with her cheeks. 

“Rosalie, breathe with me please.” Alexia took a long inhale and held it in for a second before letting go. Rosalie tried but it felt like something was constricting her chest and keeping her from breathing in. Alexia brought her hand up to her chest and laid her own on the photographer’s. “Here, can you feel me? I can feel you Rosalia, I am here with you. I am not going anywhere.”

She focused on the rise and fall of the footballer’s chest. A steady beat that grounded her and slowly brought her back in the present. Alexia stayed still allowing the photographer the time she needed. Time she herself needed to wrap her head around their situation. 

Rosalie’s forehead had, at some point, landed on Alexia’s shoulder. All her senses were flooded by the blonde’s presence and her words were slowly registering in her mind. They didn’t know how long they stayed in this position but when Rosalie finally moved, her limbs felt stiff and sore. Her gaze travelled up and reached Alexia’s own. “ Do you mean that?”

“Si, preciosa, I am not going anywhere, it’ll be ok.”

They spend the day on the sofa. Rosalie watched bad reality shows and documentaries while Alexia was, as always, studying their opponent’s previous games before their next champion league meet. Everytime one of their phones would light up, they tensed and waited a second before reaching for the device. Alexia and Lucy had kept in touch during the day but nothing new had come from their little investigation. Just like the first time, it was agreed that a meeting with the concerned parties and management would be held the next day and this time, Alexia was determined to have better results than before. 

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | 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 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“This is just a dream.” Your words came out in a tangled string, altogether as air being forced out of a balloon. You partially sagged as well, instinctively locked muscles loosening again after you’d realize there was another person next to you on the beach. 

She was beautiful, as always, with long silver-blonde hair  and violet eyes cut into a soft face. You froze for the briefest instant at the fact that her tall, Amazonian body was clothed, but dreams never followed the rules. 

With your arms out wide, you reached for the woman that had appeared beside you on the beach. “Right? Is it just a dream? L… like the ones before?”

You wanted it to be true. The swell of hope rose within you like the tide at your feet, but it was tainted by something that shook you and made your heart race.

The truth was like oil leaking through and into your bloodstream, sticking to your veins until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Until it made you feel sick and trapped inside your own skin. 

“Right?”

The serene expression on Eve’s face gave way and rendered her heartache. She looked at you with violet eyes gone glassy for a long, long moment. 

Eve shook her head slowly. “No.”

—

The realm-traversing portal opened up amidst rolling clouds without much fanfare. Lucifer’s eyes snapped shut as he was accosted by piercing white light on all sides when he stepped out of it. 

“Ugh.” The blond blinked rapidly, trying in vain to adjust to the shift from dark red to blinding light. “It’s like crashing into the sun...” 

Heaven’s gates came into focus. 

“… while it’s going supernova.” Lucifer finished, muttering as he took a moment to shake out his sleeves. 

He stayed in place, readjusting his clothes while his wings folded back behind him. Heaven loomed on the horizon, only a short walk away. A fact that was eroding the King’s resolve with each passing moment.

Lucifer swallowed, straightening his bow tie. 

He wanted to turn back. 

It had been many millennia since he’d stepped foot anywhere near what was once his home; and in spite of the time and the distance, Lucifer could feel dread creeping up on him. The memory of being pushed and plummeting down, down, down into fire and brimstone came to him as if it had happened yesterday. 

Lucifer glanced down, anticipating the rise of molten rock and plumes of smoke as he headed straight into the Earth’s core. 

He was still standing, hands shaking so hard that his apple cane was tapping against the slow yet merrily rolling clouds. 

      The former angel closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply to steel himself. 

This was for you. He needed to know that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This was for you. 

He’d do anything for you. 

Another breath. Lucifer stepped out from behind the clouds and onto the golden path that led to you. Just a few feet away and the blond tried to keep his eyes level with the gate itself, purposefully avoiding the all-knowing symbol above. 

A very bored-looking angel was flicking through the pages of what Lucifer assumed to be a reservation list. He couldn’t quite put a name to the face, as unless St. Peter had dyed his hair and grown a good deal of scruff on his chin, this was someone totally new to the gig. 

      Lucifer grimaced, wondering if this was a boon or not. 

“Excuse me!” Lucifer called up. 

“Ah!” The angel squawked. “Oh! Shi-I mean—!”

He fumbled with the book, accidentally crumpling a page mid-flick. Lucifer waited, tapping his foot nervously while the gatekeeper pulled himself together. 

       Finally, he smacked both hands against the book, using it as leverage to lean over and get a better look at the new arrival. 

“My apologies! Welcome to He-H…” Pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks within the angel’s eyes upon catching sight of the newest ‘arrival’. 

‘Oh fuck, okay.’ Lucifer lamented, posture sinking as he readied himself for a shitstorm. 

       His wings stretched out once more, and Lucifer glided up as stealthily as possible. The angel reeled back upon his approach, horror-struck, while the blond met him face-to-face.

“Yes! Hello there Mmmm—”” Lucifer squinted at the name tag pinned to the angel’s chest. “Matthias! Wonderful to meet you! Unless we’ve met before, in which case I apologize! It’s been quite a while since I’ve been up rather than down. Heh.”

Matthias continued to stare, jaw practically hanging off his face. “Y-you—you’re-!”

Lucifer’s smile waned like a melting candle. He drummed his fingers against the table top and cleared his throat. 

“Right.” Lucifer continued. “So, anyway, I’m here just to say ‘hi’ to a very special someone, and I would be eternally grateful if you could help me out with that.” 

He waited a full minute, watching Matthias shake like a leaf. It left Lucifer torn between irritation and anxiety. 

“Look, I’m not here to make waves.” He tried again. “I’ve done that enough for an immortal lifetime! And you know that, clearly.”

He chuckled, pulling at his collar. “I’m not asking for much. If anything, I’m actually doing my due diligence as far as Heaven is concerned and what’s that you got there? Is that a flip phone? Didn’t know they made those anymore. Who’re you dialin-”

“PETER!” Matthias screeched into the dated device. Lucifer’s whole body flinched at the sheer volume. 

“Wait, no, no, no!” Lucifer panicked, arms flapping to regain Matthias’s attention. 

Matthias continued to rear back until he’d fallen off the podium, and he barely managed to remember his own wings before hitting the ground. 

“Peter!” He cried. “Come back! We have a situation here!”

“No we don’t!” Lucifer tried to butt in. “He’s being ridiculous Peter. Don’t listen to him!”

“You need to get back here now! No, now!” Matthias snapped the phone shut and kept aloft a good distance from the King of Hell. 

He then made the sign of the cross, of all things. 

“Stay back!” The angel yelped. “I’m warning you I-I-I’ve been abstinent for over a hundred years and it didn’t break me! Neither will you, foul Tempter!” 

Lucifer stopped, lips peeling back as if he’d just sucked a lemon. 

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.” Lucifer said, floating closer. “Look, maybe you didn’t get what I was saying, I’m just—”

“I said stay back!” 

Lucifer groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fuck me for thinking Heaven learned to listen.”

—

You felt lighter as you made your way back into the cityscape of Heaven, although your heart was truly aching. 

     There was no use in staying hidden in the trees, but as you crossed back into the modernized version of paradise, you vowed to return. Unless Eve herself decided to make another reappearance and join the rest of her angelic peers. 

Speaking of which…

Wandering had led you back to the center of the town, and you noticed that it lacked an angel or two… hundred. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked the empty air. Not a soul stirred at your inquiry, but you stared at the cafe on your left. 

     The majority of cafe tables hadn’t been bussed. You peered at the plates of half-eaten pastries and teacups, noting that more than one was still full and steaming. 

“There you are!”

 The unmistakable voice of Emily put a stopper in your confusion. “Where have you been? I was so worried!”

The holy woman hovered before you, unable to stay still as her wings beat against the air frantically. You frowned.

“Hey Emily.” You responded slowly, your brain still picking up the inconsistencies. “Do you know where everyone is?”

The angel shook her head, staggering you as she instantly took your arm and plucked you from the ground like a flower. 

“Woah! Hold on, wait a second!” You choked on your own saliva in surprise. You struggled to pry her delicate hands off of you as you were dragged through the air. “Emily! What’re you doing?”

“You have to come quickly!” Emily exclaimed. 

“Let me go!” You demanded.

You gawked when she just sped up. Emily raced through the empty town center with you dangling behind her, until she had taken you out into the open air. The gate into Heaven rose above all else as you fast approached it. 

—

A crowd had amassed from the city pavilion to stand and watch, aghast at the scene before them. Some cowered in their places while others edged closer to whatever was happening on the other side of the gate. 

     People were still floating in as Emily rocketed toward the front. You had no choice but to follow her lead, windswept hair falling in your eyes and mouth. You spat as you were planted on solid foundation again, and jostled forward by a no less overwrought Emily. 

You parted your hair like curtains, expression already screwed up and twisted in anger. You looked up and over your shoulder at the angel nervously chewing on her lower lip. 

“Excuse my language but what the hell is going on?” You bit out. Ugh, hair still caught on your tongue. 

Emily didn’t deign to give you any answers beyond a hand raised, finger pointing ahead. Her gesture made you scoff, though you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

      The last thing you expected to see was a squad of angels in pastel blues and whites, brandishing technological spears at Lucifer fucking Morningstar. 

“Please, everyone, there’s absolutely no need for any of this!” Lucifer’s tone was an odd mix of disarming and pacifying. 

He was bowed over, arms held out in a bid for calm. It was only met with more hostility, as several of the spears pointed at him sizzled with visible electricity. 

“Spare us your lies, Serpent. And be gone.” One of the aggressors spoke, sporting a remarkably deep voice despite his youthful appearance. A chorus sounded behind the creature, shouts of ‘be gone’ and ‘back to hell’ resounding until the pounding of your heart drowned it all out. 

Your breath came up fast and shallow, the capacity to rationalize long gone at the sight of the Devil.         

     You’d just accepted the loss of him, had exposed the wound he had left behind in your soul to the open air and grieved the lesson it taught you. Death had parted you both and you had been preparing to accept it, no alternative left to contemplate. 

“Lou...”

Mouth open, you tried to formulate your thoughts into words. You were coming up short, voice cracking and striped like a dying animal. 

“Lucifer.” 

You went ramrod straight, electricity enveloping your sight. He staggered.

“LUCIFER!” 

Pain lanced through him, but Lucifer only had eyes for you. You, calling his name and racing forward to grapple with the bars of Heaven’s gate. You, beautiful and glowing and real again. 

The King stood up, gripping the spear that had made contact with him only moment’s ago and throwing it off. Gabriel fell to the wayside like a swatted fly, his squad of soldiers swarming around to try and right him. 

They might as well have ceased to exist as Lucifer moved toward you. Heaven ceased to exist altogether, as soon he was close enough to take your outstretched hands. 

“You’re here.” 

***

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[homeofthelonelywriter]

Drawn to you | Pt. 1

(A/N) My first Alastor fanfiction. Let me know if you want another part!

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: fluff, talk about death, mentions of Alastors human life activities (iykyk)

Synopsis: Alastor had never felt the need for friends, or something even deeper. But now that you're here...what is that feeling in his chest?

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

Everyone was gathered in the hotel lobby as Charlie was going through a new trust exercise. Angel had tuned out a long time ago and Husk didn’t even come out from behind his bar. The only ones actively listening were Vaggie, Nifty, and Sir Pentious. Alastor, similarly to Angel was physically there but not paying any attention.

Instead, his mind was focused on his radio broadcast comeback. What would he talk about? Who’s screams would he share with the other sinners?

A timid knock brought him back to there and then, as his eyes met Charlie’s. Hers were bright and sparkling, anticipation clear.

“A new guest, a new guest, a new guest.”

The words left her in a sing-song manner as she started to skip towards the front door. But Alastor held out his cane to stop the princess.

“Please, don’t let this interrupt this very important exercise. I will gladly see to whoever is at the door. As is my job, of course.”

His signature smile widened, almost in a desperate way. Anything to get out of this group therapy.

“Ah, of course, Alastor. Thank you.”

With that, Charlie turned back towards the rest of the group and continued to talk, but not without glancing back a few times, to watch what was going on.

As soon as the princess agreed to let Alastor handle the newcomer, he used his shadows to teleport himself over to the door, before energetically swinging it open. His mouth opened to speak his practiced welcome, but no words came out.

His eyes landed on you and he felt his mouth dry up. You were…cute.

“H-Hi. I hope I’m not bothering anyone, I…I heard about the hotel and w-wanted to ask if I-I could help?”

The demon in front of you kept staring without uttering a single word and you started to grow worried. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. Maybe they didn’t need any more people working here. Maybe they didn’t even want anyone else working here. Maybe this is all just a huge front for something really sinister. Maybe…

Alastor blinked, once, twice, three times before something pulled him out of his stupor. His eyes snapped to the top of your head, where your long ears had started to twitch while you were overthinking.

“Ahm…”

Alastor started but was quickly cut off when Charlie appeared beside him.

“Hi! We’d love your help! Come in, come in!”

The princess quickly grabbed your hands and pulled you inside, leaving the stunned overlord at the door. You smiled at her energetic display, but couldn’t help but glance back at the sinner, dressed in red, still standing at the door. By now he was slowly closing it before he turned to look at you.

Being caught staring, you quickly averted your gaze and instead focused on what the demon beside you was saying. She introduced you to the others, before she whisked you away, to show you around. Alastor was left in the lobby, mulling over what had just happened.

“Looks like someone left you speechless, huh Smiles?”

It was almost terrifying how quickly Alastor whipped around to glare at the spider demon.

“Would you like to repeat that, Angel?”

Loud static filled the lobby and Angel shrunk in on himself, muttering a quick apology before running to his room. Alastor sighed and fixed his bowtie, asking himself what had gotten him so worked up. His mind only answered with a single image. You, at the door, looking at him, hope in your eyes.

With a quiet growl, Alastor teleported himself to his radio tower. At least there he would be able to find some peace. Or so he thought. He had barely sat down when he heard a familiar voice outside the door.

“And this is Alastor’s radio tower. Do you see this light? When this is on, he’s in the middle of a broadcast and you really shouldn’t disturb him. Just in general, if he’s in here, only disturb him if really necessary. Honestly, I think that’s something that applies to him in general.”

The last sentence had Alastor up on his feet and in front of the door in a split second. He swung it open, his signature grin wide.

“Ah, the newbie.”

He grinned down at you, his grin faltering slightly as he watched you shrink away. Still, he carried on.

“Would you like a tour of my studio? It’s small, but it is mighty.”

Had Alastor spared Charlie a look, he would’ve noticed how her eyes lit up and she started nodding.

“I think that would be wonderful!”

Charlie gently shoved you towards the door.

“I have to get back to the others. Would you finish the tour after the…tour? Just show her to her room, that’s all that’s left.”

Alastor nodded, before placing his hand on the small of your back and gently ushering you inside.

“Of course, consider it done.”

Charlie thanked him, before hurrying back to the lobby.

Once Charlie was gone, Alastor closed the door and turned to look at you. He was about to say something, but the moment he noticed the amazement in your eyes, he lost the words he was about to speak. Instead, he let you look around, walk up to his console, and trail your fingers over the buttons and levers.

This was his holy space. Somewhere where not even the princess of Hell was allowed to enter. But you being here? That just felt right. He continued to watch you, and for the first time in his life, both on Earth and here, he felt something like…love.

“Do you like it?”

His voice was soft, the static almost completely gone. You turned to look at him and after a moment of hesitation, you nodded.

“When I was alive, I used to work in a radio station. I wasn’t a host, but I wrote scripts and corresponded with listeners. I loved it.”

Alastor’s smile turned genuine as he slowly walked toward you.

“May I ask where you worked? In which city?”

You chuckled and turned back to the controls.

“New Orleans.”

Alastor halted in his movements, staring at you with wide eyes.

“A-And when did you die?”

His hands were shaking. What if…?

“Not too long ago. I think one, maybe two years ago.”

Your response caused him to release a breath of relief. If you had died closer to his lifetime, there would’ve been a good chance you knew of his doings and for some reason…he didn’t want you to know. Didn’t want you to fear him, to think of him with disgust in your heart.”

“Well, it seems we’re connected in some ways. I too worked in a radio station in New Orleans! However, I did pass quite some time before you have.”

You look at him, a soft smile on your face.

“That’s too bad. I would love to have met you on Earth.”

He grinned and stepped closer to you.

“Well, you’ve met me now.”

With practiced grace, he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, ghosting a kiss onto your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the gesture and quickly tried to change the topic.

“So you still have a radio broadcast down here?”

Alastor chuckled at your reaction before straightening to his full height again.

“I sure do. Although I did have to take a break. I’m currently working on my comeback if you’d like to help me.”

You nodded, excited at the prospect of working in radio again.

The two of you sat down together and started working, not noticing how late it was getting. By the time either of you realized what time it was, it was well past midnight and both your bellies were grumbling with hunger.

“My oh my, we truly got a lot done. How about some well-deserved dinner, my dear?”

You nodded and accepted Alastor’s hand, and before you knew it, you were standing in a different room. Half of it looked like a standard hotel room with a couch and table, but the other half looked like a forest. A forest you knew all too well.

“Couturie Forest.”

Alastor chuckled beside you.

“You are right. That forest was one of my favorite places when I was alive. I couldn’t resist the urge to bring it here as well.”

You smile at him.

“It’s beautiful.”

With a genuine grin on his face, Alastor offered you his hand, before leading you to the small dinner table that stood inside the forest. He pulled out your chair, before pushing it back in.

“What are you in the mood for, cher?”

You thought for a while before you named one of your favorite dishes. And with a snap of his fingers, it stood in front of you. Your eyes went wide as the smell invaded your nose.

“How…?”

“Well, let’s just say this is a part of my powers?”

You chuckled, before taking a bite, and an almost pornographic moan left your lips.

“Alastor, this is so good!”

His grin widened as he sat down opposite from you, also taking a bite.

The two of you made small talk while you ate, mostly talking about New Orleans and what had changed since Alastor had died. Even after both of you were done with the food, you continued to talk until you could no longer keep the yawns at bay.

Alastor chuckled and snapped, and the dirty dishes disappeared.

“Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

He gently helped you to your feet and with his hand on your lower back, he led you out of his room and across the hall, where an empty room waited for a guest.

“There you go, cher. This is your room, to do with as you please.”

He opened the door and gently ushered you inside.

“But for now, you should go to sleep.”

Once again, he captured your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, before looking up at you.

“Good night, dear.”

You smile at him sleepily.

“Good night, Alastor.”

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[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: BIG SMUT - fingering, PinV, essentially just a chapter of p*rn

Chapter Word Count: 2997

—-MDNI—-

A/N: basically just a whole chapter of smut. Hope it doesn’t suck ass as it’s 2am an I’ve been trying to proof read for half an hour but fuck knows what I’ve just written. 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

Chapter 8 pt. 1

Chapter 8 pt. 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep failing to whisk me away. I tossed and turned for several hours; kicking the covers off in frustration before pulling them up to my chin, then kicking them off again before pulling them back up - repeating this horrid cycle until two in the morning. Thoughts kept racing through my mind and I couldn’t get the image of Dean looking at me with those dark lustful eyes out of my head. The way he watched me move around Sam, witnessing how I caressed his younger brother and made him squirm where he sat. I could only dream of what was going through his mind in that moment - of what I hoped he was thinking. Heat prickled my skin and bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I remembered my daydream from earlier; Dean fucking me into his mattress as he held my hips and sought nothing but his own pleasure. A groan left my lips as I threw my covers off and sat up, rubbing my temples in a weak attempt to dismiss my attraction to the obnoxious man wreaking havoc in my mind. I placed my feet on the cold floor and stood up, deciding a glass of cold water was the best remedy for whatever it was that I was feeling. I rubbed my eyes as I padded towards my bedroom door, tugging on the old T-shirt that barely covered my behind. I grasped the handle and opened the door, jumping in surprise at the sight of Dean leaving his room. A startled noise left my lips as I placed a hand on my chest, not expecting to see him standing there.

“Shit, Dean, you scared the crap out of me.” In response Dean mumbled a half hearted apology, taking a step closer to me.

“What are you doing up? It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“What are you, my dad?” I scoffed, not sure how to feel about the reprimanding. He held his hands up in defence, only bowing his head slightly, not saying anything else. I sighed.

“I just can’t sleep; I’ve been tossing and turning for hours but no luck. I was just on my way to get a glass of water.”

“You didn’t think to put any more clothes on?” He asked, and it looked like he was trying desperately not to look me up and down as his eyes wouldn’t leave mine.

“I’m sorry - how many people do you run into at TWO AM? I wasn’t expecting company,” I tugged more on the bottom of my T-shirt, trying harder to cover up what little dignity I had left in front of Dean Winchester. All of a sudden we were stood in total silence, neither of us knowing what to say as we now avoided eye contact and I played with the hem on my shirt. We stayed like this for a few awkward moments before I opened my mouth to say something right as Dean decided to speak.

“I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n).”

My eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was an almost pained look about his face that was hard to place in the dim lighting. My mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what words to pick. Luckily for me, Dean kept talking.

“That shit you pulled earlier - the way you… danced… for Sam - made me genuinely jealous of my own brother. I mean come on, we’ve already done the deed, why didn’t you pick me?”

“Because how would you have known how good I was if you couldn’t see everything?”

He thought for a second before tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in agreement.

“You’ve got me there.”

“I know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

“You sure do sweetheart,” Dean stepped closer to me, closing the already short distance between us with those forest-green eyes not leaving mine. Our chests were almost touching as his gaze started flicking between my eyes and my lips. I watched as his own lips parted and he chewed on his bottom lip as if deep in thought, his eyes growing darker by the second. My heart started to race and the atmosphere turned thick. What was he thinking about? Why did he have to look at me the way he did - like he wanted to devour me - the intensity of his gaze increasing by the second and making me warm both inside and out. Not another thought ran through my mind when my back thumped against my bedroom door and Deans lips descended on my own - hot and hurried. His large arms circled my waist, rough palms caressing every inch of my back, waist and ass like he was searching for the best place to grip onto - to dig his fingers into my soft skin. I pulled on his hair, bringing his face and body closer to mine, wanting to feel every muscled inch of him press against me.

I released one hand from his hair and reached back, fumbling around the door looking for the handle, soon finding it and twisting. The door swung open and we stumbled in, too wrapped up in every fibre of each other to pay much attention to anything else. Dean kicked the door closed, reluctant to release me from his grasp and his lips still on mine as he hastily backed me towards my bed; my knees hitting the mattress and I tumbled down onto my back, pulling him with me. He gripped me with one strong arm and lifted me further up the bed so I was in a more comfortable position - my head now resting on the pillow and my hair fanning around me. His lips were so soft on mine, his stubble occasionally scratching my chin when his lips parted further and his tongue hesitantly skimmed mine. The action was slow, as if he was testing the waters. I couldn’t stop the moan from leaving my lips at the feeling of him in my mouth and the sheer intimacy of the action, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and surrendering my mouth to him. I subconsciously pulled him closer, my knees parting without a second thought and his hips dipped down, allowing me to feel every well-sculpted muscle in his abdomen and thighs - including the hardness growing in those loose pyjama pants. The ever so familiar sensation of my own arousal began brewing like a storm; twisting in the pit of my stomach with excitement and anticipation. Electric jolts shot through me every time he pressed into my most sensitive area, making my legs twitch involuntarily as breathy gasps escaped me. His mouth quickly left mine and trailed down my throat before he sat up, pulling himself from my grasp. His evergreen eyes, black with desire that pierced into mine with white hot lust held my gaze, and I fought to stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the way he looked at me. Without missing a beat he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, holding himself above me as I let myself admire him - trailing my gaze over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on his tattoo. I reached up and traced my fingers over it, feeling him shiver and groan at my gentle touch, his head dropping into the crook of my neck. With one hand he reached down, those rough fingers delicately slipping into my underwear and circling that sensitive button, making my legs twitch even more than before. He went around and around, tauntingly avoiding contact with it before a desperate whimper slipped from my lips. He smirked like the Devil himself before he finally indulged me, pressing his fingertips expertly to the tender mound, undoing me in a way that I’ve never been undone before. He leaned down as his ministrations continued, pressing soft kisses to my moaning lips. My head tilted back into my pillow as that recognisable feeling in the pit of my stomach began to twist tighter and tighter, my nails digging into Deans shoulders, leaving behind little crescent moon-shaped indents in his skin. My breathing increased and I was right on the edge of bliss when out of nowhere he stopped, the pleasure disappearing in an instant. However before I even had a chance to complain he’d slid two thick fingers inside me with ease, drawing a gasp from my chest. He pumped in and out a few times, teasingly pressing on the hidden cushion of over-sensitive flesh that was hidden deep inside, making me writhe underneath him. It wasn’t hidden to Dean though, no, he knew EXACTLY what he was looking for. Once again this pleasure was short lived as he pulled his fingers out, leaving me cold and empty on the inside. On the outside however I was red hot as I watched the older Winchester stick his fingers in his mouth, circling his tongue around them as he sucked my essence from his digits, not missing a single drop. My heart flipped when he spoke in a low, husky voice.

“Delicious - just like last time.”

Heat spread like wildfire over my cheeks as I blushed furiously, not knowing how to deal with the sexual expertise of this incredibly objectionable man. He placed his hands on my thighs, my knees almost gripping his hips in anticipation.

“Are you ready princess?” He asked, his voice smooth and frustratingly calm, except for his chest rising and falling rapidly with supposedly eager breaths.

“Yes- Dean please-”

In a single beat he pulled himself out of his pants and slid inside me with ease, stretching me as he made every inch disappear. My eyes rolled and my mouth was agape, a pornstar-grade moan unintentionally leaving my lips and making Dean quiver.

“Fuck- (Y/n) don’t squeeze me like that darlin or I won’t last long…” he breathed out, all calmness from his voice now gone.

“I-I’m not doing anything- I swear,” I almost squeak out as he lowers himself over me again, one hand dropping next to my head to support himself as the other gripped my thigh pulling it around him. It was his turn for his eyes to roll.

“Lord have mercy…” he muttered out under his breath, slowly moving his hips, thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over and over again. He was ever so gentle at first, but that soon changed when his own pleasure was there to be chased and gentle thrusting turned to mind-melting pounding. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his mouth occasionally pressing into the curve of my neck as my lips rested near his ear, my soft moans going straight to his brain. I started to feel sweat pepper his skin, his breathing heavy as his motions became even more rapid and uneven. He was right - he wouldn’t last long. I unwound my arms and placed my palms on his chest and pushed, taking him by surprise. He stopped his pounding and I could feel him flex inside me, bringing a gasp from my lips before I could get my words out. I refocused, his attention on me unwavering.

“Get on your back.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice as he flipped over with ease, pulling out of me for a second and taking my spot on the bed. I flung my leg over him and lowered myself down on him with zero hesitation, hating the cold feeling of emptiness. Deans hands worked on their own as they grabbed the soft flesh on my thighs, his fingers digging in as he groaned in pleasure. His head went back in the pillow, his eyes shut and jaw slack as I started to move, rocking back and forth, his hands softly guiding me. My fingers pushed into his chest as I steadied myself, and he seemed unphased by my weight in his state of ecstasy. I moaned, unable to stop myself from chasing my own pleasure as I looked down at him, loving that I was the one making him lose his mind in bliss. He opened his eyes, lids still hooded as he gazed up, watching me ride him like there was no tomorrow. For a moment his hands left my thighs, reaching up and tugging on the old T-shirt I was wearing.

“Take this shit off,” he growled, helping me discard the item. I lifted it over my head and tossed it to the floor with his garment, dishevelling my hair in the process.

“Better?” I asked, now completely bare to his burning gaze.

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, hands sliding up my stomach to caress the underside of my breasts, sliding a thumb over the silky smooth skin as his palms rested on my ribs. I rocked against him harder, feeling my own wetness on my thighs and mixing with my sweat. In this position it was like his cock was in my throat - he felt so deep, so engulfed by me I felt I could never let him go. I’d never felt so full in my life, it was borderline uncomfortable but I couldn’t get enough - it was intoxicating. HE was intoxicating. The smell of leather and gunpowder on his skin, the taste of beer on his lips and the silky smooth scars that dotted his otherwise perfect body was a drug in itself. I don’t even know if I truly hated him. Especially when he was here giving me the best sex of my life. I’d fuck this mans brains out everyday if I could. If he’d let me.

It didn’t take long for my impending climax to appear on the horizon. It bubbled, almost boiling as I rocked harder, faster, more desperately than before, making the bed creak and the headboard knock against the wall. Deans grip on my ass was assisting my motions as I started to lose control over the sounds tumbling from my lips - the name.

Dean.

I could see the desperation seeping into him as his rhythm started faltering, throwing me off for a split second before we found unison again. My nails dug into his chest once more, Dean totally unphased and too overwhelmed with pleasure to even care. My own pleasure turned to Earth shattering ecstasy as the buildup dropped and the cord snapped - wave, after wave, after wave of euphoria crashed around me, making my eyes roll and toes curl; legs trembling either side of Dean as I moaned his name - temporarily forgetting all other words. Clenching around Dean, it sent shockwaves through him that brought him to his own release, his grip painful on my delicate skin as he came undone with my name on his lips. I instantly felt warmth seep down the inside of my thigh, and the thought of being completely filled to the brim by him made my heart flutter. Dean trembled beneath me, both of us slowing down as we came down from our synchronised highs. After a few quiet moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he was the first to speak up.

“Ahh fuck, (Y/n)…. What the fuck was that?” He ran a hand through his hair.

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“THAT,” he said pausing to catch his breath, looking up at me with eyes as black as coal, “was one of the most intense moments of my life,” he propped himself up onto his elbows so we were now almost eye to eye. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

“Damn right.”

We stared at each other, clarity returning through the sexual fog, and strangely, regret was nowhere to be found. Deans tongue darted out and wet his lips, and I gnawed on my bottom lip almost nervously. He was still here. Unmoving. Why didn’t he leave?

Why didn’t I WANT him to leave?

We sat in peaceful silence as I stayed on his lap, Dean making no effort to move even though he had started to soften inside me, letting the mess leak out and drip down my thighs and over his hips. I’d have to change the bedsheets before sleeping. Deans eyes were returning to their usual mossy green, his gaze gentle on my figure for the first time since we’d met.

“I should probably get off - let you get back to your room,” I said, my eyes not leaving his, my tone lacking.

“Yeah… I should really let you sleep…” Deans voice was the same as mine. We looked at each other for a few more minutes before we both leaned forwards, Deans fingers threading ever so gently through my hair and I placed my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum beneath my fingertips. His lips were as soft as silk as they pressed on mine - a great contrast to the bruising make out session earlier. He kissed me with a tenderness I didn’t know he could muster, and it made my heart flutter something crazy. His mouth moved on mine, as soft and warm as a summers breeze and I didn’t want it to end. Eventually he pulled away, a smile on his lips.

“Sweetheart you really need to sleep,” his voice held a kindness I’m sure wasn’t for me.

“I…umm…” I paused and looked away, fighting with myself about whether I should even say what’s in my mind. I decided to be bold, fighting the blush rising from deep within.

“Dean, I don’t want you to go…”

He stared at me, and for the first time ever a pink glow adorned his masculine features. He was still. Very still, and I was starting to scold myself for being weird and out of character. It didn’t take much longer for him to reply.

“Well let's get you cleaned up and head to my room - we can sort your sheets out in the morning.”

——————————————————————

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Some of the tags haven’t worked so please check your settings if your name is highlighted!

[simp-ly-writes]

YOUTUBE / SMOSH MASTERLIST*

🛑 I AM NO LONGER TAKING REQUESTS FOR SMOSH! 🛑

[ angst: 🌧️ | suggestive: 👀 | fluff: 🌸 | author fav: 🫶 | popular: ⭐️ ]

─────── · · SERIES:

THE COMMENTS SECTION: The youtube comments section ship you and Spencer together heavily and so does the rest of the cast it seems. (Spencer Agnew x Reader)

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.3.5) (pt.4) (pt.4.5) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) (completed) 🌧️ 👀 🌸 ⭐️ word count: n/a

LOVE AND ZOMBIES: When Amanda calls in sick for the shoot day you are taken out of your cubicle and transported into a world of violence and destruction, only to find love with those you least expect. (Spencer Agnew x Reader)

(pt.1) (pt.2) (completed) 🌧️ 👀 🫶 ⭐️ word count: 5,062 words

THE SILENT DUKE: Your parents say you must marry by the end of the season (much to your horror) but what happens when a mysterious gentleman appears, what difference will that make of your marriage outlook when sparks fly and yet you are being paired with another- the mystery-mans best friend out of all people! *F!Reader

(pt.1) (pt.1.5) (pt.2) (completed) 🌧️ 🫶 🌸 word count: 6,823 words

─────── · · STANDALONES:

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW:

Crush: You try and hide your crush on your co-worker. 🌧️ ⭐️

What Would You Do?: In this standalone part, everyone finds out how Spencer seems to know you better than you know yourself and the comments go wild over it. It's still recommended that you read the series for the full effect. 🌸 ⭐️

Hard-Launching: When you and Spencer decide to give the fans what they want. 🌸

Under The Weather: When Spencer takes care of you because you're sick. 🌧️

OH, BABY!: Smosh Baby #2! The sequel nobody knew they wanted or needed that finds you walking around the office with a robotic baby and leads to you and Spencer realizing that getting another cat was the best choice for now. 🌸 ⭐️

Meet-Cute: When contributing a meme for Who Meme'd It, you decide to make fun of the way you met your Fiancé Spencer. 🌸

Boss & Bothered: Spencer is your boss to a degree and you spent a large majority of time by his side that you begin thinking things about your boss an employee really should not be considering... 🌧️ 👀 ⭐️

Gentle-Fellows: You, Spencer and your fellow cast mates Angela and Shayne all star in yet another Don't Win Mario Party, Gentlemen addition! 🌸 ⭐️

Love is Blind: Smosh Games is making another title in the smash hit board game series, love is blind, but is it all fun and games- or will you actually end up winning something worth a lot more? 🌸 ⭐️

Breaking Character: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character! 🌸

"Need a Lift?": It is your first time traveling to the USA, once there you are like a fish outta water but thankfully you run into Spencer who is more than willing to help you! 🌸

Jenga, Jokes, & Comfort: You are starring in your first Gentleman video, anxious beyond belief and worried for Spencers jokes and your relationship. Spencer is right there to make sure you are having fun and to comfort you afterwards! 🌸

Rat Boyfriend: You hated Charles Spencer Agnew. Well... maybe hate was too strong of a word, severely dislike would be a better descriptor. But what happens when Spencer dresses up as your number one type, a rat boyfriend? 🌧️ 🌸 🫶

Spencer Agnew Dating Headcanons: what would it be like to date Spencer? (Male!Reader) 🌸

─────── · ·

─ · · TREVOR EVARTS:

Chocolate Chip Cookies: You are Trevor can't be trusted anywhere with one another, so during one of the few occasions you are allowed to film together- you both decide to make the most of it. 🌸 🫶

Cookbooks & Love Letters: You are a celebrity chef, rivaling gordon ramsay himself online and when you come to Good Mythical Morning to star in one of your favourite childhood youtubers videos, you find yourself falling in love as well out of all things! 🌸

"Not-A-Couple' Couple: Its Who Meme'd It time yet again and the guest star today is you! It being your first time on a Smosh set, you don't expect anything to happen but how wrong are you when all the meme's appear to be about you and your totally-not boyfriend (and coworker), Trevor. 🌸

Safety Hazard: You cannot cook to save your life so much so that it even endangers others when you do not mean it to but good thing you have a patient boyfriend who is more than willing to help! 🌸

─────── · ·

─ · · IAN HECOX:

Here With Me: you could confidently say that you were a fan since practically day one, growing up alongside Anthony and Ian before life has you changing schools, states, and relationships only to come back together and for what? a company that is falling a part as soon as it had grown legs? but maybe there is something or someone that allows you to stand above it all... and you the same for them... 🌧️ 🌸 🫶

─────── · ·

─ · · ALEX TRAN:

Dating Headcanons: What if would be like to work at Smosh and date Alex! (Alex Tran x Reader) 🌸

──────────────── · ·

*Disclaimer: I respect all the people I write about and their relationship situations. These are real people and I do not know them personally, I only write about the character they portray on camera and separate that from reality. If any individual I have written for does not feel comfortable with having content written about them, I will be taking these works down.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness. 

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink. 

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert. 

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours. 

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his. 

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek. 

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be. 

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles. 

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic. 

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared. 

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger. 

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm. 

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing. 

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around. 

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all? 

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends. 

Is this what it will be like now? 

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone. 

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child. 

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth. 

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter. 

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly. 

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos. 

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that. 

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand. 

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake. 

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.” 

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips. 

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame. 

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room. 

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.” 

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else. 

You don't want to be alone again. 

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?” 

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?” 

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare. 

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy. 

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.” 

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer. 

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings. 

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy. 

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you. 

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.” 

“It was scary!” 

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall. 

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay. 

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown. 

You are such a fucking mess. 

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles. 

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you. 

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it. 

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.” 

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift. 

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.” 

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you. 

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.” 

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad. 

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again. 

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes. 

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain. 

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room. 

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble. 

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it. 

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside. 

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs. 

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold. 

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot. 

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life. 

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms. 

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all? 

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.” 

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter. 

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before. 

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.” 

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.” 

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.” 

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door. 

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks. 

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response. 

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before. 

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue. 

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!” 

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay. 

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…” 

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?” 

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down. 

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie. 

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you. 

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more. 

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one. 

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom. 

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing. 

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat. 

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in. 

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile. 

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up. 

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright. 

You close your eyes tightly. 

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you. 

Why is he in the shower with you? 

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place. 

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance. 

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting. 

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up. 

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie? 

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held. 

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has. 

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened. 

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe. 

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be. 

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic. 

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest. 

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you. 

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar. 

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move. 

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower. 

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more. 

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd. 

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.” 

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw. 

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good. 

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together. 

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat. 

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.” 

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look. 

In your chest, your heart clenches. 

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has. 

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now. 

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,”  he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg. 

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind. 

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue. 

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it. 

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep. 

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep. 

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water. 

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him. 

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair. 

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes. 

The little change makes you feel so much better.  You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically. 

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.” 

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod. 

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in. 

“Okay.” 

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

--

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

tag list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@anehkael

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

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 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[physalian]

When To Keep Your Writing Stiff (pt 7)

Part 6

Part 1

Gonna shoutout a specific fanfic, “Salvage” (ATLA) for writing that is even leaner than mine is, and mine has zero fat whatsoever. This was really good. I particularly like how some scenes were only 2 or 3 lines long as an example of what I’m going for here.

When I say “stiff” in the following examples I’m specifically talking about a lot of the same syntax, few similes and metaphors, few ‘said’ synonyms, very little, well, “life” in the prose. And this can be good in a few situations.

1. Your narrator is in shock

Shock doesn’t all look the same, but the kind of shock I mean is the one where the person is really quiet and un-emotive, they’re probably not speaking or reacting much to whatever catastrophe just happened and probably not responding to their name or anything spoken to them. Their body is pretty much going “uhhhhhhhhh factory reset!” when whatever it is, is too much to process.

A asks them a question. Once. Twice. B stares ahead. There’s a brown stain on the wall that looks like a thumb.

So if they’re narrating, they’re probably going to be giving the absolute bare minimum, need-to-know information and won’t be thinking about the best adjectives and adverbs. Especially if you normally write with fluffier prose, a jarring shift like this can really help sell the shock and dissociating of the character, something so traumatizing that it effects how the story is told.

2. Your narrator is depressed

Somewhere between New Moon’s 4 pages of just Months to show Bella did absolutely nothing in a depression rot and normal prose (though it was effective, particularly in the movie when they could draw out the words on the screen for longer and did the whole spin-around-her-depression-chair montage).

January came. It rained a lot.

They’ll probably either narrate very thinly, or listlessly. They might focus on a random detail and start going on a long ramble about that one detail that isn’t at all important, but it’s either all they can think about or all that can move them to feel anything in this moment, like:

On the bedside table, that coffee mug still sat there in a thin sheet of dust. What had been liquid now long since dry and gluey. It still sits there, collecting cat fur.

This might be the best place for sentences that all sound and flow exactly the same, but use it sparingly.

3. Your narrator is having a panic attack or trapped in a traumatic situation

Different from shock in that while they are physically capable of moving and interacting, they can’t let themselves describe what they’re seeing and feeling in grand detail. Maybe they’re moving through the horrific aftermath of a battle and all they can describe is the mud under their feet and how it squelches. Or they simply say that “there’s bodies everywhere” because looking too long or too hard at who those bodies belonged to is too much.

4. You’re writing something that has incredibly fast pacing

This post was inspired by a fic I just wrote that spanned about 5 months in about 18k words. Narrative was skipping days ahead between paragraphs at some point as my character was processing the end of an abusive relationship. It sped up and slowed down where necessary, but compared to its sequel that I also just finished (22k words across 7 days), I’d covered a whole month in about 2 sentences in the first one.

See nearly any part of Salvage (or my fics if you feel like it)

What happened in that month didn’t matter, only what was before and what’s different now and how this character realizes how their life is slowly changing, some things they never noticed that are suddenly right in their face or things that quietly slipped away.

—

TLDR; sometimes the lack of emotion and sensory details and frenetic, dynamic syntax is the point, that can sell the reader on the narrator’s mental state far better than picking the juiciest adverbs. If it’s so impactful to them that the physical telling of the story is changed, you’ve done your job.

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 9

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~2.1k words

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

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far! There is only one chapter left after this (and it will be smutty)!! I love these two! I can't bring myself to write angst abt them so this is pure fantasy fluff haha. They’re so cute! Jeonghan is my favorite trickster-prince! Y/N is so cute and anxious~! They both give me cute aggression!!! Enjoy!

Taglist: @yeoberryx, @clownprincehoeshi, @soffiyuhh,  @wonwoos-wineparty, @hamji-hae, @junniesoleilkth, @seokqt, @haniinah, @yangtyunhannie, @cherrylovescheol, @Illucere (lmk if you want to be added!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You looked out the car window to see late-night stragglers still making their way home from bars and karaoke rooms. It was that strange time between night and morning. You were scheduled to get to the airport before the members so you could prepare for the chaotic process of boarding a plane with idols. There were a few more security guards than usual. Older guys than you would have expected, but you guessed they needed experienced staff for this kind of thing. You kind of admired the dedication of CARATs that were willing to wake up this early to see the members off.

Your stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Jeonghan again. You hadn’t had much chance to see him since he came to your apartment last week... Your face couldn’t help but flush deep scarlet every time you thought about it. His lips on yours, his hands roaming over you, gripping you... You had to work to not get carried away remembering the feel of his body against yours.

You’re here for work, you’re here for work, you’re here for work! You repeated in your head over and over again. You were terrified that someone would pick up on whatever it was that was going on between the two of you... You were sure that your complete infatuation with him was obvious to anyone who looked at you.

This is Paris Fashion Week, Y/N! Get serious! You had dreamed of attending high-profile events like those at the Paris Fashion Week. You knew that it was going to be a whirlwind trip, and you wanted to do everything in your power to make things go smoothly for Jeonghan. He had been to Fashion Week before, but this was your first big overseas assignment. You didn’t want him to think that you were incompetent, so you had been staying up late researching every staff member and procedure that you would have to encounter. Even though you were only assisting with this trip, you wanted to anticipate every possible need.

The van arrived to a crowd of CARATs already waiting. They were holding signs that said things like “Have a safe trip Shua!” or little paper fans with Mingyu’s face on them. One CARAT was even dressed up in full Hanbok. It hit you again how different the members’ lives were from yours. To you, they had all become just people you worked with... well, almost all of them. Your heart couldn’t help but squeeze a little reading the signs some of them had made for Jeonghan. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him, you thought, wishing that you could reassure his fans out loud, that you could communicate how much you understood their feelings.

You knew that the members had arrived by the very audible shift in the crowd. You were waiting inside, security standing as a barricade between the CARATs, forming a path for the members to come through on their way to security.

Your eye picked out Jeonghan immediately, even with the flashing lights of cameras and screaming from the crowd. It was truly overwhelming. How do they deal with this every time? You couldn’t help but wonder. Jeonghan walked through the doors to the airport next to Joshua, the two of them slightly behind Mingyu. The crowd was going so wild that you couldn’t even understand what was being shouted. All you could do was watch as the three of them kept their faces down, occasionally waving at the CARATs. Jeonghan was wearing a baseball hat and had most of his face covered by a mask.

The flight you were on was semi-private, which meant it had its own security line and everyone on board was either rich enough to afford the flight or there because they were part of Seventeen’s staff. You were already on the other side of security, unable to take your eyes off Jeonghan as he and the other members of the team made their way toward you. You had been instructed to sit at the front of the coach section, right behind first class, where the members and their managers were seated. You had never flown on such a small, high-end airplane before... even coach was supposed to be a step above your average commercial flight.

Finally, the members made it through the short security line, and Jeonghan’s gaze caught yours at last. You could see his eyes crinkle into a smile right away, yours mirroring him as you beamed beneath your face mask.

“Good morning,” Jeonghan said to you, joining you at your side as the team of you walked toward the gate. He sounds sleepy, you thought, your heart already pounding from how cute he looked.

“Good morning,” you said, handing him handwipes for the plane and a coffee.

“Wah, Y/N,” he said right away, “you’re the best.” You were relieved that he couldn’t see your blush beneath your mask.

“Where’s my coffee?” Mingyu had turned around, eyeing the drink you’d handed over and putting on a pout.

“Ah, I can get you one!” you said right away, making Mingyu laugh.

“I’m kidding, Y/N-nuna,” he said, and you swore you saw him give some kind of meaningful glance between you and Jeonghan... but you were probably being paranoid.

I should have gotten all of them coffee, you thought.  

“Get your own coffee,” Jeonghan said. His tone was like a sassy little kid’s... and your heart couldn’t help skipping a beat, making you smile all the more beneath your mask.

The plane you boarded with the members was the nicest airplane you’d ever seen. Buttery-smooth leather seats occupied their own spacious cubicles in first class, and even the seats in the small coach section immediately behind were wider and looked more comfortable than any airplane you’d been on. You couldn’t help staring around a bit.

Jeonghan stowed his stuff in the overhead cabinet, watching you out of the corner of his eye. It was obvious you’d never been on a plane like this before, the way you were dawdling and looking around. So cute, he thought, unable to suppress his small smile. His heart was so endeared to your wide eyes, and once again, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that you were going on this trip. He wished he could ask his manager to trade seats with you so that you’d be sitting opposite the small aisle from him, but he knew that would be too strange of a request. You’d probably hate it if he drew that much attention to the two of you, even though part of him didn’t care. He'd had the same manager for almost ten years now, after all. It might have been wishful thinking, but he felt like if he explained the situation, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad...

But he changed his mind once he saw you seated, already pouring over a stack of papers from the folder you’d been carrying. How could he do something so brazen when you were being so careful and conscientious about everything? Though, it would be fun to see you get a little flustered...

You were checking and rechecking all of the customs forms and the itinerary for the YSL events when you felt someone settle into the seat beside you.

“...What are you doing?” you said in a low voice, trying to maintain your composure as Jeonghan leaned into you, pretending to look over the documents with you.

“Ah, so we have to be there that early...” he said, his whole body so close to you that you felt like you were going to explode.

“Ah, Jeonghan-shi,” you said in an overly nervous and high-pitched voice, glancing around at the other staff taking their seats, “don’t worry, only the staff have to arrive that early, you’ll get a separate car once the event is a little underway.” You put on the most formal tone you could, and Jeonghan glanced up at you—his face unbearably close to yours.

“But I want to arrive with nuna,” he said quietly, fixing you with the most earnest, sensual gaze you could imagine. He’s doing this on purpose, you realized, and tried to flash him a warning look. But he only smirked, refusing to move even an inch.

“Well,” you said, your nerves clearly showing in your tone, “I have to be there early—” you were cut off by the feeling of Jeonghan’s fingertips brushing against your thigh, making you bolt right out of your seat.

“I have to check this one more time with the other assistants!” you said, your voice coming out too loud. Jeonghan just looked at you, smiling smugly to himself as you walked toward the other rows of staff in coach. He watched you walk away, admiring your figure before making his way back to first class.

“You’re mean, Jeonghannie-ah,” Joshua murmured in a quiet voice as Joenghan passed him. Jeonghan noticed that his friend was also smiling to himself. It wouldn’t be surprising if Joshua had picked up on what was going on between him and you on his own, but Jeonghan had drunkenly sought his advice a month or so ago, before he was even sure if you liked him at all.

“Maybe,” Jeonghan chuckled softly, taking his seat. He was still relishing the cute look of panic on your face, the faint smell of perfume on your neck, how adorable you looked in your comfy, plane-ready clothes... He didn’t care if other people noticed that he was teasing you.

Joshua and Seungcheol were the only members who knew that you and Jeonghan were seeing each other discretely. Joshua had been pretty happy about it, but Seungcheol had been a little firmer about things. He didn’t want Jeonghan’s (or your) career to be jeopardized, but he also liked seeing Jeonghan so happy. He’d simply cautioned his friend to not do anything careless.

You had hoped that you might be able to get some sleep on the plane to help get ahead of the jetlag, but of course you couldn’t settle down. Your eyes kept landing on the back of Jeonghan’s seat—even though you couldn’t really see him. You hoped that he was at least getting some rest...

The air was smooth enough now that you could walk around. The stewardesses had dimmed the lights in first class, but you decided to make your way over, ready to pretend that you needed to ask Jeonghan something.

But as you quietly approached his seat, you could tell that he was sound asleep. His seat had been fully reclined and his head slumped to one side, his baseball hat and mask removed to reveal his beautiful face. You saw that Joshua and Mingyu were dozing off as well, and the managers seemed to be trying to sleep, their backs turned away from the aisle. I guess you can’t help but fall asleep in this cushy environment, you thought, your gaze landing once again on Jeonghan’s sleeping face.

He really looks like an angel, you couldn’t help thinking, drinking in every detail of his features. His long eyelashes, his glowing skin... he looked so peaceful and beautiful. How could a human being even look like that? You glanced one more time around the cabin to make sure no one was watching before your hand practically moved on its own, running your fingers through his silky hair, gently smoothing it away from his face.

Jeonghan’s lips curled into a smile, and his eyes fluttered open, making your hand freeze and your eyes go wide with embarrassment. He was awake!? You quickly withdrew your hand from his hair, mortified that you’d been caught in the middle of such an intimate gesture, but Jeonghan’s hand caught you immediately by the wrist, freezing you to the spot even more.

No one around the two of you seemed to stir, and Jeonghan whispered to you.

“Don’t go.” His voice shot right into your chest. The lights were low, but you could tell that he was giving you that same piercing gaze he always gave you, like he wanted to devour you. Your heart was beating thunderously loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. Seeing him stretched out beneath you, sleepily holding onto you as his thumb traced small circles along the inside of your wrist... you couldn’t refuse him.

“Close your eyes,” you mouthed softly. He smiled serenely at you and did as he was told, leaning into your touch as you stroked his hair for a bit longer—until he was sleeping for real—before cautiously making your way back to your seat, breathing deeply to calm your euphoric nerves.

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 5) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: i had no idea that i posted this almost an entire WEEK AGO?? istg it was only 2 days ago 😭 sorry for the wait lovlies, here's some unhinged content for you ❤️

the next few weeks passed in a dizzying flurry. work became busy and you got caught up between group work and your personal life—an old friend from college visited town, your mom and dad’s memorial service passed in a flash, and you worked at the halloween costumes, carving a few little pumpkins every now and then as decor for the church stands. the halloween festival was just hours away, and there was another group meeting scheduled just before it.

you dreaded it.

Simon and you had not spoken once outside of the meetings. just polite remarks and a yawning chasm that cleaved the space between you. to say it was awkward was an understatement.

you thought back two weeks prior when you were isolated in the church basement.

you didn’t mean it?

yeah. none of it.

the memory was a splintering reminder that Simon didn’t want you. at least, not in the way you wanted him. retracing the footsteps of your mind over and over, you tried to figure out where you had gone wrong.

maybe from the beginning, you thought bitterly, failing to forget your rude, blunt behavior towards him. you guessed you deserved his treatment, though you didn’t expect him to make fun of you the way that he did.

have you never dated before? do you even know how to kiss someone?

just the thought of it made you wince as you entered the meeting room, later than usual. a dozen faces stared back at you, and Kate stopped mid-talk, eyes narrowed with something only you could decipher as worry. you just mumbled a quick apology, settling in your seat in the circle across from Simon, avoiding his eyes.

Sarah nudged you with her foot in greeting as Kate continued whatever talk she was going on about. out of habit, you half-tuned her out as Maya pat your knee softly.

from what you absorbed out of the random bursts of Kate’s words, the group met early to set up the stalls in front of the church. there’d be a costume rack, photo booth, pumpkin carving booth, face painting, and a couple tables for the bake sale—which wasn’t really a bake sale, but free baked goods because it was sinful to sell on church property, or something like that.

the church did the same events every year so none of it surprised you till Kate was saying, “now get dressed into your own costumes.”

what?

that was definitely new, you realized with a stiffness, looking around the group moving toward the exit of the meeting room with bags of, what you assumed, to be costumes.

when you didn’t budge, Sarah and Maya standing and grabbing their own things, they both paused, giving you curious looks.

Maya called your name in question and you just stayed stock still in your chair, feeling like life was being drained from your blood.

“oh my gosh,” Sarah said, a slow, impish smile spreading over your lips. Kate’s head immediately snapped up from her desk, looking pale and panicked.

“what? what is it?”

Maya pointed at you. “you didn’t bring a costume.”

your voice was high strung and tight. “i didn’t know we needed one.”

Sarah laughed out, long and airy, before gliding out the meeting room, absolutely beside herself.

Kate sounded peeved. “did you not look at the email chain?”

email, you thought, a stale taste in your mouth, who the fuck uses email these days?

Maya offered you a look of sympathy. “maybe run home really quick?”

Kate stood at her desk, just shaking her head. “don’t worry. i planned for this.”

she shooed Maya away and tugged over a plastic box from her desk, popping open the lid. inside it were an array of outfits.

she gestured to it. “pick one.”

sighing, you crouched down and pulled out the first costume that caught your eye—a greenish, white airy dress. turning it around, you realized floppy wings were already sown into the back of it. 

snatching up your purse, you tucked the dress under your arm, about to make a beeline for the bathroom when Kate clutched your elbow, pulling back to her.

with a muffled noise of surprise, your brow furrowed at the pinched look of concern over her face. 

“halloween is your favorite holiday,” she chewed out, “why aren’t you acting like it is?”

“what?” you spluttered. technically, halloween was in two days. the festival happened just prior. 

you could’ve been a smart ass about it, but instead you bit back the retort, because you knew what she meant. usually, you’d be ecstatic the whole month before halloween. but these days, only a circling, endless pit of dread followed you to sleep, and was still there when you woke every morning.

“what’s wrong, hon’?” she pressed and you just shook your head with a laugh, lying through clenched teeth.

“nothing.”

you knew she didn’t believe you for a second because her grip only tightened on your elbow. “is there something going on between you and Simon?”

your gaze widened for a split-second, before you blinked it away, eyes darting away from hers. “of course not.”

she just scoffed. “like hell there’s not.”

you rolled your eyes. “not in the lord’s house, Kate—”

“listen to me,” she said, jerking you closer to her, and you muffled a yelp. “if there’s not something wrong with you, then there’s definitely something wrong with Simon. he was doing better. now he’s… acting strange.”

you cocked a brow at her. “he’s always a bit strange.”

she eyed you in return. “not as strange as how you’ve been acting.”

“ouch. that hurts,” you deadpanned, shaking free from her grip. she relented with a low grumble.

rubbing at her temple, she sighed as you turned from before, stopping you when she said, “just smooth out whatever’s going on between you. he’s going back for work soon.”

your blood ran cold. “what?”

“he won’t be on leave for another couple of months, so i suggest you talk to him today,” she said, moving to her desk. 

you stared after her, wanting to ask more, but bit down on your tongue when a couple girls, chattering between each other, returned from the bathroom.

in their stead, you trudged down the hallway and into the old bathroom with a flickering, artificial lighting burning down overhead. in a stall, you stripped yourself and shimmied into the dress, the cheap fabric grating against your skin, but you wouldn’t complain since this situation had arisen due to your own fault.

moving past a couple other girls by the sinks, exchanging a couple words with them, a genuine smile twisting your lips, but then you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost cringed. the dress was a lot more revealing than you would have ever chosen for yourself in public—hugging at your body in the way your baggy outfits did not.

Iris stepped out of one of the stalls, whistling lowly. “lookin’ good, girlie.”

with a blush, you mumbled a thanks, digging around your purse for your makeup bag that you, thankfully, had shoved into your purse on a whim before work that morning. opening it, you began to apply a thing base, then soft shimmers around your eyes, attempting to look as fairy-like as you could.

“who are you trying to look good for?” Iris asked beside you, squinting into the mirror to brush mascara over her lashes. 

with a bitter feeling, you noticed its brand. dior.

you choked a strained laugh, waving her off. “just the endless line of ladies.”

“right,” she sang, and you flinched when she put down the tube of makeup with a loud clunk against the porcelain sink. “‘cause you and i both know that you’re lesbian.”

you paused at that, brushing away the last bits of powder on your face. through the mirror, the girls behind you, Iris’s friends in the group, had fallen silent. 

you glanced at her through your peripheral. “what do you mean by that?”

she turned to you, lips screwed in a thin line, hand on her hip.

“how long have you been fucking Simon for?”

jaw dropping, and you turned to look at her, taking in the intensity of her hot glare and the angry twitch of her features. 

you should’ve denied it, but remembering the way she clung to Simon after the night of the party, all bashful and talkative with him, your own anger simmered to the surface.

“none of your business,” you said in a cool voice, turning back to the mirror to finish with a light blush over your nose and cheeks.

she scoffed. “you’re a bitch.”

your brows twitched together, and you reached up to rub at the spot, willing it away. “okay.”

she stepped towards you, jerking her hand up so it almost knocked against your face, the tip of her acrylic pressed to your cheek.

“you always complain about how much you hate men, but as soon as you go near one, you’re start fucking them.”

you completely ignored her. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. why do you care about my personal business?”

she laughed, long and mirthless. “because you’re airing it out at every meeting, whore.”

you screwed your eyes shut, an icy feeling churning inside you. this was exactly what you were afraid of when new members joined the group. your simmering anger rose to a boil, and you swallowed the heat down, trying to lock it down in your stomach.

“don’t you have a husband? maybe you should pay more attention to that cheating bastard than a random guy you met at a support group.”

“excuse me?” she seethed, and you couldn’t help but give her your most shit-eating smirk.

“what? too boring being a housewife, doing nothing all day long? fucking men for money—”

the noise she let out was carnal, raking a hand through your hair and jerking on it hard, so your head pulled back with a painful snap. the girls behind you screamed, and a blur of a person rushed forward to clutch tightly at Iris’s neck and push her off you.

“you bitch-ass, motherfucking whore—” 

your jaw dropped at the sight of Maya slamming her against the tile wall, clawing at each other like two rapid cats before Sarah stumbled through the scene from a bathroom stall, screaming bloody murder.

one of Iris’s friends came up and fixed the state of your dress and hair, apologizing profusely for her friend, and you didn’t know whether to be angry at the girl, or thank her, as Iris’s friends scurried out of the bathroom quickly. you felt like you were in a daze, watching Iris drag Sarah by her hair before Sarah reached up and ripped through Iris’s hair so they were locked between each other, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Maya was clutching at the wall, gulping down mouthfuls of air before she limped over and stomped on Iris’s open-toed sandals with a ferocity. she screamed, crumpling to the floor, releasing Sarah from the bind as she fell to her knees.

the three women stilled for a moment, panting with effort. 

“what in the actual fuck…” you trailed off, unsure what to say after the scathing events of the fight.

Sarah’s hands were on her hips, knees looking wobbled as she rasped between gasps, “we couldn’t let this whore bad-mouth you like that.”

she jerked a thumb over at Iris who had braced herself against the floor, leaning over her palms with heavy, gasping breaths.

Maya stumbled over to you, wobbly on her heels, and you enveloped her in a hug, trying to smooth out her hair to the best of your ability.

“you guys…” you started, choking up when tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes. Maya only hugged you tighter and Sarah limped over, cooing softly as she joined the hug, squeezing you tight.

“don’t ruin your makeup,” Maya sniffled against your shoulder, your dress absorbing her tears.

you quickly wiped at your face with a nod, clutching at Maya and your other hand holding Sarah’s cheek.

when Iris stood, leaning against the bathroom sink, the hug broke apart.

she glared at you, clawing the hair from her face. “are you done?”

sending Sarah and Maya a quick glance, you gave them a curt nod, and they obliged, stomping out of the bathroom. Sarah turned to flip Iris off on her way out, the latter girl just rolling her eyes at the sight.

when there was silence once more, you turned to the girl, taking in how disheveled and… normal she looked for once.

“your hair—” you said, pointing to your own head, and she whipped around to look in the mirror. hastily, she scrambled around for her brush but you just sighed and picked up your own on the sink, stilling her with a light grip on her shoulder. you brushed through her brunette curls with a soft hand as she glared at you through the mirror.

“let’s talk,” you offered, putting down the brush when you were done. “and let’s be civilized about it.”

she hmphed, not looking at you. “what is there to even talk about?”

you shrugged. “clearly, something is bothering you.”

“yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “your relationship with Simon.”

you bit back your own retort to remind her that she was married. “we’re just friends.”

her brow quirked at that, looking unconvinced. “really?”

“for now,” you said with a nod, and her shoulders deflated.

“i knew there was something going on,” she said, sounding morose, eyes flickering with a distant haziness.

“you could’ve just asked me,” you sighed out, and her eyes snapped to yours again, flashing with irritation now.

“i did.”

how long have you been fucking Simon for?

at the memory of it, you flinched. “maybe more politely next time.”

she just huffed, brushing out the wrinkles of her witchy dress. “you won’t tell Kate about this?”

you scowled at her before, slowly, your lips twitched into a devilish smirk. her eyes darted nervously through the mirror, inching away from you.

“i won’t, because we played fair and square today.”

“what do you mean?” she chewed out, voice icy.

“you got to talk shit, and my girls fucked you up,” you said with a nasty grin, wholly enjoying when she shivered.

stepping away from you, she cleared her throat. “right.”

it was like she remembered where she was and who she was again, gathering her things and shoving them into her stupidly expensive bag with a poised expression. you watched in amazement at the calm, collected veneer that overtook her in a second, turning on her heel to strut out of the bathroom with an elegance before jumping with a shriek at the entrance.

you quickly trailed after her, rounding up your things in one, sweeping armful and shoving them into your own purse, your eyes moving up the way her spin shook to the sight over her shoulder.

a foot away, a man stood in front of the women’s restroom, a white, plastic skull outer layer over a black balaclava. at the sight of him, you muffled a squeak, bristling with shock.

but then your eyes trailed down to the rest of his attire—a sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and… gloves. skull ones, in fact.

“Simon,” you deadpanned, glaring at him from over Iris’s shoulder, “what the hell are you doing?”

“this is Simon?” Iris shrieked, shuffling backwards, knocking into you.

“i heard screaming,” he said, voice gruff and slightly muffled under the mask. “is everything alright?”

you rolled your eyes. he was a bit late for that.

“everything’s fine,” you confirmed, gently pushing Iris out the doorway. she squeezed past Simon, not giving him or you a second glance as she rushed down the hallway and into the meeting room.

the hulking man stared after her, before turning his head to blink down at you. even under that stupid mask, his big brown eyes were still the same.

“what happened?” he asked and you just shook your head.

“you really don’t want to know.”

he let out a low noise of disapproval and you waved him away, edging forward so he stepped further back into the hallway.

“there is one problem though,” you said, cocking your brow at him.

he stepped forward again, reaching a hand out to you, but you just shook your head again with a huff. “that mask.”

suddenly, his eyes pinched, and he reached up to trace the divets of the outer skull layer.

“what’s wrong with my mask?”

the genuine hurt in his voice had you smothering a smile. “nothing. just not for children. you can’t wear that at a church halloween event.”

he was silent for a long moment, eyes narrowed like he was weighing the pros and cons of what you had just said, before sighing out.

“fine,” he grumbled, unclasping the front of it and pulling off the baclava, leaving his hair slicked up in a strange, messy clump.

biting back a laugh at the sight, you made your way back down the hallway. Simon’s careful footsteps were just behind you as you stepped back into the meeting room.

the girls were loitering around for a bit, gathering up needed materials to set up the booths. Sarah and Maya chattered with the better half of them who were blissfully unaware of what had just gone down in the bathroom. Iris eyed you from her posse carefully, watching you move near Kate with a tenseness, but you just passed her, instead moving to the box of adult costumes. you rummaged around in it, struggling and failing to find any size that may potentially fit the massive man.

groping around at the very bottom, your hand closed around something small and prickly, and you pulled it from the box with a snort, eying it in your hand.

turning around, you shoved it against Simon’s chest, and he didn’t even flinch, just taking the thing from your hand slowly.

“no,” he said immediately.

“it’s the only thing we have,” you said, sighing out, gesturing to the box behind you. Kate looked up from her desk curiously now, eyes flitting between you and Simon, then seeing the thing in his hands and choking down a laugh.

he glared at her from his peripheral, his scowl deep when he tugged it over his head.

a smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed them together, failing to hold back a little giggle at the sight of the tinsel cat ear headband on his head.

“adorable,” you cackled, slapping two hands over your mouth, trying to muffle your laughter beneath your palms but you couldn’t cease the shake of your shoulders.

his scowl only deepened, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grumpy look.

Kate hummed approvingly by your side, failing to keep her voice even. “looks great, lieutenant.”

he shot both of you a glare before slinking away and taking a seat nearby, but not before he was flanked by some of the girls fussing over his costume. they insisted on painting a nose and whiskers on him in loud, sharp demands and he didn’t even try to hide their irritation with them. but nonetheless, he relented, and Sarah pulled out her liquid eyeliner.

you watched the whole scene with shaking trembles of silent laughter, crumpling into a seat near you, and he kept glaring at you from his peripheral. once your laughter subsided, you leaned back into your chair, the sight of the girls pester him, full of laughter, and the smallest smile stretching Simon’s face had your chest feeling full of gooey content. he lazily looked over to you, a small black nose and whiskers across his cheeks, dark eyes sparkling as his warm gaze ran over you.

cute, you mouthed, pointing at your own cheeks and he just scoffed, turning his gaze from you, but his smile only widened.

yeah this part's kinda crazy (and maybe borderline cringe?) but iris had it coming for her so idkkkk—

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife @froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu @embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99 @mystseee @cosmoscoffee

@hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdream @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @thisuserloveshalloween @soundsfunbutno @enfppixie @tired-bi-ass @http-paprika @xaestheticalien @vonev @garfieldssocks @sapphire-read @moonstonedeluluera @killergoddess97 @cassiecasluciluce @xxkay15xx @mrflyingbanana03

@magneto-was-fucking-right @riverbutghost @palomaxaxaxa @hobiespick @madsnic1119 @dark-rosy-amaranthine @vheenuz @inlovewithsimonrileyy @cliosunshine @youcantseem3 @tayaisback @cinnamondonutcat @crissteetee67 @alexisv15 @lucaaahhh @moyazami

[wearebarca]

8. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 8

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

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,1k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

A/N: Feedback is always nice. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

Rosalie knew all about stress. She had experienced a very wide variety of stressful situations. From race days to big games to work related situations, even personal stuff. But right now, sitting half naked in her bed with an array of clothes around her, Rosalie was experiencing a different type of stress. 

She had spent time with some of the girls from the team but it always was in very casual circumstances. Tonight was different. They were set to go to a popular club in downtown Barcelona and from what she had translated in the groupchat, the girls were excited to show off their outfits. Rosalie wasn’t a big fan of clubs and bars and her wardrobe cruelly lacked in any club worthy outfits.

She was currently stuck between a few options but after sending each outfit to her groupchat with lia and leah, she settled for a short sleeve dress that exposed her back dangerously low. She left her wavy hair loose and did her makeup slightly darker than usual. 

She was taking one last look into her bedroom mirror, feeling quite proud of the way it all turned out, when her phone rang and Keira’s name lit up her screen. 

“Bonsoir petite merde.” She said laughing, knowing damn well that the blonde did not know what she had just called her. Lucy’s laugh could be heard in the distance, which told the brunette that the couple was likely close and calling to let her know. 

“That was unnecessary.”

“Don’t act like you know what I just said.”

“Lucy’s reaction told me plenty.” Keira said exasperated. “We’re rounding the corner, the bar is a block from here so we’ll park in your street and walk from there is that alright?”

“Sounds good.” Rosalie said, putting away her makeup. 

“We’re coming up so you better be dressed and ready.” Lucy said, the sound of a car door audible in the background. 

“Oui madame.” The Canadian said before hanging up. A few minutes later, the couple barged in her little flat, and the sound of her cabinets being opened and glasses being set down on the counter was heard all around. 

“By all means, Faites comme chez vous!”

“We're fixing you a drink, believe me you’ll need it.” Keira said, pouring an impressive amount of liquor in three glasses. She made a move to reach for the bottle of coke but the Canadian quickly stopped her. 

“Non non non. You are not wasting this perfectly good whiskey with coke.” She said, reaching for two glasses and handing one to Lucy. Keira rolled her eyes and poured some in her glass nonetheless. 

“You two are a different breed that’s for sure.” The burn from the alcohol soothed the brunette’s nerves a little as she downed her first glass with Lucy, quickly pouring another for the older woman and herself. 

“You’re packed for national camp already?” Kiera asked, eyeing the bags near the front door.

“ Oui, I have a feeling that tomorrow I won’t be in the right state to pack a proper bag.” Rosalie said, sipping at the brown liquid. 

“ Smart Frenchy, very smart. The flight is at 9 the next day, we’ll be downstairs at 6:00 and grab coffee on our way there. Sarina sent me your plane ticket by the way.” Lucy said, twirling the liquor in her glass. The French-Canadian nodded and took a seat next to the blond englishwoman. 

“So, what is the plan, how is the night going to go?” The brunette said, taking a sip of her drink. 

“We’re gonna walk to the club, it’s only three blocks away.” Lucy said, eyeing Keira up with a mischievous grin, the blond sporting a similar look. “And for the rest, you’ll have to see for yourself mate.” 

They finished their drinks and left Rosalie’s flat soon after. The air was warm  and a fresh breeze carried the smell of food from the many restaurants along with the sound of laughter and many conversation blending in the night. The streets were alive, buzzing with people, relieved for the start of the weekend. 

Someone linking their arm with hers pulled Rosalie out of her thoughts. “You look amazing Frenchy, you gunnin for someone in particular tonight?” Keira said, twirling the French-Canadian like a dancer.

“Non, non, I don’t know what you are referring to.” Rosalie said, walking slightly faster to meet Lucy ahead.

“You know,” The older English woman began, “Looking like that, the cold and composed captain’s surely gonna lose control.” She said, hugging the Canadian’s shoulder. Rosalie’s face went beat red and she pushed Lucy off of her. By now, they could hear the distant beat of music and the traffic in the streets increasing.

The club was situated on a small pedestrian side street. A long queue of people was stretched in front of the already busy club. Most of the crowd waiting looked and sounded already under the influence which worked to the little group’s advantage as they were able to make their way to the bouncer without being recognized. 

Once their little group reached the door with Lucy leading them, the bouncer stepped in front of them to block the way. Once his eyes met with Lucy’s, the realization on the young man’s face was almost comical. “Oh, yes, VIP section.” He said with a nervous falter to his voice. He crossed two names on his clipboard then, looked up to the woman who was unknown to him. “ Is she the photographer?”

His tone did not please Lucy who sent him a look that chilled him on the spot. He made a gesture for the doorman to let them in, eager to move on before embarrassing himself further.

The club was already packed, the music deafening and the air was filled with the smell of alcohol and sweat. It was electric, dizzying even, for the French-Canadian who had not set foot in a club this big since she had left England. 

One thing she quickly remembered upon entering was just how much she hated these places. Her discomfort was almost funny to the two English women standing behind her. She made a move to back out but Lucy and Keira each grabbed one of the photographer’s arms and walked the brunette to an area at the back of the club with several sofas, tables and the entire team already halfway to their second drink.

When the girls saw their beloved photographer they all stood and cheered. Soon enough, Rosalie was being handed a drink and dragged by Mapi to a couch which was already occupied by Sarah, Ingrid, Sandra, Pina, Patri and Alexia. The little group all cheered and whistled at the sight of their friend, but Alexia stayed almost completely still. The only part of her moving was her piercing gaze taking in every inch of the brunette.

The captain knew that tonight would be hard. She had imagined many scenarios of how this night would go. She had told herself countless times how she needed to stay friendly and professional with the smaller brunette,but upon seeing the photographer in that dress, Alexia seemed to forget every word of her little pep talk.

The way that her dress hugged her athletic figure made the captain’s head spin. The photographer turned around and gave the captain a full view of the open back of said dress. She knew that the smaller woman had tattoos because of the small ones on her arms, but she had never seen the one that went along her spine. It was a fine line which seemed to follow no particular pattern. It snaked down her spine, like a path, all the way to her lower back. All Alexia wanted to do was trace the line with her fingers, with her mouth, kiss every inch of inked skin. 

The blond rapidly shook her head, cursing herself for letting her mind go to such places so soon after the woman’s arrival. Even then, it seemed impossible for her gaze not to be dragged back to the woman in front of her. Her hair was down in waves, her makeup darker than normally which accentuated her piercing green eyes. Eyes that were now settled on her.

Alexia sent a shy smile her way as she raised her glass in the photographer’s direction. She answered with a bright smile and a similar gesture. Rosalie was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, thanks to the fact that she rarely drank, but the slight buzz gave her all the courage she needed to take a seat right next to the woman who made her so nervous. 

“ Bonsoir Alexia, I am surprised to see you with a drink. I thought you didn’t drink during the season.” She said, eying the glass the blond had been nurturing since the start of the night. 

“Tonight is special I hear.”

“Yeah, it certainly seems so” Their conversation was cut short by Cata with a tray of what looked like tequila shots. Rosalie turned towards the keeper, which made her almost face the blond, the warm skin of her exposed thigh lean on Alexia’s own. 

“ It’s shot time chicas!” Yelled as she passed around the small glasses. She handed one to Alexia who refused, disappointing the keeper slightly. With the feeling of her first drinks already strong, Rosalie decided that tonight, she did not need to be careful. Tonight, she would let herself have fun surrounded by people who were quickly becoming family. 

She reached over Alexia to pick up the shot Cata was handing her, placing her other hand on Alexia’s thigh to stabilize herself. That movement alone, the light squeeze of her hand, how for an instant Alexia’s senses were swarmed by the photographer. Her floral perfume mixed with something that was so unmistakably Rosalie. How her hair fell all on one side exposing the soft skin of her neck. 

Alexia had to take a deep breath to try and re centre herself. “Dios mio dame uno de esos.” She said to Mapi who had ended up with the tray. 

The tattooed woman sent her a knowing smirk as she watched her nervous friend down to harsh liquid. 

The start of the night was slow. People were mostly sitting around and chatting. Rosalie was surprised to see how comfortable she was in such an environment, but with the buzzing of the alcohol in her system and her friends surrounding her, it was easy to forget how loud and full the club was.

 She was still on the same couch, in between Alexia and Ingrid. She would not admit it but being this close to the captain was unnerving for the photographer who tried very hard to not show it. But of course Alexia, purposefully or not, made the task extremely difficult. 

Engaged in a conversation with Mapi, who was on the other side of Ingrid, the Catalonian had her arm on the back of the couch, and was sitting back in a way that made the brunette feel like if she moved back an inch, she’d be leaning completely on the blond’s front. 

Suddenly, someone a few seats down screamed something in Spanish and several of the girls cheered and left their secluded area towards the dance floor. Before she could react, someone grabbed her hand and dragged her to the floor. 

“Oh non non I don’t dance.” She told the girl who still had a firm grip on her wrist. 

“Tonight you do amiga!” The voice, who she soon realized belonged to Patri, said, as she dragged her towards a small group of Barca girls already dancing. Seeing the smiles and hearing the contagious laughter was what ultimately allowed the photographer to let loose and start moving to the rhythm of the music. No one was judging, it was simply a group of friends having fun and enjoying a night out. 

From the VIP area, Alexia, Ingrid, Irene and Paños had a pretty clear view of the rest of the team. None of them were keen on dancing and had stood their ground against the younger players and exited girlfriend, in Ingrid’s case. 

The Norwegian was smiling as she watched Mapi show off her most ridiculous dance moves to Rosalie who, with obvious difficulty, was trying to keep up with the Zaragozian. 

It took at least a song for the group to utter any words. After a moment, it was Sandra who disrupted their little bubble in the middle of this hectic environment. She grabbed Irene’s shoulder and dragged her closer so she wouldn’t have to yell. 

“This pining has to stop.” She said to her friend while watching the blond who’s gaze had not left the brunette since she had left. 

“Ah si, it is excruciating to watch.” 

“You know what we discussed in Sevilla? You think it is a good time to use this.” Sandra said, watching the way Alexia’s jaw tightened every time one of the girls was dancing  too close to the Canadian. 

“Si, it is now or never,” she said, sending a look to the blond, she laughed and turned back to the keeper, “ it won’t take much, she’s already on the brink.”

The Spaniards quickly briefed Ingrid in their little plan and soon after, it was set to motion. 

“Ale! Come on! We all know you want to go out there.” Sandra said as she sat down next to the midfielder. 

“No no I can’t dance you know that.” She said, finally tearing her gaze away from Rosalie. 

“We all know you want to get out there with her.” Sandra said, leaning back on the couch while twirling the straw in her drink. “Who could blame you, look at her.”

As if on cew, the song changed to a slower beat, which had the brunette change the pace from fun and electric to swaying her hips to match the more sensual beat of the song.  

“Oh believe me I am looking.” The captain said under her breath, but the comment did jot go unnoticed by the keeper. 

“You should go before someone else swipes her away.” Alexia didn’t move. She looked deep in thought. When the goalkeeper realized that the blond wouldn’t move, she got up and started to walk towards the dance floor, but stopped right before exiting the Vip section. 

“Your loss captain.” 

Rosalie was smiling and she could not stop. She could feel the base all the way through her bones and it was like her body had a mind of its own. Gone was the stress that was clawing at her at the start of the night, all she could feel was the rhythm of the music guiding her movements. 

She was currently dancing with Salma and Pina when she felt a hand settle on her waist and the heat of an unfamiliar presence behind her. She knew right away that the mysterious woman was not Alexia, but judging by the face the girls with her made, it was one of their own. 

Rosalie did not think much of it. She just kept following the beat of the music, letting the warm hands guide her. As time passed , the general fun and carefree vibe of the club changed for something heavier, a lot more seductive. 

The hands on her waist got bolder, pulling the photographer closer. Rosalie spun around, having guessed the identity of the taller woman behind her, and hooked her arms around the keeper’s neck. 

“Not the person you were expecting right?” She said with a big smile on her face. 

“No, but I am not mad about this either.”She answered with a matching smile. There was no need to argue her case. She knew that the goalkeeper was aware of what was going on. Rosalie might be on the dance floor, but she was completely aware of Alexia’s eyes on her and she had seen Sandra attempt to convince the captain to come out on the floor. 

Paños leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of the brunette’s ear. “She’s watching us now.”

On instinct, Rosalie pressed herself even closer to the keeper. “Do you trust me?” She asked, leaving a kiss at the junction of her neck and collarbone. The contact sent shivers down her spine. 

Unable to respond, the Canadian simply nodded and focused on the feeling of the base travelling her body. 

They kept dancing like this for a while, with Sandra making sure that the photographer was comfortable every time her hands wandered. Ingrid, who was still sitting between Irene and Alexia, sent a look to the older woman. She could not believe the nerves her teammates had. 

Alexia was livid. She was sitting on the couch, completely rigid, her cold gaze pinned on the goalkeeper, her jaw tensing with every kiss laid on the brunette’s neck and every time her hands roamed a little too low. 

As if Sandra knew, she lifted her gaze and held Alexia’s head on, daring her almost to come and interrupt her.

 “How long do you think it’ll take before she storms on the dance floor?” Ingrid subtly asked, her eyes not leaving the captain.

“Any moment now.” Irene said. She felt a little bad for her friend, but she also knew that the captain needed a little push to go after what she wanted. 

What  made the captain snap was when Rosalie turned around in the goalkeeper’s arms and finally made eye contact with the blond. Her hips were swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music, the movement almost hypnotic to the footballer. And while Sandra was still pressed up against her, holding her waist and caressing the skin exposed by her dress, the photographer was looking at Alexia like she wished it was her. 

Even in the arms of another, very beautiful woman, all Rosalie wanted was the midfielder. This was what did it for Alexia. That look, filled with desire, inviting her to come and claim what could be hers if she so pleased. 

In a matter of seconds, the footballer had managed to make her way through the crowd and grab Rosalie by the hand, ripping her away from the goalkeeper, who was already grinning at her teammates still on the couch. 

“Ale! What are you doing?” The Canadian asked as she allowed the catalonian woman to drag her towards the back of the club. The captain didn’t answer, she simply kept walking, never letting go of the woman’s hand. They passed several of their teammates who all had the same expression on their faces, knowing very well that they would not see the two of them for the rest of the night.

The club bathrooms were individual stalls with their own sinks. Alexia could not be more glad for this fact as she dragged the photographer behind and closed the door, locking them in.  

For an instant, they both stayed silent, Alexia never letting go of the other woman's hand. A second later, this moment of stillness was interrupted by an intense pull, a need to finally close the space between them.

Alexia was the first to move, drawing Rosalie closer and tangling her hand in the brunette’s hair. As soon as Rosalie’s lips made contact with Alexia’s, a sight came out of her, as if her body had been waiting for this moment all night. Their kiss was frantic, sloppy almost, with every movement controlled solely by intense desire. Alexia pushed  the photographer until her back suddenly hit the bathroom door, which made the woman gasp. The small sound gave the blond the opportunity to press her tongue inside Rosalie’s eager mouth. She tasted of alcohol and something that could only be her and Alexia decided that she definitely needed more. 

Her hands left Rosalie’s hair and started to roam downward, along her sides all the way to her hips. Rosalie could feel her skin ignite everywhere Alexia touched. 

The door knob was digging in the brunette’s back but she couldn't care less about it right now. The way the blond was currently attacking her lips was electric and the feeling of her hands getting bolder had the photographer reeling as she hooked one of her legs around the midfielder, dragging her impossibly closer.  

The change of angle had the blond’s thigh wedged itself between the photographer’s, giving her the perfect opportunity to grind down on her leg. The shift of the muscles, along with the movement of her hips, dragged a loud moan from the brunette, which was swallowed in a hungry kiss. 

This new position had Rosalie’s dress hike up significantly, revealing the skin of her thighs and stopping just below her waist. Alexia’s hand moved down to explore the new expense of skin as her lips kissed down her neck, nipping slightly at the skin. 

Rosalie’s head lolled back , hitting the door with a dull thud. Her body was on fire. All of her senses were overwhelmed by the captain. The smell of her expensive perfume mixed with her strawberry shampoo was intoxicating. The taste of her lips on hers, the feel of her calloused hands traveling on her body. She knew her panties were most definitely ruined by now. 

“Ale, we should..” the rest of her sentence was cut short by a gasp as she could feel Alexia’s fingers graze just past the fabric of her pantie.  

The blond pulled back, her hand retreating from her spot under her dress. “Are you ok, do you want me to stop?” She asked with concern. 

Rosalie’s answer came fast. “ Non non, god no.” She said, grabbing the blond’s face and pulling her in for a kiss. “ I just think we should take this somewhere more comfortable, if you want.”

Alexia didn’t need to be asked twice. In less than five minutes, the duo was exiting the club and walking towards the photographer’s flat. The walk was mostly silent, but filled with tension so thick you could cut through with a butterknife. 

Finding her keys at the bottom of her bag seemed like an impossible task when the brunette could almost feel Alexia’s hot breath on the back of her head. She almost dropped the set of keys when the blond grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against her front.

“ Sérieusement Alexia give me a chance.” She said, dropping her keys this time when soft lips grazed her neck. Alexia chuckled as she took a step back, allowing the brunette to compose herself a little before unlocking. 

As soon as the door is opened, Rosalie is dragged inside and pushed against the closed door, much like her previous position in The club bathroom. But this time, the blond waits to connect her lips to Rosalie’s. 

Alexia takes a deep breath and wills her hands from wandering from their spot on the brunette’s hips. Their foreheads connect, lips only millimeters apart. Rosalie can almost taste them. All she needed to do was lean in a little more, but she was afraid to break the stillness, the intensity of the moment. 

“Rosalia, are you sure?” Alexia whispered, softly. She tried to surge forward and capture the captain’s lips, thinking that actions were stronger than words, but was stopped by the taller woman pulling away and pinning her harder against the door. 

“No no bonita I need to hear you say it.” She said in a low voice, as her lips were ghosting on the sensitive skin of her neck. She smiled, well aware of the effect she had on the brunette and revelled in the way she could feel her breath quickening and hear the soft moans that escaped the brunette’s lips. 

Control was becoming an issue for the captain as well as she fought to not just rip off that beautiful dress and take her here and now, against her apartment door. Alexia’s lips moved down, close enough for Rosalie to feel the heat of her breath but not enough to actually feel the press of her lips on her skin. 

Finally she reached where the hem of her dress sat at the base of her neck. She nipped at the spot right at the base of Rosalie’s throat, swiping her tongue on the newly formed bruise to soothe the skin. 

Forming a coherent sentence was an impossible task for the photographer at the moment. She reached out to pull the midfielder further in but was stopped before her hands could get to the back of her head. 

“Tell me you want this and I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Please Ale, I need you.” It was like a switch was flipped. She grabbed the back of the photographer’s thighs and hoisted her up. The brunette let out a slight laugh as she let the footballer carry her to the bedroom. 

She laid her down gently on the cover and stood up at the feet of the bed. Rosalie leaned back on her elbows, green eyes meeting hazel as the blonde’s gaze softened.

 “Eres tan hermosa.” She all but whispered before laying down and capturing the brunette’s lips once more. Gone was the urgency from before, but the passion between the two was still burning strong. 

Rosalie’s breath came out ragged as she could feel the blond’s lips kiss and suck at the skin just below her pulse point. In a surge of desire, she pulled at the bottom of the midfielder’s top, needing to finally feel the heat of her skin first hand. Alexia somehow managed to rid herself of the fabric fast enough that it was like her lips had never left.

“Can I take this off, bonita?” She asked gently as her hands were fiddling with the bottom of her dress. 

The answer came with the photographer arching her back, giving Alexia the necessary space to push the dress upwards and finally allow the blonde to marvel at the newly exposed skin. Alexia almost growled at the sight of the photographer, left only in a black lacy tong, hair tousled and eyes dark and clouded by desire. 

She kissed down the valley of her breast, lightly biting at the skin before soothing the bite with her tongue. Her hand travelled up to cup her breast while her mouth explored freely.

She took her time, kissing every inch, worshiping the photographer, showing her just how much she wanted her. Rosalie on the other hand, was reeling. She could feel her arousal pooling in her panties. She needed more. She whined and pushed Alexia’s head down in hopes that the blonde would understand the message, but the captain had other plans. She grazed her nipple with her teeth before biting down, which sent a shock straight to her core. 

The moan that came out of the photographer’s lips was loud 

Alexia’s hand travelled down until she reached the hem of the lacy fabric. There was still a part at the back of Rosalie's mind which was embarrassed about what would the blonde discover when her fingers would dip lower. 

“What do you want, amor?” She said with a smirk plastered on her face. 

“Please touch me.” The photographer whimpered. 

“I am touching you.” She said, while she slipped down the bed to settle between the brunette's legs.

 That confident, cocky side of her, the one that shone bright when she wore the red and blue kit along with the arm band, was peaking through as she gazed up at the smaller woman. Rosalie couldn’t believe that this woman had not been remotely close to where she needed her the most and she already had her begging. 

Her hands were now caressing the smooth skin of her tights, squeezing her flesh, making the woman beneath her gasp at the feeling.  

« Please I need to feel you. » reaching down only to have her hands pinned down on the bed. « I want your mouth on me, Ale please. » 

“Ok bonita, lift your hips for me.”  She said, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her panties and slipping them down her legs. 

“Oh look at you baby.” The sight with which she was met was nothing short of heavenly. Her lips were glistening with arousal and Alexia could not help but leave a soft kiss right where Rosalie desperately needed contact. 

“All this for me?”

“Oui, all for you.” The photographer said, lifting her head just enough to watch the midfielder finally lick down the length of her slit. She groaned at how her taste flooded her mouth, the vibration sending shockwaves through the brunette. 

“You taste so good,” Her tongue found her clit and lapped gently and parts your lips with her tongue, collecting her juice at the same time.

 Alexia is attentive to every breath hitch, whimper and moan coming from the brunette, reading her like an open book. It didn’t take long before Rosalie had lost all control of her own body and mind. All her senses were in overdrive, but there was something missing. 

Alexia’s lips captured her clit and sucked lightly at the bundle of nerves. Rosalie saw stars clouding her vision. “ fuck Alexia s’il te plait,  don’t stop.”

The mix of French and the pleading only motivated the blonde even more as she focused on her clit, altering between tight circles and sucking at the flesh. 

“ Ale..” she said before a long moan interrupted her sentence. 

“Que necesitas, bonita?” 

“More,” She simply was not able to form a sentence in the state she currently was. Alexia’s hand left her hips to travel down between her legs and tease at her entrance. 

“Is this what you want?” She asked smugly. 

“Yes! Oui please.” Alexia smiled at the brunette’s eagerness and could not do anything but oblige after the photographer had asked so nicely. Her mouth fell open as her fingers finally stretched her. 

Her name was on her lips, chanting it like a prayer. Her hand was desperately grasping at anything she could reach before finally finding and intertwining her fingers with Alexia’s free hand. The feel of her climax was approaching fast, like an all-consuming fire ready to swipe everything in its wake. 

Her legs tensed, around the captain’s head and she could feel her walls clenching around her fingers. Her hips started to buck against her face.

“You are doing so good for me bonita.” She said before curling her fingers, reaching the spot inside her that

She lifted her leg on her shoulder and curled her fingers deeper inside her. The change in angles allowing the captain to reach a spot deep inside her that had the photographer completely lose it. Her heel was digging in the blonds back but she couldn't care less. Every swipe of her tongue, along with the steady thrust of her fingers brought her that much closer to the edge. Alexia could feel just how close by the way her walls were clenching, making it harder to keep her rhythm.

The brunette could hear Alexia speak to her softly in what she thought was Catalan. She couldn’t understand a word but it didn’t matter, the hushed soft sound of her voice alone was enough to guide her over the edge. 

Alexia slowed down her trust but kept her mouth on her, lapping up everything the brunette was giving her. It had been a strong one. The kind that completely short circuited her brain and left her body limp on the sheets. When the feeling became too much, she pulled at Alexia’s hand to drag her up to her lips. The kiss was soft and slow, full of appreciation and a feeling that Rosalie was not quite ready to name yet. 

They stayed quiet for a moment. Alexia’s head against the photographer’s chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. “Are you ok, Rosalia?”

Rosalie smiled and took a deep breath before shifting their position, ending up on top of the captain. The sudden movement stunned the footballer who let out a gasp as she found herself trapped under the smaller woman. “ qué estás haciendo…” 

Rosalie didn’t wait for the end of her sentence and crashed her lips on Alexia. A new fire had ignited once the shock of her orgasm had faded. She wanted to make the blond feel as good as she just had. 

“You don’t have to…”

“Non non, none of that.” The brunette said as her lips travelled down her neck to the valley of her breast. “I want to taste you Alexia, will you let me?.” She asked, looking up to the footballer. She looked so good at this moment, her hands caressing down her hips, hair cascading down one side, a silent question written in her eyes. Alexia groaned at the sight. 

“Si, si, I want you to.” She said, as her head fell back on the pillow and her arms came up, covering her face. Rosalie’s lips connected with Alexia’s chest, teasing the skin with her teeth and soothing the bites with a kiss. They travelled down to Alexia’s abdomen where they were met with taunt muscles which twitched with every kiss and drag of her tongue. 

This was probably Rosalie’s favorite part of the footballer. She remembered every time she had caught herself almost drooling when the midfielder would raise her shirt to wipe some sweat off her forehead, leaving her abs exposed. Now, Rosalie was finally able to map out every crease and ridge of her stomach.

She could see that the blond was growing restless underneath her, and she too, could not wait any longer. She slid down between the blond’s legs, spreading them slightly to accommodate her, and left a kiss at the waistband of her pants. Alexia lifted her hips, chasing the warmth of her mouth, which allowed the brunette to tug down her jeans and panties. Once free from the barrier between the brunette’s lips and her most sensitive parts, Alexia grabbed a handful of her hair and guided her towards where she desperately needed her. But Rosalie had other plans in mind, as she skillfully avoided the women's center, opting to kiss and leave little bite marks on the skin of her inner thighs. 

A harsher tug pulled a moan from the photographer as she was brought back right in front of Alexia’s glistening heat. Green eyes met hazel, a teasing smirk dancing on the Canadian’s lips as she watched the captain slowly lose composure. 

The first swipe of her tongue felt like heaven. Rosalie went slow, savoring what had officially become her favourite taste. She drew lazy circles around her clit, slowly working up the blond who seemed completely lost in the feeling. The carefulness with which she had previously touched the photography was gone. Her fingers were now firmly anchored in her hair, tugging and pulling every time Rosalie’s tongue swiped down to tease at her entrance. She was essentially grinding down on her tongue, chasing her high which was rapidly approaching.

Rosalie was contempt with the predicament she was currently in, happy to be used for the captain's pleasure. She was attentive to her reaction, switching from sucking at her clit to flattening her tongue before swiping down to finally breach inside. The groan that came out of the blond’s mouth was surely the most erotic sound the photographer had ever heard, and she made it her mission to be the cause of more of these addictive sounds. 

Her peak was approaching fast. Her grip on reality fading rapidly as she was consumed by the feeling of the photographer’s hot mouth on her. She opened her mouth, trying to tell the brunette to keep going, that she was close, that her tongue felt so good on her, that she was being so good for her, but she did not know if she had been successful in speaking clearly. Hell she didn’t even know in what language she had spoken, but it didn’t matter. Rosalie seemed to know exactly what to do to make Alexia completely lose it.

Her climax came suddenly. It washed on her like a dangerous wave that drags you under and leaves you thinking you’ll never breach the surface again. Every part of her tensed to the point where it was almost painful, but Rosalie didn’t stop, she only slowed down her ministrations, helping the woman come down slowly. Rosalie kissed up Alexia’s body, before laying down next to her. Her breathing was slowly coming down as she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s shoulder and pulled her in. 

“Was this ok?” The brunette asked shyly, as if she had not been buried between the woman’s trembling legs minutes ago.

“Dios mio, Rosalia si, it was more than ok, this was divine bonita.” The blond said, turning her head and kissing the photographer softly. Rosalie smiled as she buried her face in the blond’s neck. Soon enough, the photographer's breath started to even out, her body feeling heavier in the midfielder’s arms. She kissed her head before too, succumbing to the heavy pull of sleep.