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chahnniesroom · 3 months

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for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic. formatted this on my phone bc i'm lazy so please let me know if anything looks weird!

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

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nottzgf · 2 months

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pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

credits for idea: this fic was highly inspired by @colablue 's fic "theodore nott meeting you headcanons."

word counting: 779

notes: it is so fluffy oml. theo is being an adorable little love strucked puppy!! :) also, this is my first fanfic ever so don't judge hahaha. just enjoy reading it and please leave a like if you enjoyed!

after a week of adjusting to hogwarts, classes start going again. professors were making seating plans, talking about everyone's summer, or going straight into the syllabus for this year.

it was your third period of the day, charms. and you saw your best friend walking in, you waved and signaled that she could sit next to you. before she could though, theodore nott took her seat instead. your friend looked confused, but you were even confuser. you shrugged your shoulders and mouthed an apology. she just gave an empathetic smile, knowing your problems with the slytherin boy.

at the start of your education at hogwarts, you always felt like you did something to upset theodore. he looked at you with those cold, scary-looking eyes and it made you very nervous. even your friends notice his starings and they only confirm your suspicions: theodore despices you.

your best friend took a seat a few tables away from you, and professor flitwick started his lesson. your eyes kept shooting glances at theo. he was now looking to his book in front of him, but it didn't look like he was actually reading. his knee was shaking what made you kinda of feel bad for him, but you were also trying to figure out why he even chose to sit next to you.

you kept wondering if he was finally going to confront you or at least tell you what you did to wrong him. but no, complete silence from the boy. you did feel his eyes on you from time to time like he was observing you, or maybe he was making a plan on how to kill you, because that's what it looked like to you.

the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson. the professor said something about an assignment but his voice was overpowered by students packing up their bags and chairs scratching the wooden floor. "theodore, wait-" but when you looked up, he was already out of the door. "why is he so fast?" you mumbled then threw your stuff in your bag and rushed after him.

"theodore!" you yelled after him and this time theo actually heard. he turned around slowly, his cold gaze fixated on you. he didn't say anything, that seemed his thing, but he did show that he was listening. you took a deep breath and spoke softly, "did i do anything to upset you? you keep looking at me like you're angry at me. because if i did upset you, i'm so sorry!" you were talking very fast and theo blinked to process what you were sayinh. after an awkward silence, he said with a smile on his face, "you haven't done anything wrong." his voice sounded hoarse from but also very soft and soothing in some way. before you could say or ask anything else, he walked up to you and took your books out of your hands. he then started walking away, leaving you confused.

he turned around when he realized you weren't following him. he looked at you and nodded his head, signaling to follow him. you sighed and caught up with him. you looked up at him and then at your shoes, trying to suppress a smile.

theo saw your smile and didn't say anything, but he did smirk. his posture changed, conveying his newfound confidence now that he had made you smile. he walked with you to your next class without saying a word. you didn't say anything either, the silence was kinda peaceful, not at all awkward.

theo stopped once you had arrived at your next class. he tilted his head and examined your face intently. "you're intriguing, you know that? there's something about you..." he trailed off, contemplating the best way to express his feelings and thoughts. you took him out of his haze by taking your books from his hands, slightly touching his hand accidentally. you were smiling up at him and slightly blushing when you said, "thank you for walking with me. but i suggest you hurry to your own class... i don't want you to be late." theo chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "see you, theodore." you wanted to turn away but he spoke up yet again, "it's theo." you turned back and nodded, "alright... then, see you theo." he smiled and gave you one last look before leaving for his own class.

you watched him walk away before going inside of your class. you took a seat far in the back where you thought about your encounter with theo. so he didn't hate you.... he was intrigued by you. and to be fair, it made you blush all over again.

#⊹ kye's theo ୨ৎ #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott headcanons #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #draco malfoy x reader #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 8 days

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Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #bat boys #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar cassian #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

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buccini555 · 9 months

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… 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝...

≡ Shinichiro finally noticed you

⌕ I m a g i n e s !

♡... 𝑭𝒕. Shinichiro Sano and special participation by Izana Kurokawa!

⚠︎!! explicit smut,unprotected s♡x, virg♡nity loss, school bathroom s♡x, oral, overstimulation, bl♡wjob, smoking, petnames (baby, honey)... I think that's all?

On that day that seemed to be just another day full of boredom, not many people had gone to school because it was a week after the holidays, but, you were there with your friends, you realized that they didn't give a damn about you, for that reason you ended up walking away and going to some corner of the classroom where you could be alone, as you didn't have classes that day, you just stood there passing a colorless nail polish on your nails anxious to finally leave that stupid place, everything was really boring until someone walked through the door in the class, Shinichiro Sano, a grade above you, you had already talked a few times before and you had a huge crush on him, so you laid eyes on the taller one, you had already noticed him a few times, but, you knew that despite being extremely extroverted, he was shy when it came to girls and you also faithfully believed that you would not have a chance with that boy, he is handsome, tall, affectionate and cute, you always have him in your thoughts, every time Shinichiro spoke to you he was extremely kind.

Shinichiro came to bring the message from the another teacher, since they had nothing to do in the classroom, it was better that they practice some sport or something, you thought it was a waste of time, but it was the same with the rest of your class, arriving at the place of sports, you sat apart from the rest, continuing to manage your nails and listening to songs, your playlist had just started when Shinichiro sat down next to you.

"What are you doing here, alone? Have your friends left you out again?" Shinichiro approached you, making you take off your headphones and pay attention to him, you could only notice how handsome he was and that made you a little intimidated.

"They're like... boring as fuck! but I really don't give a shit, how about you? Why are you here?" You replied despondently, looking away and putting your songs aside.

"I saw you alone and I came to keep you company! I don't want to see you so sad" He smiled, Shinichiro looked confident and shy at the same time, you could see a bit of nervousness on the taller one's face.

"Hmm? Okay... Seriously, I really wanted to go somewhere more secluded, don't you know any places?" You questioned him, watching the other people from afar.

"Hmmm? I know a place! Do you want to go with me?" He looked at you after thinking a bit, wondering if you really wanted to go with him.

"I honestly am hating being here..."

"I think it's best that no one sees us going together, so go to the bathroom behind the court and wait for me, understand?"

"Bathroom?" You laughed, questioning him about the location.

Shinichiro laughed and you got up, quickly going to the aforementioned place without get other people's attention, that bathroom had been disabled for a few years, so no one went in there, unless you had the key, as you obviously didn't get it, you waited for Shinichiro, who arrived soon after.

"Do you have the key to this place, Shinichiro?"

"...I have my secrets, baby." Sano responded immediately, taking the keys out of one of his coat pockets.

He opened the door, first looking to see if anyone was around, but there was just you and him.

"What a strange place!" You spoke in a low tone while looking at the abandoned bathroom.

"We can leave here if you want..."

"Oh, Shini, whatever! We should go into one of the cabins, someone can come in here."

"It's quite impossible for anyone to enter here, but... Since you want to enter, let's go."

You and Shinichiro entered one of the cabins, the place was tight, for that reason you were getting closer and closer, at that moment, you started to see Shinichiro with different eyes, you knew the sudden approach was getting him a little excited, but obviously he wasn't going to show it, he seemed to want something, but he didn't know what to do, so, you got even closer to him, when he finally took the courage to hold your waist and give you a small kiss.

"I-I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did it!" Nervousness took hold of him, as he had never had a girl in his hands before.

"Shini? Hey, no need to apologize, I... want to." You reciprocated the kiss, this time, it became longer and the kisses were getting more and more "warm", you held the chain around Shinichiro's neck while kissing him, he gently ran his hand over your body, making you sigh a few times.

After a few kisses, he gently held you by the waist again and placed you on top of a small counter inside the cabin, staying between your legs while kissing you, at that moment you realized that he put more strength into the touch, also feeling how excited he was while he was between your legs you could feel how hard he was, he was itching to try you, you knew that if they did something, it would have to be quick, so, even though you were still a virgin, you didn't waste time at that moment with Shinichiro.

"Shini, S-shini? P-please"

"Baby? You want to stop?"

"No! Please, I want more!"

"Hmm? More?"

"I-I want you, Shini."

"I don't want to give you the wrong impression..."

"N-no, baby, I want to lose my virginity with you..."

"B-baby, you should expect someone special!"

"You are special to me, Shinichiro, please, I'm so horny, only you can satisfy me."

The fact that you wanted to lose your virginity to him just made him even more horny and more willing to fuck you, when he realized that you really wanted him, Shinichiro just stopped talking, he started kissing you with even more desire and put his hand inside your pants, gently jerking you off over your panties, when he started to feel you were wet enough "So pretty, baby!" he just pulled your panties aside and started touching your clit, after you started moaning even more he gently put his fingers on you.

"...Mmm, baby? I promise to be careful."

You were already horny, almost begging him to fuck you, you just moaned softly begging for his dick, so, answering your request, Shinichiro gently made you touch. "Can you handle a dick that big, or nah?" You just nodded your head in affirmation, he was already extremely turned on so he started to put it on you carefully, when you got used to his dick he started to be faster and go deeper and deeper, holding her mouth so no one can hear her moans, "That tight pussy belongs to me, only I can fuck you like that, cum for me honey" He said as he worked hard, he just wanted to make you have your first orgasm, so Shinichiro really put effort into what he was doing.

"F-fuck, can I cum in your mouth?Please" He asked you when he was about to reach his peak, you quickly accepted, giving him a blowjob before he cumming, you knew what you were doing so you just made the taller one let out some moans and melt in your mouth.

You still had some time, so Shinichiro refused to try your pussy taste, he really wanted to use his tongue at that moment, but, when he started to lick your clit and penetrate you again with his fingers, some motherfucker knocked on the door, Shinichiro was sure it was his brother, Izana Kurokawa, Izana had become a fucking smoker and used to go to that bathroom for a smoke sometimes.

"Fuck! stay quiet, baby, I won't stop" He made you stay quiet while he finished what he was doing, when you finally came in his mouth, Shinichiro and you got dressed and left the bathroom.

"What the hell is that, Shinichiro?"

Izana screamed as soon as he saw you leaving the place together, he started laughing, apologizing for having disturbed. Shinichiro just looked at him in disgust and grabbed your hand, pulling you away.

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ladylannisterxo · 2 years

Text

Tell Me You Love Me

Pairings; Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Words; 3.1k

Warnings; S M U T (18+ only), fingering, unprotected sex, established relationship, fluff, angst but the kind of angst with a happy ending, ya know?

Summary; A heated argument leaves you standing alone when Steve slams the door behind him. You're not certain when he'll be back but you're determined to remind him just how much you truly love him when he does.

A/N: *slaps the roof of this fic* Ooooof, you can fit so much into this bad boy... we got angst, we got smut, and then to wrap it all up in a bow? We got tooth rotting fluff. Steve just really wants and needs love in this one, okay? And who are we to deny him?

This was requested by @harringtonforhire (thanks so much for requesting!) and this one kind of took on a mind of its own. I had plans for how I wanted it to go down but this is where we ended up sooo hope you enjoy!

{ masterlist }

Moving in together was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be fun. Up until this point, you had been convinced that every adult ever was full of shit when they gave you that knowing look and said, “moving in together is the real test, that’s when you find out how truly compatible you are.” No, it was you and Steve against the world—that’s what the two of you had said anyway—just you and him in your ridiculously small one bedroom apartment drinking and laughing and curling up on the couch to watch movies, eating absolutely terrible food because neither of you knows how to cook, and spending each evening making love because he was yours and you were his.

So how did you end up here?

The fights hadn’t started right away. For awhile, months even, it was true, paradisiacal bliss. But maybe the one bedroom apartment was too cramped or Steve was frustrated because Family Video wasn’t paying much or you were always stressed trying to balance a job and school. Regardless of whatever contributing factors may or may not be in place, none of them prepared you for the full screaming match that occurred or the words that should have never been said or the slamming of the door as he left.

Steve had come home in a sour mood, barely speaking, and then spent the next hour sulking around the apartment. You had been in the kitchen trying to sort out dinner and as soon as the front door had opened, you could feel the tension crackling in the air. He was acting like a child, that was your first thought, as he wondered from room to room mumbling under his breath and avoiding your concerned gaze.

“Steve,” you snapped, pulling him out of his mind and back to reality. “Can you just talk to me?”

“Nothing to talk about.” He shrugs, then departs the room as if that was going to clear everything up.

You gape, watching his retreating form as he exits back into the living room. A seething anger begins building inside of you as you follow closely behind, refusing to let this be your entire evening. In retrospect, you should have just let it go; let him sulk around for a bit and sleep it off, he’d be fine in the morning. But this wasn’t the first fight of the week and you were beyond annoyed by this point.

“Steve,” you say again, crossing into the living room and staring at your boyfriend who has now deposited himself on the couch, eyes focused on the tv. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” His eyes remain on the tv.

“This,” you emphasize, waving your hands around wildly. “You come home in a bad mood and you instantly push me away.”

His eyes snap over to you. “I’m not pushing you away.”

“Then what the fuck do you call it, Steve?” You inhale deeply, trying desperately to quell the anger bubbling up inside of you. “You won’t tell me what’s wrong, you won’t talk to me. I mean, is it me? Am I the problem, am I not doing enough?”

“No.” He sighs, doesn’t elaborate.

He turns his attention back to the tv and you scoff, a biting sound if you’ve ever heard one. You move further into the room and place yourself directly in front of the tv, effectively blocking his view. His jaw tenses and his eyes grow hard.

Good.

“Stop ignoring me! You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to come home and be in a shitty mood all the fucking time. You don’t get to push me away, Steve!”

“Push you away?” He scoffs, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m the one pushing you away? No, you’ve got that backwards, honey, I’ve been fighting for your attention for weeks now. I come home once, maybe twice, in a bad mood and suddenly I’m the bad guy? No, no fucking way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been distant for weeks now. You’re rarely ever home and when you are, you’re always tired, you never want to talk. I mean, let’s be realistic for a second here, when’s the last time we had sex?”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, a sardonic laugh flowing from your lips. “Is that what this is about? Because I haven’t fucked you lately? I have a job, Steve, and school!”

“But I only have a job, right? Because I couldn’t pull the grades to get into a good school, any school.”

“Don’t,” you warn, “you know that shit doesn’t matter to me.”

“So, what? You’re the only one who gets to be in a tired, shitty mood from time to time because you have a job and school?” He laughs, a bitter and unkind sound. “But me, I should be fine, right? Because I only have my simple minded, ridiculously low paying job which I hate by the way but nowhere else is hiring right now so I’m stuck taking extra shifts and working longer hours just so I can provide for you, for us.”

“No one told you that you had to do that,” you yell, “I didn’t even know you were taking extra shifts because you never told me you were going to because you don’t talk to me anymore!”

“Oh my God,” he says, rubbing his hands across his face. “This is such bullshit!”

“Yeah? Well, I think you’re bullshit, Steve.”

He flinches, hard. All the anger seems to immediately drain from his body as he downturns his gaze to the floor. You stare back, unwavering, refusing to bend. In hindsight, you’re not proud of it.

He nods once, sniffs lightly and then whispers, “Yeah.”

And then he’s snagging his keys off the coffee table and marching towards the door. You almost call out to him, but you don’t. You almost run over to catch him by the arm, beg him to stay, to talk, but you don’t. It feels as if the moment stretches on forever in slow motion, giving you more than enough time to stop him from leaving… but you don’t. Then he’s out the door and slamming it so hard, it rattles the pictures adorning the walls.

You stand stock still watching the door, waiting for him to come back inside. He doesn’t. You wait in that exact same spot for another ten minutes, waiting. He doesn’t come back. You take a shuddering breath and slowly begin turning off all of the lights as you make your way back to the bedroom. He still doesn’t show. You fight the tears threatening to spill as you curl up into a ball wishing he was right there next to you, pulling you into his space, wrapping his arms tightly around you. But he’s not.

He stays gone all night.

==========

Steve still isn’t home when you awake the next morning and by the time noon rolls around, you figure it’s time to finally crawl yourself out of bed. You’re sure he’s at work anyway, giving Robin an earful of everything that had happened. The thought makes your heart ache. You’ve already skipped your morning classes and while you successfully managed to pull yourself out of bed, you end up dropping back down onto the couch to sulk there instead. Fuck being productive.

By the time six o’clock rolls around, you’re pretty positive he’s not coming home again until you hear keys jingling in the lock and quicker than you can process, you’re on your feet, breath stifled in your lungs. The door opens way too slowly for your liking but then he’s there, in his normal Steve Harrington glory that still makes you weak in the knees. He looks exhausted—his hair is an absolute disaster and his eyes are red rimmed, from lack of sleep or crying, you can’t be sure. But then those eyes are trained on you and it’s as if you’ve forgotten how to function entirely.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“I, uh, I just came by to grab some things and then I’ll be out of your way so no need to worry, okay?” He brushes past you, heading for the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Steve,” you begin, following closely behind, willing the sob to keep itself from bursting forth. “You don’t have to go. I don’t want you to go.”

He doesn’t respond, only keeps his back turned to you as he begins rifling through the drawers. You approach him slowly, reaching out to rest your hands against his back. He stiffens at your touch but doesn’t move away. You take that as a slight win, a go ahead and you run your hands softly up over his shoulders and then back down to wrap firmly around his waist. You press yourself flush against his back, head resting between his shoulders.

“Please don’t go,” you implore, voice catching as tears leak from your eyes. “I was upset, angry but I didn’t mean it, baby, I didn’t mean it. I love you so much, please stay with me.”

He sighs but then he’s loosening your grip so he can turn in your arms. He wraps his own tightly around you and that’s when the dam breaks and the sob you’ve been holding back breaks free. He rubs his hands soothingly over your back, soft shh’s and it’s okay, I’m here’s falling from his lips. It’s just like Steve to comfort you even though you’re the one who hurt him—you squeeze him tighter against you.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “It’s okay, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You unhook your grasp from around his back and let your hands trail up over his chest before you cup his face in your hands, keeping him looking at you. You couldn’t bear it if he looked away now.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so so sorry and I understand if you can never forgive me—”

“—Baby, I forgave you the second I got into my car and drove out of here last night. I just, I think we both needed some space after what happened, after what was said, you know?”

You nod, your bottom lip quivering softly. He brushes his thumb softly over your lips, eyes searching your own for any hint that your apologies may not run as deeply as you claim.

“Do you—,” he stops, clears his throat, eyes blinking rapidly, “do you really think I’m bullshit?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No and I can’t believe I said that. I shouldn’t have said that, I’ve never meant anything less. You’re not bullshit, Steve, you are perfect, you are everything and I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes.”

“Say it again,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Steve, I love you so much.”

He chokes on a sob and then his lips are on yours, forceful and insistent, and it steals all the breath from your lungs. You tangle your fingers in the ends of his hair as one arm snakes around your waist and the other cups your cheek. He begins walking you backwards toward the bed, lips kissing every inch of your face.

“Again. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Then your back is hitting the bed and he’s hovering over you. You stare at each other then, taking one another in as it feels like days have passed when in reality, it’s only been a handful of hours. His lips continue their path from your lips to your jaw down to your neck as his hand snakes up underneath your shirt, thumb running against the underside of your breast before he’s rolling a nipple between his fingers. You arch up into his touch, a gasp falling from your lips.

Your hands are roaming all over his body as his lips and fingers continue their ministrations and without waiting, you untuck his polo from his jeans and forcibly rip it up and over his head. You toss it haphazardly to some far corner of the room before you’re running your fingers up his stomach and through his chest hair. He kisses you again, harder, and you readjust your position to spread your legs, slotting him completely between them. You can feel the firm press of his cock against your thigh and you whimper softly at the friction, wanting him closer, needing him closer now.

“Steve, please,” you whisper against his lips, “I want it. I want you.”

“Tell me what you want.” His fingers cascade down your skin, pushing your panties to the side to slide two fingers through your slick folds. “Tell me, baby, what do you want?”

“You, all of you, inside me.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” He pushes those same two fingers deep into your dripping pussy, pumping them in and out at a torturously slow pace.

You moan loudly at the intrusion, rolling your hips against him but you shake your head, fingers already scratching down his torso to begin unbuckling his belt.

“No?” He purrs, tongue flicking against the shell of your ear. “Well then you gotta tell me, baby. I can’t give it to you unless you tell me.”

You hastily finish unbuckling his belt and unfastening his jeans then you’re shoving your hand down to wrap around his hard cock. He hisses at the contact. “This,” you whisper, eyes staring deeply into his own. “This is what I want. I want your cock buried so hard and so deeply inside of me that I can feel you for days after it’s over.” His jaw drops open slightly. “Then, when the sensation starts to fade, I want you to fuck me again but harder until I can’t think straight, until I can’t remember anything but you. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, a teasing smirk adorning his face. “I love when you get hot for me.”

“I’m always hot for you, Steve Harrington, don’t you ever forget that.”

Your hands scramble alongside his own in an attempt to shove his jeans down his hips, just enough to free his cock. His eyes lock onto your own, a single breath passing between the two of you, and then he’s pushing himself fully inside. You moan loudly at the feeling of being so completely full. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, you grip the back of his neck and bring him down for another heated kiss. His hips roll gently against your own, allowing you to take him slow and steady but oh so deep.

His hands come down to the hem of your shirt, shoving it roughly up your body and then off of your head. You arch your back, pushing your heated skin against him and melding your lips with his own once again. His fingers twine together with yours tightly as he pushes your hands up above your head, holding you gently but firmly in place. The stretch feels divine and every deep thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“Steve, fuck,” you breathe.

His thrusts are slow, precise, methodical but that familiar coil begins winding tightly in your belly and you know you aren’t going to last much longer. You tighten your legs and roll your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust for thrust.

“That’s it, angel,” he grunts, lips against your ear, breath hot on your neck. He releases your hands, one of his own diving into your hair while the other hitches your leg higher on his waist. “I’ve got you, let go.”

Everything is heightened. His thrusts feel harder, his touch seems hotter, his eyes look brighter. Your fingernails rake down his shoulders before you grasp firmly onto his neck for purchase as the pressure builds and builds and he takes you higher and higher. Steve drops his forehead onto yours, eyes alight as he holds your gaze… and then you’re falling fast and hard into the waves of pure ecstasy. A cracked moan falls from your lips, your back arches, and he releases your leg to wrap his arm fully around you, holding you closer than before, working you through your high.

You come down slowly, breathing deeply and he’s thrusting harder, faster chasing his own release. You brush his damp hair out of his face, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. A choked moan tumbles from his lips and then he’s ducking his head into the crook of your shoulder, moaning softly, thrusts becoming erratic. You press your lips against the side of his face, leaving gentle kisses anywhere that you can.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur, wrapping yourself tighter around him. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Steve thrusts one, two, three more times and then a broken sob emits from him as he crushes you completely against his body, finally finding his own release. A moment passes, you both breathing deeply from this unexpected excursion, and then he’s lifting his head to meet your gaze. A soft, sweet smile plays at the corner of his lips and you bring your fingers up to wipe a fallen tear from his eye.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trepidation winding itself around your heart.

“Never better,” he muses, “sorry, I think my emotions got the best of me there.”

You breathe a laugh as he rolls off to lay next to you. You turn on your side, resting your head on his chest and twisting your fingers with his own. His arm comes up around you, pulling you flush against his side, fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your arm.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head up to look at his face.

He’s staring wide eyed at the ceiling, breathing deeply. You furrow your brow in confusion and pull yourself up to be able to look down at him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

His eyes flit to yours, softening immeasurably. He cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. You smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.

“I know you’re probably getting tired of hearing me ask this but could you, could you tell me again?” He flushes deeply, a dusty pink blooming across his chest and up his neck. “Please tell me you love me again.”

You grin, leaning down to peck his lips with your own. “I love you, Steve Harrington. Mind, body, heart, and soul. With every single fiber of my being. I am yours.”

“And I’m yours, every part of me,” he says, “God, I love you so much. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shush him gently, feeling the emotions building up inside of him like waves on the ocean. “Let’s not talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just be, you and me.”

“Okay,” he whispers and then softer, “again?”

You giggle. “I love you, Steve.”

He sighs, elated. “I love you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #writing by 's'

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 7

Warnings: oh boy okay so Angst! profanity! Violence! Mentions of blood! Injury! Abusive-ish behavior!!! MARTIN!!!!!! Ferran! Blackmail!! Just shitty behavior!!!! pls don't read if you're not comfortable!

Word Count: 14.1k (fun fact! If you've read all 7 parts, you've read 87 pages single space!)

A/N: Guys this is one of the chapters I had planned out from the beginning. I really have poured a lot of my own soul into this, so I hope y'all enjoy! I'm actually so ready to read the reactions to this one lol. GIF by @rubendiasatl

You thought you had met the love of your life in college. He appeared to be perfect. He was the captain of the swim team, rumored to get a national championship that year in the 100m freestyle. He was the secretary of Phi Pi Delta, the largest business fraternity in the region, set to work on Wall Street making $200k right after graduation. You two were the perfect couple: Ryan, with his perfect hair and perfect smile, the sexy, sporty Spanish girl on his arm. You were conquering medicine as he ruled the world of finance. Sometimes on your walk to class, you would daydream about what your wedding would look like.

You did everything that was required of you as "Ryan's girl". You were an academic badass, but in a completely different field, so he could have a smart girl that would never be his competition. You worked as a sports manager, showing that "Ryan's girl" was a powerhouse on her own that commanded respect, but turned into a shy little lamb around her man. You worked hard and played harder, going to every PPD event and mixer. You always drank to show people that you weren't a prude, but you were never the girl hunched over the toilet losing her innards. You were good at beer pong, but only when Ryan was your partner. You played 7 minutes in heaven, but were so cold and intimidating that everyone left with blue balls and a muttering of "what a bitch". For 8 months of your senior year, you were "Ryan's girl", and you were the absolute best at playing the part.

It was a tiring job, but one you balanced with all your other actions. You learned how to get him and his friends basketball tickets mere hours before tipoff. You were an expert at covering hickies, but also enhancing them when he wanted to prove to the guys at a rival frat that he wasn’t soft. You killed your complaints and your gag reflex, knees growing used to the rough carpet of the frat house. You never asked for his location, and never made a face when other girls talked about how much they wanted your man. You never bored him with talks of your futures after graduation. You were perfect.

You looked perfect the day you walked into the frat house, hair pulled back in a slick ponytail to show off the piercings in your ear and the tightness of your polo shirt. Your khakis hugged your thighs, Jordan’s pristine as you slipped them off before heading upstairs. The basketball team had offered you a full time position; you could stay for the next several years if you so chose. Everything was perfect. The sky was the perfect shade of blue. The air was the perfect temperature with a perfect breeze. And as you opened the door to your boyfriend’s room, you saw a bare figure on top of him, connected at their cores, with her mouth shaped in a perfect “O”. And one perfect tear ran down your cheek as you silently walked back down the stairs, ignoring the yells about it not being what it looked like, and left Ryan behind forever.

You hadn’t thought about Ryan in years. But his memory came back to you as you pulled up to Martin’s house and found his car parked out in front of his door instead of it’s usual place in the garage. The Benz stared back at you, looking so different from that first date. It had been bright and welcoming and joyous that very first time it rolled up in front of your building. Now it was different, the blue taking on a more hue, feeling ominous and serious. It was the color of midnight - the color of fear. Why was the precious Benz parked out front? Martin wouldn't even let some valets park his car for fear of it getting scratched. His tires were still turned. The Benz was crooked in the driveway.

You walked up to the door, and you thought about Ryan again. You thought about the countless texts he sent you afterwards, telling you how much he loved you and how he would never do it again. And you read every single one, waiting with baited breath for him to say what you needed to hear: that he regretted it. That he had made a terrible mistake when he was out of his mind and he hated every second. But it never came. He wanted you, but he never regretted that moment with her. He never felt remorse about the moment he decided she was more important than you were. It didn't make you sad or angry - just empty. It was like a hold had been carved out, and it was another reminder that it would never be filled. You would never be the first choice. You would never be that girl that was above it all. You would always be a pretty good girl that needed to be supplemented by someone else.

The hole within you had not been filled, but it started to be covered by some good people in your lives. Your friends at your physiology program made you always feel competent and capable in what you were doing in school. Angelika and your other university friends gave you comfort, covering the emptiness with warm feelings. And now, you had the boys at Barca had worked to cover that hole with positive affirmations, reminding you that you were just as much a part of the team and how much you were valued. And there was a bit of the hole that started to close, one centimeter at a time, every time you looked at your phone and saw that Gavi was checking up on you.

You felt that hole fill with butterflies as you wrote out your Christmas card to him. You hadn't wanted it to come across as cheesy or desperate, despite you reassuring yourself that you couldn't be desperate if you were in a relationship. You had begged the media team for any photo of you and Gavi, knowing how much the sentiment would mean to him. One thing you had noticed during your two brief appearances in Pablo's home was his appreciation for the few pictures he had. They were taped to the wall beside the door: photos from his youth at his La Masia matches, his family on vacation, and a polaroid with a few of the Barca boys. A part of you hoped you would make it onto the wall.

But with each knock on Martin's door that went unanswered, the butterflies disintegrated, filling you with smoke and ash and bile, the hole in your very soul aching. As you turned the doorknob, you felt it give way easily - the door was unlocked. He had come home, car parked haphazardly, with the door remaining unlocked. You braced yourself, not exactly sure for what, and entered the house.

You should have seen it coming. You should have known from his demeanor and the way he spoke to you when you were with him versus when you were away. You should have listened to the whispers on the internet and in the locker room. But you ignored it all, believing that people were inherently good and caring. And now your naivety had all culminated and led to this moment: you standing in Martin's entryway, staring at his hideous brown couch, a trail of clothes leading from your feet to the naked girl perched on the dark fabric. The two of you locked eyes, and her mouth dropped agape. She grabbed the closest piece of fabric to cover her bare form, her pale cheeks turning scarlet from embarrassment.

"Bonita, hurry up so I can call my girl-"

Martin's eyes locked with yours, stopping dead in his tracks and freezing as his girl on the couch did. You waited for either of them to speak. With baited breath you waited for the feminine screams of "you have a girlfriend?" and the begs to provide an explanation. But the air was heavy with nothing but guilt and the disappointment of being caught. As your breath grew heavier, the nausea settled into your stomach. You tried to muster a tear, deciding it would be less embarrassing to cry than to throw up on the tile.

"Bonita, it's not what it looks like. If we could just talk-"

"How are you going to use the same pet name for the both of us?" You asked, patience finally snapping. The emotions from the last four months came flooding through, boiling the blood in your veins. You had cut yourself up and torn your very being apart to please this man. The things you wore and said and did and ate and enjoyed were all altered to fit his impossible standard. You were playing a part again. You had sacrificed so much of yourself for one crumb of affection and security, and once again you weren't enough.

"Just calm down an let me explain."

You tried with every fiber of your being to keep the tears at bay - you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt you.

"All I ever did was try and be a good girlfriend. Do you realize that? Through the stupid dinner dates and your rants about football, I tried to be patient and fun and understanding. I never complained, not once, about your lack of support or how everything you did made it clear you didn't like me. I dealt with all of your cold fronts, your unfounded jealous, your below mediocre sex - all of it, because that's what you do when you're in a fucking relationship until someone finally cuts the cord and frees you both. But you didn't have the decency to pretend." You spat the words out at him, no longer caring about if you cried.

"The least you could do was not fuck anyone else in the house that you asked me to move in to."

Everyone on the room had gone silent, from Martin to his mistress. How could he retaliate? Where could he start? The flood gates had been opened, and the realization of how much this man made you hate your life was flowing freely.

"Goodbye Martin." You turned and walked out the door, your keys in hand, ready to go home and lose consciousness. Tomorrow you would wake up and be as you were - single and free of the burden this relationship placed on you.

"Come back here." You heard Martin's voice shout behind you, before a hand reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, ripping your keys from your hands, cutting your palm in the process. As the red fluid pooled in your palm, you looked up at Martin in shock and fear. He looked back at you, then at your outstretched hand still pooling with blood.

"Shit, I'm- I didn't mean to do that. But you can't just drive away until you let me speak. I won't let you."

"As if you're allowed to decide what I can and can't do. Give me back my keys before I call the police."

"You're not calling anyone or doing anything until I speak to you." Martin said, lunging at you and grabbing the sleeve of your shirt. You cried out and struggled against him as he tried to pull you towards the house, hoping to prevent a scene in front of the neighbors. Martin's side piece stood at the door, now fully clothed, watching silently as the two of you struggled by the entryway.

"Get off of me you cheating sack of shit! I don't want to hear anything you have to say, let me go!" His grip loosened as you pulled away, unable to restrain you with both hands for fear you would take your car keys back.

"Bonita, I'm not trying to hurt you, I love you and I-"

"Bullshit! And stop calling me fucking bonita." You tried to reach for your keys again, but Martin's hand came and wrapped tightly around the collar of your shirt.

"No. You don't get to abandon me without hearing what I have to say. All I have ever done is try and look past how difficult you are to love and be around," his grip tightened on your collar, the fabric now bunching to restrict your airway slightly. "And now that I've made one mistake you think you get to just run? You're not going anywhere until I say you can. If you know what's good for you, you'll just listen."

The bile started to rise in your throat as your heart beat faster. For the first time in your life, you really felt like you were in danger. The sting of your palm was hard to ignore now, the blood nestling into the lines on your palm, dots littered across your pant leg. Once you felt Martin's grip loosen lightly, you put all your weight behind you and shoved him as hard as you could, causing him to fall backwards. You bolted for the door, keys forgotten as you ran at a speed you didn't know you were capable of.

The fall did not deter him for long, as you heard your name in Martin's deep, agitated voice carry to your ears on the night air, accompanied by heavy, fast footsteps. You were being chased. Heart racing, your feet slammed against the pavement, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. Your throat started to tighten with anxiety, fight or flight now in full control. You didn't even know where you were going. You took whatever turn felt natural, willing yourself not to turn around.

Martin realized with every step he took that it was too late to turn back. There was now street camera of him chasing you shirtless through the streets of a Barcelona neighborhood. He wasn't even sure why he had done it. By it he meant the chasing - not the sleeping with other women. That part was quite simple. He was 24 now, and it was time he was photographed with the same girl more than once. His club going days had become the topic of every family dinner and every call with his mother.

"Martin, when are you going to stop going to the club every night and actually bring us a nice girl? You're ruining your reputation by taking all these different girls home."

He was nothing if not a boy that wanted to make his mother happy. When he say Angelika in the club that day, he sensed he had been getting close. She was funny and outgoing and actually had a job that didn't involve her sponsoring Bang energy on the internet. But she was still at the club on a Tuesday night, and had flirted her way into the VIP section. Too high maintenance. But then as he left the club, pretty young drunk thing slung over his arm, he got to see you.

Initially, you didn't make a huge impression. Boring looking and kind of loud - not the girl he would usually go for. He was still a little hazy from the club air, sweat and tequila still lingering in his lungs. He had just handed Angelika off to you, before he took a look at the back of your car. A few stickers were there, displaying the name of your universities, and a bright blue one that read 'ask me about ACL tears!'. It sparked his interest - not only that you could afford the car, but that you were obviously decently intelligent to be touting all these universities. It prompted Martin to ask for your number, just as a backup in case finding a "good girl" was harder than he thought.

It was, in fact, much harder than he thought to find a girl to bring home to his mother. All the smart girls tended not to give him the time of day, either taken or too busy. Pretty girl were too expensive and high strung - not what he needed. And those sweet girls that he found at the supermarket and the park? Most of them were ready to live the football WAG life, wanting to go public with him immediately. If there's one thing Martin was sure of, it was that he wasn't ready too commit to just one screw for any period of time. He had a rotation of girls in and out of his bed, shower, car - he couldn't just cut all of them off.

That's exactly what was on his mind when he saw Angelika in line for the club again. She was cute enough to take home that night, but girls usually didn't open up without some conversation. He can't remember how the topic turned to you, but Angelika gushed about how much she adored you.

"But she's just so busy. She's always so focused on work that she doesn't have much time to even process what's going on around her."

Getting you was quite easy after that. He had listened to girls long enough to understand how to keep them happy. It was the lack of instant sex that really hurt his pride. This was not the 1940s - he was not going to wait 3 months, taking a girl out and showering her with love, just to get some pussy. He would just supplement with other women. Ferran was often the person that would help him get girls, as they usually recognized the young Barca bench boy before they realized who Martin was. So they worked as a team: Martin supplying money and alcohol, and Ferran supplying girls.

It was when Gavi started to enter the picture that he, for the first time in his life, felt the angry weeds of jealousy take root in his throat. No matter what he did behind closed doors, you were his, not Gavi's, and it would be a cold day in hell before he let a love-sick teenager take his girl. Now he was chasing you down the street, 10 days before he planned to introduce you to his mother at Christmas, willing all the neighbors to stay away from the windows and ignore the eventual screams they heard from the street.

Your eyes focused, the adrenaline fog leaving your brain as you wildly scanned the street: this was Gavi's neighborhood. Identifying the houses, you made a sharp right turn and ran towards his house at end of the street. You prayed that he was still awake as you got to the door, banging as hard as you could, and yelling out his name.

"Pablo! Let me in! Get the fuck away from me!"

You watched as Martin slowed down, walking towards you cautiously with his hands in the air. He moved his lips to say something, but your heartbeat was in your ears, tears streaming down your face as you kept banging on the door. The slit across your palm seared with pain, and every pang circulated more fear through you. Martin was capable and willing to hurt you.

The door opened, and you caught a glimpse of Gavi's face. That was enough reassurance for your legs to give out from the effort, sobs still shaking your entire being as you fell into his chest. Your palms grabbed at his shirt, needing anything to ground you in reality. Gavi was not a large boy; Martin had 5 inches and 6 years on Gavi, which would make any betting man wary of the outcome if a fight were to break out. But none of that mattered to you. Gavi's arms were around you, holding you up and against him, and you felt safe.

Gavi tore his eyes away from Martin, who was shirtless and frozen in his walkway, to look at you. As he pulled you away from his chest slowly, he felt a warm wet spot spread across his shirt. It was too large to be tears. He wished he hadn't looked down to see the red spot darkening his t-shirt. Grabbing your wrists, he looked at the jagged cut on the skin there, still bleeding freely. Gavi hugged you closer into his chest, one hand around your waist and one by your head, hiding you in his shoulder as you continued to cry.

"What did he do?" He asked, voice tight and strained. You shook your head, crying harder, trying to gulp down any air to stop the light-headedness. You could not see or think straight, the questions too overwhelming.

"Pablito, just let me talk to my girl, and go back inside." Martin instructed, walking towards the two of you slowly, as a hunter would approach a deer. You clung onto Gavi tighter, a shrill 'No!' yelped against his skin, sobs coming back in full force. Gavi couldn't stand it. The blood in his veins grew hotter the longer he held your fragile form. He was quick to anger, but this was different. You had run to his house crying and bleeding because of the vile man you had been dating. On an average day, he was ready to go to blows because of a stray leg in a football match. This was more serious - more sinister. He had hurt you in ways Gavi couldn't fathom a man hurting any woman, let alone you. He turned over the idea of manslaughter in his head as he tried again.

"Please, y/n. Please tell me what he did. Because at this rate, I'm going to kill him. Y/n, please."

Gulping down breath after desperate breath, you muttered out what had happened to Gavi in the best way you could. You knew there was nothing you could say to get Gavi to just walk away, but you couldn't stand the idea of Pablo doing irreparable damage to his future on your behalf.

"Found him... cheating... took my... k-keys.. that's why m-my hand. But I'm-"

"Don't you dare tell me you're okay." Gavi put you down on the ground, resting your back against the wall before he stood. The edges of his vision were dark and red, and in that moment he swore he could have killed Martin with his bare hands. When would this man have taken enough? Martin had snatched you off the market, keeping you hostage in a crumbling, decaying relationship while Gavi fawned over you. Martin chipped away at you soul, dimming the once radiant light that enamored those you encountered. Martin made you insecure and self-hating, all while keeping a line of girls wrapped around his bedroom to fool around with as you chased your dreams. Martin had taken everything Gavi had loved about you and poisoned it, leaving the ashes of a bright young woman in his path. Now he would pay for it.

"Martin, give me her keys and get the fuck away from my property before I make your mother regret the day she lost her virginity." Gavi was seething, You looked up at his squared shoulders and tight face, and couldn't tell if the wisps of smoke emanating from him were real or not. You wanted to stand, block the warpath Pablo was on, and prevent the violence you knew was about to ensue, but your head and eyes felt heavy, keeping you firmly planted to the ground.

"Ay, Pablito, no need to be vulgar. Don't you think it's silly for you to be involving yourself in a little lover's quarrel at this time? Go inside and let me take care of my girlfriend." Martin took a step with every word he said, now less than a meter from Gavi, whose fists were curled and strained.

"Lover's quarrel? She's bleeding and had to run from you screaming. You've stolen her keys and now you want me to let you harass her further? Give me her keys and fuck off, before my patience runs out. Because I've been eager to bash your skull for weeks now."

Martin took another step forward, now on the same plane as you and Gavi. He locked Pablo's vision as he pulled your keys from his pocket, tossing them at your feet. You flinched at the noise scared to look up at Martin. Just the sound of his voice sent ripples through you.

"There, bonita. You have your keys back. Now enough of this nonsense and come with me." A fist curled into your hair and pulled you upwards, causing a scream to release from your throat. Gavi watched all of this happen in slow motion. He took two steps towards Martin, vision now fully red, and connected his closed fist with Martin's lower jaw. The accompanying CRACK could probably have been heard all the way in Madrid. The grip had disappeared from your head, and you used your last bit of strength to push yourself from the floor and run into Gavi's house, keys firmly in your grasp for protection. You peered through the window, catching Martin spit out a large glob of blood, more crimson dripping from his mouth like a dog drooling.

Martin wasn't provided much more time to recover as Gavi grabbed his collar, pulling him in once again, and again cracking him hard right beneath his eye socket. The delicate skin there split, and more blood oozed from Martin. It didn't bring Gavi disgust or joy. There was no space in his entire being to feel anything other than the need to protect you. Moving his grasp from Martin's collar to his hair, he hit him one final time, a bone split and a scream polluting the otherwise silent air of the Barcelona night. You thought to yourself, rather ironically, if the naked girl in his living room knew how to set a broken nose. Pablo pushed Martin to the ground, the older landing on his face sprawled across the concrete of the pavement.

"If you get up and you're not running, I'll break another bone."

Martin struggled to breath, the blood running away from his body in rivers, dripping onto the street.

"You little piece of shit! Just wait till I call the police! You'll be in jail until you're 70. You little cunt." Martin wailed, on his knees gripping his throbbing fractured nose. Gavi approached Martin, picking him up by the collar once again. It was quite a sight to behold: the younger and smaller boy lifting Martin off the ground, blood dripping from a broken nose on to Gavi's tensed forearm, as his hazel eyes conveyed murderous intent.

"In case the blood has already left your brain, allow me to remind you: the cameras saw you chasing a woman through the street. There is a decent amount of her blood on you and at your house. Everything from that moment on is self defense. And I can absolutely afford a better lawyer than you can, little boy. So best run and put some ice on that nose before you become more permanently deformed than you were originally." Martin was thrown to the pavement once again, cries of pain bouncing between the stone of the buildings. He picked himself off the ground, not daring to glance over his shoulder, as he hobbled back home.

Gavi took a deep breath, looking down at his hands in the light of the street lamp. It had been a long time since his anger was allowed to run wild. Usually there was a player (or 6) holding him back from blows. But that was football. Nothing was ever that serious in football. This was different. It was you. And as he entered his home, locking eyes with your huddled form by his couch, the thought appeared in his mind clear as crystal: you were someone he would kill for, and someone he would die for.

But now wasn't the time for such a confession. It was the time for Gavi to step up as your friend and provide you with comfort and support. He walked into the house and started to head for the bathroom before you called out to him.

"Pablo? Where are you going?" Your voice was small and fragile, like that of a scared child when the thunder got too loud. Keys still gripped tightly in shaky hands, you pushed yourself off the floor, and Gavi rushed to meet your stride, helping stabilize you as you stood. You were not close to fainting anymore, but the fear still pumped through you, making it harder to walk at more than a snail's pace. Eyes locking with Gavi's, you brought a hand up to rest on his bicep, squeezing it lightly to provide him with some reassurance that you were okay. Hand trailing down, you wrapped your fingers gently around his wrists, turning his hands over to look at his knuckles. The skin had cracked and burst from the impact against Martin's skull. Bruises bloomed on the high points, droplets of blood - owner unknown - littered his fingers and hand, the scarlet a contrast against his warm tan. As you ran a thumb over one of the open cuts, Gavi hissed, trying to pull away from your touch. You looked back up at him with tears welling in your eyes anew.

"You're hurt." You croaked out, not wanting to continue crying in front of him. He grabbed your hand, holding it against his as he rubbed over the drying cut through your palm.

"So are you. But we'll be okay." He smiled at you, and you could have sworn that there was an actual fist squeezing your heart in your chest. He pulled you towards the staircase with him.

"Come on, we need to wash our hands. You've taught me enough about infections to know we shouldn't wait much longer."

"I obviously haven't taught you enough, because for open cuts like this we need rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, not water."

Gavi stopped on the stairs, still gripping your wrist as his smile broke out, returning warmth to his face. Even when he had hit Martin, you hadn't feared Pablo. You knew the anger was residual, and he would never turn this harbored rage your direction. It had brought a few baby butterflies to your stomach, knowing that Gavi had thrown his tranquility and caution to the wind just to defend you. But this was the Pablo you liked the most: the one that smiled for you in a way that seemed to appear only when you were around.

"There you go, doctora. Putting that degree to use. I think I have a first aid kit in my room. The medics gave me one to keep after I got my second black eye." The statement, not meant as a joke, allowed a laugh to run through you, cutting through some of the lingering heaviness. You wondered if this experience would forever trauma-bond you to Gavi forever. But you knew subconsciously that Pablo was already bonded to you. You would never be able to look at the Barca crest or the dew on the grass or the chocolate milk in the store without thinking of Pablo. You would never be able to choose anyone else's contact at 2am to send a random text to, because you need Pablo to be the one to send the response. You knew in that moment that Pablo was going to be in your life forever.

Walking into his bedroom, Pablo peeled his blood-stained shirt off, tossing it onto the bed.

"You should..." Your sentence trailed off as Pablo faced you, shirtless with sweats hanging low on his hips, waistband of his boxers tight against the V of his torso. You had seen attractive men shirtless before, but something about it being Pablo, and the two of you being alone in his bedroom, made everything seem more charged and, for lack of a better term, sinful. He tiled his head in questioning, prompting you to finish your sentence. Clearing your throat, you looked at the shirt instead of Pablo and continued.

"You should put peroxide on that shirt now to get the blood out so it doesn't stain."

"I think getting some peroxide on your open wound is more important right now." He said, returning to his dresses to rummage around for his first aid kit. You stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure how to proceed. You didn't feel comfortable enough to sit on his bed, and though it would be weird to seat yourself on Gavi's floor. He turned back around, watching you scan the room and calculate if you should sit or stand.

"You're covered in blood." He said. You looked down at your shirt. You definitely had some splotches, but you wouldn't use the word covered.

"It's fine, I'll change when i get home..." You trailed off again. Your car was outside Martin's house, and there was no way you could possibly bring yourself to go back there tonight. Maybe Gavi would be kind enough to walk over with you in the dark.

"You're spending the night here. There's no way I'm going to let you be by yourself tonight. Let me get you something to change into." He said, moving past you towards the closet.

"Oh no, Pablo, it's fine. I should really go back to my place-"

"Why?" He asked, abruptly turning to face you. He walked towards you, and your heart rate picked up as he stood within your air space.

"Why do you need to go home? We are on international break for the season. I don't start training until next week. You just finished your finals, so you don't need to do anything tomorrow. And, more importantly, the only way to get to your house is to either go get your car from your psycho abusive ex and drive home at this time of night, which is not happening. Or for you to take a taxi home, which is also not happening. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He turned back to the closet, rummaging through his clothes before pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a La Masia t-shirt. Placing them in your hands, he turned back to his mission to find the first aid kit.

"The bathroom is through there. You can go and get changed and wash up. What's mine is yours."

Nodding, you shuffled towards the bathroom. The door was quickly shut and locked behind you, and you stared at yourself in the mirror. You definitely looked worse for wear, mascara smudged under your eyes, which were red and puffy from sobbing. You washed your face with your non-injured hand, thanking Pablo silently for owning a decent face wash. As you stripped off your dirty clothes, you couldn't help the images that flashed in your mind, and the thoughts that seeped through your subconscious. You remembered the daydreams you had for several weeks, bursts of his eyes and lips and hands, and thoughts of all the ways they could touch you. Your cheeks burned as you grabbed a washcloth, running cool water onto your skin to remove the sweat and grime lingering. You thought of that day on the couch, when you had finally entertained the idea of seeing Pablo in a sexually attractive light. Bumps raised onto your skin as you fully wrapped your head around the situation. You were in your underwear in Gavi's bedroom, only a bathroom door separating the two of you.

A part of you wanted to open the door - to present yourself to Pablo, physically and emotionally bare, and tell him your feelings. But what were your feelings? You felt safe with Pablo, supported, and able to be your authentic self. Was this a friendship that you had over committed to? Was Pablo treating you any differently to how he would treat Pedri or one of the boys? You pushed those feelings aside, slipping on his clothes, breathing the scent of his detergent in deeply. You took one last glance in the mirror, reminding yourself that you had a tendency to spontaneously combust when it came to relationships, and you wouldn't allow yourself to do that with Pablo. He was going to be in your life for a long time - you wouldn't accept anything otherwise - but maybe the role he was meant to fill was that of a close friend and never more.

You walked out and saw Pablo rubbing his bare chest with an alcohol pad, cleaning the excess blood from his chest. He had changed into some clean shorts, and turned to face you when he heard the door. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, taking in the sight. His shirt hung off your shoulders slightly, draped over your frame and covering your form in worn cotton fabric. His sweats hugged your hips, sliding precariously low on your torso and lose in the thighs, just small enough for them to not pool at your ankles. Gavi's mouth went dry as he stared at you. You crossed your arms over your chest, covering yourself with your folded dirty clothes. Gavi caught a glimpse of your bra in the pile. He had no moisture in his mouth whatsoever.

"What are you staring at, Gavi? Close your mouth you'll catch a fly." You said, trying to come across cool and unbothered despite the situation. He swallowed hard, trying to form a single sentence.

"They fit. I'm surprised." That was all he could muster.

"Me too. I thought everything would be too short on me." You teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Low blow, doctora. come help me with these bandages."

He sat on the floor with the first aid kit, and you joined him on the soft rug, protecting from the chill of the tile in December. You grabbed the different solutions and began cleaning his hands. His hands were rough and calloused to the touch, and you made a mental note to get him some lotion as a late Christmas gift. You moved slowly over each knuckle, cleaning the blood and bruises, gently moving your fingers across Pablo's skin. You heard gentle hisses at the burning sensation from the alcohol, but he kept his protests to a minimum as you worked.

It was easy for Gavi to distract himself from the pain when you were the one sitting in front of him. The burn of his hands was basically forgotten as he traced the curves of your face with his eyes. That familiar look of concentration settled into your features, warming Gavi's heart. You were coming back, in short bursts and fleeting moments, but everything he loved about you was still there. Try as he did, he could not prevent his eyes from moving lower, settling on his shirt draped over you. It was one of his most well-loved shirts - the one that he had gotten when he began playing for La Masia's senior team. This is when he started to bulk up, biceps and pecs stretching out the shirt, creating the baggy look he currently saw on you. The colors had faded from dozens of washes, and it was now pilling and threadbare - really something that should never see the light of day.

But here you were wearing it, and suddenly there was no article of clothing that had ever made a woman look sexier. The baggy fabric moved with you, and when you turned behind you to gram more gauze, it tightened against your bare chest, and Gavi willed himself not to focus on it. He couldn't - not right now. No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he couldn't describe what about it made the shirt look so good on you. It was just the fact that it was his shirt. You were in his house, in his bedroom, wearing his shirt. You were merging with his space, and in a way, becoming a part of his home. It was the closest you had ever been to being his.

You finished bandaging his hands, looking at your work, and making sure that everything was secure so he wouldn't lose the dressings in his sleep. Engrossed in the moment, you leaned down and kissed the top of Gavi's knuckles, pulling back before realizing what you did. You both stared at each other, mutually deciding it was best not to comment on what just occurred. You quickly cleaned and dressed your own cut, with Gavi's assistance, and once the bandage was secured, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. All the boxes were finally ticked - you and Gavi were safe and clean and dressed, and now your body felt relaxed enough to crash from the exhaustion of the day. Pablo noticed your eyes drooping, and moved off the floor, helping you stand as well.

"Let me go get an extra blanket." He said, moving towards the door. You followed him out of the room, and he turned to you, confused.

"Where are you going?" He asked, arm against the wall and blocking your path.

"The other room?" You said, phrasing it as a question.

"The guest room doesn't have a bed in it yet. My sister is helping me pick one out since she visits the most often."

"To the couch, then." You said, and Pablo's eyebrows scrunched together in frustration.

"You're not sleeping on the couch. You've had a stressful day to say the least. You're going to sleep on the ridiculously expensive mattress and get a good night's rest."

"Then where are you going to sleep?" You asked, heart skipping a beat at some of the possible answers.

"The couch. I want to give you your space. Let me go get that extra blanket - the top floor gets cold in the winter."

You grabbed his arm stopping him from continuing down the staircase.

"You're not going to destroy your back by sleeping on the couch again. You're about to get called up for the national team, and their physios suck. They will replace you with a 3rd tier player before they help you fix a dorsal muscle strain. You have to sleep on the bed Pablo."

"I don't actually have to do anything. This is my house."

You both stared at each other, the two of you unmoving on your position, and both ignoring the obviously solution to your argument. After a minute, it was Pablo who was brave enough to make the suggestion.

"We could always just... both sleep on the bed. If you're comfortable with that. We can made a divider in the middle and everything."

Blushing, you looked at the floor before responding.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Gavi got into bed, shirtless in a pair of shorts, and beckoned you to join. You walked slowly to the other side of the bed, crawling in and pulling up the covers, body stiff and muscles tense.

"I forgot to get the lights." You whispered quietly, making a move to get up. Suddenly the lights switched off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness, a weak ray of light filtering in from the half-moon.

"Expensive houses have a lot of pointless features, but this one is actually useful." Pablo said quietly, mentally kicking himself for making small talk about a light switch. He curled on his side away from you, uncomfortable but wanting to give you your own space, and let out a deep breath. You peered at Gavi, and then curled the other way, also in discomfort, but too scared to face him while conscious. It was too much. He was so close: enough to hold in your arms, to exchange body heat, to listen to his heartbeat and be lulled to sleep. But it was too much of a leap to take. It was too far out of your comfort zone, and you couldn't risk the delicate relationship with a desperate and ill-timed proclamation of... whatever it was you were feeling.

Pablo's heart hammered in his chest. Though it had been his idea, he had never actually thought it through. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder before, and he had survived, so he figured this experience wouldn't be that much harder. He was so sorely mistaken. The fact that you were laying an arm's length away from him kept his nerves on fire, and he couldn't even keep his eyes closed for more than a minute as the time. Despite the winter chill, his body was on fire, and the lack of clothing didn't help. You had just been attacked by your ex boyfriend, and Gavi wanted to hold you in his arms and protect you from the entire world. Patience wasn't his best trait, but he knew that it wasn't the time to ask you to be his. He needed to wait. He needed to be there for you right now

"Pablo?"

An hour after the two of you had settled, lights off and room quiet, you called out for him. Sleep escaped the two of you, and he turned over almost instantly when he heard you whisper his name. Turning to face each other, your eyes adjusted so that you could look at his features in the dark. He was beautiful. There was no denying how conventionally attractive Pablo was. But there were so many little things that enhanced his beauty, only visible from this close. You wished the moon would shine a little brighter so that you could look at the flecks in his eyes, and count the lashes fluttering above them. His features were relaxed, lids drooping and lips slightly puffed out. The scars and moles on his face were the only markings on the smooth skin, and you longer to run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes.

"Can... can we do something? To help me sleep? But then promise you'll forget about it tomorrow?"

Pablo swallowed hard for the nth time that night. He hesitated. There was no way he could promise to forget a single moment of this night with you, but he could control himself from speaking about it, and that was all he really needed to do.

"Anything."

You sat up in bed, moving quickly before your confidence evaporated completely. You moved in to the center of the bed, prompting Gavi to do the same. He moved slowly and warily, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you in the middle of the King-sized island.

"Lay down," You said, voice shaking slightly. You were terrified, but you knew that was the only way you would ever find rest before the sun came up. Pablo laid down, stiff as a board, half expecting you to make a desperate dash for the couch. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes before you laid down beside him. You turned on your side, resting a hand on Gavi's chest. Pablo's eyes widened as he finally processed what your request was. He raised his arm, draping it over your shoulders, allowing you to cuddle even closer into his side. Your head now laid on his bare chest, his hammering heart loud in your ear. He brought his other arm around you as well, resting his hand over yours on his chest. The two of you held each other close, seemingly for dear life, and finally sighed out in belief.

There was no way to describe this feeling. The feeling of you resting against Pablo, arms and legs tangled together, with his head rested above yours. Your hands together, occupying each others' air. There was no way to describe it except for right. There was no awkwardness or strained breathing anymore. There was relaxation and comfortable silence enveloping the two of you. The rest of the world faded away, and in that moment, Pablo could have sworn that he had ascended to heaven.

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

Gavi tensed so hard it set off a headache. He couldn't cry, not while you were in his arms. He had always been seen as an asset because of his skill, always being told how valuable he was in that respect. But you saw him as a person, and not only did you tolerate it, but you cherished it. You made him proud to be himself.

"You too, in ways you can't even imagine. Good night, y/n."

Despite the way it started, the international and Christmas break was rather uneventful. Your little "sleepover" with Gavi saw the two of you sleeping in until 1pm, a rare occurrence for the both of you. Usually you both had too much going on, both on the schedule and in your minds, to sleep for such prolonged times. Wiser minds might have stopped and questioned why being in each others' arms brought a wash of such immense peace, but alas. There was no such reflection. Only waking up in the middle of the day, exchanging awkward smiled before getting up to change. Gavi had awoken with your leg draped across him and half an erection, causing him to bolt for the bathroom when you turned to check your phone. He wanted to say something - anything - about the night before. But he had promised to "forget", sealing his lips until further notice.

He turned the shower to the coldest setting, trying to stay silent as he killed his hard-on in the least loving way possible. You took the opportunity to slip into your sweats from the night before, and putting Gavi's t-shirt back on. Yours still had bubbled blood from the events and peroxide of the previous night. As you sorted out your hair, Gavi emerged from the bathroom, towel slung around his hips, showing off his toned chest and deep V once again. You lifted yourself and turned to face the wall, looking up at the Lord through the ceiling and asking why you were being faced with such temptation.

"Don't look." Pablo instructed, and you heard the towel thud to the floor. It make your cheeks burn and you crossed your legs tightly. You tried to think of anything else to stop yourself from taking your medical history with Gavi and constructing a complete mental image.

"Pedri is going to ... do you want a clean shirt?" Gavi asked, now in a clean sweatshirt and jeans. There was something about seeing you in his clothes that made him borderline insane. He couldn't tell if he needed you to stop, or needed you to do it every day.

"Oh, no, this one is fine. Thanks again - I'll wash it and return it as soon as I can."

"You can keep it." Gavi replied, turning back to his closet. The last thing he needed was to become aroused whenever he saw the folded shirt in his house. He grabbed a sweatshirt and tossed it to you as well.

"Are you donating clothes to me now? My salary isn't that bad, Pablo." You laughed out as you caught it.

"It's December, doctora. You should know that it's not great to go out in the cold. Your hoodie is still in your car, so wear this for now. Speaking of - Pedri is on his way over. He's gonna drive your car back to your place, and we'll take his. That way you never need to go near that dick's house again."

You slipped the green sweatshirt over your head, and were instantly attacked with the smell of body wash and cologne. Gavi had worn this recently. You brought the sleeves up and took a deep breath again before rushing downstairs to follow Gavi. It was a one time occurrence - you wouldn't allow yourself to get close to Pablo like this again. You were coworkers, first and foremost.

The two of you climbed into Pedri's car, you in the driver's seat and Gavi in the passenger, fingers trembling as you took the familiar turns. You stopped about a block away, dropping Pedri off, and driving off to the café the three of you had agreed to meet at to avoid any chance of being followed. You made idle conversation with Gavi, the two of you feeling the obvious tension. Pedri brought you your car, and you left the boys, giving them both a quick hug goodbye before going home to process the insane 24 hours you just had.

The boys were headed back to Gavi's to pack before heading to Madrid for national team training. On the way home, Pablo bounced his leg, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows more than usual.

"Hermano," Pedri started, "whatever you need to say, please just say it."

"But I'm not supposed to."

"Then stop with the fucking anxious ticks! Either speak or stay silent, but don't drive me crazy. It's a long day." Pedri ended his scolding with a light laugh. He knew Pablo better than anyone, and could tell it was only a matter of time before the younger boy started to spill his guts. Gavi wanted to stay strong, holding the promise he made to you extra close to his heart and his honor, and picked up his phone to pass the time. He opened up his twitter, refreshing the feed.

"Oh fuck. I'm in trouble."

Yes, the break was rather uneventful. You filled your time with studying, revising medical plans, and watching the international matches on TV. You tried your best to stay inside to avoid seeing anybody. You were still mourning the end of your relationship with Martin. Despite the confirmation that Martin was borderline clinically insane, it still weighed heavily on you, day by day, that you had once again been cheated on. That you had once again molded yourself into the absolutely closest thing to perfection, and had again fallen short. The winter weather also made you more lethargic, less keen to go outside and interact with others. And finally, you were terrified of anyone on the street recognizing you.

In hindsight, you should have made Pedri just walk and get your car. Or you should have waited until you knew Martin wasn't home and done it yourself. Because the thing about Pedri's lush green mini Cooper was that is was one of the most recognized cars in Spain, and so girls would flock to every single one they saw. His car had been posted enough for the most dedicated to have the license plate committed to memory. So driving around in such a recognizable car with the most sought-after footballer in Spain might not have been the best idea - especially during the day when the window tints weren't as effective. It took less than an hour for you and Gavi's pictures to be circulated around fan accounts, with people commenting on everything. The fact that you were driving, the hoodie you were wearing, the way that Gavi looked at you- the list was endless.

It took another 4 hours for people to figure out who you were. @gaviraconcubine on twitter had thankfully recognized you as one of the physios from game clips, and informed the rest of the rabid mob. Some had been satisfied with the answer, while others believed this an even more damning piece of information.

@gaviraconcubine: ok so the girl Gavi was with in the car is one of the barca physios - all the squad follows her + some shots of her on the field ! Gavi nation we're safe ;P

4,788 Likes 2,003 Retweets 834 Replies

@barcabarcabarca : guys shes literally a staff member???? gavi cant talk to female staff now wtf

@mrspgavira : if he ignored all of us to fall in love with the first ugly ass girl he bumped into at work ill take a swim with a toaster

@88rizzing : so she just started w barca this szn and got gavi? alexa play mastermind

@loonastansbrazil : more drivers for gavi!! she too old to be his girl

Barca staff were on public record, and so by the end of the day, your social media, school, and entire life history had been published on social media for people to scrutinize. It had sent you spiraling, suddenly being at the center of extreme amounts of attention from teen girls and 45-year old Barca stans alike.

[Pablo]: hey

[Pablo]: im rlly sorry about all the stuff online

[Pablo]: it should all die down soon. will be done at 9pm and I can call you

So that's what you did. Cook, clean, study, watch football, and get in disguise if you ever needed to go out. You spent your evenings chatting with Gavi. First it was about the media circus that you two were going through.

"It'll die down eventually. I'll stand too close to another girl and then everybody will leave you alone."

"Or accuse you of being a cheater."

"Has enough time passed for us to make cheating jokes?"

But as your fears started to ease an your mentions dried up, the conversations went back to the casual, playful tone that always filled the air whenever you and Gavi conversed. It was easier to talk to Gavi than it was with anyone else. You still spoke to your other friends, checking in on Angelika periodically over text, but no one could fill an hour FaceTime call like Gavi could, making it feel like mere minutes. Often, the two of you were both lounging, you on your couch and him in whatever hotel bed the national team had provided. As the days went on, you grew more comfortable answering the phone sans makeup, showing the most natural parts of yourself to who was shaping up quickly to be your closest friend.

Returning to work after the break may have been harder than the break itself. The office was abuzz with the rumors about you and Gavi. For the first few days, you ignored all the chatter. You had seen enough online to know that not knowing was always better. You didn't care what anyone said about you, as long as you proved you were an asset to the team. That is until Antonio came into your office one day with a sealed envelope. He was finishing up with some loose ends in Barcelona, before making his way to the UK to start in Manchester after the January transfer window had closed. He walked into your office, a large manila envelope in hand, and placed it on your desk.

"What's this?" You asked, peering at it from behind your glasses. Antonio was not one to make jokes or pull pranks, so it confused you to see him now, giggling in your office like a school girl.

"Oh this? Nothing important. Just a backup plan. Now it's my turn to ask the questions." He said, coming around and sitting atop your desk.

"Is it true that you're sleeping with Gavi?"

It had been a long time since you had seethed with this much rage. First, shock and embarrassment flooded your veins, freezing you in place, leaving you like a deer in headlights before the question. Antonio's ringing laugh is what pulled you out of your trance. You quickly denied the rumor, stating that you and Gavi were friends, but everything remained strictly professional.

"We heard you went to his house after the last home game before the break, and didn't leave until the following day, and wearing his clothes as well! You don't have to lie to me, I won't tell Dr. G or Xavi. So how was he?"

You promptly instructed Antonio to get the hell out of your office, and you made a move to head to the practice field. How dare Gavi: tell people you slept together when you did nothing of the sort. Well, you did something of the sort, but not in that way! Your job was already in jeopardy as it was, and it didn't help your case to be allegedly sleeping with one of the players. Talk about acts that increase favoritism. As you turned to corner to head to the field, you were met with a hard chest instead. Looking up, you saw the one face you had been trying to avoid all week: Ferran.

"My favorite little nurse. I haven't seen you since before the break. How have you been?" His arms were crossed over his chest, smirk and arrogance across his face. He blocked your path, and you sighed before responding.

"I don't have time to chat, Ferran. I was headed to the practice field to speak to-"

"Gavi? Yeah, I don't think so. My hamstrings need work. You're coming with me."

You followed closely behind, annoyance bubbling in your throat as you followed Ferran to your office. He laid on the examination bed as you closed the door, using the small sink to wash your hands, and donning a pair of clean gloves as he rolled up his shorts and laid on his stomach.

"So sad to hear about you and Martin, y/n. You two really did make a cute couple. I saw him at the end of the break - he's really looking quite worse for wear."

Uncapping your athletic salve, you started working the mixture between your fingers before moving to Ferran's thigh.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're a cheater. Usually quite a deal-breaker in a relationship."

You had resolved no to speak to the striker on your table, knowing that everything he said would only egg you on further, creating more opportunities for you to slip up and be unemployed. But there was something in you that Martin had broken, no, stolen, that made staying silent astronomically more difficult than it had been. So your tongue release from your cheek quicker than you could process, and you steeled yourself once again to work on his legs. What were his legs even tired from? It's not like he was playing regularly.

"You know that there's more than one way to cheat on a person, right?" Ferran questioned, folding his arms to get more comfortable on the table. You shifted your eyes to look at him, one brow raised in confusion. Your lip curled up in disgust, and again your found yourself speaking without intention.

"I don't want to hear about all the different ways he cheated on me. I know you two are friends or whatever, but I'm not interested in the rest of his dirty laundry."

"I'm not talking about Martin. The other cheater in question is you."

Movements slowing, you locked eyes with Ferran, who held your gaze with confidence - like he was holding all the cards, and you were none the wiser.

"I didn't go around sleeping with other people while I was in a committed relationship." You deadpanned, not enjoying how the morning was progressing.

"Right, that was Martin - how unoriginal if you both did the same thing. He went around and slept with a couple other girls to satisfy his base desires. It's bad, but what you did is much worse, little nurse."

You tore your gaze away from Ferran, working his legs with new vigor, restraining yourself from just grabbing onto the flesh and squeezing until he screamed out in pain.

"This is not a professional topic of conversation and you shouldn't bring it into the workplace." You replied, but your voice had started to waiver.

"Oh yes it is, because it revolves around one of your coworkers. While Martin was out working and training an doing other things - or other people - you were also being unfaithful. Sure you didn't sleep with someone, but you were in a 'committed relationship', as you put it, when you started to fall for Pablito."

You pulled your hands away from Ferran like he had spontaneously combust, running from the flames. The look of bewilderment was not one you could suppress in that moment. Your throat had gone completely dry, but you knew the longer you remained silent, the more Ferran would interpret it as a confirmation of his theory.

"That's - it's not true. Gavi and I are coworkers, friends if you really want to push it. It's highly inappropriate for you to assume otherwise. Look I know you want me to lose-"

"Lose your job?" Ferran laughed callously. "Oh no, hermosa. I love seeing you run around here in those tight scrubs, hair pulled back - you're like my own personal masseuse. I just hate when some people get special treatment. And you and Pablito haven't exactly been subtle."

"There's nothing going on between-"

"Bullshit. What kind of employee is willing to come in early and work unpaid hours for just another member of the squad? He's the only one with your personal number. You drive him home after practice. Everyone knows that those hours he spends locked away after national team training, he's talking to you. For fuck's sake, you hadn't even been broken up with Martin for a day before you spent the night at his place!"

Eyes locked with the floor, your breathing quickened as Ferran's words too root in you. Did everyone think this way? Was it a common assumption that you harbored "special feelings" for Gavi? He continued without allowing you to recover.

"So you can get on your high horse and spew your woes about how your boyfriend slept with someone else. But you let little Pablito get access to the deepest, most intimate parts of your soul, and despite having a boyfriend, you let yourself love him. You let yourself love Gavi the night you watched him throw up outside the club, young and stupid and delirious, and yet you let Martin think he had a chance to be your man, your one, your soulmate. That's what most people would call emotional cheating. And it still makes you a shit person."

Your temples pounded, headache coming on from the lack of air in your system. You couldn't do anything, couldn't move, couldn't process the information being thrown at your brain. Had Ferran been present that first night at the club half a year ago? Had someone else remembered you, recounting the details to everyone involved? Did Gavi know that you were there, and had seen him in that state? Antonio's question from earlier flashed in your mind, and though you had assumed Gavi's lips had gotten loose, the real culprit was sitting in front of you buttered like a turkey. Everything else would have to wait - because you might lose your job if you didn't get this question answered.

"Have you been telling people I slept with Gavi?" You asked, the pain in your voice clinging to every word.

"I haven't been telling people anything that isn't true. I may have mentioned to a couple of the second-team players that you and Martin had broken up. I may have also mentioned that when I went to console my physically and emotionally battered friend, I watched you and Gavi leave his house, together, and you were in his clothes. Well, I didn't really need to provide that one, did I? The pictures are everywhere. And maybe there was a thing or two about how Martin has always been wary of Pablito, who seemed to always go out of his way to be at your beck and call. People connected their own dots."

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" You asked, voice desperate as you ripped of your gloves, coming around the table to face the slippery eel that was Ferran Torres directly.

"Why can you not stand the sight of me so much that you need me to lose everything I've worked for my whole life?"

The smirk was glued to his face, and the mal intent in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"Just because I like watching you squirm. And if they fire you, it's no worry to me at all. The team managers are already embracing this 'diversity' thing, so another bubbly, bouncy little thing in scrubs will be in swiftly to take your place."

Ferran got up, readjusting his training uniform and making his way to the door. You couldn't speak. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball behind your desk. The entire staff thought you were sleeping with Gavi, and the thoughts spiraled onward. Did they think that's why you hadn't gotten fired after Ferran's complaint? Did anyone think you were qualified beyond just a toy for one of the players?

"I would steer clear of Gavi, hermosa. No more late drives, no more sleepovers. Rumor has it, word's gotten all the way up to Xavi. Would hate to have to give him confirmation that you two are more than friends. Because then you'd be looking for physio jobs in the village football teams."

"But we're not." You replied, voice strained and broken.

"Then keep it that way."

Since Pedri's nonexistent project with Adidas had ended, he was back to giving Gavi rides. It's not that he minded - the younger boy was always talkative and good company. But It was the waiting around that made Pedri want to scream. For the entire time they had been on international leave, you were the only thing Pablo thought about and spoke of, filling any silent moments sending messages to as a precursor for your nightly calls. Pedri was mistaken in thinking this teenage lovesick behavior would cease once they returned to Cam Nou.

Every day after practice, Gavi would move at the most glacial, snail-like pace just to time his exit with yours, accompanying you on the walk to your car. Today was no different. As Gavi took his time in the locker room doing Lord knows what, Pedri caught a glimpse of you speeding down the corridor. He wanted to greet you, to ask if you were okay, but he couldn't get the words out before you rushed past him. He turned into the locker room and yelled at his passanger.

"Hurry up hermano! She already left!"

[6 Missed Calls]: Gavi

You ignored the buzz of your phone on your table as you curled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. It was beyond what you could bear. You had sacrificed so much throughout your life to get the "dream" you were supposed to be living now: perfect life in a perfect city, with your perfect job and perfect friends. But all of it had been set ablaze. Your apartment had never felt lonelier or colder, as you looked at the chairs that had never been used, the floor that only you walked on. Since leaving America you found yourself with few to no friends. You never went out or saw anyone, dedicating yourself to excelling in your program. The only friend you ever had over was Angelika, and even she had not graced your home for weeks upon weeks. You had isolated yourself from everyone to make sure you were perfect at work - never tired or hungover, never a thread or hair out of place. Now you were friendless and single, curled up on your couch, cursing every decision you had ever made.

The last person you wanted to see or speak to was Pablo. Pablo, who had entered your life so suddenly, and taken up residence in your brain and heart, was the sole common thread between everything crumbling around you. You willed yourself to be angry with him. You tried your hardest to blame him for every misfortune that had come your way. Your lack of friends, many of whom distanced themselves when you started working for Barca under a perception that you were "too good for them". Your waning relationship with Angelika, which began when Pablo started to tunnel his way into your life, consuming more and more of your time. Your failed relationship with Martin, which was perfectly stale and stable before Gavi showed you what it was really like to be made a priority. The current precarious state of your job, it was his fault, because of his consistent fighting with Ferran, which provoked him to file his empty complaint.

You wanted to curse Gavi and the day you had met him, but you couldn't do it. You couldn't bring yourself to even have an ill thought about Pablo. All you could do was curse yourself. You had known deep down for so long how you really felt. From that night you spoke to him in the club, identity yet unknown, but all his vulnerability on display, you had known that there was something pulling you into his orbit. You had known that the hoops you jumped through for him were special, and not inconveniences you would shoulder for anyone else. You had known when you searched for him on the field, in your contacts, in your subconscious that no one would ever bring you this much peace. His eyes, his words, the energy that radiated from him were rarities, seen once in a lifetime, and often squandered by those to late to grab them. And so you sat on your couch, tears pouring down your face as the realization enveloped you, too great to hide any longer: Pablo Paez Gavira was your best friend, and you were heart-achingly, soul-crushingly in love with him, but you would never be able to do anything about it.

Gavi had given up after 6 missed calls and 18 unanswered text messages. He knew that you would call him when you were ready to do so, but the anxiety gnawed at him nonetheless. He couldn't stand the thought of you upset, and would move heaven and earth just to make sure you were doing fine. He was currently checking his phone for notifications ever 30-45 seconds, leg once again bouncing - much to Pedri's dismay. The two of them, accompanied by Alejandro and Eric, were at a restaurant catching up with some friends. Gavi paid no mind to anyone. He was too preoccupied to engage in idle conversation. Rather, he just wanted to hear the sound of your voice -no , your breathing even, to calm his worries.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the screen. A short blond stood before him - one of Eric's friends - and she spoke directly to him, asking questions about his age and if he also played for the club. Unhappy with the interruption, Gavi gave quick and curt responses, trying to avoid a prolonged conversation. This did not deter the girl, who introduced herself as Jacinta, from getting Gavi's undivided attention, as she sat beside him, legs pressed against each other, and rested a hand on his thigh. Before he could react, he heard the gasp of his name, swiveling around to find several teenage girls huddled by the front of the restaurant, phones out and whispering to each other. Gavi had lost his appetite, excusing himself and taking a taxi back to his, checking his phone frequently as he prayed for you to give him any indication that you were alive.

Your phone rang once again, and the tone echoing through your apartment was one you welcomed eagerly: Angelika's. You had not heard from her in the last month, trying to give her enough space to do her work, while still reminding her you were there for support.

"Angelika! It's so good to hear from you."

"I'm moving to Paris."

Your face fell as you turned the words over in your mind.

"You're...what?"

You sat up on the phone, listening to Angelika explain how she had impressed her colleagues, being promoted to their Paris office to work on more couture and avant-garde looks. She gushed about what an amazing opportunity it was as you tried to stop yourself from throwing up. How was it that you were losing everything in your life all at once.

"That's so amazing, Ange."

That was all you could muster, deciding to be a good friend and leave your worries and fears to the side, letting her bask in the triumph of her accomplishment. You responded with how proud you were, how much she deserved this, and how you knew she would do amazing things.

"Does Gavi have a girlfriend?"

The sudden mention of Gavi's name alone was enough to knock the wind out of you, but the context of the question really threatened to have you spill your guts on the rug.

"Not that I know of." You said, the feeling of dread dripping into your gut like tar.

"One of the Barca fan pages just posted a pic of him with some girl at dinner. Look I just sent it. I didn't know he was old enough to be getting girls like that. You two are friends, right?"

Your eyes were instantly drawn to the blonde girl's hand on Gavi's thigh. She wasn't his girlfriend. If anyone were to know that Gavi were in a committed relationship, it would be you. But this knowledge didn't help the wounded feeling that settled into you. You were home, pining after this little footballer, as he effortlessly flirted with other women. You were once again in pieces over a man that did not think of you the way you thought of him.

"Yeah, we're friends, I guess."

You would never be more than Gavi's physiotherapist and someone he occasionally sent Tiktoks to. Gavi was a deity in his field, a name that struck fear and respect in the hearts of the opposition. He was a symbol of the next generation of football royalty, and a man that could have any woman at his feet with a lick of his lips and a wave of his hand. This is what he was destined for: days in the spotlight, photographs with mysterious beauties, and a loyal fanbase that worshipped his every move. None of that involved you: an employee. Why would he want you? There was nothing you could give him that didn't come in a prettier package. He would never look at you as more than a friend, because you walked with the common crowd, and he was among the elite. Gavi could have any girl that he wants, and it was obvious he didn't want you.

You moved from the couch and walked to your table, waking up the computer that sat upon it. You glanced at the envelope Antonio had slid to you earlier, and thought about his offer. What did you have left? You typed a quick email to Xavi requesting a brief meeting the following morning, before heading to bed, trying to sleep away the suffocating feeling that clung to you.

Gavi was at your office door when you walked in the following morning, despite you arriving 20 minutes earlier than usual. His arms were crossed, face scrunched in worry, but his features relaxed when you walked to the door. He tried to help you with your belongings, but you refused. You exchanged a dry good morning before entering your office, avoiding his gaze. He asked how you were feeling, and if anything had happened the previous day. Eyes glued to your computer, you responded shortly, informing him that everything was fine and that you had a meeting with Xavi you needed to prepare for.

"Doctora, did I do something?"

You finally looked at Gavi, taking in his pained expression. It hurt in ways medicine understand for you to be freezing him out like this, and yet, all you could do was think about the image of Gavi coupled with Ferran's words. Was it worth it to risk everything for someone who would never be yours? You shook you head, informing him again that everything was fine. Everything was far from fine: you felt like you had been thrown off a cliff, your sense of purpose and direction and meaning in life shattered. But you didn't want to burden Gavi with this knowledge. So you stood and collected your folders, lips pursed tightly. You would just have to pretend that you weren't desperate to confess to Pablo that he was the reason that you breathed air, and that you were focused on your meeting and nothing else.

He was not satisfied with your answer. Gavi searched for your eyes, trying to understand what he could have possibly done wrong to get you to change on him so quickly - to become so cold. But you refused to meet his gaze, and he was left to his own theories. Had the rumors of you two together repulsed you from him? Were you unable to look him in the eye now that someone had put the thought in your head that you two could be more than friends? Had you finally decided you were too mature and good for him? He had chewed his lips and inner cheek all night pondering these possibilities.

"Please, y/n, if I did something, let me make it right."

"Gavi." Bad sign. You never called him Gavi when you were happy with him. Gavi was his official name in the team, the professional term you addressed him by. His stomach sank, and everything in him screamed to take you into his arms, not letting you go until he once again heard the sweet sound of "Pablo" drip from your lips like honey.

You wanted to grab him and shake him, scream at him, and cry into his shoulder. You wanted to tell him that there was no way for him to make it right, unless he was ready to have you, wholly and completely, never letting you go no matter the consequences. You wanted to tell him the only thing that could fix it was the one thing you could never ask for: his love.

"I need you... to stay away from me for a while."

Gavi could swear e felt his heart crack in two. What could he have possibly done? What heinous crime had he committed that made you need such a high degree of separation. He had been right there: he had you in his arms, laid on his chest, and heartbeat synching with his own. Now, everything was slipping through his fingers like fine sand, and he was watching you disappear before his very eyes.

"Not because I'm angry with you, but I just... need space."

Gavi could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, begging every power that be for this to be a cruel joke. But you continued to shuffle your papers, and the punchline never came. Before he could form a response, a knock resounded from the door, and Xavi walked into the office.

"Gavi, you're here early." He said, eyebrow raised at you in suspicion. The young footballer swallowed this hurt and his pride, clearing his throat to speak.

"Yeah, just came to get some more medical tape. Doctora y/l/n told me we have some in the locker room. I'll be going now."

Gave left your office, shutting the door behind him, but he could not move. He leaned against the wall, trying to fill his lungs with air, but the breaths he took didn't feel like enough. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he was reminded of his childhood, when the other boys would bully him and push him around the field. That was the last time he properly cried of pain. It was happening now, for the first time in 11 years, but this was a different kind of pain. There were needles pricking every inch of his skin, and he could do nothing except let the pain overtake him. What could he have possibly done to push you away?

He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of Xavi's voice through the door. He knew he shouldn't have been listening, but he needed to hear you. He needed to listen to you speak, hear the normalcy in your voice, if he ever wanted to move from that God forsaken spot in front of your door.

"-a little late notice. You should try and schedule further in advance for coming meetings." Xavi said. It was unusual for Gavi to hear you be scolded. When had you asked to meet him?

"I apologize, mister, but it was all some very late occurrences, and I didn't want to delay."

"Alright then, go ahead."

"As you know, we are about 10 days into the January transfer window, and while players are getting offers from all over, this is also the time when clubs try and change staff."

Pablo put a hand over his mouth to cover any sounds he made and prevent himself from vomiting. He didn't like where this was going.

"Yes, I'm aware." Xavi responded. "Antonio is leaving us during this window."

"Exactly. That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about. Antonio, as we all know, is a very talented physiotherapist and sports medic, meaning he got offers from a number of clubs. He received a position as head of physiotherapy at Chelsea, which he had to reject obviously to join Man City. Yesterday, he graciously got the offer forwarded to me."

"Miss y/n, please clarify your intentions. I am not very good at understanding subtext." Xavi laughed out.

"Yes sir. I'll be direct then: I am considering leaving F.C. Barcelona at the end of the transfer window."

~~~~~~~

A/N: guys pls don't kill me I'm sorry for the end (not rlly lol). I hope you all enjoyed what is officially the longest part of the series to date!! Got close to my 15k goal, but not there yet - maybe in the next part. My hands are actually cramping from all the writing this is borderline self-inflicted torture lol. Did y'all catch the subtle title/ lyric references? As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! Esp watching the way people think the story is going to progress because sometimes y'all are spot on and sometimes y'all are wayyyy off and I'm like "wait that would actually be a great plot for another series". Anyways love you all and hope you enjoy!! Part 8??? She's gonna be intense y'all.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

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shortpplfedup · 3 months

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BL Romance Trope Ask Game

Thinking about tropes and curious about y'alls faves so...

Send me a number and I'll post the best and/or my fave show that uses that trope. Feel free to repost and play along!

Enemies to Lovers

Friends to Lovers

Childhood Sweethearts

Long Term Pining

Second Chance Romance

Coming of Age

Star-Crossed Lovers

May/December

Fake Dating

Bodyguard

Forbidden Love

Forced Proximity

Grumpy/Sunshine

Sunshine/Sunshine

Love Triangle

Boy Next Door

Ugly Duckling

Slow Burn

#play ask games win ask prizes

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 2 months

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Evermore - Steve's Ending

Series Summary: It's been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?

Just a small note: Thank you all for sticking around with me on this small journey! Enjoy!

Masterlist found here!

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Peach". AFAB reader. Tad bit if angst at the beginning, mostly fluff. SMUT. Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

Word Count: 6k

You turned the car around to head over to a house you knew fairly well. You’d been here a couple of times since he had moved Wayne out of Forest Hills.

The black sedan he’d rented sat in the drive as you pulled in behind it, shutting the ignition off and taking a deep breath. You sat there a few moments trying to gather yourself.

You slowly moved from the driver’s seat, as your feet that currently felt like chunks of lead, carried you up the drive. You took the steps one by one until you were face to face with the door.

You hesitantly lifted your fist, knocking three quick times, holding your breath in the process.

Muffled voices came through, he was standing before you as the door swung open. Bright eyes, but a little surprised to see you.

“Peach.” He breathed out.

“Hi Eddie.” You smiled, genuinely. Deep down he knew why you were here. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, moving out of the way for you to enter.

You followed him into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good. Come, sit with me.” He took the chair across from you, bracing for the worst.

“Eddie, I just came to tell you that our kiss wasn’t a mistake, but it made me realize that I should have closed that chapter of my life when you left me. I need to move forward, so should you.” You watched his whole demeanor deflate.

“You shattered my heart, and I was waiting for a different version of you to come back home. We're in such different places in our lives now. I… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it, Peach. But uh… You’ll be seeing me around. I’m not leaving Hawkins. I’m staying with Wayne for a while. Taking some steps to stay sober.”

“Eddie, that’s great. I’m so proud of you!” beaming at him. God he was going to miss that.

“Yeah, already smoothed it over with the boys.”

You both grew silent. Unsure of what to say next.

“Peach, it's ok. I shouldn't have been expecting you to drop everything and pick up where we left off like everything was fine. I can't tell we’ve both changed.” His eyes told a different story, but you didn't say as much.

“So, I guess I'll be seeing you around Hawkins. Come by the Hideout sometime. Maybe you can show these kids you can still rock.” You grinned as he laughed.

“Sure! I'll do that.” His smile grew, but you were unsure if he'd actually take you up on the offer.

“Well, I've got to get going.”

“I'll, uh… walk you out.”

You both stood, him leading the way opening the door as you began to descend the stairs.

“Hey Peach, maybe when you are ready to love someone again, don’t look so far, huh?”

You looked at him, brows pinched in confusion.

“What are you talking about Eddie?”

“You’ve always been oblivious when it comes to him.” Letting out a hearty chuckle. “Bye Peach. I’ll see ya’ around.”

You’ve always been oblivious when it comes to him.

Those words tumbled around in your head as you drove back home.

You didn't want to accept the fact that Eddie saw something you hadn't yet admitted to yourself.

A few days have passed since your conversation with Eddie. You felt you were in a better place, feeling lighter and finally allowing yourself to move on gaining the closure you finally needed.

Steve and Robin weren't entirely convinced. You outwardly seemed fine, but they hovered and watched to make sure you didn't shrink inside yourself.

It was Robin who suggested it.

“Why don't we have a sleepover? Just the three of us like old times?” She blurted out as you all met for lunch one afternoon.

“Who'd watch Maddie?” Steve asked. He didn't want to impose on anyone knowing she usually stayed with either of you if he was busy.

“I'm sure Vickie won't mind. Maddie loves her. Peach, you in?” Looking toward you, wide eyes seemingly begging.

“Why not?” You shrugged.

She couldn't contain the grin that spread across her face as she reached over and hugged you.

“Yes! I'll bring a couple of movies and we can make some popcorn. Could even bring my old sleeping bag. Camp out in the living room all night…”

“I'm stopping you right there Rob.” Steve cut her off before her rambling really picked up. “I’m not 18 anymore. My back and body aren't going to lay on the floor all night.”

You laughed out as she threw a fry at him.

“Party pooper.”

“Daddy, I wan see Peach! I wan go with you and Bobby!” Maddie was protesting from the back seat as he drove over to drop her off with Vickie for the night.

“It's for adults only tonight. You stay at Peach's all the time it's daddy and Bobby's turn. Right? It's not fair you get to have all the fun.” He watched through the rearview as her scrunched brows softened as she thought over his words.

“Just for one night Daddy!” She finally settled down.

“Right, baby. One night.” He let out a small laugh, smiling to himself knowing how much she loves you as she finally busied herself with looking out the window.

He pulled into Robin's, helping Maddie from her seat as she made a beeline for the door. Knocking excitedly, not giving Steve a second glance when Robin opened it.

“Hey bug! Vickie's in the kitchen getting some yummy snacks together.” She said, bending down to greet her.

She stood, meeting Steve carrying all of Maddie's overnight gear.

“Hey Dingus!” She said, taking her small Baby Bop backpack from him.

“Ready to go?” He placed the rest of her stuff on the couch.

“Uh… about that.” He snapped his head toward her. “Don't get mad, but I'm not going.” She anxiously smiled, trying to deflect, holding up her hands.

“This was your idea, Robin! What do you mean you aren't going?” He huffed, placing his hands on his hips.

“And this was also my idea. You can go have a nice night. Look,” she produced a couple of rentals. “You can watch a couple of movies and talk about your feelings. Perfect! And you'll have all night to do…things. Whatever you get up to.”

She grinned wide, proud of herself and her foolproof plan as she looked back at his very unamused frown.

“Steve, just listen to me. She turned Eddie down and it's so painfully obvious to everyone but you two. You're both idiots. Just talk to her! Tell her how you feel! I'm tired of seeing you mope around.”

“I do not mope, and I just don't think I should bring it up right now.” He sighed, already exasperated.

“When's the right time, Steve? You've had 7 years to make a move. You know where she stands with Eddie. It's now or never!”

She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward and out the door.

“Now go!” Shoving the VHS tapes into his chest.

“Have fun!” Slamming the door in his face, not letting him argue or protest.

“Shit.” He breathed out, knowing she was right.

You'd gotten the house ready. Grabbing extra blankets for the living room, in case Robin held you to actually staying in there all night.

It would be good for you to spend time with them.

You totally hadn't been ignoring Steve because you were trying to hide from him and your rather obvious feelings, right?

After Eddie's comment it had you questioning everything. You and Steve were best friends, he wasn't in love with you. Was he?

Your inner crisis had to wait as you heard the front door open.

The hugs that lasted a little longer, the soft touches and sweet looks… fuck.

“Peach?” Steve called out.

“In the kitchen! I'm making your favorite by the way.” You called back, as he came into view.

“Hi.” He grinned, waving as he entered, sitting his overnight bag down on the counter.

“Hi. Where's Rob?” You looked past him, expecting her to follow in behind.

“Uh, she's not feeling well.” He placed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “Guess it's just us tonight.”

“And that's a bad thing? You look like someone kicked your puppy.” You eyed him warily.

“No, I just didn't want you to be disappointed. S’all.” Shrugging again as he took a seat at the bar, noticing the way his cheeks blushed slightly. Steve was so painfully pretty. The way his shirt was tight over his chest and biceps when he leaned his arms on the counter, had you staring just a little too long.

“Why would I be disappointed? You're my best friend Steve. I love spending time with you.” You smiled, and turned back to the stove, trying to hide the way that your own cheeks heated at your thoughts.

“Steve, are you okay?” Knocking him from his current train of thought.

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. He didn't need any reminders. His head and heart were both at odds with themselves already. And you were standing there looking absolutely beautiful in just a hoodie and some old shorts, his hoodie. Fuck.

“Hmmm, yeah. I'm fine. Need some help?” He smiled, trying to hide any hint of discomfort.

You put him to work chopping some veggies for a salad. It was easy with him. The way you both moved so fluid around the kitchen. Easing around each other because you've done it a million times before.

Steve was relaxing a little more as you chatted and got the rest of the food prepared but you could tell something was still bothering him.

“Hey Stevie,” catching his attention with a cupcake you pulled from a covered dish on the counter. “Want to ruin our appetites with dessert first?”

“Yes, please. God, I love your cupcakes.” He went to take it, but you pulled it back just out of reach, making him frown with his perfect pouty lips on display. Perfectly pouty and kissable lips.

You slowly peeled the liner from the spongy cake, as he watched you intently.

“You can have one, once you tell me what's bugging you.” You took a bite, with an over exaggerated hum of satisfaction. “Mmmm, so good.”

Frosting was left behind on your lip, that you quickly licked away, he couldn't help but watch the way your mouth moved. It was so unfair the way you were torturing him without even knowing it.

You, on the other hand, were completely aware of the way he was currently licking his own lips watching you.

“Here, have a bite you pouty baby.” Relenting and pushing the cake up toward him.

Instead of letting him take a bite, you shoved it a little upward. Frosting now dotting the end of his nose and top lip, he put his hands on his hips as you flew into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, yeah okay. Laugh it up.” Tongue in his cheek, trying not to give himself away. It was good to hear your laughter. Opposed to the tears you'd been shedding the last couple of times he's seen you.

He turned, dragging his finger through the frosting of another cake and holding it up.

“Paybacks a bitch, Peach.” Wiggling it toward you.

“No, Steve. No.” You started to back up but were caught in the corner of the counter. Nowhere to run as he advanced toward you.

He quickly grabbed the wrist that was still holding onto the chocolatey cake so you couldn't use it against him, as you tried to push him away, but his arms were longer than yours, hand pressed to his chest, still protesting. Easily maneuvering, he plopped the frosting at the end of your nose.

“There now we're even.” His laughter rang out, but he didn't make an attempt to pull away just yet wondering if you were going to try to keep this little game going.

You smiled, watching the way his eyes crinkled with his big, bright grin but then it suddenly felt too hot in the small space. His chest expands with each breath, warm beneath your fingers. All too aware when his laughter faded, and you were left staring at each other.

“Steve?” You asked, almost breathless.

“Yeah?” He searched your eyes for an answer. Anything to give him the go ahead.

“You can let go of my wrist now.”

“Right, sorry.” He let go, but you still felt his lingering warmth. He'd touched you countless times before but this felt different.

You reached for the napkins beside you, wiping the frosting from your nose. He stood there watching you until you pressed the napkin to his face, wiping the remnants from him as well. He exhaled a little loudly, as if he had been holding his breath.

He backed up, but you grabbed his forearm, holding his gaze, his caramel, mossy lined eyes staring back at you curiously.

You didn't realize the moment you inched forward, but your feet and body seemed to be moving on their own accord.

“Steve?” Inching forward still.

“Yeah?” He swallowed, eyes darting down to your lips and back up.

“Do… you want to kiss me?” Coming out a little raspy.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked, hesitantly reaching his hands up to rest on your hips.

Your hand travels to his cheek, stubble prominent from the day scratching at your palm as your thumb barely traces his bottom lip. Hearing his breath hitch sends you into overdrive.

His fingertips find the exposed skin at your side as your (his) hoodie rides up, gripping just a little harder onto your plush, warm skin.

You're telling yourself to stop, but the back of your mind is telling you to dive, to fall headfirst because he'll be there to catch you, no matter what happens.

Your nose finally grazes his, chests pressing together. You close your eyes, lips grazing his as you speak.

“Is this what you want?”

His only answer is closing the small distance between you.

The moment your lips meet it feels like they tell you how it's supposed to feel in all those fairytales and movies. All those stories could never prepare you for the reality of it. Like it was always meant to be.

It was warm sunshine on your skin after winter’s long embrace. Heating you from the inside out.

His lips are softer than you expected, faintly tasting of the cherry Chapstick he always keeps in the car, as your lips mold perfectly to his.

He gently tilts his head, nose pushed into your cheek. He’s pulling your hips into his, tongue grazing your bottom lip, a silent plea as you grant him the access he so desperately craves.

He's dreamt of this very moment more times than he would like to admit.

He's hoping, praying it isn't a dream he's going to wake up from at any moment. He's barely had a taste and can't get enough. He'll never have enough of you.

His mind's racing, your lips, tongue, the way you taste. It's all he can think about.

Your tongues glide along one another, as your hand reaches the nape of his neck, trying to pull him closer as he backs you up into the counter.

Your kiss gets a little more needy, pulling at each other.

Pushing his hips into yours, his hard length presses into your lower stomach as he swallows another wanton moan drawn from you.

He surprises you when his hands suddenly wander to your ass kneading a moment before hauling you up quickly to sit on the counter making you break away from him with a loud squeak, hanging onto his neck.

He easily slots himself between your parted thighs bringing his forehead to yours, gently squeezing the plush of your hips, then moving to rest his hands on each of your thighs. Thumbs rubbing softly across your bare skin, just skimming under the fabric of your thin shorts.

His eyes were blown wide, as he stared down at you. The caramel mossy irises now just a small ring, rimmed around the almost black pools full of lust mixed with adoration.

“Is… is this, okay?” He asks, giving you an out.

“Yeah, Stevie. It's better than okay.” You rake your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

“I.." "we" you both began.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all. This was Steve, your best friend for the better part of your lives but it was suddenly a little stifling.

You felt bashful under his gaze. Cheeks heating at the possibilities of what might come next.

You wanted him. All of him. Knowing right then and there that one night would never be enough with him.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you pulled him forward with ease as your lips meet once more. The timidness long gone; you were both greedy. In dire need of more.

Your hands grasp the fabric in your hold, as his begin to roam. Up past your thighs, landing on your hips once more. Trailing up a little further under the hoodie, his fingers found your exposed waist. The soft touch sending goosebumps across your flesh and a little spark to your core making you release a breathy moan that made him grin into your kiss, knowing just his touch could pull those sweet little sounds from you.

His thumb grazed the underside of your breast, making you keen into his touch, craving more, rolling your hips forward looking for a little friction.

Realizing you weren't wearing a bra underneath, he groans, pulling away slightly as if asking for permission, searching your face for any hesitation. You nod quickly, unable to hide your desperation.

His lips found your jaw as his large hand engulfed you fully under your shirt, kneading you softly before his thumb grazes over your nipple causing it to peak stiffly under his touch.

“Fuck, Steve.” You whine out, pushing your chest further into his palm, your head falling back, exposing more of your throat to him.

His lips find a sweet spot right below your jaw, sucking lightly before soothing it with his hot tongue.

You slowly move your hand down his chest and abdomen, hesitating just a moment before you find the outline of his stiff cock beneath his jeans. He hisses lowly as you palm him, breath hitching, hips bucking on their own, as he stops his current ministrations.

“Peach, I… fuck…” his forehead meets yours, arm curling around your waist, pulling you toward him as your core finally meets him.

You roll your hips into his, clit catching on the denim through the fabric that separates you so cruelly, wrapping your legs around his lithe waist holding him there as you moan in unison.

You look up at him through your lashes, he looks as wrecked as you feel, and he hasn't even touched you where you need him the most.

His eyes are closed tightly, brow pinched, and lips parted, releasing a shaky exhale.

“Steve?” You ask.

“Hmmm? Yeah?” Finally looking at you.

“Bedroom?” You smile, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yes. Fuck, please.” He nodded, helping you down from the counter. Your body pressed tightly to his as you slid down.

He grinned that soft, lopsided smile as you took his hand in yours pulling him out of the kitchen. He held onto you tightly as you raced up the stairs, giggling like a couple of horny teens.

Pushing your bedroom door open, you swallowed the lump that seemed to be stuck in your throat, as he hesitated at the threshold. An invitation to your bedroom meant more than just sleeping over as friends.

There was a line drawn that you were about to cross. It would mean something more, be something more.

Kissing him had been toeing the line, this would be jumping headfirst.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked whether for you or him you weren't sure.

"I'm sure. I want you, Steve. I… I need you.”

He crossed the threshold, kicking the door shut behind as he entered. Closing the small distance between you in just a few short strides.

One arm snaked around your back, the other palm to your cheek, fingers extending into your hair.

He pulled your face close, nose gliding down the slope of yours as your forehead met his. You moved your hands, one to his bicep and the other on top of the hand that held your cheek.

"Say it again, please." His lips grazed your top lip as he spoke. Wanting to take your mouth fully but he needed to hear those words once more. Making sure it's what you want. Confirming you want this just as badly as he does.

"Steve, I want you. I want all of you.”

That was all it took. His lips met yours once more. A searing kiss but had you begging for more. It was sloppy, teeth and tongues clashing.

He moved forward into your space, your hips meeting his. Taking the hint, you started to walk backwards toward the bed all the while, your lips massaged across his.

When you reach the edge of the bed, he guides you back to lay down. Caging you in. Slotting himself between your thighs as he pressed his clothed length where you need it the most, rolling his hips slightly.

He suddenly stops, body a little rigid and huffs out a small laugh fanning out across your face.

“What? What is it?” Searching his features, a little dopey smile as he pinched his nose.

"Fuck. I uh…," he giggled then. "I don't have a condom; not like I've had any action in… oh I don't know. How old is Maddie, again?"

You lightly smacked his arm and laughed out as well.

It was so sweet, watching him struggle with the words but you weren't any better off.

You looked at him, all innocent eyes when you spoke.

“Thank God for birth control, right? I'm on the pill Steve. You can even cum in me, if you want.”

His dick throbbed with your words, as he buried his head into your neck and groaned.

“You can't say shit like that. I'm already so fucking hard.”

“I know, I can tell. Now take your clothes off.” Nipping lightly at his jaw.

In one swift motion, he sits back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head. You can't help but admire his bronzed body, still kissed by the summer sun. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but it was like seeing him for the first time in a new light.

Your eyes follow the hair from his chest down to the top of his jeans.

“Your turn.” He smirks, as he helps you sit up, taking it upon himself to find the hem of his hoodie and pull it up slowly over your body.

The moment you can't see, hoodie up over your eyes, your chest is exposed. You hear his breath hitch just a moment before you feel his lips latch to your pert nipple. So caught off guard, you barely wrenched the fabric off of your head letting out an obscenely loud moan as he lays you back on the mattress.

“Fuck, Steve.” Your hands find his hair and tugs as he moves to the other, swirling his tongue over you. His hand glides down your soft stomach slipping past the top of your shorts.

You suck in a breath, as his fingers brush past your clit, delving between your already soaked folds making your back arch off the bed with a whine.

His mouth leaves you with a pop.

“You're soaked, honey.” He grins, pulling his hand away, placing his lips back across your chest.

“Tease,” you cry out as he smiles against your skin.

He pulls back once more, hooking his fingers into your shorts, pulling them down and tossing them somewhere across the room. He takes a moment to appreciate you. Eyes not sure where to land.

“You're so beautiful, Peach.” He hums, getting up to pull his own pants off. He unbuttons them, locking eyes with yours, pushing them and his boxers down in one swift motion.

You knew he was big, but all those rumors from high school were true, he was huge. Your mouth hung open just a little, as you watched him spit into his palm bringing it back down to tug on his stiff cock. He was long and thick, curving slightly upward. His ruddy tip leaking a pearly bead of precum, as his thumb glides over the top smearing it back down his length.

“Fuck, Steve.” The sight has your cunt clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

He crawls back over you, pushing your thighs apart, so he can see your pussy on full display for him. Your folds glisten with your slick, making his cock kick up at the sight before him.

“All that for me? Fuck… Peach, I'm going to be honest with you. I need to feel you, I need to be inside of you but I'm probably not going to last.”

You giggle at his confession, endearing as it was.

“It's okay, I need you too. Please, just fuck me, Steve.”

Your words, your body, everything has such an effect on him. He's afraid as soon as he gets in he's going to blow his load right then and there.

He leaned in to kiss you once more. Less feverish, less needy. Languidly his lips move against yours. Tongues intertwined, tasting and taking from each other all you were willing to give.

He was leaned up on one arm by your head, reaching between you both, fingers dancing across your slit before pushing through your folds, easing into your entrance.

Your head flew back at the sudden intrusion, mouth going slack, as he began to circle your clit with his thumb pumping his fingers slightly.

“So fucking tight, I… fuck. I need you.”

He pulled his fingers away, taking hold of himself and slid it in between your folds. Bumping your clit, once, twice, three times, moaning out his name. He could die a happy man hearing you so breathless for him just for him.

He lined himself up with your entrance. The tip slightly breaching, already feeling like he's going to split you open.

He pressed in, inch by inch, already keening into him from the feeling of his girth breaching your walls, filling you completely. You moaned into each other's mouths. No longer kissing, exchanging short, labored breaths.

Your eyes were closed, relishing in the stretch, the slight burn trying to accommodate him as he bottomed out.

"Steve," you breathed out.

"Mmmm, yeah?" Almost too gone in the feeling of you.

"You can move." You giggled, as he groaned again.

"Yeah, just… I need just a minute." He breathed out, a little ragged. Trying to compose himself.

You let out a small giggle as you nodded.

"Don't, I can feel you moving when you laugh. You're clenching me.”

"Sorry, Stevie." You kissed his forehead, at the same time he moved his hips, withdrawing almost all the way before sheathing himself back in, burying himself completely.

Whatever you were about to say, died on your lips as you gasped, the feeling knocking the breath from you.

He set a pace that had you both moaning. You gripped his shoulders to ground yourself in the feeling of him.

"Oh God, Steve. Y'… You feel so good." He wasn't rushing, his pace near languid. You could feel every ridge and vein moving within your walls.

He hummed in response.

"You feel so much better than I could have imagined. So fucking tight, so fucking warm."

"You thought about this alot, hmm?" You quipped.

"Yeah, yeah. I have." He kissed your lips once more. A peck before slightly picking up the pace.

In and out. In and out. The heat in your belly started to pool. He was stimulating that spot within you with each pass, as your cunt fluttered around him.

“Fuck, are… are you close?” He hissed out, hips starting to lose their rhythm.

“Yeah, but I know you are too. Cum in me Steve.”

Your words hurdled him over the edge. His lower stomach tightened as he began to spill within you. Thick ropes of his cum painted your walls. A few more languid thrusts, he stilled. Falling forward, chests pressed impossibly close. He let his head fall in the juncture of your neck.

You reached up, fingers playing with his hair lightly at the nape of his neck.

“I'm so sorry. You… I thought you might be closer. It's just been so long, and you felt so fucking good.” Coming out a little muffled, lips pressed to your skin.

“Steve,” you pressed on his chest, “it's okay.”

“No, no. It's not. Can I taste you? I just want you to feel good too.” Sitting up, his face lit up at the prospect.

“Yeah, but you just came…”

“It's ok baby, just lay back. I'll take care of you.” His lips curled into a devilish smirk, as he finally pulled out his softening cock. His spend leaking slowly out of you, onto the sheets below.

“God, you're a mess baby.”

He pulled your legs apart, pushing himself onto the mattress, face so close to where you wanted him. His broad palm held one thigh, as he began trailing light kisses to the other.

“Please, don't tease me.” You whined, as his tongue licked a broad strip up your folds, the tip circling your clit, effectively cutting you off.

“Oh fuck, Steveeeee.” You whined out, hips bucking up, as he pushed you back down, pinning you in place.

His lips sucked your clit harshly, tongue swirling over the bundle of nerves setting you a blaze, humming as you tugged his tousled locks.

His finger circled your entrance, a mixture of his cum and your arousal making it easy to slip his finger in, pulling it back and quickly adding another.

He began pumping, then curling upward to reach that spot that would have you seeing stars in no time.

“Oh, Steve.” Breathless, as you brought your hands up to your breasts pinching your nipples. It didn't go unnoticed, as he groaned watching you.

“Fuck, your perfect,” he murmured into your pussy. Quickly pressing his tongue back to you moving rapidly, fingers continuing their assault against your frontal wall.

“Right… right there. Don't stop!” He kept the pace, lifting his eyes to watch you come undone.

Your eyes fluttered closed, brows pinched tight with concentration. You were so close now.

A few more licks and fingertips brushing that perfect spot, you gasped out. It felt like you were on fire from the inside out. It was pure bliss as those fireworks flew behind your eyes.

“That's it, baby. Come on my fingers. Come f’me.”

He worked you through it, until you had to push his mouth away.

He slowly crawled up to lay beside you as you tried to slow your heavy breathing, opening your eyes to him grinning wide, a sheen of arousal still coated his chin before he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Hi,” turning onto your side to face him as he does the same.

“Hi. Was… was that, ok?” He asked a little sheepishly.

“That was amazing, Stevie.” You giggled. “You might have to work on your stamina a little.”

He grabbed a pillow and threw it at you, laughing out, hauling you into his chest. The laughter subsided as you stared up at him, hand splayed over his heart.

“Peach, I hope this isn't a one-time thing… Fuck.” He rolled over on his back, covering his face with his hands, as he groaned. You could tell he was at odds with himself.

Reaching up, you tugged his wrist lightly.

“Hey, look at me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. With you. You… don't regret it, do you?” Sinking into yourself at the thought.

“God no. I… I just… I'm in love with you. I think I've always been in love with you. I don't think I can go back to the way things were… if this… if you…” He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh, ready for a letdown.

“I know, Stevie. I want this. I want us. You, me and Maddie. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you, Steve Harrington. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it.”

His raised up, eyes softening at your admission. Hand coming to cradle your head, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, as your lips meet.

After what felt like hours of talking, he slowly fucked you into the mattress. The urgency was no longer there, and you were free to explore each other slowly.

Whispering “I love yous”, kissing, touching. Seemingly making up for lost time.

He watched you fall apart beneath him as his cock split you open, spilling inside of you once more soon after.

As you laid beside each other, coming down from your highs, he whispered in the dark.

“Can I keep you?”

Your answer came with a kiss, wanting nothing more than to always be his.

You finally pulled yourselves away from bed, thoroughly spent. Showering together and then making it back down to the kitchen for cold spaghetti, long forgotten between confessions and a love drunk haze. You made sure he got a cupcake this time.

With full bellies and full hearts, you snuggled in close to him. Pressed into his side with your head on his chest.

You were happy, with a man that you were undoubtedly in love with, jumping in headfirst.

The sun brought soft kisses in between the sheets, reluctantly untangling yourselves knowing that Robin would be dropping Maddie by soon.

You sipped coffee together and cuddled close on the couch before making breakfast. It all came so naturally for the both of you.

He couldn't keep his hands off of you. Soft touches to your lower back as he passed by. Squeezing softly at your hips as he came up behind you, pressing his lips to your temple and you couldn't get enough.

The door opened just as you were about to sit down for your meal, tiny feet running quickly through the house.

“Peachhhhh! Daddyyyy!” Maddie yelled, bounding into the kitchen. Bright eyes and chubby cheeks, as she ran straight over to you.

“Hey baby!” Hugging her tightly to your chest as you picked her up. “Did you have a good time with Bobby?”

“Yeah, she let me stay up til’ late an… an then we eat popcorn, but I missed you.” She threw her small arms around your neck.

“Hey!” Robin walked in, throwing Steve a sideways glance.

He just grinned and took a sip of coffee, looking down at his cup as his cheeks heated, turning the slightest shade of pink.

“Well?” She asked, already knowing the answer with his flustered appearance.

“Uh, yeah, Rob. We uh… finally had that talk.” He said, leaning back on the counter, smirking toward you.

“Well, we are going to talk all about this. Not right now of course. Oh my God. I can't believe you finally did it! Steve, you look really happy, and I can tell by that grin you got la…” Slapping a hand over her mouth, realizing what she almost said in front of tiny ears.

“I mean you got… lasagna… Yeah.”

“Nice save, Rob.” You snorted, sitting Maddie down as she ran over to Steve. “He did get spaghetti though.”

“Is that… is that supposed to be code for something?” She looked confused between the two of you. “You know what, never mind. I'm leaving. I'll call later. Bye Maddie!” She called over her shoulder.

You turned, grabbing your coffee and looked over to Steve and Maddie chatting away in the corner. She was telling him all about her night, with big enthusiastic giggles.

Her big hazel eyes and fluffy morning hair, mirroring his perfectly.

He was so focused on her, face lit up with every little detail he didn't notice the way you were staring at them.

A little teary eyed, you were so full of happiness as you watched them. Ready to start a new journey with these people you loved.

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