#I tried not to just go with shows I talked about already

[honeypiehotchner]

Sleeping Beauty (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Nobody look @ me this is the filthiest thing I've ever written I need to go take a cold shower

Summary: With the demanding jobs you both work, you and Hotch see each other more often when one of you is asleep. An idea pops into your head.

Warnings: SMUT mdni 18+ only etc, somnophilia (if that's not your cup of tea, feel free to scroll bc it's the entirety of this fic lmao), angst if you squint, established relationship, consent/ground rules are established before anything happens, fingering, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (don't be like them), mentions of phone sex, dirty talk, Hotch is just pussy-whipped as y'all say

WC: 3.8k bc I clearly have no self-control

It started as a joke. Mostly.

Both of your jobs are demanding — you and Hotch knew this from the start. It was first date material, after all. The usual, surface-level questions including So, what do you do for work?

He told you later that he thought about giving you a vague answer, so as to not scare you away. But you had opened up first, said that your job at the courthouse meant your hours were long and somewhat unpredictable, no matter how hard everyone tried to stick to the 8 to 5 routine. There were nights you wouldn’t leave your desk until nearly eight. Hotch’s chest had tightened at that, even on the first date, the idea of you overworking yourself, but he’s no better.

You told him some nights it was a miracle if you got home before ten; he joked with you and said it was a miracle he made it home some nights at all.

It was like everything opened up from there. There was no pressure. If one of you had to stay late, it didn’t really matter, because the other probably had to as well. If one of you had to cancel or postpone dinner plans, it was fine, because nine times out of ten, the other was already on their way to calling for the same reason. 

It always makes the two of you laugh. The phone call the afternoon of the dinner plans, you laughing as you answer the phone to say, “Let me guess, raincheck?” His soft laughter, but apologetic all the same, “We just got called to New York.” And you expected it, so you said it was fine, right before your boss came knocking on your door, a frantic look in his eyes. “And I’m being summoned. Be safe in New York.” And Aaron’s ever-present gentlemanliness, “I’ll text you when I can. Go show them how it’s done.” You were grinning as you hung up, turning to your boss with an extra boost of confidence. “What do we have?”

As one can expect, this schedule, this careful dance the two of you have, means that nights together are rare, and the sex is, unfortunately, just as rare. Not that the two of you haven’t found other means— who knew Aaron’s dirty talk would somehow sound hotter through the phone when he’s timezones away, on a five minute break to call you and check in, and help you relax enough so you can sleep? But it’s not the same. It’s not the same as having him here.

And he is here, just not as often as you’d like, especially not when you’re awake. Ever since you started staying at his place — it’s closer to the courthouse, you tell yourself as an excuse, those five minutes make a big difference — you see him more often, but you mostly feel him. The dip of the mattress as he settles in to sleep beside you. The strong arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you toward him in his sleep, as if he needs to be certain you’re still there, even as he’s dreaming. The rustle of sheets as he scrambles to grab his phone to silence the incoming call, to get up and get dressed without waking you. 

It’s just a fact. The two of you see each other more when you’re sleeping. Isn’t that crazy?

So, who can blame you, when one night, half-asleep, only woken by Aaron’s soft nuzzling into your neck, you say, “Keep going.”

He freezes, lips just barely hovering over your pulsepoint, the place he loves to suck on, nip at, because he loves all of the little sounds he can draw out of you. 

When you’re awake.

“Honey,” he chuckles nervously, pulling back. “You’re asleep.”

“M’awake,” you protest, tossing your arms around him clumsily — as if that was going to prove your point.

He placates you with a soft kiss on your lips. “Sure, honey,” his laugh rumbles through his chest again as his hands smooth up your arms. “I believe you.”

“See?” you murmur, but your eyes are closed. There is no way you’ll remember this come morning. “You can keep going. Wanna feel you.”

He tenses. The idea is tempting, and that scares the shit out of him, which is exactly why his hands don’t move any lower than your arms. You’re practically asleep, for god’s sake. That’s taking advantage, and he will not be doing that.

“Maybe later,” he says gently, kissing your forehead this time. “I’m exhausted.”

You whine, but you bury your face in his chest, and your breathing slowly evens out. 

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, wondering what in the world he’s going to do with you.

+++

You do remember it. Aaron thought you wouldn’t, and for a couple days he was convinced that you didn’t, until a rare night when he returned home to find you already there.

“Half-day,” you explain with an easy smile, meeting him at the door for a kiss. “Well, kind of. I brought some work with me. You know how it is.”

You’re rambling and he knows it. You know it, too, but you can do nothing to stop it. He knows you need to talk to him about something, but you don’t want to admit it. He knows how you work. 

Which infuriates you on a bad day. On a good day, it’s hot as hell.

Right now, it’s somehow a mix of both. All it takes is him sitting next to you on the couch, seemingly unbothered by your fidgeting, and one simple question.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Too many things,” you answer automatically, letting out a laugh and exhale at the same time. God, your chest feels so tight, and not in a good way. Since when are you this nervous to talk to Aaron? The man you’ve been seeing for well over a year now, the man who has been nothing but understanding with everything you’ve thrown his way, the man who is sitting right here with you, who knows exactly what your nervous rambling means and isn’t upset with you for it.

As if he can sense the anxiety rolling inside of you (and he can sense it), he reaches out to thread your fingers with his. “You can talk to me. Is it work?” You shake your head. “Is it us?”

“Kind of.”

“Is it the other night?”

Your eyes blow wide, giving you away entirely. Your eyes snap to his. “Seriously? Three questions? That’s how long it took you?”

He chuckles. “It would’ve only taken one, but I didn’t want to assume.”

“Cocky motherfucker,” you mutter, which only makes him laugh more. This is good. Lightening the mood is good. You don’t need to be so on edge about this, about what is most likely about to be Rejection City Central. “Okay. So. Yes. The other night.”

He nods, waiting patiently for you to get your words together.

“I feel like it was…too much.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Too much?” Nothing happened. Do you think something happened?

“I feel like I pushed too far, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry, we don’t have to harp on it anymore than this, I just— I felt like I was pushing you into doing something you don’t want to do. And I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“Honey,” he stops you gently. “Hey, look at me.”

Slowly, you do, but there’s worry swimming in your eyes. 

“What do you remember?” he asks. He knows how it sounds, cryptic and probably a little scary, but he needs to fully see where your head is.

“Um,” you hesitate, your eyes darting away again. “I remember asking you to keep going and you saying no. Because I was asleep.”

He nods. “Okay.” He pauses, gathering his words. “Honey, we’ve never talked about that before, about doing anything when either of us is sleeping—”

“We don’t have to do it,” you immediately interrupt, clearly still with the wrong idea in your head. “It’s weird, I get it—”

“It’s not weird, not to me,” Aaron says, remembering the way desire flared in him. He had secretly hoped you would still be awake that night, not because he wants you to deprive yourself of sleep, but because he wanted to have you. “And it’s especially not weird if it’s something you want, too.”

You pause, staring at him wide-eyed. “Wait. You. You’d want to?”

“Absolutely,” he says, trying not to sound so unbelievably wrecked just by the thought. “But I want us to talk about it first. Set ground rules. Figure things out first.” He pauses, squeezing your hand. “Believe me, I wanted to.”

Your lips part just a little in disbelief. “You did?”

He nods seriously. “Of course I did. Do you have any idea how good you look sleeping in one of my old shirts and nothing else?”

You smirk, a wicked look brewing in your eyes. “I have an idea.”

He pulls you over into his lap for a bruising kiss, one hand cradling your jaw. It’s intoxicating, his tongue on yours, all gasps and moans as he rocks your body against his.

“Wait,” you gasp, his lips chasing yours as you pull back. “I want to talk about it.”

“We will,” he bites out, just before he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. “But I want to taste you first.”

+++

You do talk about it. You lay the ground rules, for both of you. 

Aaron orders a new pair of panties just for the occasion, so that when you wear them, it’s a signal. He can do what he wants. For him, it’s slightly different, since he always sleeps in boxers, so if he’s not wearing anything, that’s his signal. He wants to be woken up; you’re happy to be mostly asleep, though you know your body will wake you up and want to stay awake to drink him in. 

And, of course, if when either of you wake up, if it’s too much and it needs to stop immediately, you have your safe words, but a simple no, stop will work given the added complication of being asleep.

It’s exhilarating, thinking about it. Planning everything out. Your body practically buzzes with need. 

But you have no idea when it will happen. That’s the whole point, of course, but it’s complicated with your work schedules. The strange hours and days you both work has never pissed you off so badly as it does now. 

It’s as if your schedules are mocking you. Every time it feels like there might be a night where something could happen, something comes up. Aaron is called away, a case goes sideways and delays his return, or you get slammed at work and don’t make it home in time before he’s called away, or you get home in such a bad mood that if he even tried to touch you, you might lay into him.

It just never seems to line up properly, none of it. You start to think it was foolish to want it so badly, that you should’ve known better with your schedules.

Especially because now, it’s quickly approaching week two of Aaron being away on a case in Florida, and week two of you practically living at his place since going back to your own apartment feels too empty.

You miss him. It’s an aching feeling, one you don’t get often because you two make things work, and because you’re usually too busy to feel it, but it’s here now. This is the second-longest case he’s been away on. And because the universe is torturing you, work is calm for the moment, so you don’t even have that as a distraction.

All you have are Aaron’s old law school t-shirts, a bed that still, miraculously, smells like him after a week of his absence, and a pair of lace panties that seem laughable as you pull them on.

You curl up against Aaron’s pillows, sighing deeply. When you close your eyes, it’s almost like he’s next to you.

+++

Hotch is bone-tired. It’s been a long time since a case has been this wild, full of this many twists, and dragging on so long that it’s starting to piss him off. All he wanted to do was finish this case quickly and get home to his girl, but the unsub had to drag things out. For a week and a half.

It’s so late when they get back to Virginia that he doesn’t bother texting you, not wanting to risk the sound waking you from your no-doubt peaceful slumber. He smiles faintly as he drives toward his apartment, thinking of you sleeping so softly, probably twisted in the sheets from how restless you get on your own.

God, he misses you.

He’s quiet as he unlocks the door and quickly silences the alarm. The apartment is dark as he sets his briefcase down on the couch, shrugging off his suit jacket as he heads down the hall. The door to his room is cracked just barely, and soft snores are coming from a lump in the middle of the bed.

He chuckles to himself as he enters, stealing a glance at you as he walks to his closet. He quickly undresses, not bothering to hang anything up until morning. Right now, he just wants to be next to you.

With just his boxers on, he heads back to the bed, lifting the sheet and— He freezes.

You’re in your usual pajamas: his shirt and your underwear. Except this time, it’s a very specific pair of underwear. A specific pair of lace panties that he remembers ordering, probably spending too much money on, but he didn’t care. He wanted them to be special. And they are.

And you’re wearing them. 

He stands there like he’s seen a ghost, his brain momentarily short circuiting as he tries to compose himself. He swallows.

He’s only human. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, even longer since he’s touched you, or even got to hear you touch yourself. The case was too hectic for even your usual phone sex, and he didn’t realize how wild it was driving him until now.

He tosses the sheet back gently, watching as you curl further into his pillow, your body registering the sudden chill.

Slowly, he crawls over you, settling himself at the end of the bed. He can only imagine how crazed he looks right now, the way his eyes can’t leave your legs. He wants to drink you. Devour you in every way possible.

His movements are gentle, not wanting to wake you, not yet. You said you wouldn’t mind being asleep the entire time, but he wants to rouse you, wants you to really feel it even if for a moment, but not yet.

Right now, he stretches your legs out, turning you on your back. You make no noise other than a content sigh. He smirks as he spreads your legs, lowering his mouth to his favorite place.

He plans to take his time. He has all the time in the world, after all. You’re sleeping soundly.

He mouths at your core over your panties, just barely silencing his own groan. That would be something, waking you up because he can’t keep himself in line. He can already hear the playful annoyance in your sleep-filled voice if that were to happen.

Returning to his task, he drinks you in as he likes, smothering your inner thighs in kisses, even leaving a love bite or two there. It’s a private, guilty pleasure you both have. He loves to leave marks, you love to have marks. But you’re both adults and you absolutely cannot be caught with a hickey at the courthouse.

So, he leaves them here. In a place where only the two of you can see. It wakes something primal in him, seeing the little reddened marks where he’s irritated the skin enough for a bruise to form later. He smooths his thumb over the spot, pressing. If you were awake, that would earn him a little squeak. Right now, all he hears are your even breaths.

He hooks a finger into your panties, pulling them to the side, nearly cursing aloud at how beautiful you are. He has to take a moment, just admiring, his thumb gently stroking you, and already glistening. He pops the digit into his mouth, eyes rolling at the taste. You’re addicting like nothing he has ever known.

He tests the waters some more, blowing onto your core, watching in awe as your body reacts instinctively, even in your sleep. It’s mesmerizing.

He can’t wait any longer, so he doesn’t try. He surges forward, finally tasting you, finally lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders. He relaxes into his favorite place, sucking gently on your clit before dipping his tongue inside you. You don’t even shift in your sleep.

He wonders, then, if he can make you cum like this. In your sleep.

Suddenly, and albeit selfishly, he wants to try.

He takes his time inserting a finger into you, watching as you take him in so easily. He adds a second right away, knowing how much you hate it when he teases you with just one. Your walls clench around him, but your heat envelops him, and he’s dizzy with it.

He circles your clit with his tongue as he thrusts his fingers, curling just slightly until you clench, your body telling him he’s found what he was searching for. And he doesn’t relent, only massages that spot inside as his mouth works outside. He adds a third finger, your body welcoming the stretch, pulling him in.

You shift, and he comes up for air, watching your face, but you don’t wake. You melt into the pillows as his fingers continue their pace.

Relieved in some twisted way, he returns to sucking your clit, doubling down, forcing you toward that edge. He almost thinks it won’t happen, that there’s no possible way you’ll climax and not wake up, until he feels those tell-tale spasms, and he knows you’re close.

He groans into you, knowing how that sends you over when you’re awake, and it works even now. Your walls clench around him, spasming through the shocks of your orgasm, and he doesn’t stop, milking out every last bit, wanting to drown in the way you taste, the way your body relents.

You’re a dream. He presses a loving kiss to your inner thigh, disbelief in his every breath. Gently, he removes his fingers, and tugs your panties down, tossing them to the floor. 

When he crawls back up the bed, you’re still sleeping soundly, but that won’t do.

He presses his erection into your hip, presses a kiss to your jaw, whispering, “Honey, I need you.”

+++

You’re floating on pure bliss. Dreams are rare these days, and dreams of Aaron are even rarer — which just feels rude, honestly. But this one. This one is the best you’ve ever had.

Only, you realize you aren’t dreaming at all. The sensations are real. The hot breath in your ear, the slick want between your thighs, the hard press of Aaron’s cock as he rocks against your hip.

But you’re so tired. You can’t bring your eyes to open. You barely have enough energy to turn toward him, to wrap an arm around his neck, toss your leg over his, pressing your core right against him. The growl he lets out is delicious.

The next thing you know, the boxers are no longer separating you, and the head of his cock is parting your lips. 

You sigh in content as he thrusts into you, hitting you so deep, staying there just to grind his hips into yours.

“Missed you,” you murmur, hands clumsily tugging on his hair to pull his lips to yours. He goes without protest, licking into your mouth and you gasp in surprise, tasting yourself. “Did you…?”

He smirks against your lips. “Did you know you can have an orgasm in your sleep?”

Your eyes fly open at that, vision adjusting in the dark, but it’s easy to see the smug look on Aaron’s face. And then he pulls his hips back, slamming into you again and causing your eyes to roll back. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, the words so gentle and soothing, a stark comparison to how brutal his pace and depth of his thrusts are. “Breathtaking. My sleeping beauty. Can you give me another one? Need to feel you again.”

You’re awake, but nowhere near alert enough to have any wits about you when he talks like that. You nod dumbly, rocking your hips in time with his, but your movements are sloppy, the pleasure rising at a blinding pace.

“Come on, honey,” he murmurs, capturing your lips again, his tongue searching for yours. “Just one more, then you can go back to sleep.”

Something about that does it for you. He thrusts as deep as he can go, and your body crashes, writhing against him as he holds you in place, grinding into you.

“There you go, so beautiful, honey,” he guides you through it, soaking up all of your little breathy moans.

But like every time when you have an orgasm (or two) when you’re already on the verge of sleep, your eyes are struggling to stay open.

“Aaron…” you whine, clinging to him. “Keep going.”

“Oh, I will, honey,” he chuckles, pressing a soothing kiss to your forehead before flipping you onto your back again, so he can hover over you. “You just sleep for me, okay?”

You nod, the action already taking too much of your energy as your eyelids slam closed and refuse to lift again. He moves inside you, slower now, just a gentle pace, lulling you back to sleep.

It doesn’t take long for him to spill inside of you, and you’re still somewhat conscious, given the happy little sigh he hears you let out when he cums inside you. You’ve always loved the feeling. 

Feeling wrecked, he slowly peels himself off of you, heading into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. When he returns, you’re back on your side, hugging his pillow again. He shushes you with gentle praise while he cleans you up before tucking you back in.

After cleaning himself and slipping boxers back on, the exhaustion hits him in full force, and he sleeps soundly with you tucked into his chest, clinging to him like a koala.

[everlastingserenitys]

BOUND BY THE CROWN

summ. If you could take the prince, why not also take your loyal servant too?

pairing. caleb x reader x sylus cw. threesome, princess!reader, prince!sylus, servant!caleb, oral, p in v, fingering, kissing, tension, switch!caleb, light possessiveness, some grammatical issues, kinda competitive, u nd Caleb had something before sylus btw, belly bulging.. 3.3k wc (sighs..) a/n. um... you could tell I was feeling it, so why not try this out (out of pure horniness) also idk why there was too much before they started fuckin I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO GET THERE IM SORRY.. and kind of late post urghh

“B-but miss! What about the prince? Wouldn't he be on his way soon?” Caleb stuttered as he watched you unbutton his top, snaking your fingers down his fragile body as every delicate touch made his words come out in a broken speech.

“They told me he’d come tomorrow, so why don't we just-”

Three knocks interrupted your speech and you turned your head to the door, asking who was there. When nobody was responding you sighed, getting off of Caleb and walked towards the door.

Your fingers grab onto the door knob and in a quick movement you pull open the door, being met with your father who was staring down at you with a concerned look.

“Yeah…?”

“Turns out the prince will be on his way in a couple of hours, so get ready.” he said, peering his gaze to Caleb who was still sitting on your bed as he was fixing the buttons on his shirt.

“…And don’t want you to keep your servants in your room unless they’re going to clean.” He mumbled, turning away from you and walked back to his room.

You angrily shut the door and walked towards Caleb who was still toying with the buttons on his shirt. He looked up at you and before he could say a word you crashed your lips on his.

“Wh-” Caleb tried to speak but it was impossible when your tongue was shoved deep in his mouth, tasting every bit of him. Caleb felt you pressing yourself against him until his back plopped against the bed.

He grabbed onto the sides of your face, pulling you closer than he could, savouring every second he could with you.

You pull away to catch your breath and stare down at his eyes, panting as if you ran a marathon. Caleb brushed his thumb against your lower lip, and took this chance to talk to you.

“What did he say?” He mumbled, moving his thumb from your lips to under your eye, pressing against the corner of it as he patiently waited for your response.

“The prince is coming in a few hours.” You sigh, plopping your head against his shoulder. Caleb hummed, but it didn’t sound like he was understanding the situation, it just felt hollow and fake.

“I could help you get ready?” he asked, slipping his fingers through your hair as he pulled your head back to look at your pretty face. Your gaze adverts from his eyes to your closet and you eventually nod.

“That’d be nice.”

After an hour of deciding on a dress and getting your makeup and everything ready, you were already standing in the halls. Standing next to your father as you patiently waited for the double doors to open.

Each second felt like hours were going by, you kept glancing at the door and back at your father, hoping the doors could just open any second now, all you needed was to meet the prince, agree on the marriage then go back to your room.

Since Caleb—or any other servants, weren’t allowed in the main halls you had no idea what he was doing but hoped he was doing okay, and hoped it would still be possible to let him be with you once you meet the prince.

As time passed, a click was heard from behind the doors. You propped yourself up, fixing your posture and locked your eyes on the double doors that were opening up.

When the doors flung open, you were met with a beautiful man who walked in, wearing a nice outfit that really showed off his figure and made him shine.

He stepped towards you, the heels of his shiny shoes clicked at every step he took, eventually when the two of you were meters apart from each other, your father budded in, reciting his little script he made, and once he finished talking the man—who you soon found out was named Sylus—nodded and brought his hand in front of you.

You stare into his eyes, then back at the hand in front of you and hesitantly grab onto it, your frail fingers collided with his rough calloused hands and you gave it a quick shake.

“The wedding will be starting in a few days,” your father announced, then looked at you for a moment, “you can bring him to your room since we are still getting his room ready.” He shooed you and Sylus off and you sigh before walking towards your room.

When you reached the front of your room door you rested your fingers against the doorknob, hesitating to open it, a moment of silence passed and Sylus raised an eyebrow when you weren’t opening the door.

“Why aren’t you opening the door?” He hummed, leaning in closer, his large figure casted a shadow ahead you and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, meddling with yours.

He slid his hand against your arm, tracing it with the tips of his fingertips, and soon those same fingers reached your hand which was still resting on the doorknob.

“Are you hiding something in there, sweetie?” He whispered, pressing his hand on yours before pushing open the door. Your breath hitched when you winked open an eye and noticed Caleb resting against your balcony, staring at the view.

Caleb turned his head and his eyes widened, he propped himself off of the railing bowing down at you before slowly walking himself out of your room.

But you could feel the tension between the two men, with Caleb purposely shoving himself past Sylus, which was a risky move but luckily Sylus didn’t do anything except stare at him.

When the door clicked shut Sylus turned his head back to you and stared at you, a hint of mockery filled his eyes.

“Do servants usually stay at their princesses' room, waiting for her to come back to them?” Sylus teased, plopping himself on your bed and stared at you.

“No…but I’ve gotten used to it, with him at least.” The last few words came out in a low whisper which was loud to Sylus. A low chuckle escaped his lips and he nodded, closing his eyes as a hummed and unrhythmic melody.

“Are you both seeing each other?” He asked.

Caught off guard at the question, you glare at Sylus’ resting figure and scoff, “not that it matters to you.”

“Well aren’t we getting married? it would be weird if you were seeing someone while we’re together, don’t you think, sweetie?”

You roll your eyes and step towards the door. You held onto the door knob and looked back at Sylus who was still lying down on the bed, “I need the bathroom..” you mutter, opening the door open to be met with Caleb waiting against the wall.

You carefully shut the door behind you and stepped towards him, “what are you doing ou-”

“Are we still going to see each other?” Caleb asked, his violet eyes glistened at your figure, raking his gaze down to your dress which he put on you.

You sputter out random words, not sure what to say. You glanced at your surroundings and soon grabbed onto Caleb’s wrist, dragging him to your room.

You pressed your finger against your lip and pointed to Sylus’ figure which was still asleep on your bed. Caleb’s gaze followed your finger and glared at the sight, he rolled his eyes and followed you out to the balcony.

Once you both reach your balcony you close the door shut and rest against the railing as you stared out the view, Caleb muttered nonsense under his breath and soon stepped closer towards you, his shaky hands grab onto your cheek as he grazed his thumb against your jaw, tracing small patterns on it.

“Then could we have our last round tonight? I mean it's not like you're married right now..” he reasoned, you stare at the tainted glass door and then back at Caleb, a beat of silence passed as you were deciding on what to say and eventually you nodded.

Caleb chuckled and pecked his lips on yours. You giggle and pull away, walking yourself back in as Caleb follows you in. but the second you walked in you were met with Sylus, who was awake, rubbing his eyes as he sat up on your bed, as if he just woke up, but you knew he didn't.

“Sylus, your room should be ready by now…you can go now.” you say, strutting towards him as you watch him grin and nod, lifting himself off of your bed and stretching his arms. He plopped his arms to his sides and leaned in closer to you, his death piercing gaze stared down at you.

“Come show me where the room is,” he whispered, backing away and looking back at Caleb who was standing against the bed frame with crossed arms, watching the whole scene ahead of him.

You stare between the two men and sigh, walking yourself out the room. Sylus followed momentarily and so did Caleb. After a minute walk across the hall you stood in front of Sylus’ room and pointed to the door.

“This is your room, enjoy.” you slightly bow at him and Sylus’ fingers made their way to the top of your head and lightly patted on it. You grumble something incoherent under your breath and Sylus chuckles.

“I’ll see you at dinner then.” he said before slipping into his room. You roll your eyes and turn to walk back to your room but Caleb stood in front of you, his large figure blocked your way to go back to your room and you stare up at him with a confused gaze.

“What is it?” you sigh, resting your hand on his shoulder as you push him aside so you could go back to your room. You heard Caleb’s footsteps grow louder and louder behind you as he followed you back to your room.

Once you made it to your room, not even a second had passed and Caleb pushed open the door dragging you along with it and soon carried you to your bed. You yelp in surprise when he lightly tossed you on the bed, your head bobbing up and down at the impact.

Caleb darted his tongue to your neck and sucked, nibbled and bit at almost every part of it. You grab onto his hair as your whimpers grow louder and louder. “Caleb–ngh...now?” you gasp as his sharp canines sunk deep in your skin.

“When, then?” he mumbled against your skin, vibrations sparked through your body as you arched your back in pleasure, seeking for more of his lips on you. When he noticed you weren't giving a proper response he smirked against your skin and slid his fingers to the back of your dress, toying with the zipper as he slowly pulled it down.

“C’mon, miss… tell me when we should do this?” Caleb breathed, pulling himself away from you and pulled the last bits of the zipper down, letting your sleeves drape down your shoulders. Caleb watched the whole scene unfold ahead of him, he grabbed onto your sleeves and pulled your dress off of you, and threw it aside, letting the fabric cause a small thud to echo through the room.

Caleb propped himself in front of you, his hands pressed against your knees as he spread your legs apart. He eyed down your whole figure and eventually dunk his head between your thighs, burying himself between them as his nose made contact with your clit. He bit against the fabric covering your cunt and slowly pulled your panties off.

The second you were left bare in front of him, he immediately put himself to work, his tongue worked his way inside your dripping cunt, lapping himself against you, tasting every juice of you, he already felt like he needed to ram his cock inside you immediately.

“Mmh. You taste s-so goo-ungh.. Good” he groaned against your puffed up lips, his voice sent vibrations through your body and you instinctively buck your hips towards him, silently asking for more of his touch.

You were already close to release and you tried to pull Caleb's head away from you, but he stayed put as he continued to fuck his tongue deep inside you. Your hips roll in pleasure as you ride out your orgasm on him.

Caleb sighed in relief when you came undone on his lips, he pulled away and licked his lips clean in front of you, grinning at your teary eyes beneath him. Caleb soon brought his fingers to his belt and swiftly removed it in a quick movement, before he could continue any further a couple of knocks interrupted the moment.

“Who is it?” you ask, getting up from the bed and slipping on a robe, walking towards the door and wrapped your fingers around the door knob. Before flinging it open to be met with…

Fucking Sylus.

You face flushes in a pink tone and you clear your throat looking back at Caleb who sat at the edge of the bed, glaring down at you with crossed arms as he fanned his hand at you, indicating you could talk to Sylus.

You turn your head back at Sylus who was looking down at you with a curious look, his gaze gawking down your figure, eyes lingering on the small bite marks drawn against your neck. He instinctively brought his fingers to the marks and traced along them.

“So you’re still going to see him after our first day together?” Sylus mumbled, sliding his fingers lower and soon stopped when they were just inches away from your cleavage. He continued to stare down at you as he waited for an answer.

“I thought.. I mean we aren't married yet?” you chuckle awkwardly and step further away when you felt Sylus’ presence creep closer and closer to you. He eventually made his way inside your room and looked at Caleb who was still sitting at the edge of the bed with that slightly angry face on his face.

“We aren't married yet, but we still agreed to be with each other today, yet you still went along and got with your little servant who seems to love you very much.”

You couldn't bring yourself to say any words, you didn't know how to respond to what Sylus was saying, all you did was continue walking backwards as Sylus walked forward. But without watching your surroundings you mistakenly tripped on your dress that was lying on the ground and landed against Caleb.

Caleb immediately wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place on his lap. You chuckled awkwardly and stared at Sylus who was leaning in closer, and close–

“Just needed this.” he mumbled, his face centimeters away from you as his arm reached your bedside table so he could grab his bracelet.

“Seriously? You could've just taken it the next day.” you glare at Sylus who still wasn't moving from his spot. He tilted his head to the side and chuckled, a cold, mocking laugh left his lips. It echoed through the room as you continued to stare at him with a straight face.

“You want me to leave that bad, sweetie?” he said, resting his hand against your thighs, “just so you could continue what the both of you were doing?” he asked as if it was a rhetorical question. But it was true, it was an unexpected meeting you both had and you thought he came at such bad timing.

“Okay…if I said it was, what would you say?”

“Nothing.” he mumbled, inching himself closer and closer towards you, his lips just being seconds away from yours. Your eyes widened when you felt Caleb pull you away from him. Sylus chucked and continued to stare into your eyes as his hand continued to grip on your thighs.

“What exactly is the point of this meeting, between the two of you?” he asked, glaring at you before shining his bright ruby eyes at Caleb who was staring back at him in the same manner.

“None of your concern,” Caleb muttered, snaking his fingers up your body and groping on your tits, Sylus’ eyes averted to the scene and he slid his finger along your jaw, staring into your eyes.

“Pick one…” Sylus asked, brushing his fingertip against your lips and watched as your tongue instinctively darted on his rough skin.

Sylus continued to slowly, yet carefully shove his fingers inside your mouth, and Caleb continued to play with your tits as you tried thinking of your answer.

“A measly servant, or your prince?”

-

Too much in a daze to even comprehend what was going on, the next thing you felt was Sylus pressed behind you and Caleb’s lower half of his body nuzzled against your face. Your eyes widened as Sylus’ cold fingertips grazed against your skin, soft patterns sparked through your body and you soon felt another pair of hands slide through your hair.

Did you really choose both?

You silently cursed yourself and felt Caleb yank your head back and press his dripping tip against your slightly parted, glossed lips. He continued to slowly shove his length inside your mouth, the feeling of his large length stretching your lips made you whine in pleasure.

Sylus had his hand rested on your lower back as he slowly pressed down on it, making your back arch instinctevely. He slid his fingers to your already stretched out cunt and pressed against it, before raising your hips up and pressing his tip against your soaking entrance.

A loud muffled moan escaped your lips when you felt Sylus gently shove his length deep inside you, he thrusted himself in a quick movement and you stare up at Caleb with teary eyes as he grinned down at you before grabbing onto the sides of your head and shoved his full length deep down your throat.

“Both, huh?” Caleb chuckled, glaring at Sylus as his pace was going quicker and quicker by the second, you felt like your throat was going to rip off at the strong impact he was giving your mouth. A loud moan escaped Caleb's lips when he felt your tongue swirl around his length, he grabbed onto you with a tighter grip and continued to rock himself against you.

Sylus noticed his reaction and a mocking smirk rested on his lips, he shoved his full length inside you which jolted you flinch in surprise. You tried to chant your release but neither of the men were pulling away.

You then felt Sylus’ chest rest against your back as he slid his arms around your waist, and soon pressed his fingers against your lower stomach, pressing against his bulge that sent a wave of pleasure spark through you.

“Sy–mmph”

“Hm?”

“I.. ‘m close” you mutter, somehow the words came out in a clear speech and Sylus just nodded against you and took a deep breath.

“So am I.”

Before you could say or do anything, spurs of Sylus’ white mixture coated your insides and you gasped in shock, and pleasure. You whine against Caleb as he slowly pulled himself away and before he could fully pull himself out of you, he also came, right in your mouth.

He pulls his cock out of you and you cough, trying to catch your breath from the scene that just happened. You plop against Caleb’s lap as your breaths steady, both Sylus and Caleb stroked your warm skin.

“So.. which one are you choosing now?” Sylus asked, leaning in closer.

You roll your eyes and close your eyes shut.

“I’m not doing this again.”

sorry If this is so dumb and rushed HELP

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Soap was out for the weekend — something about visiting family, though you suspected it had more to do with getting away from the shared apartment before one of you killed the other over dishes or laundry. Which left you and Ghost.

You’d fully planned to spend the entire weekend bed rotting: snacks, shitty TV, no pants. And for most of Saturday, that dream lived.

Until Ghost texted.

Need a favor. Bringing a bird back. Keep her entertained while I sort my room? Won’t be long.

You stared at the message, squinting (you groaned out loud) but you knew you were not about to leave him hanging. You hit him with a reluctant “fine.” Simon Riley asking you for help with his latest one-night stand? That was new. He usually kept his personal business separate.

But whatever. You owed him for covering your ass on last week’s op. And you were bored. So you sighed, peeled yourself off the couch, and tried to make yourself look slightly less feral before they arrived.

Door opens and in comes Ghost with his date. She’s cute. Really cute, actually. A little overdressed for your disaster of a living room but she doesn't seem fazed. Ghost gives you both an awkward nod before disappearing down the hall, leaving you two sitting there with the tv quietly playing some nonsense reality show you left on.

Bubbly, a little flirty — the total opposite of Ghost’s usual cold, dead-eyed energy. And when you offered her a drink while Ghost disappeared down the hall, she plopped down next to you on the couch, all easy smiles and sparkling eyes.

It started with harmless small talk. Then she complimented your shirt. Then your hair. Then her hand was on your thigh, and she’s laughing at something stupid you said, leaning in a little too close, and then—it just happens. You’re kissing her, your brain going oh shit oh shit oh shit the whole time.

So now here you were. Making out with Ghost’s date on the couch. In your shared apartment. While wearing pajamas. On a random Saturday.

Cue Ghost walking back in mid-moment, stopping dead in the doorway. His eyes narrow behind the mask, you can feel the betrayal radiating off him. Like you just snatched his last protein bar. His date pulls back, breathless and giggly, and Ghost just grumbles something like, "Right. Brilliant." before motioning for her to follow him to his room.

You don’t say anything. You just sink deeper into the couch, cheeks burning, cursing whatever magnetic chaos field you must emit.

An hour later, you’re finally knocked out in your room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You crack it open, and there she is. Disheveled, mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Thought I’d come spend more time with you…” she purrs.

You just stare at her, sleep-addled and brain-buffering like a dial-up connection. Because now you’ve officially entered roommate hell.

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck. Mostly because you barely slept. The girl—Ghost's girl—ended up staying way longer than you meant for her to. Things got...a bit intense. Now it’s morning, your head’s pounding, and you can already feel the awkward tension waiting for you out there like a landmine.

You shuffle out of your room in a hoodie and joggers, trying to pretend you’re just going to get a glass of water and not about to face the consequences of your crimes. But the second you step into the kitchen, he’s there.

Ghost. Sitting at the table, arms crossed, mask still on, staring at you like you personally set fire to his car.

You both just stand there in silence for a beat.

Then he speaks, voice flat as a goddamn pancake: "Sleep well? Or...too busy for that?"

You blink. Your brain offers no defense. None. "Si—" "Nah," he cuts you off, shaking his head, scoffing under his breath. "Pied off. In my own fuckin’ flat."

You wince. Because, yeah, he’s not wrong.

You go for the fridge just to do something and he keeps going, muttering like he’s talking more to himself than to you: "Bring a bird back, and she’s in your room by midnight. Unreal. Soap leaves for one weekend and the place turns into Love Island."

You choke on your sip of water, trying not to laugh because that’ll only make it worse.

"Don’t know why I even bother," Ghost grumbles, getting up from the table with heavy steps. "Tell you what—next time, you pull, I’ll keep her entertained for you, yeah? See how you like it."

You try to apologize, but he’s already halfway down the hall, muttering: "Never trusting you with a favor again. Bloody traitor."

Meanwhile, Soap texts the group chat from Scotland, oblivious: "Morning, lads! Miss me yet? 👊😂"

Ghost leaves him on read. You don’t even dare reply.

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Part 2

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas — and she’s already moved in.

Warnings: Alexia doesn't know how to tuck anyone is, and Y/n is proudly offering five euros to help with groceries.

Word count: 4.6k

Part 1 here

Masterlist

..

Alexia never realised just how big her dining room was until she sat across from a twelve-year-old stranger in it.

She rarely ate here. 

Usually, dinner was something balanced and boring, grilled fish and roasted vegetables, eaten cross-legged on the sofa while half-watching a sports talk show. 

But tonight, with the girl here… it felt wrong, somehow, to eat in silence in front of the TV. So, she set two plates down on the dining table like a proper adult and tried not to feel weird about it.

Now, she just watched, fork halfway to her mouth, as the girl absolutely inhaled her food. 

She was nearly finished already, only a few broccoli left on her plate, while Alexia had barely made it through her third bite.

And she was eating everything. Even the vegetables.

“Aren’t kids supposed to hate that kind of thing?” Alexia asked.

The girl looked up, cheeks full. She looked like a squirrel. 

Alexia resisted the urge to sigh. “So…” she said instead, reaching for her orange juice, “what’s your name?”

The girl shovelled another forkful of pasta into her mouth. “Uhgmm,” she said through it.

Alexia grimaced. “Sorry?”

The girl swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and shrugged. 

“Not telling you.”

“I’m sorry–what?” Alexia said, completely confused.

“I’m not telling you,” the girl said again, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll just give me back if you know.”

Alexia stared at her, genuinely baffled. “Give you back?”

“To the orphanage,” the girl said simply. “Obviously.”

Alexia’s mouth opened, then closed again. 

Because… she wasn’t wrong. 

Alexia had wanted to know her name so she could pass it to her lawyer, have someone contact the authorities, figure out how to send her back, and if she was going to have to sign other documents cancelling the guardianship.

“I already know where you came from,” Alexia said slowly. “I don’t need your name to find the orphanage, I know it’s the Santa Clara one”

The girl froze, eyes wide, the fork halfway to her mouth again. Her confidence flickered for just a second.

“You can’t give me back,” she said quickly, too quickly. “You’re my legal guardian now. You signed a document.”

Alexia shot her a look. “A document you forged. In a way, I still don’t even understand.”

The girl set her utensils down and folded her hands over the table. The way she leaned forward, her elbows planted, chin tilted, expression serious, made her look like she was about to do business. 

“Look,” she said, “I don’t want a mom. Or a dad. Okay? That’s not what this is.”

Alexia didn’t answer. She just waited.

“I want to be a footballer,” the girl continued. “Like you.”

Alexia stared.

“I don’t need you to parent me or whatever,” the girl went on, as if that part was obvious. “I just need a place to stay. And for you to get me into La Masia. You don’t even need to pay–I’ve got some money.”

She dug into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a handful of wrinkled bills, proudly laying them across the table like she was negotiating a player transfer. 

Twenties, tens, even a crumpled fifty. Where she got them, Alexia didn’t want to know.

“See?” the girl said brightly. “I can cover the monthly tuition.”

Alexia looked down at the cash, barely enough to buy a pair of shin guards, let alone support a training program, and then back at her.

“You know this wouldn’t even buy one boot, right?”

The girl tilted her head, clearly processing that. “No? Oh….well, that’s okay, I’ll get a job!”

Alexia nearly choked. “You’re not getting a job. You’re a kid.”

“But I can cook! Well, not really. But I can wash dishes!”

“That’s not—” Alexia ran a hand down her face. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just… move in with someone and say you’re gonna get a job in exchange for becoming a professional footballer.”

“Why not?” the girl asked earnestly. “I’ve got a plan. All you have to do is not ruin it.”

Alexia stared at her.

This kid had broken into her house, eaten her dinner, forged a legal document, and now had the audacity to ask her not to ruin her plan.

She took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair, and looked at the girl, who still didn’t have a name. Who looked up at her like this was all normal. 

She forced her own adoption, and she thought it was completely casual.

It should’ve been infuriating.

But instead, Alexia just felt… tired. She had a long day.

She had woken up that morning thinking her biggest worry was the upcoming game. Tactics. Opponent formations. Whether her knee would hold.

Now, she was sitting at her dining table. An unfamiliar setting in itself, thinking about how the kid sitting across from her wouldn’t have clothes for the winter.

Alexia leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes drifting down to the empty plate across from her.

“Do you want more?” she asked, her voice calm.

The kid, who up until now had spoken with nothing but confidence, seemed to wilt a little. 

Her shoulders hunched in just the smallest way, and she looked down at her lap like the question embarrassed her.

“No, thank you,” she said, quiet and polite in a way that felt… off.

Alexia frowned. The plate had been licked clean–well, not literally, but close. 

The kid had eaten her food like someone who didn’t know when her next meal was coming. And now, she was suddenly… demure? 

Yeah. No way was she actually full.

Without saying anything, Alexia reached across the table and took the plate. 

The girl flinched–just a little, a small tightening of the jaw–but said nothing. Alexia turned toward the kitchen, refilled the plate with more pasta, and scooped on an extra spoonful of broccoli, since this one apparently liked it a lot.

Then she returned.

Alexia placed it in front of the girl with a quiet thunk of ceramic on wood.

The kid stared. Then blinked. 

Then looked up at her with eyes too big, too round, too unsure.

“Are you sure?” she asked, voice tentative.

“Sí,” Alexia said, nodding once.

There was a beat of silence. The girl’s fingers crept toward the tablecloth, rubbing the edge between her thumb and index finger. Her brows knit together.

“Won’t it, like…” she hesitated, glancing at the plate again. “Won’t there be like… a shortage of food or something?”

Alexia’s stomach dropped.

“No,” she said gently. “There’s plenty in the pantry. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But your freezer looked empty.”

Alexia flushed. “I haven’t done the groceries yet,” she admitted.

“Oh.” The girl nodded again, like that made sense. 

And then she reached into the pocket of her hoodie. Fingers fumbling a little, she pulled out more crumpled bills.

She took a single five-euro note, smoothed it against her palm, and then, with all the dignity in the world, slid it across the table with one finger.

“To help pay for the food,” she said.

Alexia stared at the note.

 The table felt too big again. 

The kid too small.

 And suddenly, the game or dinner was the least of her worries.

..

When dinner was done, every last bit of pasta and broccoli scraped off the plates, the kid jumped up with unexpected energy.

“I’ll do the dishes!” she declared, already reaching for the sink.

Alexia frowned, rising to her feet. “You don’t have to.--”

“I like touching water,” the girl interrupted, dead serious, like it was a totally normal reason.

Alexia blinked. “Okay then.”

So while the girl stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, Alexia hovered nearby. She dried the plates and set them on the rack, letting the girl have her moment.

She looked comically small next to the counter. The sponge was almost too big for her hand, and she kept having to stretch to reach the faucet.

Alexia cleared her throat, trying to make conversation. “You’re twelve, right?”

“Yes!” the girl said proudly, chin lifted. “Almost thirteen.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes! My birthday is like… in eight months.”

Alexia paused. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely close.”

The girl nodded seriously, as if that settled it. She returned to scrubbing a fork, very concentrated.

Alexia opened her mouth, trying to think of something–anything–she could ask the girl. 

But no question would be enough. None of them could really help her make sense of what had happened two hours ago.

That morning, she was just Alexia Putellas. Barcelona’s captain. Leaving the house with her kit bag slung over her shoulder and her mind focused on training drills.

By the evening? She was… Guardian Alexia Putellas, apparently. Cooking dinner for a twelve-year-old girl who might, technically, be her legal responsibility.

This was insane. Completely insane.

And yet, the girl didn’t look insane. She looked… harmless. Small. 

Too small and far too thin for a twelve-year-old. But also too clever for her own good, too quick with her words, too sharp-eyed. 

And Alexia still didn’t even know her name.

She shivered, recalling how the girl had just… barged in. Walked straight into her living room. Maybe it was time to finally take her mother and Alba’s advice: alarms on the windows, a digital lock on the door. Something that needed a code to open. 

They had begged her to upgrade the security for years, but she had always brushed them off.

Now? Knowing a pre-teen had managed to scale her building and just walk inside?

Yeah. That needed to change.

Her thoughts spiralled further, carried by a chill that ran down her spine.

What would have happened if the girl had chosen a different house? 

What if she’d climbed into the wrong apartment? Found someone who wasn’t kind, who wasn’t safe? Someone with bad intentions?

Alexia’s stomach twisted.

It was obvious no one was looking out for this kid. 

The way she had spoken, so confident, rehearsed, utterly convinced of the legality of her claim, told Alexia that this wasn’t just a prank. 

Something real had happened. Something official enough for the girl to believe it.

And if the orphanage had really let her leave like that…

She rubbed a hand down her face, exhaling slowly. Tomorrow, she was going to call Pedro. Her lawyer would know what to do—he would get the facts straight. 

He could find out who this girl was, where she came from, and what kind of orphanage allowed a child to walk around Barcelona with nothing but a backpack and a forged contract claiming a new parent.

Because right now, Alexia wasn’t even sure what kind of situation she’d gotten herself into.

But one thing was clear: this girl had nowhere else to go.

..

"Okay, everything is done here," Alexia said, sliding the last plate into the cupboard.

The kid, however, wasn’t done. She was hunched over the sink with that same determined energy, scrubbing the basin like it owed her something. 

Her fingers moved fast, precise, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I don’t think it looks clean enough,” the girl muttered to herself, scrubbing harder. “I like cleaning. It’s like... when something gets shiny, you feel like you fixed something, even if it’s small.”

Alexia tilted her head, trying to spot whatever the girl was obsessing over. From where she stood, the kitchen practically sparkled. 

Not a speck of food, not a smear of sauce. It looked better than it had in weeks.

“Hm… no, it’s good–come on,” Alexia said, reaching for the sponge.

The girl rolled her eyes in response.

Oh. So this was what her mother had felt all those years, when she and Alba would roll their eyes over homework or chores. 

It was infuriating.

“It’s clearly not clean. Don’t you see this?” The kid jabbed at the sink with her sponge, pointing at what Alexia could only describe as a microscopic speck of tomato sauce, dried and clinging stubbornly to the metal.

Alexia squinted. “It’s just tomato sauce…It’s been there for two weeks.”

“Exactly.”

“This is the last thing you’re cleaning,” Alexia declared, watching the wall clock. Ten p.m. already. It was late for a kid. It was late for her, and she hadn’t even changed out of her training clothes yet. “After this, you’re not touching another sponge again.”

The girl nodded, satisfied with her mission. She hummed as she scrubbed, making up a ridiculous song under her breath: “Sauce, sauce, go away, come back never again.”

Alexia blinked. The kid was weird.

When she tried sneaking over to the counter to keep cleaning, Alexia snatched the sponge from her hand.

“Hey!” the kid protested.

“I told you, no more cleaning.” Alexia pointed dramatically toward the living room. “Out. Let’s get you sorted.”

The girl huffed but obeyed, shoulders slouched like she was being exiled from her kingdom.

As they walked into the living room, Alexia tried to figure out what exactly “sorting her out” meant. 

Maybe… just continuing her own routine and bringing the kid along? That seemed like a reasonable plan.

The girl paused in front of the television, standing still like she had stumbled across a secret relic. Her eyes locked on the blank black screen, her expression puzzled.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do–” Alexia began, adopting her classic on-pitch captain voice, ready to lay down a game plan. “We’re going to take a bath, then go to bed, and tomorrow we’ll–”

“What is this?” the girl asked, cutting her off completely. She pointed at the television.

Alexia blinked. “What?”

“This. What is this?”

“It’s a television.”

The girl looked at her like she’d just spoken another language. “What is a television?”

Alexia stared. “A TV. You know… televisión?”

Still no reaction. The girl tilted her head.

“It shows things,” Alexia tried again, gesturing vaguely. “Movies, cartoons, serious stuff like the news… and football games. The best kind of content.”

The kid squinted at the screen, unmoved. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

Alexia let out a stunned little breath. “You… you are Spanish, right?”

“Sí,” the girl replied easily. “I just never… I don’t know what that is.”

Alexia swallowed. “Okay. I’ll explain it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sí. Now come, let me show you the bathroom.”

The girl picked up her backpack, cradling the adoption folder tightly against her chest like it was something fragile.

 She followed Alexia down the hall. 

The apartment wasn’t large—just two bedrooms with en suites, a guest bathroom, a kitchen, dining area, and living room. 

Cosy enough. 

Functional. 

Alexia had been meaning to buy a proper house, but right now that felt a lifetime away.

She opened the door to the guest room and stepped aside, letting the kid walk in first.

It was a decent space. Queen-size bed, full-length mirror, desk, and a set of drawers. Only her mom or Alba ever stayed in it.

“You can leave your things there,” Alexia said, pointing toward the corner.

The girl turned, her figure suddenly looking too small for the room.

“Is this your room?” she asked.

“No,” Alexia said. “Mine’s down the hall, to the left.”

“So what is this room?”

“It’s the guest room. You’ll sleep here tonight.”

Alexia crossed the room and started fluffing the pillows, trying to make the bed look more inviting. 

She had no idea what she was doing, but it felt like the right thing. Domestic. Caring. Sort of.

The girl stared at the bed.

“I’ve never had one of those,” she said quietly.

Alexia froze. “What?”

“A bed.”

Alexia’s hands fell from the duvet. 

Her chest tightened as she turned around slowly. 

“Oh… no. Really?”

“Gotcha!” The girl grinned, dropping onto the mattress. Her legs dangled above the floor, nowhere near touching it. “You should’ve seen your face! Of course, I’ve had a bed.”

Alexia deadpanned. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

Por Dios.

“So what exactly do you have in there?” Alexia asked, nodding toward the girl’s backpack.

The girl looked at her with a vague grin, clearly proud of the mystery. 

“Oh, just some stuff,” she said, dragging the zipper open with a dramatic flair and flipping the contents onto the mattress.

A modest pile tumbled out.

Some clothing, only enough for two days. One sock–just one. A toothbrush way too old. 

A few crumpled pieces of paper with what seemed to be drawings on them, and some small photographs–clearly of the girl herself, but younger. 

Maybe five or six.

Alexia’s hand hovered over the photos for a second, curiosity tugging at her, but she stopped herself. It felt too personal.

“This is all my stuff,” the girl announced, smiling proudly. “I’ve worked really hard for them!”

Alexia didn’t answer immediately. 

She was going to enjoy this moment where the girl didn’t seem to focus on cleaning the oven, or was too scared to get sent away to ask some questions.

Alexia turned toward the en suite bathroom attached to the guest room, opening a drawer and casually pulling out a few towels. 

She added a face towel, then grabbed a spare toothbrush, some soap, and the small bottles of shampoo she kept around for guests.

“So… worked for them? What do you mean?” Alexia asked, while keeping her voice very casual, as if she didn’t really want to know.

The girl sat on the edge of the bed, legs swinging. “Yes. Work. We had to clean the orphanage to get stuff.”

Alexia paused, shampoo bottle still in her hand.

Ah.

That explained the obsession with the spotless sink.

She gave a quiet nod and resumed laying the towels neatly on the bathroom counter. 

“Oh…I see.”

The girl didn't seem bothered. In fact, she was proud. 

Not ashamed or bitter–just explaining the rules of the world she had grown up in. Alexia's chest tightened.

When she returned to the room, the girl was organising her tiny pile of belongings into the drawers like it was a personal treasure chest.

Alexia cleared her throat.

“The bathroom’s ready. I left you everything you might need, but you can tell me if something’s missing.”

The girl nodded solemnly, folding her single sock neatly.

“You good?” Alexia asked.

“Sí.”

The bathroom door clicked shut with a soft thud. It wasn’t loud–but somehow, it echoed.

Alexia stood there for a moment, her hand half-raised like she might knock on the bathroom door, but for what reason? She didn't know. 

So she let it drop and looked around.

This was her guest room.

Except… it didn’t quite like hers anymore.

Something about it had shifted, like the room itself had changed and adapted the moment that kid stepped in. 

The light even looked different now….warmer maybe, softer. Or maybe that was just in her head.

Alexia’s eyes caught on the small drawer she had opened earlier to grab a towel. 

It was closed again now, but she knew what was inside: one sock. 

Not a pair. 

Just one. 

Ridiculous. 

One sock shouldn’t change the shape of a room. But it did. She sat down on the edge of the bed–hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to anymore. 

The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight. She stared at the floor.

Should she stay? Or leave?

Give the girl privacy? But what if she needed something? What if she didn’t know how the water heater worked? What if the pressure changed suddenly? What if she…slipped?

Alexia didn’t even know what kind of soap the kid liked. Did she have a skin condition? Allergies? Was she scared of something? Of being alone?

There was a whole person behind that door…a whole history that Alexia didn’t know about. 

Alexia let herself fall onto the bed, arms splayed out, staring at the ceiling. 

The fan rotated slowly above her, barely moving the air.

She hadn’t felt like this in her own space since… maybe ever. 

Not when her mom visited. Not when Olga stayed over for weeks during her injury. Not even when the team came over for dinners and spilt wine on her rug.

This whole situation was a mess. 

It was scary.

Alexia didn’t know how to care for someone in any way. 

Her romantic life was just sad at this point…she couldn’t remember the last time someone flirted with her without also asking for match tickets.

Her family had to remind her to call because she would get too caught up in football…and now a kid? A whole living-breathing kid?

Alexia swore up and down during her teenage years that she didn’t have any maternal bones in her body, but minutes later, when the girl showed up on the bathroom door with a pyjama that barely reached her wrists, she couldn’t help but feel something tugging inside her chest.

The shirt was too snug around her middle. The pants clung to her calves like leggings, stretched out and faded with wear. 

The fabric had once been pink, maybe. Now it was somewhere between peach and grey.

The kid didn't seem to mind how her belly and calves were showing, though, as if it was normal, how it was meant to be worn.

Still, the girl beamed.

“Oh, so… that’s your pyjama?” Alexia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes!” the girl chirped. “I got it on my ninth birthday!”

Alexia hesitated. Did the math. 

“Oh,” she said. “It looks a bit… tight, don’t you think?”

The girl frowned, her eyebrows pulling together like storm clouds.

“No.”

Alexia shifted her weight. “What if you change it? I can lend you one of my shirts or something–”

“No.”

“I just don’t think you’ll sleep comfortably in that,” Alexia said, gentler now, trying not to push.

“I like it. It’s mine.”

That last word hit harder than it should have. Mine.

Alexia shut her mouth. Because what was she going to say? That it didn’t fit? That the sleeves pinch? That it wasn’t warm enough?

It didn’t matter. It was hers. 

One of the few things in the world the girl could claim. And maybe that was more important than being warm or comfortable.

Alexia nodded slowly, almost apologetically. “Okay, sorry. You can keep it.”

The girl didn’t smile now.

She just moved to the bed and sat down cross-legged, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt.

Alexia stood up slowly, legs stiff from sitting too long on the edge of the bed. The girl watched her, still picking at the thread on her too-tight pyjamas.

Alexia hovered for a second, unsure, then stepped to the side of the bed. She reached down, took the edge of the duvet in her hands, and lifted it.

“You can get in,” she said, voice gentler than she expected.

The girl blinked at her. Like the gesture didn’t quite compute. Like she was waiting for something else.

Still, she obeyed. Slipped under the covers slowly, limbs careful and unsure, as if waiting to be told she wasn’t allowed after all. Her head landed on the pillow.

Alexia pulled the duvet up, tucked it lightly around her shoulders. Not too tight. Just enough. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt like the right thing.

Neither of them said anything.

She had never tucked anyone in before.

And the girl… looked like she’d never been tucked in either.

So it was a first for both of them.

Alexia hovered again, hands awkwardly at her sides, standing like she was posing for a team photo. The girl just looked at her, face soft and eyes half-lidded with sleep. 

Alexia thought about saying goodnight, or sleep well, or I’ll be just in the next room, but the words caught in her throat.

The girl’s eyes fluttered shut. Her breath evened out, slower. Softer. And then, in the smallest, sleepiest voice

“Please don’t send me back.”

Alexia didn’t answer.

She just stood there for a beat longer, then backed away slowly. Reached for the light switch. The room dimmed into a comforting dusk. 

She hesitated at the door.

Looked one last time.

Then she closed it.

Not all the way. Just enough.

..

In her own room, Alexia grabbed her phone off the charger with hands that felt too shaky for someone who regularly captained national finals.

She opened her messages, scrolled until she found Pedro, her lawyer.

Alexia: Hello, I have an emergency. Please call me

Three dots danced on screen for a while.

Then Pedro finally responded:

Pedro: What happened, Alexia? Something with the contract?

She sighed, fingers flying across the screen.

Alexia: Well, yes. A kid, she somehow got her hands on the contract, slipped a guardianship clause in there, and she came to my house, backpack and everything, saying I’m her legal guardian, she had some documents with her.

The phone started buzzing.

Alexia picked up on the first ring.

“Pedro.”

“You have a what?” he said, voice high and incredulous–nothing like the calm, measured tone she was used to hearing from him.

“I don’t know her name,” Alexia said, running a hand through her hair. “She’s one of the orphans from Santa Clara. You know, that orphanage Barcelona partnered with last month.”

Silence. Then the faint sound of frantic typing.

“Oh God,” Pedro muttered. “Hold on, let me check the system.”

Alexia waited, the only sound on the line the rapid clack of keys.

“Dios mío,” Pedro said at last. “It’s real. It’s all here. You’re listed as her full legal guardian. Signed and everything. The orphanage has already taken her off their records.”

Alexia squeezed her eyes shut. “How the hell did she manage to forge that?”

“No idea,” Pedro said, still sounding awestruck. “But it’s clean. Official. Like it went through the proper channels.”

“I’m so tired,” Alexia whispered, pressing her fingers hard into her eyes.

There was a beat of quiet.

“If you want to reverse it, we can start the paperwork,” Pedro said gently. “It’ll take a few months, but we can make a case for immediate annulment.”

Alexia didn’t answer right away. She stared up at the ceiling, letting the silence drag.

“…Yes. Please.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Okay,” Pedro said, just as softly. 

“I’ll start tomorrow morning. But until it’s processed, you’ll still be her legal guardian. That means enrolling her in school, getting her on your health plan, and making sure she’s safe and cared for. If we want the court to undo this, you have to show you were responsible in the meantime.”

“Fuck.” Alexia let out a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll take care of her.”

“Good,” Pedro said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something.”

“Wait,” Alexia said quickly. “Do you have her name?”

There was a short pause, then some more typing.

“Y/N,” he said. Twelve years old. Born April second. No siblings in the system. Her mother gave her up–claimed she couldn’t afford to raise her. No ID listed for the mom.”

Alexia nodded slowly, though Pedro couldn’t see her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Y/n.

Okay.

Alexia hung up. Put the phone down on the nightstand. 

She sat there for a while, staring at the wall. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worried about something that didn’t involve a match or a muscle strain.

Not a press conference. Not a lineup.

Just… a kid.

Maybe that was what scared her the most. Not the responsibility. Not even the legal mess. But the fact that part of her already cared. And it had nothing to do with football.

Alexia allowed her eyes to close on their one.

She dreamt of a sock, folded neatly in a drawer. And a kid with a too-small pyjama, curled under a duvet that didn’t quite belong to either of them.

..

a/n: I’m not sure where this story is going yet, so consider this an open canvas! I’m hoping we can build the plot together, and I’d love to hear any thoughts, suggestions, or ideas you have along the way! <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff, @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness @wosofavfanfics

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Wouldn't it be nice

Part three

Summary: Harry processes not only finding you again, but the possibility of having a daughter. Deciding to talk to you again the next day leads to some questions being asked and answered. And dinner....

Pairing: Harry Castillo x fem. reader

Rating: G

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: vacation romance, unplanned pregnancy, death of parents, Harry is a family man, sister and brother dynamics, anxiety, fluff? (look these two are in love okay)

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Main Masterlist // Harry Castillo Masterlist // Wouldn’t it be nice Masterlist

„What’s going on with you today?“ Sarah asked once Daniel was in bed. 

Ever since Harry and Daniel had come home, it was her brother who kept staring of into the distance in deep thought. Her son on the other hand was still on top of his sugar rush, thanks to his uncle buying him ice cream and a milkshake, and it took her almost an hour to get him to go to bed. 

She thought Harry would be gone by now, so she was surprised to find him sitting on her couch, glass of wine in hand as he starred into the fireplace, a fire flickering. 

They were living in the same place, Harry in the penthouse of the building on the 101 and 102nd floor (he could talk about the deal he made for this penthouse for hours if you let him) and her on the 45th floor. She would have never been able to afford this place on her own, but her brother insisted to buy it for her as a divorce gift. 

She made him swear to never gift her anything for the rest of her life, something he, of course, ignored. 

Sarah reached for a glass, filling it with the remaining wine as she walked towards her brother, sitting down next to him. 

There was something off with him today. 

„When I picked up Daniel from school today,“ he finally started to talk, „I ran into the teacher who will take over the class once Miss Cooper goes on maternity leave.“

Sarah would never be able to express how thankful she was about how involved her brother was in her sons life, something her ex hadn’t even tried when they were still together. 

„She has a little girl, turning three in a couple of months. Shit, I didn’t even ask her name,“ he mumbled to himself and Sarah frowned. 

„The teachers?“ She asked and he shook his head. 

„The girl,“ he took a sip of wine. 

„Why would you ask the name of the kid of a teacher?“ Sarah was getting more confused by the second. Harry finally looked at her and the look in his eyes made the hairs in her neck stand up. 

„Because Daniel’s new teacher is the woman I spent the week with on the Caribbean three years ago,“ he said. 

„Okay….“ Sarah said slowly. 

„And the girl, her kid….. I think she’s my daughter,“ he whispered and Sarah’s eyes widened. 

"She looks just like you when you were that age. She has... She has dads eyes, my eyes…“ he shook his head. 

„Hold on Harry. Did she say that she was yours?“ Sarah asked, mind already wandering further. Harry was a wealthy man. Woman showing up, claiming their child is his happened more often than she liked to admit in the past. 

„No. To be honest she looked like she was ready to bolt out of this situation as soon as she could,“ he rubbed his hand over his forehead before letting himself fall backwards against the couch. 

Sarah looked at him. Her big brother. 

He had been… kind of a mess when he got back from that vacation. But he was so… happy, at least in the beginning, she hadn’t seen him like that in a long time. 

„You still love her?“ Sarah asked and Harry groaned. 

Of course there had been women in the past three years. Okay, there were two women and it was a strictly for sex arrangement both of the women had agreed on. 

Harry didn’t do relationships. Not since his ex wife. 

But with you? Fuck, he was ready to ask you to elope on the day after the two of you met. The way you had looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world when you told him about your dreams. 

„Yeah. Yeah, I do,“ he finally said, tilting his head to look at Sarah who shrugged. 

„Then you know what to do,“ she said with a small smile. 

„How would I even go about this?“

„Oh please. From what you have told me, I am still traumatised by the details you let me know by the way, she was very much as obsessed with you as you were with her. Talk to her. Invite her for dinner. Or… a walk in the park. If you think she could make you happy? Truly happy? You have to go for it,“ Sarah said, reaching over to squeeze his arm. 

„But do me one favour,“ she said and he nodded. 

„Get a paternity test,“ she said pointedly and he rolled his eyes. 

„Don’t you think if she wanted money, she would have found a way to contact me? She had my name. One google search and she would have known exactly who I am,“ he said. 

„I am not saying it because I don’t trust you with your instincts. And you make a valid point about her not coming for money earlier. But… do it. Just to be sure,“ she said and he sighed. 

„Eventually,“ he grumbled. 

„Good boy,“ she tapped his head twice and he slapped her hand playfully away. 

„I am really glad you’re my sister,“ he said and Sarah smiled before she hugged him. 

„I am really glad I’m your sister too.“

„This one?“ You held her yellow dress up and Emily shook her head. 

„This one?“ The blue dress. A safe choice. Immediately she clapped her hands with a smile that you returned. 

It was the morning after you ran into Harry Castillo, catching you completely unprepared. 

Not that anything could have prepared you to meet him ever again. 

All night you kept spiralling. By three am you were ready to camp out in front of his office (the address also suspiciously saved in your phone) to talk to him. 

You hated this.

Your mind had ran your thoughts in a direction you really didn’t like. A direction that made you seriously consider just grabbing Emily and getting the heck out here again, before anything bad could happen. 

What exactly the bad thing happening was?

You weren’t sure. Your brain provided a list of scenarios, one worse than the other. Only one scenario, a wishful hope and fever dream, left you and Harry running off into the sunset together, happy, as a family. 

But who were you kidding?

He was so out of your league, you were only able to have his interest back on the island because island you was a completely different version from you than normal you. 

You weren’t bold, you weren’t confident. 

And you definitely didn’t have sex with men you met on the same evening. 

As a matter of fact, you didn’t have any more sex after him. 

Why were you thinking about sex?

„Mommy?“ Emily asked and you blinked out of your thought spiral of doom. 

„Yes baby?“

„Can we go now?“ She asked and you smiled with a nod, grabbing your bag and her little rucksack, before you got on your walk to school.

You had the suspicion that Harry would be the one who picked up Daniel today too, so you told Miss Cooper that you would handle the pick up that day. She didn’t put up much of a fight. Her baby was due in six weeks, and you could remember how miserable you were in those last week of your pregnancy as if it was yesterday. 

You didn’t pick up Emily right away today, wanting to talk to Harry without her there if he ends up coming. 

Because it had almost always been you and her ever since she was born, she never questioned where her father was. You had a story prepared for the day she would eventually ask where her daddy was. A grand story about how her daddy lived on an island very far away and took care of…. Fish. Okay you maybe had to work on that story. 

You were anxious the moment you stepped out of the building, the kids running past you and out of the school, eager to get to their parents and home after a day full of learning. 

The kids in your class were bright and curious and you were looking forward to teaching them about everything you knew in the next months. You waved at some kids who said goodbye to you you smiled. 

A smile that froze when you let your gaze wander over the school yard and saw Harry walking towards you. A woman was walking next to him, who was talking to him but the moment you looked at him, his eyes were focused on you. 

You wondered who it was. 

The woman. 

Was he in a relationship?

„Mom!“ Daniel flew past you and right into the arms of the woman Harry had come with. Okay, that made sense. So this must be Harry’s sister Sarah. You…. Might have read up on your students today during lunch break, spending a little more on getting familiar with Daniel’s file. 

Sarah Castillo-Jones was Daniel’s mother. A father wasn’t listed, and only Harry Castillo was named as being the other emergency contact person, his uncle. 

Feeling nervous all of the sudden, not only because of him but because of his sister, your whole body was buzzing with too much nervous energy. 

Harry said your name when he was close, his sister giving you a small smile before she and Daniel left, leaving you and Harry alone. There were still a few kids running around, playing, waiting to get picked up. You looked at your watch, knowing you still had another fifteen minutes before you could leave. 

„Hi,“ you said and he smiled softly at you. 

„Mind if I stay for a moment?“ He asked. 

„What about…?“ You nodded towards to where his sister had just disappeared. 

„Oh my sister has to take Daniel to his karate lesson. They’ll be okay,“ he assured and you nodded. 

He came to stand next to you and you just stood next to each other for a moment, the school winding down, the last kids leaving. 

„What… What is her name?“ He asked after a while and you smiled softly. 

„Emily. Emily Harriet,“ you said quietly, looking up at him seeing the surprise in his face at her second name. You had thought about it all your pregnancy. You couldn’t give her his last name. You didn’t list him as a father, scared that somehow this information would come to light. 

You had read your fair share in sleepless nights about the gossip the press came up with about him. You didn’t want your baby girl to be part of that. Not when he didn’t even know about her existence. 

He smiled when you looked at him. 

„That’s a beautiful name,“ he said and you nodded. 

This whole situation was super awkward. But you didn’t know how to make it better. You didn’t even really know what you wanted. You were still processing that you somehow found each other again.

So your brain decided to blurt out the first thought you had, like it always did. 

„You could have really paid me for all those overpriced chocolate bars you stole from my mini bar when we were in the hotel, you know,“ you said, hoping to break the awkward energy. 

His eyes widened before he laughed. 

„Yeah. Yeah I could have. I should have,“ he corrected himself. 

„I… googled you. More often than I like to admit. I had no idea…“ you shook your head, turning your body towards him so you could face him. He slowly reached out, taking your hand and you closed your eyes for a moment at feeling his skin against yours after such a long time. 

„I loved that you didn’t know who I was. For you I was just a normal guy. We only knew the things about each other that we told each other. It was… you were so different from all the women I have ever met. And I am not gonna lie, I was crushed when you didn’t call. My sister had to talk me out of hiring a private investigator to find you,“ he said with a chuckle. 

„I… I called your office. Once,“ you confessed and he squeezed your hand. 

„I was miserable. A lot of shit happened during my pregnancy and I felt… lonely. But I couldn’t tell your secretary that I needed to talk to you because I was pregnant with your child, could I? And so… I didn’t,“ you shrugged. He shook his head, his eyes watering before he took a step towards you. You had to tilt your head up a little. 

„You could have. I don’t care. I… cared about. Deeply. And… I wanna spend time with you. I mean what are the odds? I fell for a beautiful woman on a tropical island and three years later I find her under all the people in the world and she had a beautiful baby girl? A girl that is… mine?“ He asked and you nodded, with tears in your eyes. 

He fell in love with you?

„Can I… Can I take you out for dinner. To talk. To… I want to be in your life. And if you don’t want that, which I can understand, a lot of time went by, I’d like to meet Emily. Maybe… be her father?“ He asked and you gulped. 

„I need to ask you a question. Because I am an over thinker and my mind has been anxious since I saw you yesterday,“ you said and he nodded. 

„You… You won’t take her away from me, right?“ You asked, voice just above a whisper. 

Immediately he shook his head, once he processed your words. 

„Is that what you think of me?“ He asked, hurt. You also shook your head. 

„I just… You’re rich Harry. If google is right, you could probably buy a small country and still have enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. I’m… I’m a broke single mother, who moved across the country for a chance. I lived pay check to pay check for the last three years. I don’t think you would do anything to take her away from me. But I know you could if you really wanted. So I… I just need to hear you say it,“ you said and his eyes softened. 

„I would never take her from you. She doesn’t know me. I’m a stranger to her. I had no part in her life apart from… well from helping you make her,“ he said and you smiled softly. 

„If I would take her, it would only be because you would be coming with her. To me. To be a family,“ he added and you were sure you melted. 

„You don’t know me. How can you…?“ He stepped closer his other hand coming up, cupping your cheek. 

„I know enough of you to know I fell in love with you three years ago,“ he said quietly and you felt a tear run down your cheek that he brushed away. 

„Let me take you out for dinner,“ he repeated and you closed your eyes. 

„I… I don’t have a babysitter. I don’t know anyone here yet. I moved here two weeks ago,“ you said. His face fell at your words. 

„But… you could come to dinner at my place once Emily is in bed?“ You asked and he nodded. 

„But I’ll bring dinner,“ he said and you huffed a laugh. 

„Okay,“ you nodded. 

„Okay,“ he repeated before he slowly leaned in and kissed your forehead. 

The timer on your phone rang, reminding you that you had only fifteen minutes left to pick up Emily. 

„I gotta go,“ you said and he nodded. 

„When can I come over?“ He asked. 

„When do you have time?“ You asked back. 

„Tonight?“ He said, hopeful. You took a deep breath. Your apartment was still a mess, boxes unpacked and some walls unpainted because you couldn’t decide on a colour. 

„Tonight,“ you finally said and his whole face lit up. 

You exchanged numbers and you gave him your address, before you turned away from him, walking back into the building to pick up your daughter, missing the way he looked after you with a warm smile on his lips, only leaving when he was sure you were back in the building. 

[itsnesss]

would you ever do a kimi antonelli x famous actor movie star reader! who is at the met gala and he is just like in love with her outfit and is complimenting her so much or something like that? even maybe when they do vogue grwms??

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | you attend the met gala looking like a goddess, and kimi can't take his eyes off you

warnings | famous!reader, fluff, mild romantic tension, flirting, public attention / media speculation

word count | 0.9 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

The hotel room smells like fresh roses and expensive makeup. You’re seated in front of the lit-up mirror while your stylist finishes the final touches on your hair.

Your lips, painted a deep wine red, curl into a small smile when the Vogue assistant asks if you're ready to film the GRWM for their YouTube channel.

"Been ready since they said 'Met Gala'," you reply with a wink, adjusting your silk robe as the camera crew sets up.

This isn’t your first red carpet, but it feels like the most special one. This year, you’re not just attending, you’re one of the main attractions. Your movie is topping the charts, your name is everywhere: on posters, on blogs, in whispers behind velvet ropes.

And apparently, in the eyes of a certain Italian racing driver.

"We’re rolling in 3, 2..." the director says, and you let out a soft laugh.

The recording begins, and you talk about your dress, a custom Schiaparelli design, deep black with hand-stitched golden details. The sculpted corset gives off armor vibes, while the tulle skirt floats like smoke around your legs. You talk about the inspiration: constellations, baroque art, the kind of goddess who gets dressed to conquer the sky.

You don’t say it aloud, but you're hoping someone out there notices all the details you poured your heart into.

That “someone” shows up two hours later.

The Met Gala is already underway when your car pulls up to the Met steps. The second the door opens, camera flashes explode around you and the crowd screams like a wave crashing over your ears.

"You’ve got this," you whisper to yourself as you adjust your dress and your perfectly practiced expression.

You walk the carpet, you pose, you smile. Everything is routine… until you see him.

Kimi Antonelli. The breakout Formula 1 star. Dressed in a perfectly tailored tux, elegant and effortlessly youthful. He shouldn't be looking at you. But he is. Like you're the only person on that carpet.

As you approach, someone from the event staff tries to guide you away, but Kimi steps forward.

"Can I...?" he asks, his smile shy as he offers his arm.

Your laugh is more genuine than anything you've done tonight.

"You're going to escort me, racer boy?"

"Only if you’ll let me say you look like..." he pauses, glancing at you from head to toe, a bit dazed, "...like a piece of art. Literally. I think time stopped for a second."

Your cheeks heat up slightly. No one’s ever said it quite like that, so direct, so honest.

"That’s a pretty poetic line for someone who drives at 300 km/h," you reply, looping your arm through his. "Are you always this charming?"

Kimi chuckles, soft and genuine.

"Only when someone takes my breath away. And you... you did that the moment you walked in."

You walk beside Kimi as the flashes continue nonstop. Every step with him on your arm becomes a moment worthy of a magazine cover. The cameras aren’t just capturing your dress, they’re capturing the way he looks at you: unapologetically, fully present, as if the rest of the world simply disappeared.

"Did you know I was coming tonight?" you ask under your breath, still smiling for the Vogue Italia photographer.

"They invited me about a month ago," he replies. "But I didn’t know you’d be here. If I had, I would've dressed better."

"Better than this?" you glance at him briefly, taking in his look. "You're flawless."

He smiles, but glances down for a moment, slightly shy. So different from the actors you usually hang around. Younger, yes but also more transparent. Like he’s not trying to impress you… but somehow still doing it.

That’s when an E! News reporter appears with a mic and an excited grin.

"The two of you together! This is unexpected!" she exclaims. "Can we steal a second of your time for the fans?"

You nod politely, and Kimi though a little surprised stays right beside you. The questions are light. They ask about your dress, your movie, your prep for the night. But when the reporter turns to him:

"And you, Kimi? Are you here with our star tonight, or was this a coincidence?"

He doesn’t even hesitate.

"If it was a coincidence, it’s the best one I’ve ever had."

The reporter laughs, you laugh too. But there’s a quiet flutter deep in your chest.

"So drivers don’t just go fast they think fast too?" you tease.

"Only when they’re in danger," he says. "Or when they’ve got a goddess on their arm."

The interview ends with light laughs, but you're not the only one who noticed the exchange. As you turn toward the entrance, you spot a few people whispering. Some fans filming with their phones. The internet is probably eating this up already.

"You did that on purpose?" you ask Kimi, still holding onto his arm.

"Did what?"

"That line. Letting everyone think we’re together."

He gives a small shrug, but his eyes are dead serious.

"I didn’t plan it. But... if the world wants to believe it, I don’t mind."

The silence that follows feels warm. Unexpected.

And then, the doors to the Met close behind you. Classical music spills across marble floors, and golden light gleams off ancient sculptures. Everything glows, but nothing glows quite like the smile he gives you when he leans in and whispers:

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

Your heart skips.

"The whole gala?"

"The whole life, if you let me."

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: Wow chapter 2 only one day later? Crazy! I already promise that's not a rate I'll keep up, lmao.

Read it on AO3 Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Keep Him Happy

1.5K words

So, Bob was not, in fact, a child. He was a grown man who seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His face was somewhat youthful, so you weren’t sure exactly how old he was, but you’d wager it was older than you. 

“Why is it exactly that you need a babysitter?” You asked directly. No use beating around the bush. You ignored the whole flashback memory thing, guessing you’d be enlightened with the details when the rest of the team came back. It wasn’t exactly a fond experience. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say babysitter… It’s just, uh… best to not leave me to my own devices, I guess,” he shrugged. You nodded awkwardly, not sure what to make of the situation. The promised pay was good, you wouldn’t actually have to take care of him, just keep him company. It didn’t seem like a bad deal. 

But even then, he was obviously unstable. Maybe what he needed was a mental health professional, not a ‘babysitter.’ You were probably just a temporary solution. 

You sat in an awkward silence for a while, sipping your drink every now and then trying to think of a lighthearted topic to entertain him with. “So… Tell me about yourself, Bob.” 

“Well, I’m… Bob. Short for, uh, Robert, as you might’ve guessed,” Bob nodded. You sighed inwardly, this was going to be tougher than you expected. Children were usually a lot easier, willing to tell you all of their and their parent’s business. Cats were even better, no need for talking. Bob was going to take some work. 

“How’d you end up here, with these people, I mean?” You wondered. He seemed normal enough, but obviously the ‘New Avengers’ cared about him enough to try and keep him out of harm's way and around their building. 

“It’s kind of a funny story, really. One second I’m in Malaysia in some lab for a medical study, the next I wake up in this bunker with these guys trying to kill each other…” 

You squint your eyes in question. “That is… Funny?” 

“Yeah now that I’m putting it like that it doesn’t sound very funny, does it?” Bob chuckled. It seemingly broke some of the tension. He asked you a few questions about yourself and your contact with Alexei. 

“He seems very sweet,” you concluded. Bob agreed, letting you know the man definitely had his heart in the right place, though sometimes a bit overenthusiastic. 

He told you about the rest of the team, and you noticed he was inconspicuously perceptive. He went one by one, wasting time by talking about the people surrounding him most days. 

“Yelena looks really tough, and she is! But she’s really a big softie,” Bob spoke of her very fondly, a twinkle of adoration in his eyes. 

“Ava’s a bit of a tough nut to crack, but she has a really good sense of humour. She’s a bit more reserved, but really has your back when you need her. She’ll deny it, though.” 

You poured yourself another glass of soda, offering Bob one as well. He declined but thanked you for the offer to a degree which dazed you. You took a mental note of the skittish demeanour. 

“John’s an asshole. Can’t really put it anyway else. He’s here, he’ll show up for the others, but… I can’t really say I’ve come to like him like the others. I’d put it as toloration. I mean he has a history… But who doesn’t? Doesn’t give him the right to be a douche, you know?” He obviously had a strong sense of righteousness, and John did not fit into that picture. 

“And lastly there’s Bucky, but I’m sure you know about him. Congressman and such. He’s not around here much. He tries to be, but I feel like he’s still a bit wary of the team. Part of me thinks he just doesn’t want to get attached, which I can understand, given his past…” Bob looked out the window, seemingly lost in a deep thought. His eyes glazed over and an overwhelming sadness overtook his face. It’d gotten dark in the time you’d been here, the city skyline lit up with artificial lighting. 

“Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger.” Yelena’s words echoed in your head. There was likely a good reason for the particular instructions. 

“Well, Bob, thank you for opening up and telling me about them. I feel like we’re likely gonna be spending some more time together, so I really appreciate that you feel safe enough to share,” you smiled, distracting him from his spiralling thoughts. 

Bob smiled before looking a little confused at his own actions. You felt like he might’ve maybe shared a little more than he’d intended. 

You were racking your brain for another topic to talk about when the elevator doors opened once again. Bob deflated, hunching in on himself and making himself visibly smaller. You hadn’t even noticed how his posture had opened up during your conversation.

It was Yelena and Alexei, joking with each other in, was that Russian? They walked in as if they hadn’t just fought off whatever it was that had ransacked the subway and blasted itself into the building. You looked at them expectantly, waiting to finally get an explanation. 

“Ah, right, babysitter. It’s quite late, maybe you should head home?” Yelena suggested, cracking her neck while unloading a few weapons on a side table like she was dropping off her keys after coming home from the office. 

“Was this just a one time thing, or will I be coming back?” You wondered. You could use the money.  

“That depends… Bob? Do you like her?” 

Bob spluttered and gaped at Yelena, unsure of how to answer. “I– I mean, yeah, she’s– She’s nice. I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“We can find different babysitter if you want. Many more on the app,” Alexei chimed in as he huffed and puffed, trying to get his suit off in the middle of the living room. It looked more like he was doing a form of experimental yoga. 

“No, no. This one’s fine,” Bob winced. You’d really have to come up with a different title than ‘babysitter’ if this was going to become a lasting thing. 

“Good, then she stays. Ava and John are debriefing Bucky. It was just some lowlife with some experimental tech, but man, whatever he was shooting with stung like a b–” 

“Lena, language, we have guest,” Alexei shushed her. Yelena rolled her eyes in response. 

She nodded her head at you, motioning for you to come with her. You shot Bob a quick glance, who gave you a tight lipped smile but seemingly encouraged you to go with her. 

Yelena took you to a smaller separate sitting room and offered you a glass of whiskey, which you refused. “No drinking on the job,” you laughed. 

“So, you’re probably wondering, why does a grown man need a babysitter? Well, I’m gonna explain. But first, what did Bob tell you?” she started, sitting down next to you and leaning on the back of the couch, resting her head in her hand. You mimicked her relaxed posture, putting a leg up on the couch. 

“Not much, really. He told me a bit about you guys and how you met. He mentioned something about a medical study in Malaysia, but other than that nothing too memorable.” 

“Did you happen to shake his hand?” Ah, there it was. Yelena could tell by your expression the answer was yes. 

“Yeah, it happened to us, too. You see, Bob… He’s very strong. Stronger than all of us combined. But he’s not stable. He’s a bit of a grey area in the team. We keep him around because he’s nice, of course, but also because we can’t risk anybody else trying to get on his good side and abusing his trust.” She took a sip of the whiskey, relishing its taste before continuing. 

“We’re still not really sure what his powers are, and it’s also not up to me to disclose all of the information besides the basics. All I can tell you is that we can’t risk taking him into the field, but we also can’t risk leaving him alone for too long. His abilities are closely tied to his mental wellbeing. It sounds a little degrading to describe it this way,” Yelena winced. She evidently had very conflicting feelings on the topic. You understood it must be difficult, wanting to keep him out of harm’s way without babying him. 

“But it’s really a matter of keeping him happy and distracted when it’s necessary. He needs help, a lot of it, but we just haven’t had the time to figure out how to go about it. So for now, this is it. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but with a ‘job’ as unpredictable as ours, this is the reality. Can you handle that?” Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read every single thought crossing your mind. 

“You care about him deeply,” you observed. 

She gave a fond smile. “I do.” 

“Then I think I can handle it. As long as I don’t have to lie to him or beat around the bush, I can do my best to keep him company and help wherever I can. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we ask.” 

It was settled, then. You were hired. 

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 2

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: I just wanted to take a moment to say a massive thank you for the incredible support you’ve shown for the first part of Love Island! Your reblogs, messages, and comments truly mean the world to me — I’ve read every single one with a huge smile on my face. You all make writing this series so much fun 💛

If there’s anything you’d like to see more of — whether it's certain dynamics, steamy moments, fluff, angst, or just pure drama — don’t be shy! My inbox is always open for blurb or one-shot requests.I’d love to bring your ideas to life!

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

It’s only day two, but there’s already trouble in paradise. Y/N’s about to head upstairs to change, and of course, she’s bringing her best mate in the villa along for a little gossip session. After all, what would Love Island be without a bit of a squeak-filled chat about the latest hunk to drop in?

Y/N grabbed Chloe by the arm, a grin spreading across her face. “Come on, we need to talk!”

“Oh, spill, babe!” Chloe squeaked, and the two of them burst into laughter as they darted upstairs to the changing room. The laughter echoed through the villa as the girls nearly tripped over each other, barely containing their excitement.

Looks like someone’s eager for a debrief... but can you blame them? A certain tall, dark, and shirtless someone has all our heads turning.

The door clicked shut behind them as they found a spot in front of the mirror. Y/N rifled through her drawer, trying to look casual as she pulled out a sundress. Chloe leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Alright, so…” Chloe began, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Harry! What do we think?”

Y/N tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle slipped out. “Oh, he’s... he’s definitely got a presence, doesn’t he?”

“Presence?” Chloe repeated, rolling her eyes. “Babe, he’s got more than just ‘presence.’ I saw the way he was looking at you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous!”

Y/N bit her lip, looking at her reflection as she adjusted her dress. “I mean, he’s fit, yeah. And the way he carries himself… I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

“Something about him,” she says. Go on, love, you can admit it—you’ve already got it bad! But what will Tom think if he catches a whiff of this little chat?

Chloe raised her eyebrows, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Listen, all I’m saying is, if he pulled me for a chat, I wouldn’t mind... but don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“Oh, stop it!” Y/N said, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with a laugh. “Tom’s going to be fuming if he catches us even mentioning Harry.”

Chloe smirked, flipping her hair. “Let him fume! You’re here to find the one, not keep people happy. And besides, it’s not like Harry’s shy about showing he’s interested in you. Half the villa saw him making his way over to you this morning.”

Half the villa, you say? Well, folks, sounds like Tom may have some competition brewing—and Y/N’s the prize.

The door swung open, and in came Georgia with Lila and Amber, their voices spilling in like a burst of energy.

“There you are!” Georgia exclaimed, hands on her hips as she spotted Chloe and Y/N. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

“Oi, we’re right here!” Chloe laughed, exchanging a look with Y/N.

Georgia’s face lit up as she plopped down on the bench beside them. “I just have to say it… I really, really fancy Harry. Like, he could actually be the one.”

Chloe glanced sideways at Y/N, eyes widening, clearly trying not to laugh. Y/N looked away, keeping her expression neutral as she fiddled with her bikini strings.

“Oh, absolutely, babe,” Lila chimed in, grinning. “If you don’t make a move, I’m definitely giving him a shot.”

Georgia tossed her hair with a laugh, waving her hand. “Oh, go on then. I allow it. But you better be quick about it, or I’ll be the one nabbing him first.”

The girls dissolved into laughter, but then Georgia’s gaze turned thoughtful, and she leaned back, crossing her arms. “But seriously, though… no one in a stable relationship should be getting involved with him.”

A brief silence fell over the group as the words hung in the air. Chloe raised her brows, glancing again at Y/N with a knowing smile that didn’t go unnoticed.

Y/N chuckled, keeping her tone light. “Well, good thing it’s early days, yeah? Plenty of time for all of us to figure out what we want.”

Ooh, sounds like there’s a bit more at stake here than we thought. With the girls all vying for a piece of Harry, looks like things might heat up faster than anyone bargained for.

Amber crossed her arms and gave Georgia a skeptical look. “Hang on, that makes no sense, Georgia. Isn’t the whole point of Love Island to explore connections? Harry’s the one who should be deciding who he wants to be with, not us making some rule about it.”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, looking a bit taken aback. “Alright, Amber, but I’m just saying, it’s a bit out of line for someone in a solid coupling to be sniffing around him, don’t you think?”

Amber shrugged, not backing down. “If Harry wants to pull me for a chat, I’m not about to follow your silly rule, Georgia. And if he expresses interest in me, I’m definitely not holding back.”

Georgia’s jaw tightened, and she put her hands on her hips. “You know what, Amber? That’s not exactly being a ‘girls’ girl,’ is it? We’re all supposed to be on the same page here.”

Amber rolled her eyes, not missing a beat. “Girls’ girl? I’m here to find a connection, not to stick to some imaginary rulebook.”

Chloe and Y/N exchanged glances, struggling not to laugh at the sudden tension.

Looks like Georgia’s ‘rules’ aren’t quite going over as planned. Will Amber’s bold stance earn her a shot at Harry, or will Georgia’s “girls’ girl” code keep things from getting messy? Well, only time will tell—on Love Island, it’s every girl for herself.

Y/N mouthed “Wow!” at Chloe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. With a quick laugh, she picked up her sunglasses. “Right, I’m heading downstairs to tan and actually enjoy my book. Coming?”

“Absolutely,” Chloe grinned, trailing behind her. The two of them slipped outside and settled by the pool, stretching out on the loungers as Y/N flipped open her book.

Chloe leaned over, her tone quiet but full of curiosity. “So, what do you reckon about Georgia? She’s… a lot.”

Y/N sighed, sliding her sunglasses up her nose. “Yeah, Georgia’s definitely going to be an issue. Her and Tom both. It’s like… they’re more focused on the drama than actually getting to know people.”

Chloe laughed. “Spot on. Can already see her kicking off if Harry so much as looks at anyone else.”

Just then, their best mate in the villa, Callum, strolled over, plopping himself down beside them with a grin. “Alright, ladies. What’s all this gossip without me, eh?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nothing, don’t worry. Just a bit of Georgia talk. You know how it is.”

Callum raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “I can imagine”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. What about Tom, though? You talk to him this morning?”

Y/N sighed, closing her book for a moment. “He’s… sweet, but he’s already worried about where my head’s at. Keeps asking if I’m interested in Harry.”

Callum chuckled, shaking his head. “Not surprised. He’s definitely feeling the heat.”

Y/N nudged Callum with a playful grin. “Listen, if you go and tell the other lads any of this, I’ll kill you.”

Callum raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, not a word. My lips are sealed.”

Chloe leaned in, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… what’s the verdict then? What are you feeling?”

Y/N sighed, adjusting her sunglasses as she stared out over the pool. “Honestly? Tom’s… he’s lovely. He’s comfortable, you know? Comforting, even. But there’s no spark, no real passion there. I don’t feel a real connection.”

Chloe nodded, giving her a knowing smile. “That’s exactly it, though, isn’t it? If there’s no fire…”

Callum grinned, nudging her again. “So what you’re saying is… it’s not exactly end game with Tom, yeah?”

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not unless something changes, and fast.”

Well, folks, looks like the door is still wide open for a certain newcomer to spark a little fire in Y/N’s heart. And with Tom in the dark… this just might be the calm before the storm.

t’s challenge time in the villa! And today, it’s all about secrets. The game? Simple: each boy will slide down a massive ramp of slime, grab a card with a girl’s secret written on it, and read it out loud for the whole villa to hear. Then, he’ll make his guess by planting a kiss on the girl he thinks it’s about. Easy? Hardly. With secrets this juicy, the sparks are about to fly.

First up, it’s our very own new boy, Harry. Let’s see what he’s got…

Harry positioned himself at the top of the slippery ramp, a playful grin plastered across his face. With a cheeky shove, he launched himself down the slimy slope, landing with a splash at the bottom. He quickly grabbed the card, shaking off some goo as he read it aloud.

“This girl once went on a date with two different guys on the same night and accidentally mixed them up when they texted her later.”

The villa erupted in laughter, the girls exchanging wide-eyed glances as they tried to suppress their giggles. Harry scanned the group, his gaze landing on Y/N with a playful sparkle in his eyes.

With a confident stride, Harry stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips with a kiss that was anything but casual. It was deep and steamy, igniting a spark that sent a wave of heat rushing through her. The laughter faded as everyone watched, mouths agape, the chemistry between them palpable.

As he pulled back, a satisfied grin spread across Harry's face. “Well, I had to be sure,” he said, his voice low and playful, leaving Y/N breathless and the others in stunned silence.

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret actually belonged to Lila, much to everyone’s surprise.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Shit”.

And there you have it, folks! A kiss that lit up the villa and sent shockwaves through the competition. Harry may have missed the secret, but that kiss? That’s a score for Y/N, and things are just heating up in the Love Island villa!

Next up, it’s Tom’s turn to take the slippery plunge into the chaos of secrets. With a determined look on his face, he approaches the ramp, ready to play his hand in this game of revelations. Will he manage to impress Y/N with his guess, or will he fall flat?

Tom launched himself down the slimy ramp, landing with a splat and swiftly grabbing the card. With a flourish, he read aloud, “This girl once swiped right on her ex’s best mate just to make him jealous, only to have them both show up at her door the next day!”

Laughter erupted in the villa again, and the girls exchanged knowing glances. Tom looked around, scanning the group, and finally settled on Y/N, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alright, let’s see if I can take a shot at this.”

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation but quickly squashed it down. As Tom stepped toward her, she allowed him to lean in, but she knew she wasn’t feeling the same spark she had with Harry.

Tom’s lips met hers, and while it was nice, it didn’t ignite the fire she had hoped for. It was a brief kiss, lacking the intensity that had come from Harry just moments before. She forced a smile as he pulled back, trying to mask her disappointment.

Tom grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Was that you?

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret belonged to Chloe.

The room erupted into laughter again, and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a small smirk on her face.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts racing. Tom’s kiss had seemed so casual, so easy, and yet it had struck something deep within him. He thought back to the kiss he shared with Y/N, how electric it had felt, and how much he wanted to feel that again.

Harry's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and determination. He had only just arrived, yet here he was, feeling the pressure of this unexpected connection. He had to figure out how to navigate this budding relationship amidst the chaos of the villa.

As the laughter continued and the next boy prepared for his turn, Harry caught Y/N's eye across the room. She looked back at him, a curious smile on her lips, and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t just stand by. Something was pulling him towards her, and he needed to act on it before it was too late.

With the game still unfolding and emotions swirling, it was clear that this summer was going to be anything but ordinary. Let the drama begin!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the villa, the atmosphere shifted from playful competition to a more intimate vibe. Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of her long, tight red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She felt confident and ready to make a statement, the color a bold choice that echoed her desire to stand out.

Just as she finished primping, a loud voice boomed from downstairs. “I’ve got a text!”

Y/N’s heart raced as she hurried to the top of the stairs, the anticipation hanging in the air. She peered down to see Harry holding his phone, a mischievous grin on his face, surrounded by the other contestants who were equally eager to hear the news.

Harry glanced at the message, a mix of excitement and tension flickering across his face. “Alright, here goes…” He cleared his throat dramatically before reading, “Harry, the time has come for you to choose whom you will be coupling with tonight!”

A hush fell over the group as the weight of the announcement sank in. Y/N felt her stomach drop at the implications of Harry's choice. The tension in the air was palpable, and she could see the other contestants exchanging nervous glances, the gravity of the situation setting in.

“Right, so it’s all on me, then,” Harry said, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious tone. “No pressure at all, right?”

Y/N’s heart raced at the thought of being chosen—or worse, being left behind. Would Harry choose her? The thrill of the unknown buzzed in the air as she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She wanted to believe that their earlier connection meant something, but the uncertainty lingered.

The warm glow of the fire pit flickered against the backdrop of the villa, casting a cozy ambiance as the night deepened. The contestants sat in their couples, anticipation palpable in the air, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. All eyes were on Harry, who stood at the front, his usual confidence slightly wavering as he prepared to make his choice.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his nerves evident as he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Alright, everyone,” he began, his voice steady but laced with a hint of apprehension. “This is a bit nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension just a bit. Harry glanced at Y/N, who sat among the others, her eyes focused on him, a mixture of hope and anxiety swirling within them. He felt a rush of warmth as he continued.

“I’ve had a brilliant time here so far, and it’s all thanks to the amazing people around me. But there’s one girl in particular who’s really stood out to me,” he said, his gaze drifting toward Y/N. “She’s lovely, funny, and everything just feels so easy with her. It’s like I don’t have to force anything; it just flows naturally.”

“I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other yet,” Harry continued, “but I feel a real connection with her, something I haven’t experienced in a while.” He paused, letting his words sink in as he gauged the reactions around him.

“And that’s why,” he said, a smile breaking through his nervousness, “tonight, I’ve decided to couple up with Y/N.”

A cheer erupted from the others, and Y/N’s heart soared at his declaration. Relief washed over her as she exchanged a glance with Harry, their eyes locking in a moment that felt electric. The fire crackled beside them, mirroring the excitement in the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she moved closer to him.

“Looks like Harry has made his choice, and it’s a choice that might just set the villa ablaze!” the narrator’s voice chimed in, the playful tone adding to the vibrant atmosphere. “But with new flames igniting, what does this mean for the other couples? Stay tuned, because the drama is just beginning!”

let me know if you would like me to add you to the tag list!

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit

--> part 3

[apple-crunch]

what if... caleb got into an "accident"

warnings: none, just fluff .𖥔 ݁ ˖ : inspired by this :)

An emergency landing. Or at least that was what Caleb said to you over the phone.

You were confident in him, that's for sure. But sometimes you just can't shake the worry of something going wrong during a mission. So when you got a call from Caleb himself informing you of his emergency landing, your heart rate immediately picked up— mind racing to the possibilities.

Was he hurt? Where is he? What happened? Will he get home? Is he okay? Is it bad?

Caleb tried to calm you down, you wanted him to turn his camera on to see him but he insisted no due to confidentiality of the mission— when in reality, he just wanted to hide his bloody state from you to keep you from being hysterical.

Coincidentally, you were in the middle of watching a TV show when he called, it was on commercial now but when screen flashed breaking news reporting a crash site of one of the Farspace Fleets crafts holding the current colonel you immediately started crying and sobbing over the phone.

"YOU SAID IT WAS AN EMERGENCY LANDING! CALEB THAT'S CALLED A CRASH!" You sobbed at him, raising your voice so loud that you could barely hear what the TV was saying.

"Hey- look, it's not that bad I promise, just a cras-"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN JUST A CRASH!? CALEB GO HOME NOW. I DON'T WANT YOU THERE, PLEASE!" Your voice was cracking both from your crying and screaming but you didn't care, eyes drifting to the screen— you cried even harder seeing how bad the wreck was. "Pips-"

"NO. HOME. NOW."

» »

To say that the wait was torture would be an understatement. After your scream at him to go home, Caleb only sighed and whispered a small okay before ending the call— only for you to ring him again urging to stay on the phone in case anything happens.

Caleb smiled at himself seeing how worried you are. You really do care about him a lot, and today just magnified that. It was cute hearing your voice despite it cracking and raspy, however, it did break his heart just a little bit; hearing your sniffles while he drives and your ting voice asking him where he was.

The two of you barely talked during the drive, just quick questions and even quicker answers. You wanted to rest your voice and Caleb knew that, thus, he stayed relatively quiet. Just small hums to let you know he was still there.

He didn't had the time to make himself look presentable, just poorly wrapped a badge around his cut right arm to prevent infection and stop bleeding— other than that, he looked like a mess. Torn, bloody, dirty uniform and just an overall unkept apperance. Thank the heavens for his handsome face to save the look.

You were waiting at the very doorstep of his front door. Phone sat on the granite floor, red teary eyes, puffy face, and a very evident pout on your lips. So cute; Caleb thought. You weren't even sitting, you were standing while waiting for him. Under watchful eyes, Caleb got out of the car— a gasp left your mouth and you immediately ran to him.

You wanted to hug him but stopped just a foot away from him even though he already had his arms open. For the probably nth time today, you started crying again.

"Oh, pips.. It's okay, I'm okay." Caleb cooed, patting your head twice before pressing it to his chest to embrace you in a hug. Your hands immediately wrapped around his torso, nuzzling your face deeper into him as you cried. Looking up at him and cradling his face in your hands. "Don't you ever! Do that again!" You scold him, lines burrowing between your eyebrows.

Caleb chuckles, nodding his head and leaning in to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. He bends his body to math your height before saying "I promise, never again. Especially now that I know how sad my boss baby gets."

Your lips wobble as more tears build up in your eyes. Your hands explore his body, feeling every bit of dust, blood, and torn fabric on his uniform. His tough left hand, and then finally his right hand where a porrly wrapped gash wrapped around it. Eyes widening, you look at him and he cocks his head sideways at you.

"Y- you're hurt.. Caleb! Why didn't you tend to it! Do you want both your arms to be metal now or something!" You scold him once more, now glaring at him. "Awe, my pips is so worried about me!"

"Caleb!" You softly hit his chest.

"It's only a small cut squeak, I'll be fine."

"Don't care! Get inside, you're wounded and it needs to be healed." You tug on his metal arm as you drag him inside the house. Once in, you assist him in taking his coat and boots off before guiding him to the bathroom and getting the very used and handy first aid kit.

Caleb's already took of the second layer of his uniform leaving him only in a white long sleeve button up. Slowly, he unbottons it with his left hand as you carefully take of the gash on his right. You pout even more when you see how deep the cut was on his skin.

You begin to do your work in silence, focus completely on sanitizing and treating his wound. He watches in adoration as you move on him, long gone the brave tough colonel Caleb of the Farspace Fleet as a crippling fear builds within him. He can't lose you, he can't lose this.

"Be more careful nextime, please Caleb. I don't want to lose you anymore." You look at him directly in the eye after finishing your work. Caleb's eyes soften when you embrace him in a hug, resting your face on his exposed skin while he rests his head on top of yours.

You hear his heartbeat, pressing yourself even more. Never letting go of your touch on him.

While the two of you clean yourself in the bathtub, your touch on him lingers as you wash his hair, massaging his scalp in the process.

While he cooks for dinner in the kitchen, you cling on him like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist while you piggy back him.

While you lay in bed telling each other recaps of what happened while each other was away as you always do, your hand lays on his chest feelings his heartbeat. Legs intertwined so as your arms, and ultimately— your soul.

An unspoken promise of forever.

[sidemari]

• Bun in the oven •

Some texts about you telling them that you’re pregnant and some headcanons about how they’re during the pregnancy. 

Characters included: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König, Nikto and Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader 

TW: Mild angst, mentions of abortion and insecurities, implied smut. But everything works out in the end. 

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You call him from the corner of the room, that nervous smile on your face. Soap knows right away that something big is coming — he feels it, like he senses danger on the field… But this time, it’s something different. Something good.

“Johnny… Do you remember the night you came back home after being away for so long due to that mission?” You tested the waters by avoiding telling the truth right away.

“Yeah… How could I forget that night?” He smiled warmly, his mind flashing with the images of that day. “What about it, hon?” 

“Well… You know we got carried away and…”

“And…?”

“We’re having a baby.” You finally share your secret. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful smile disappears for a second, replaced by a stunned look, as if he’s trying to decode what he’s just heard.

“Are… are you serious?” You nod, and he… explodes with joy. He literally lifts you into the air with a surprised cry, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh my God! We’re going to be parents?! Aye, fuck, baby, is this really real?”

He kisses your forehead, then your belly, even though it hasn’t even changed yet. He murmurs a bunch of sweet things in that warm accent — promises, plans, dreams. And then he whispers very softly, just for you to hear:

“I swear I will be the best father in the world… to our baby. And the best man to you. Always.”

When the morning sickness starts, he becomes your personal bodyguard against any suspicious smells: “What the hell is that in the air?! It smells like poison, honey. Close that window!”

He researches everything about pregnancy and becomes the most emotional “expert” on the planet. He sends you messages like: “Did you know that the baby already has little fingers today? LITTLE FINGERS, BABY!”

He talks to your belly every day, telling them about his missions, his friends on the team, and asking if the baby prefers soccer or rugby: “If you kick now, it’ll be rugby, okay?”

He starts to become obsessed with photos. He takes a thousand selfies with you and your belly, even while you’re sleeping. 

He refuses to let you carry anything, literally: “Not even the bag. Not even the remote. Let me carry it, honey.”

He massages your feet every night, and even develops a ‘military relaxation technique’ just so you can sleep better.

He has a hospital bag ready with 30 unnecessary things, like three types of chocolate, a teddy bear, and a mini speaker to play Scottish music for the baby.

He’s always reminding you how beautiful you are, even when you feel uncomfortable and insecure. “No matter how big your belly is, you’ve always been the love of my life, and now you’re carrying our little miracle. And no, I don’t give a single fuck about those stretchmarks. You’re nurturing a life inside your womb and your body is adapting itself because of it. I still think you look damn hot and I’m forever thankful that those pregnancy hormones shifted you into a little insatiable thing.”

He gets touchy-feely, sometimes hugging you in the middle of the night just to say thank you. 

He makes up nicknames for the baby while he’s still in the womb, like “Little Soap”. 

He gets really emotional during the first ultrasound. He holds your hand tightly and tries not to cry… but fails miserably.

He makes special playlists with soft Scottish music, movie soundtracks and even records himself talking so the baby can hear at night.

He buys miniature army clothes, but also absurdly cute ones, like animal costumes, because “he needs to have style in the nursery”.

One day he shows up with a crib set up in the middle of the living room just because “he wanted to see if it would look nice in natural light”.

He learns to cook your favorite foods (even if it turns out to be a disaster) just so you can eat what you want safely.

He keeps notes with the dates of the first times: first kick, first time their heartbeat was heard, first photo of your belly. He’s creating a secret “dossier” of love.

He swears he’s going to be the most present father in the world. No matter how much life changes, he will always be there for you two. 

It was a quiet night at home. The sky was clear, with a million stars shining through the open window. You were sitting on the couch, with a cup of hot tea in your hands, and Soap was lying next to you, with his head on your lap, apparently tired from the intense mission of the day. The conversation was calm, but you knew it was time to tell him the news. He was so focused on caressing your stomach as you played with his hair, that he didn't notice how nervous you were.

"Did you know you're going to be the best dad in the world?" You said softly, feeling your heart race. Soap looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes shining with evident affection.

"I have no doubt about that, love. But what do you mean, best dad? If I'm not, who will be, huh?" You laughed, but you were feeling overflowing with happiness. Suddenly, the moment was there, and it was as if time had slowed down just so he could hear your words.

"Well… I can't say who's going to be the best father, but you're the best for me, and… Our daughter is going to be very lucky." There was a pause. Soap stood up quickly, looking at you, confused, as if he hadn't quite understood. His eyes were curious, but his smile stubbornly wouldn't leave his face. 

"Wait… What?" He asked, his eyes shining even brighter. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

"I… we're expecting a little girl." Soap's eyes widened for a moment and he was silent, processing the information. When it finally sunk in, he leaned forward, with a dazzling smile.

"A little girl?" he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. 

"Yes, a little girl," You said, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. "You're going to be the father of a little girl." And then, he simply laughed. A genuine, happy laugh, one of those laughs that seemed so honest that you felt your soul warm. He stood up from the couch, holding your hands tightly before he jumped close to you, not caring about the teacup that almost fell to the floor.

"Are you sure about this? A real little girl?" He asked again, his eyes shining with happiness.

You laughed then, finally, the feeling of nervousness disappearing. He was more excited than ever, and his happiness was contagious.

"I'm sure!" You answered, laughing along with him, the two of you hugging each other tightly. "We're going to have a daughter, Soap." He ran his hand over your belly, still not fully believing it, but with a sparkle in his eyes that didn't fade. 

"I promise that I'm going to be the best dad in the world. It's going to be a pleasure to watch our little girl grow up." You leaned back against the couch, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"I know you will." And as he continued to rub your belly, smiling like a fool and in that moment, you were more certain than ever that he was the kind of father who would do anything for her. 

Keegan P. Russ 

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. You wanted something elaborate, symbolic… maybe a candlelit dinner, a note written in your nervous handwriting. But there, sitting on the couch, with his hand resting on your thigh and his eyes intently watching a movie, you felt the right moment — a comfortable, intimate silence, just the two of you.

“Keegan…” You began, your voice low, almost as if you were keeping a precious secret between your lips. He turned his face to you right away. He always did that — when you spoke, he listened. With his eyes, with his whole body. It was a habit of his to offer you his total presence.

“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately, already with that protective look that always came when you hesitated.

“No… it’s just...” You took his hand and brought it to your belly, as if that would be enough. Maybe it was. For a moment, he didn’t understand. He looked back at your face, at your eyes filled with unshed tears, at his hand under your still flat stomach, but which held a secret growing in silence.

“Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but his eyes said it all. You nodded, with a shy, uncertain, but hopeful smile. The air between you changed. He didn’t say anything for a second too long — but you saw it. His shoulders relaxed as if he had been waiting for this news without knowing. His eyes watered, and his mouth opened slowly, a whisper coming out between his lips:

“Are we becoming a family...?” The way he hugged you that night was different. It was a protective, reverent grip. As if you were made of porcelain. As if the most important miracle of his life was inside you — and it was.

The focused, meticulous soldier appeared in a new form: in nutrition spreadsheets, reminders on his phone with alarms for his snacks, vitamins, and appointments. He went with you to all of them—even when he was exhausted, even when he had just returned from a mission the day before. He sat next to you, held your hand, and listened intently to every word the obstetrician said.

Keegan was the type of person who didn’t say much, but showed it all through his actions. He learned to cook healthy meals even though he didn’t know how to cut a tomato properly at first. He would run his hands over his belly before bed every night, with a caress that felt like a silent prayer.

And when the symptoms got tough — the nausea, the aches, the bloating — Keegan didn’t run away. He showed up with tea (and if you refused to drink them, he’d force you to, saying it was for the good of the baby you were nurturing), warm blankets, and concerned eyes. He sat on the floor beside your bed when you didn’t want to talk. He was just there and it was enough. 

Sometimes, during the night, he would wake up just to check if you were still sleeping well. He would run his hand over your forehead, carefully adjusting your position, as if he could protect you even from nightmares.

Keegan, during your pregnancy, was as firm as steel and as gentle as a cozy blanket. He became your safe haven, your silent and constant guardian. He slept with his hand on your belly, talked to the baby when he thought you couldn’t hear, promised he would be there, always, that he would take care of you, that no one would ever hurt you both. 

You found him in the kitchen, cooking your latest craving: berry pie.

“Baby,” You called, leaning against the door frame. He looked up immediately, a small smile forming when he saw you there.

You walked over to him slowly, your heart racing, and pulled out the small pair of blue booties you had bought that morning.

“For when he gets here.” You said, placing the booties in his hands. A cheesy way to reveal the gender of your baby, yes, but those booties were just too cute for you to ignore. 

Keegan frowned, confused at first — until understanding dawned on him. He blinked a few times, in disbelief.

“A little boy?” He asked, almost in a choked whisper.

You nodded with an excited smile. He laughed softly, shaking his head as if he was still processing it. Then he pulled you slowly closer, resting his forehead against yours before spinning you around slowly and carefully to not make you nauseous.

“My little boy… Our little boy!” He murmured, his voice cracking with joy.

When the time arrives, Keegan is incredibly calm on the outside, but inside he is a whirlwind of emotions. He has never been so scared and so happy at the same time. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering “You can do it,” “I’m here,” “It’s going to be okay” like a mantra — as if his voice could protect you from the pain. When he heard the baby cry for the first time, his eyes filled with tears instantly. He tried to hide it, but the emotion overflowed in his eyes and in the way he smiled at you and when he held his son for the first time. He was completely mesmerized: his big fingers touched the little body with the greatest delicacy in the world, as if he was afraid of hurting his own son. 

Keegan refuses to sleep while you rest. He sits in an armchair with the baby on his lap, just observing every little detail of the newborn. When the medical team came back and found him with the baby sleeping on his chest, and you sleeping in bed, they said it looked like a scene from a movie. 

He talks to the baby even though he knows he doesn't understand: "You have your mother's eyes... And you'll be strong like her too." 

Takes pictures of the tiny feet, of the baby grabbing your finger, of you breastfeeding him, bathing him and sleeping with him and keeps them all in a folder that only he has access to.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You realized something was wrong when you woke up with an upset stomach for two days in a row — and without having eaten anything heavy. The smell of the breakfast you loved started to make you nauseous… and that was the first warning sign. Kyle even jokingly commented: “Are you abandoning me in our sacred coffee ritual?” — and you forced a smile, pretending you weren’t worried. A few days later, you realized your period was late. A week. Then ten days. And then fifteen. And then, sweet fear hit deep in your chest.

You bought the test by yourself, on a quick trip to the pharmacy, and hid it in your purse as if it were a state secret. On a cold, slow morning, you took the test while Kyle was still sleeping. The silence in the bathroom was almost deafening as you waited the five minutes that the package indicated. Two lines. Two lines that changed everything. You stood still for long minutes, in the same position, holding the test with shaking hands and teary eyes. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. You did both. The first thing you thought was: "How am I going to tell him?" — and right after: "Will he want this with me?" 

You tried to plan a cute way to tell him. A special dinner, a little box with the test and a note. But anxiety got the best of you. You told him in a simple way, on a normal afternoon, when it was just the two of you, sitting together. He noticed something different about you, and when you shared the secret you were carrying alone, time seemed to stop.

He was sitting on the couch, his eyes softly focused on you as you walked slowly toward him, your hands clasped in front of you, as if trying to contain your racing heart. He could tell right away — you were nervous.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, his voice low, full of affection.

You nodded, but your throat was dry. You took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down next to him. His hand came naturally to yours, his warm, firm fingers wrapping around yours as if to say ‘I’m here, talk to me.’

“Kyle…” Your gaze met his, and there was so much tenderness there it almost hurt. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the world seemed suspended. His smile froze mid-smile, his eyes wide with surprise. You saw the emotion building there — first confusion, then a wet gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just heard something sacred.

“Are you… pregnant?” He repeated in a whisper, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

You nodded, with a small smile. His answer came in the form of a soft, almost breathless laugh, before he pulled you into a hug full of warmth and reverence. He held you as if you were made of glass, but at the same time with such intensity that your heart seemed to fit into his.

“We’re going to have a baby… Fuck’s sake!, that’s so amazing...” He whispered against your neck, as if he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Kyle… No swearing around the baby.”

“Copy that.” He smiled. “I'll be here. Every step, every beat of this little heart… I want to live it all with you.” After that, he placed his hand lovingly on your lower belly, as if he could already feel the new life you had started together. And in that moment, between soft smiles and slow kisses, the whole world seemed to fit between his arms.

He became obsessed with learning everything: he read medical articles, downloaded three different pregnancy apps, and asked the internet if certain strange food cravings were normal. 

He created a ritual: every night, he would lie with his head on her belly and whisper stories, just to “familiarize the baby with his father’s voice.” He would always say proudly: “Our baby will be born hearing the most beautiful accent in the world, honey.” 

He was so protective, but in a sweet way —  accompanying you to every appointment, carrying healthy snacks in his bag, and talking to doctors like you were a secret agent on a mission. 

When your belly started to grow, he bought funny “Loading… Baby 50%” T-shirts and forced you to wear them just to see your grumpy little face. No need to tell him they look awful, he’s already taking pictures of you. 

One day, he found you crying watching a random video of a stray dog being adopted and he just sat down with you, hugging you tightly, and getting emotional too, without even knowing why. 

He insisted on putting the crib together with his own hands. He made several mistakes, got his fingers stuck, and cursed the manual — but in the end, the crib was perfect.

When the contractions started, he went into military mode in 0.1 seconds. He grabbed the hospital bag, checked the checklist, warned everyone and took you to the hospital as if he was on a mission.

During the birth, he held your hand the whole time, letting you crush his fingers without complaining as he kept murmuring something along the lines of “Breathe with me. I’m with you.”

When the baby was born and cried for the first time, he cried too — the kind of silent, emotional cry that comes from deep in the chest.

He was paralyzed for a few seconds when he saw the baby in his arms, with teary eyes, whispering: “We did it. Look… we did it.”

You waited to find out the baby’s sex until the birth. It was a huge shock when the obstetrician said that a little boy had been born: “Hell yeah!”, he celebrated. “My little boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Our son...”

König

He finally returned from that mission that seemed to have no end. 

You call him by name with that soft voice that makes him feel weak to his knees. He notices something in your tone. The blue eyes fixed on yours with attention… and a hint of anxiety. “Was ist passiert, mein Schatz?” (“What happened, my love?”)

You take a deep breath, smiling with a nervousness that he immediately picks up on — and you finally say three words that change everything: 

“I am pregnant.” For a moment, he freezes. Not with rejection. Not with anger. But as if the world had gone silent. His eyes widen slightly, he takes a step back as if he’s been shocked, only to then approach you again with visible hesitation in his hands. The mask covers half of his reaction, but his eyes say it all. Pure vulnerability. The doubt of whether he deserves this. The desire to believe he still deserves to be happy. 

“Is it… mine?” He asks, his voice lower than ever.

“Of course it is, König!” 

When you say that — of course he knew it was his — König lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hands on his head, walking a few steps as if he doesn’t know what to do with his own body. Then he stops and he comes back to you. He kneels and he hugs your still-flat belly, pressing it against his face with an almost religious reverence.

“Mein Gott (My god)… you gave me a new life.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and muffled.

Then he looks down at you, with teary eyes — the intimidating giant now looking like a lost, happy boy — and says something you would never forget:

“I never thought I would have something so precious. I will take care of you. The both of you. Even if the world falls apart… you will be safe.” 

In the first few months, König is on constant alert. Every moment of nausea, every different expression on your face, makes him stop everything to check if you are okay. 

He obsessively researches pregnancy in silence, on his cell phone, reading scientific articles, forums, and even mothers' groups — all in secret, with his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were studying military tactics. 

He tries to cook for you (with… variable results), just because he read that certain foods help with morning sickness. 

When your belly starts to grow, König starts talking to you when he thinks you are sleeping. He lies down next to you, his head resting gently on your belly, murmuring in German with a sweetness that seems unthinkable for such a huge man. "Dein Vater liebt dich sehr, mein kleines Wunder..." ("Your father loves you very much, my little miracle...") 

He starts to accompany you to every medical appointment as if they were a mission, paying attention to every comment from the doctors and nurses as if his life depended on it. 

When your belly is already heavy and your steps are slower, König starts carrying you to any place that involves stairs. Literally. He doesn't even ask. He just picks you up with the greatest care in the world, as if you were made of glass. 

When you start having false contractions, he goes into a state of absolute focus—the hospital bag has been packed for weeks, the routes have been planned, the emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. But despite this, he is always kind, always calm with you, even though he is seething with nerves inside.

He has internal crises of insecurity, but he never burdens you with them. He writes everything down in a hidden notebook, as a way of letting off steam. 

You find him on the balcony, the sky tinged with gold by the sunset. König’s back is turned, still, silent, as he usually does when he’s thinking too much. His large hands are resting on the railing, his broad body almost blocking the light. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and his soft gaze immediately lands on your belly with an almost reverent affection.

You smile, and he responds with that shy little smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still seeming to search for more signs that you’re okay.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks in a low voice, waiting for each word as if they were sacred.

You walk towards him, slowly, feeling your heart beat faster — not from nervousness, but from excitement. Then you take one of his hands and guide it to your belly.

“She’s fine,” You begin, looking into his eyes. “And yes... I said she.”

König’s eyes blink, as if it took him a second to process.

“She...?” He whispers, almost in disbelief. You nod, smiling even wider.

“We’re having a little girl.” His breath catches for a moment. His blue eyes — usually so restrained, so trained not to show too much — shine with immediate moisture. He kneels, letting his forehead touch yours while his hands wrap around your belly with a delicacy that doesn’t match its size.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle closer, his arms around your waist as if he wanted to protect the two of you from the entire world.

“She’s already so loved, König. By me… and by you.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready. But I’ll give everything. Everything. For both of you.”

“You’re already everything she needs. And everything I need too.” 

Nikto

The truth is that you found out you were carrying his child only in the third month of pregnancy. The missions, your dangerous job, the obligations, plans and goals, your own complex relationship with Nikto… all of this was too much for you to handle. The days became weeks and the weeks became months as you just ignored the symptoms, thinking that the nausea and exhaustion would pass. But they remained very present, and your suspicion only increased.

You took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. And to be sure, you also took a blood test some days after and then, an ultrasound, which finally revealed the baby's gender: a little boy was coming into the world. You did all this without saying a word to Nikto, fearing that he would hate the news. You weren't stupid, you knew he would soon realize something was out of place. Your body was changing, your symptoms were still present, and you even avoided exposing yourself to any kind of risk, as much as possible, unlike before.

He suspected the possible reason why this was happening, but he never forced you to admit anything. Not until you were ready.

When you told him the news, at first he reacted with silence and a hard look, trying to process the information. He’s not the type to show emotion easily, so you thought he was angry or indifferent… But inside, he would be conflicted. Part of him would feel vulnerable — the idea of ​​having created a new life would hit him harder than he expected. Another part would be on edge, worried for your safety and that of the baby, since his world is too violent for something so innocent.

But he wouldn’t shy away from responsibility. He just wouldn’t know how to show he cares in the traditional way. You’d see him more protective, more present, but also more silent. His love would be shown in actions, not words.

The base was silent that night—just the hum of the generators and the occasional sound of boots echoing in the hallway. He was sitting at the table, cleaning his weapon with the meticulous precision of always, his mask pushed up to his forehead, revealing those hard eyes… but that always softened when they landed on you. You walked in slowly, your fingers intertwined in front of you, your heart beating fast.

He noticed it instantly. He dropped the metal piece on the table and watched you silently. Not like a soldier, but like a man. Your man.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, standing up immediately, his tone low but attentive.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s not that. But… I need to tell you something. And it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, his body firm as steel, but his gaze… almost nervous.

“I’m pregnant, Nikto.”

The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness outside. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, motionless, as if time had frozen. What did you expect? A scream? A sigh? A “how did that happen?”?

None of that came.

He walked towards you, slowly, as if he were stepping on unknown land. He stopped so close that you could feel the heat of his body. His gloved hand rose to your face — it hesitated in the air for a second — and then landed with a delicacy that no one would ever imagine that man was capable of.

“My son?” He murmured, his voice so low that it seemed like a secret between you and the universe.

Son… And he even had guessed the baby gender right.

You nodded, tears in your eyes, but smiling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was something there. It wasn’t fear. Or anger. It was… instinct. A raw kind of love — unconditional, protective.

"How do you…" You hugged him, and that took him by surprise. It took Nikto a few seconds to hug you back, but when he did, he stroked your hair with affection. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Is it?"

"I mean… yeah."

"Perhaps it was just my intuition." He kissed the top of your head, wanting to protect you from the world.

“You will not leave my sight.” His voice had returned to its firm tone. “I will take care of you both. From now on.” And then, for the first time since you met him, Nikto knelt down, making himself vulnerable before you. Lifting your shirt, he pressed his lips to your slightly swollen belly, so gently that it barely seemed real. But it was. It was his promise. No pretty words. Just presence. Just surrender.

Nikto was already a controlling person by nature, but from the moment he found out about your pregnancy, he became a constant shadow by your side. He checks safe routes before you go out, monitors the environment where you sleep, and leaves discreet trackers on everything you wear “just in case.” He doesn’t say, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he just acts—as if he could take on the whole world for you and the baby.

He’s not the type to say, “You look so beautiful carrying my son” but out of nowhere you find a soft blanket on the couch, hot tea on the table, or maternity clothes in your size neatly folded on the bed. When you ask him if that was his doing, he just answers curtly, “Maybe.” But if you insist, he might say, “I like to see you comfortable.” (And he looks down, because that was the most vulnerability he could show that day.)

If you’re lying down and you let out a whimper of pain or discomfort, within seconds he’ll be there, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands firmly against your back. He never comments anything, he just keeps going until he feels you’ve relaxed. When you say a weak “thank you” he’ll give you a quick nod and maybe — just maybe — press a kiss against your forehead before leaving the room.

At night, when you are dozing on the couch or in bed, he will slowly come over and, if he is comfortable doing so, he will rub your belly while speaking to the baby in Russian. They are short, almost military phrases, but sweet in his own way: "Your mother is stronger than anyone. You will get this from her." Or even: "You will not know war. I swear."

Even with all his confidence, he sometimes stays silent for long periods, staring at you from afar. When you ask him, he ends up saying something like: “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I only know how to fight.” It’s at this moment that you see his most human side. He’s not afraid of war, but he is afraid of failing you. And when you hold his hand and tell him he’s already doing more than enough, he doesn’t respond. He just squeezes your hand tightly — and doesn’t let go.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Hot and intense nights became common when the pressure of the world became great enough to suffocate you both.

You sought refuge in sex, night after night indulging your most primitive and sinful desires as a relatively effective, but twisted, way of enduring the horrendous reality of serving the country.

Even though you knew that being careful was relatively far from being part of your routine, you felt the world fall apart when the first symptoms began.

Nausea, fatigue and insecurity had become part of your essence and the fear of the future permeated your soul.

You tried to hide your pregnancy for as long as possible, not wanting to tell Simon, much less your team members.

Bringing an innocent life into the hell you lived was a senseless act. Then why did you feel so much love for someone who hadn't even been born yet?

You were almost four months pregnant when, during a mission, you fainted for no apparent reason. You weren't taking care of yourself enough — eating little, sleeping little and keeping so many secrets to yourself... It came as no surprise to anyone when your body couldn't handle all of that.

"Stay with me... Hey! She needs medical help!" Ghost shouted, looking around desperately, protecting your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world at that moment.

Your consciousness slowly returned, and you realized that you were being carried by him to a safer place.

"I'm sorry." You stammered, feeling guilty for having interrupted the gathering of such important information.

"Don't apologize. I've never seen you so pale and weak like this, not even on worse missions." You were finally in a calmer place, still alone with him, and before other people entered the room to check on you, you decided it was time to tell him the truth.

"Simon, I..." You hesitated, wondering for a moment if being honest with him was really what you wanted.

"You...?" He encouraged you, squeezing your thigh affectionately, as usual.

"I... I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and his grip on your thigh tightened, almost hurting you.

"What...?" He mumbled to himself, slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together and everything made sense — your extreme sensitivity to the tastes and smells that you usually liked, your endless naps, your hurried and unannounced trips to the bathroom, your lack of complaints about cramps, almost as if you hadn't had your period that month... It all made sense, and his head almost exploded.

"How did I not notice?" He whispered, pulling you close, hugging you tightly as if he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." You mumbled against his chest as he stroked your hair lovingly. "I think it was on your birthday..." 

That night... That fateful night.

"How are you feeling about this?"

"I... I don't know what to think..." Your hands involuntarily went down your body, caressing the slightly swollen belly due to the life that was developing there. "But I love them so much already..."

He smiled against your hair, hugging you tighter, a genuine happiness slowly forming inside his heart.

"I'm scared, Si." You admitted. "I'm scared of bringing them into this world only to suffer and see horrible things like the two of us."

"Hey, don't say that. Even in hell I found you. I found someone worth fighting for and waking up to everyday. Life isn't all bad, you taught me that yourself." You didn't answer, but he understood what you meant.

"Regardless of your decision — whether you’re keeping them or not — I will support you and stay by your side. Until my last breath." And he kissed the top of your head.

You couldn't muster the courage to abort that life. They were the fruit of the love between you and Simon and they were the best thing you had.

So you decided to keep it, to face the consequences of your acts, to carry the responsibility of bringing a life into this world. 

Months passed without you wanting to know the baby's sex, until Simon convinced you to investigate it.

"Guess." You murmured against his lips, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hmm, I have a feeling it's a girl." He secretly longed for one. You guided his hand so he could feel the baby moving, kicking you weakly every now and then.

"It's a girl! We're having a little girl, Si!" His heart fluttered with joy.

"Bloody hell, love... Fuck, I love her so much already. I can't wait to finally meet her."

He has a habit of murmuring sweet nothings your swollen stomach as his fingertips caresses the skin of your belly.

He doesn't let you lift a finger to do almost anything and he even asked captain Price not to allow you to leave the base for any more missions. He couldn't bait to lose both of you.

He helps you with your craving and pregnancy pains —  his massages are divine and melt away any tension you may be feeling.

Close to delivery, when you can no longer bear the weight of your very own stomach, he holds your belly gently with both hands, slowly freeing you from the weight of your little girl for a few seconds — seconds that relieve you absurdly.

Actually cries when he sees his baby for the first time — she's just so tiny, all wrapped around a blanket and her baby clothes, her foot is barely the size of his thumb and she's a little carbon copy of him in appearance. He's utterly glad you decided to keep her over five months ago. He couldn't imagine a world where you three didn't exist anymore.

He is completely disarmed by his daughter. He can face any enemy without hesitation, but if she cries in the morning or asks for something with that look in her eyes, he simply melts.

Protection is his second name. He checks locks, cameras, and sleeps lightly, as if he was still in the field. But the truth is that he just wants to make sure that nothing will hurt the two people he loves most in the world.

As your husband (fucking finally, right?), Simon is silent… but constant. He doesn't need big words; he shows it with actions. Coffee ready, blanket pulled up in the middle of the night, arm around waist without saying anything. He is simply perfect.

[sknyuz]

hi :)) i LOOOOOOVE your writing, you do all the boys so much justice. i was reading the intimacy one and saw you wanted requests for gotak 👀👀

this ideas been festering in my head so walk with me (or don't, that's also fine.)

new student!reader who comes to class and has a small run in with juntae (similar to how he bumped into sieun) and thinks he's adorable so they kinda just naturally becomes really close friends with him. gotak heard news about the new student and also started to hear juntae talk about them so he lowkey tries to swindle juntae into introducing all of them. juntae being the cutie (but also not naive!) he is decided to introduce them and gotak is taken back by how close they are and gets mildly jealous (for what reason 🤔😏).

sorry for the ramble and also that went no where but it's been in my head for sooooo long 😭😭😭

pairing — go hyuntak (gotak) x gn!reader (ft. bff!juntae) genre — fluff, comedy, f2l warnings — mild language, injury (minor sprain), sieun being an instigator, baku being a headass word count — ~2.1k

note: omg this took soooo long to post because of my break !! i finished this actually a week ago lol i just had lots of prior requests to get to so i never got around to posting it. alas, let us all welcome gotak’s debut on my blog !! the people have been waitinggggg and asking for this one !! and finally... !!

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

to put it simply, if you hadn’t turned the corner right at that moment, you don’t know how the rest of this school year would've turned out.

new school, new people, new everything. you had a map in your hand and maybe two brain cells left when someone rounded the hallway a little too fast and bumped straight into you. papers went flying. both of you froze.

“oh no—wait, i’m sorry, that was me,” he said, already crouched down to gather the mess like it was his life that had been scattered across the floor.

you blinked, surprised. he had soft eyes and glasses sliding halfway down his nose and this slightly panicked look like he thought you might cry.

“it’s okay,” you told him. “honestly, you might’ve saved my life. i was about to walk straight into a locked door.”

he smiled, awkward and kind. “my name is juntae. seo juntae. you’re new, right?”

you nodded. and just like that, he offered to walk you to class—it was the easiest decision you’d made all day.

juntae was the type of person who made space for you without ever making you feel like a burden. he brought you snacks during lunch and showed you where to hide out when the hallways got too loud. he also talked a lot about his friends, and one afternoon—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said, “oh, you should meet sieun. you’d like him.”

you did. he was quiet and careful with his words, but funny in a dry way that caught you off guard. he’d glance at juntae like you really brought them here? but still offered you a spot at the table. he even let you steal a fry. so you counted that as a win.

after that came baku—loud, sunny, fast-talking. he practically tackled you into a high five and said, “juntae’s new bestie? you’re in good hands,” before dragging you into some debate about what counts as a sandwich.

somehow, you ended up kind of... just around. like a ghost that turned real. people knew your name before you introduced yourself. baku waved whenever he saw you. sieun always made room for you on the bench. and juntae, sweet as he was, forgot to formally introduce you to one person.

“yo,” gotak called, wiping sweat from his neck as he tossed the basketball to baku. “who’s that?”

baku looked up from tying his shoelace. “huh?”

“over there,” gotak nodded toward the sidelines, where you were doubled over laughing next to sieun and juntae. “they’ve been hanging around a lot.”

baku blinked, “that’s y/n.” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

gotak simply stared, as baku tilted his head. “you know them. don’t you?”

gotak looked back at you. you were teasing juntae about something, eyes crinkled, whole face lit up. juntae said something back that made you shove his arm, half-laughing, half-gasping.

gotak frowned, “i’ve never met them.”

baku paused. “wait. what? i thought juntae introduced you already—he told everyone else. dude. even sieun knows her.”

gotak narrowed his eyes. “so why didn’t he tell me?”

“damn,” baku grinned. “someone’s feeling left out.” as he threw the ball to his chest, a little too roughly to snap his friend out of it.

“shitty pass,” gotak muttered under his breath, passing the ball back to him.

baku snorted. “you sure you’re mad about the ball and not the fact that your bestie got a new bestie?”

gotak didn’t answer. but later that day, when he caught you waiting for juntae outside the gym, he slowed down.

you waved, and he waved back. maybe a little delayed, a little thoughtful.

maybe a little curious.

he hesitated like he was deciding something, then crossed the space between you with that awkward confidence some people carry when they’re not used to starting conversations but do it anyway.

he scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down before landing on yours. “hey. uh... y/n,”

you smiled. “hi.”

he nodded, like that helped him keep going. “i’m also juntae’s friend, in the basketball team. with baku.” you tilted your head. “oh yeah—go hyuntak, right?”

he blinked.

you shrugged. “baku mentioned you once. and you were on the court earlier.”

gotak looked a little caught off guard, like he hadn’t expected you to know his name. then his mouth twitched, the smallest upward curve. “...right. that’s me. call me gotak.”

you stood there for a beat, quiet.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said.

he glanced up, then back down, like he was working through a million thoughts at once. “yeah. you too.”

just then, the gym doors creaked open behind you.

“y/n!” jun-tae called, jogging out with his bag slung over one shoulder. “sorry—got caught up helping the coach—oh, hey gotak!”

gotak stepped back half a pace, nodding. “hey.”

juntae looked between you, confused for half a second. “wait—did i never introduce you guys?”

you and gotak both said, “no.”

juntae blinked. “...oops.”

you laughed. gotak didn’t, but his shoulders relaxed a little as he looked over at you again.

after that, he finally had an excuse.

or maybe it was just that now you were officially introduced—he started showing up more. like how he always just happened to walk by your classroom when it let out. or how he’d offer to carry your stuff from your locker even if it wasn’t heavy. he’d still act casual about it—mumbling something about "heading that way anyway"—but the look in his eyes always lingered a little longer than it used to.

you started showing up to practices more too. usually with a water bottle in hand. eventually, two.

then four.

baku started calling you their "hydration manager" and gotak rolled his eyes every time, but he’d take the bottle from your hands like it meant something, every time you handed him his bottle, your fingers would brush. lightly. deliberately. like a habit you weren’t in a rush to break.

he wasn’t loud about it, but as the days passed, he found himself looking for you more often than he meant to—your voice across the court, your laugh when juntae said something stupid, and the way you stuck around even when no one asked you to.

he didn’t say it out loud, but your presence became something he... liked. something that made the world feel a little softer when you were around.

and sometimes, when you laughed a little too hard at juntae’s jokes, gotak would glance over without meaning to. once, he got so distracted that baku shot the ball clean over his head and it smacked him right in the back.

“yo!” baku shouted, rushing over. “you good?!”

gotak muttered, rubbing the side of his head, “i wasn’t looking.”

“clearly,” baku huffed. “what were you looking at?”

gotak didn’t answer. just glanced back toward the sidelines, where you were sitting, completely unaware.

you weren’t exactly subtle either.

at first, it was just a glance. maybe two. maybe three, if you were feeling brave and he was too focused on the court to notice. there was something about the way he moved—steady, grounded, all quiet strength and furrowed brows. you’d never really watched basketball before, but suddenly it was your favorite part of the afternoon.

whenever he scored, you clapped a little louder. a little quicker. maybe even stood up once, under the excuse of stretching.

juntae caught you once. leaned over and whispered, “you cheer louder for him than for baku.”

you blinked. “no i don’t.”

he grinned. “yes you do.”

you smacked his arm. “shut up.”

but the next time gotak glanced toward the benches after a point, your hands were already mid-clap, eyes already on him.

he met your gaze.

just for a second.

you looked away first.

the more you saw of gotak, the more you saw him. it started with the little things—running into him by the vending machine after class, both of you reaching for the same pack of chips at the same time. you laughed, unsure of who should take it first.

“you can have it,” gotak said, smiling, though you could swear there was a flicker of something in his eyes. something that felt... not exactly like embarrassment, but not entirely casual either.

"no, it’s fine, you take it," you said, holding your hand out. "you reached first."

he paused, just staring for a second, before he gave a small shrug and grabbed it. “you sure?”

“yeah.”

you both took your snacks and stepped aside, awkwardly aware of how close you’d been. as you tried to avoid eye contact, you were almost certain your heart was racing. had he been looking at you like that... or was it just your imagination?

the awkward encounters started happening more often, though. a lot more often.

you’d bump into him in the hallway. near the library. at the school gates. suddenly, you felt like you were always in his orbit—and not just you. everyone noticed.

“you two are weirdly always in the same place at the same time,” juntae pointed out one day while you were grabbing lunch. “it’s like you’re following him around.”

you choked on your drink. “what? no. no, i’m not. i—he just happens to be there. i’m—just minding my business.”

juntae fixes his glasses, shrugging it off with a playful grin, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “alright, y/n. totally.”

and of course, baku caught on too. one day, while you were standing at the sidelines during practice, watching gotak and baku scrimmage, he glanced over at you, then at gotak, then back at you. then gotak. then you. he raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious.

“hey,” baku said casually, tossing the ball to gotak. “you two are like, besties now, huh?”

gotak froze, looking at him, and then glancing over at gotak to avoid meeting baku’s gaze. “what? no. we’re not—”

“uh-huh,” baku grinned, spinning the ball on his finger. “sure, and i’m top of the class.”

during practice one afternoon, it happened.

gotak went up for a dunk, but his foot slipped awkwardly when he landed, and he crumpled to the ground with a loud thud. your heart dropped as you watched him clutch his ankle, wincing in pain.

“gotak!” you shouted, rushing to his side.

he grimaced, leaning against the floor, clearly in pain.

“dude, what happened?” baku called out, rushing over too. “you good?”

“i’m fine,” gotak muttered, trying to push himself up, but his face twisted in discomfort. “just sprained it, probably.”

sieun was quick to appear by your side, his usually calm demeanor shifting slightly as he assessed the situation. without missing a beat, he turned to you, a rare glint of something in his eyes. “maybe y/n can take him to the infirmary? we still have to clean up here.”

you blinked, unsure how to respond. “huh?”

sieun shot a pointed look toward baku, who was still oblivious to what was going on. his lips curved in the smallest, lopsided smirk. “baku doesn’t need your help right now,” he said, almost too casually, before giving a side glance at you.

you noticed baku didn’t catch the hint, just furrowing his brows at the situation. “wait, what? you seriously want y/n to drag him to the infirmary? you do realize that guy’s gonna crush ‘em under his weight, right? y’know gotak’s been having too much chicken—”

sieun’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement, though his expression stayed neutral. “go on,” sieun said, motioning to gotak, tone soft but firm. “help him out.”

you looked down at gotak, who was still struggling to stand, and it dawned on you that he was huge—much bigger than you. and the thought of dragging him all the way to the infirmary alone? absurd. awkward.

but you couldn’t exactly say no, not when everyone was watching and not when he was looking at you like he needed your help.

“you okay to walk?” you asked, kneeling down next to him.

“i think i’ll survive,” he grumbled, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

you offered him your hand. “come on, let’s get you there.”

he took your hand, and you tried not to notice how big his hand felt wrapped around yours. you both started walking, and although you tried to make it seem like a casual walk, every step felt like you were carrying the weight of his entire body.

sieun watched you both for a second, his gaze unreadable. the smallest of smirks tugged at the corners of his mouth.

the walk to the infirmary wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, though you were still struggling to act normal when you finally helped gotak sit down on the clinic bed. his ankle was already wrapped up, but he kept fiddling with his fingers, looking down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

you sat across from him, the silence stretching for a moment as you both just sat there, waiting.

“uh, thanks for this, y/n,” gotak mumbled, his voice quiet in a way that was almost unlike him. he kept glancing at you, then back at his hands.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “no problem, seriously. i told you, i’m happy to help. anything for you,” you said, maybe a little more casually than you intended, your heart racing just a little.

he met your gaze then, eyes wide and slightly soft, a subtle smile playing at his lips. “anything?” he asked, teasing, but there was a hint of something more in his tone.

“well, yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “you’re my friend. i’ve got your back.”

there was a beat of silence as you both just looked at each other. gotak’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers still fidgeting, though a little more nervously now.

“you’re…you’re a really good person, y/n,” he said softly, his eyes lowering to his hands again, as if he was unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sincerity in his voice. “thanks, gotak. that means a lot coming from you.”

the moment stretched longer than it probably should have, but neither of you seemed to want to break it.

finally, he cleared his throat, looking up at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “so, uh…if you’re willing to do anything for me…”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”

he shifted a little, suddenly a little more serious, though his usual playful grin still tugged at the corners of his lips. “you think you could—i don’t know—not make me fall for you?”

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you swore you didn’t breathe. his words hung in the air, the playful edge still there, but there was something different about the way he said it. something that made your heart flutter in that puppy-love way that only people in the early stages of affection could understand.

“w-what?” you stammered, unable to hide the rush of warmth that spread across your cheeks. “you’re—you’re falling for me?”

he raised both eyebrows now, the teasing gone from his voice, replaced with something more earnest. “maybe,” he said with a small, sheepish grin, his gaze never leaving you. “maybe it’s too late for that. i think i’m already halfway there.”

you blinked at him, unsure how to respond, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you was suddenly thick with something you didn’t quite know how to define.

you broke the silence with a nervous laugh, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “well, i guess it’s not so bad to meet you in the middle if you’re already halfway there.”

gotak chuckled, his lips curving into that genuine smile you’d come to look forward to. “yeah, i guess it’s not, huh?”

if u liked this, a reblog would be greatly appreciated to help my work reach other people as well >><< !! thank u thank u

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[elliesglock]

AMARI LIVE ANALYSIS

okay hey bitches. again redoing my analyses so today we're doing on of my ogs. THE amari live. now this live is packed with details that are not super visible but if you pay attention you'll get rewarded. a lot of anons have asked me to put time stamps in my analyses so i shall from now on.

live begins and we see the arrangement of the beds. ice and ines on the bed, amari on the floor in front of the bed, and paige/azzi laying on the second bed. i wanna start off this analysis with one of my more delusional theories. lemme preface and say i have no idea who's room this was but in my head it was either p or azzi's. why do i believe this? in the beginning in the back you can say azzi's under the covers with her bonnet on. and in azzi universe that's bed time wear. she looks completely relaxed and it seems that she's obviously sharing this room with someone else. it could be paige's as well but either way azzi looks comfortable like as soon as they leave and end this live she'll STAY in that bed and probably not sleep 👀. either her and paige are gonna cuddle because they're already in that mode in this live or they're gonna spend some more time off camera before they have to go to their own rooms. just a little theory of mine, i'll prob come back to this a few times when i'm mentioning things that could prove this.

this whole live you can kinda tell azzi's still in that sleepy mode and every time p yells she looks way closer to a meltdown. not that dramatic but she looks so over it at times. which i get because this whole live paige is up and down, yelling, screaming acting like an ipad kid over lebron. and amari WILL not stop being messy with the comments which azzi is listening to and really not fucking w. at 5:53 we see paige yelling and screaming as usual, but when she goes back to the bed she's facing azzi and almost looking like she wants to lay on her. and she kinda does for a second imo. azzi prob gave her a face after she was yelling and she decided to calm down and cuddle her to say sorry for a second. the way her body language is when she sits down is almost like she's checking up on azzi cause her WHOLE body is turned to her when she sits down and her eyes are on her. usually turning your body towards someone shows a preoccupation with them. and when she lays down her leg comes up and her hips shift almost like she's rolling or laying on azzi 🥀. i'm so sorry girl ik that hurts. and lemme just say before i blow up the way they are acting this whole live is so coupley and IM OBSESSED. azzi getting annoyed, p being touchy as a sorry, paige rolling and laying all over her knowing she'd get yelled at if they weren't on camera. it's so coupley. during this time, amari's ass is so messy and reads out a comment that says "amari has a bf and paige has a gf." and i like to acknowledge ice because she can't hide her face and unfortunately becomes evidence all the time for pazzi nation. she very quickly goes "PAIGE DOESMT HAVE A GF" not even acknowledging the amari part. now it's hard to differentiate if it's because she sees a couple in front of her and paige's girlfriend and guiltily tries to lie terribly by just blurting that out, or if paige and azzi aren't together yet and she don't want anything to be started saying that...me personally i don't think pazzi were every acting different with or without the labels. so the second theory kinda doesn't matter to me. pazzi has always acted like a couple even when they weren't together, that was their problem. they were invested and from first glance had intimate tendencies while not being together. idk it's whatever yall wanna think about it i would love to hear your opinions. to me ice sounds really guilty and like she's trying to hide something. after this 6:11 p starts talking to az really softly for a moment and it might be her checking up on her again. that's how i feel. i feel like she's focused on her and talking to her to keep an eye. we know p's very perceptive to azzi and also protective.

also during this ice and amari but seem tense and start watching the camera, most likely because p and a are doing something in the back. 6:43 paige and azzi aren't involved in the convo between ice and ines, they're having their own convo most likely little spat. paige goes "azzi....are you serious? we can't do that." paige reveals that azzi wants her to play a game after ice kinda starts staring at them. it's such a cute thing to argue about. azzi wants to play with her girl and paige is like babe but lebron's on. 7:00-7:05 it seems like paige calms down and goes back to being occupied with azzi during the commercial breaks because as soon as the game comes back on she jumps from the bed and tells everyone to lock in. jus so domestic that when she's not watching she just wanna lay and talk to her girl. even though her girl wants her to play a game during lebron's legacy game. now if paige didn't wanna look nonchalant for the camera she'd DEF fold and play with az. who can resist? 7:22 now why tf this girl go back to azzi and kinda look like she sits on top

of her and starts teasing her. paige sorta starts cooing at her and almost sounds like she says "she so cuteeeee" maybe making fun of her pouting, and azzi responds "don't laugh at me" in a VERY pouty voice so idk the streets are saying p was smiling and teasing az for being pouty. idk how to describe it but p seems like teasy flirty in this live. i wanna say dom but im not trying to get sniped so teasy flirty it is. her energy gives she wants to squeeze azzi's cheeks and make fun of her for how cute she is. she acts like this when she gets back to the bed and it almost seems like she leans down in azzi's face and teases her some more. maybe azzi is still pouty but gets blushy? u can hear a little smile in azzi's voice. 7:25 ice clocks it and looks over probably seeing pazzi being cuddly and close to one another. so when amari looks back, ice looks at her as a sort of warning. therefore, amari shifts herself so she's covering pazzi. that just tells me they looked close enough to almost kissing each other or they were being flirty and ice wanted to make sure they were covered from cameras view. paige eventually locks back in and goes back to watching but i find it so cute she was obv very invested in the game but MUCH MORE invested in her girl at the end of the day. ice is still a little nervous obv because anytime paige moves she looks back to make sure she doesn't have to signal amari again. ice i can read ur mind pookie.

8:53 azzi says move! she's so over her but that's her girl and she's gonna stick beside her. guess all those apology cuddles from p went out the door the minute p stood back up cause paige doesn't even care anymore 🥀. 10:53 azzi says shush i'm trying to hearwhen p is talking. at times like this i feel like azzi is the only one who can talk to p like this cause ive never seen p BE QUIET when she's told to be quiet. like she don't even listen to geno but by god she's going to listen to her girl. mouth shuts too quick and ines almost seems like she wants to laugh at her parents. paige looks like a kicked puppy and keeps looking back at azzi afterwards. she's like bae you always let me yap whatttt 💔. but azzi is just princess to everyone cause she says be quiet EVERYBODY quiets down oooo that's a bad bitch. paige knows she got a baddie too cause she always listens to az. somebody in the comment says "yall afraid of azzi? nobody even on that bed with her..." which is so true because not even clingy ass PAIGE is with her so she knew her girl meant business. (16:14) amari is talking about the comments and saying how when azzi said shut up they all did. and paige pipes up (cause she's also the only one allowed to do this) and says because of lebron not because of azzi! u sure about that twin? ur voice is shaking a bit. also she was screaming when lebron was on so YES obv you shut up because of azzi u damn liar. final moment, we get the legendary moment where amari is being messy AGAIN (this is becoming a theme) where she reads and says "Paige someone is going to take you out to breakfast" and azzi is over ittttttttt. she said take my girl where??? she says "better not" in this tone that can be so easily spotted as jealousy. she genuinely is not fucking w the idea of someone having dates or wanting her girl at all. jealous azzi agenda come home we miss you in this drought. she's gotten more subtle with her menacy behavior but she will NOT allow anyone to hit on paige and ive always felt if someone tried to hit on her she'd be blunt asf and say that's my girlfriend btw.

kinda not edited at all sorry guys i'll go back and edit it. but it's longer than my original, happy reading! lmk your thoughts

[erwinsvow]

Is this a safe space for the depraved?

I can’t stop thinking about jack with Robby’s daughter. Robby had her quite young and she met jack when she was already in college she ends up studying to be a social worker. Maybe she gets placed with the night shift cuz she insists on not being a “ nepo baby “

Robby tells Jack to take good care of you. And at first it’s all innocent buying you breakfast after your shift ends or bringing you coffee and then it evolves to you cooking breakfast for him as a thank you. Before you know it your making out on his couch and he feels like a dirty old man, but you’re just so sweet and he finally gets to feel love again and AHHHHHHH

this is the safest space for the depraved! i also remember maybe reblogging something like this, or maybe reader was jack's daughters best friend instead, but that was a really good one too. i honestly think this is one of the best tropes ever <3 and lovely to have more than just doctor readers because this is so great!!! imagine reader dealing with a really hard case and tough parents or family that are always yelling at her, and then somehow her and jack just find a routine together where he comforts her and she talks to him and they both kind of find a peace after a bad shift together... at first it's just talking but then he takes you to breakfast and then you two start lying to robby about it which is when you know you're really in trouble. telling him you're going home only to end up in jack's favorite diner eating breakfast and then eventually going home with him!!!! and jack tries so so so hard to justify it because he knows you have trouble sleeping during the day and alone so he thinks he's just doing what he can to make sure you're getting sleep and then he's making you breakfast and you're bringing over ingriedents for french toast and one day he wakes up and you two are cuddling and it's just like. oh god. and especially!! imagine robby at jack's place and he sees just random girly things—a fruity lotion and chapstick on the coffee table and hair ties scattered in the bathroom and he thinks jack's being sneaky with some woman. oh robby you are in for a MI when you find out. making out on his couch<333 gahhh you can only imagine how long it takes before he finally gives in, finally can't take any more of your hopeful smiles and sweetness and taking so much care of him his chest hurts because you are robby's daughter!! his best friend's daughter!! but you're so pretty and all you want to do is make him feel better and well. he definitely fucks you on that couch and you two just lay there but can't bring yourselves to talk about 'what are we' and 'how do we tell my dad' so you just. lay there together until you fall asleep and he carries you to his bed. another time robby's over he sits on the couch and jack's just kinda. ah fuck don't do that robby. another time robby gets really suspicious because jack's whole apartment and his clothes smell really similar, like a scent he can't place... FUCK the denial he's in when he realizes it's the perfume you love that he buys you for your birthday each year. just thinks jack is dating some young girl because all young girls must use that perfume ha ha... jack would never ever in a million years do that.. though you two have been awfully close lately... makes sense after all he's the one who told jack to take care of you.... ha ha

well he finds out because he shows up to jack's place at like two or three in the afternoon and you both think he's gonna be at the hospital until his shift ends but idk something happens and he leaves early. maybe jake had an emergency and he gets another attending to come in and so he goes to his bestie's place because duh. comes in and you're in one of jack's shirts making lunch humming to yourself and jack is walking around shirtless and just. oh my god. the reaction when he doesn't say anything so you don't even know he's there until you hear a "robby, i-" and a punch probably 😭

[lunacelia]

luigi helps you feel pleasure while your sex drive is low. NSFW + TW for references to depression

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The room is silent. You’re lying on your side, tucked beneath a blanket, the faint glow of the bedside lamp painting soft shadows across the walls. Everything feels quiet now; not empty, but still, in the way that sometimes happens after a long day of holding too much inside.

Luigi is behind you, steady and warm, one arm draped loosely around your waist. His presence is familiar and grounding, the kind of closeness that doesn’t ask anything of you but offers everything.

He already knows about your depression. Your recent episode; how the days have felt heavy and flat, how your spark has dimmed. He hasn’t pressed for explanations or solutions. Just stayed near, patient and steady, carrying you around on those days you struggled to leave your bed, making sure you ate even when you didn’t want to, walking with you quietly when talking felt like too much.

But tonight, there’s something else you need to say. Something you’ve been carrying in silence.

You shift slightly under the covers. Luigi’s hand moves with you, his thumb rubbing soft, slow circles over your side. “Everything okay, baby? You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he asks gently, his voice low in your ear.

You hesitate, heart beating just a little faster. You’ve tried to explain it to yourself, to reason it away. But it’s still there — that quiet ache of guilt every time you turn away from him at night, the silent shame that settles in your chest when you pretend you're just tired.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you murmur. “But I didn’t know how to put it into words. I also didn’t want to… to have to say it out loud.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. Just waits.

“I know you’ve noticed we haven’t been… intimate recently. We haven’t had sex properly in almost two weeks. And I know you haven’t pushed me. But I want to be honest with you.”

You feel his hand pause on your waist.

“I haven’t felt like myself — physically, not just mentally. My sex drive has been pretty much non-existent. And when we tried the other night, I didn’t say anything, but it hurt. I’ve felt so dry and disconnected. And I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to say it out loud.”

You blink, your throat tightening. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want you.”

He exhales softly, and resumes the slow circles by his thumb on your hip. “Hey, baby, look at me.”

His other hand comes to your chin, guiding you to turn your head to face him. Then, you turn your body completely so you’re both face to face, and Luigi begins to stroke your cheek as he speaks. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me earlier. You should never put yourself through pain just for my pleasure, or feel guilty refusing anything. Talk to me, baby.”

You sigh, trying to avoid eye contact, but he gently guides your face again to look at his. “I just kept thinking it would pass. And when it didn’t, I started blaming myself. Like something’s wrong with me. Well, I mean, of course something’s wrong with me, I have depression.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luigi says, firmly but tenderly. “You’re right, there is something wrong, you’re going through a tough time right now. But you can get better, beautiful — I promise. How you feel isn’t your fault. Your body’s doing its best to cope with everything. And I don’t want you to ever feel ashamed for needing time.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I miss having sex with you, yeah, of course I do. But we can be close in other ways. I love cuddling with you just like this, I love when I know you’re feeling safe in this space with me. That’s what matters most. I need you to feel safe, baby, so don’t hide anything from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I didn’t want to feel broken in front of you.”

“You’re not broken,” he whispers. “You’re brave. You’ve been showing up every day, even when it’s hard. That’s strength.”

You look at him completely; his eyes are soft, expression open and calm.

“I’m here for you. Always,” he says. “Whether it’s days when you’re ready for sex or days when you just need to rest. If your body craves anything, I’ll listen. If it doesn’t, I’ll still stay right here. I love all of you — not just the parts that feel easy.”

And in that moment, something loosens inside you, not a fix, but a soft shift. True comfort.

You reach for his hand and thread your fingers together, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck to inhale his scent. “Thank you, Lu. I love you so much.”

“Of course,” Luigi says, kissing your knuckles. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. And we’ll take this one step at a time, okay? As long as you promise to speak to me about everything, the good parts and the bad. I need to know how you’re feeling so I know how to take care of you in the ways you need.”

You sigh in content against him; the silence for the next few minutes is soft, understanding. After a while, you shift away from his neck slowly, looking up into his eyes. His orbs meet yours immediately, warm and hazel and beautiful.

You hesitate. Then, quietly, “I think… I wanna try something. But gentle. Just to see if I might be able to feel something again, even if it’s hardly anything. I was thinking about asking you earlier, but I kept feeling so weird about it.”

Luigi nods slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Okay, baby. We’ll go slow, just something small. You want me to rub your clit?” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good place to start. I’m too dry for, um… penetration. But it’s nothing to do with you, I promise, Lu.”

“Hey, shh,” he coos, with another kiss to your forehead. “I know. Stop it, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain yourself — I understand. All I want you to do is tell me everything you need, yeah?”

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Uh, there’s lube in the drawer.”

Luigi wordlessly reaches over to the bedside table and takes the small bottle. He uncaps it, before rubbing a little amount of the liquid between his fingers. He gently trails his hand down your stomach, giving you time, his other arm cradling your waist.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, as his hand slips into your panties. He doesn’t do anything for a moment, just rests his hand there, a reminder that he’s with you, not trying to fix you instantly.

Slowly, his slick fingers begin to stroke your clit; small, patient circles that are more about comfort than arousal. You let out a slow breath, your eyes fluttering shut. It doesn’t feel electric or overwhelming like it used to so easily, but it feels tender, reassuring.

His voice, the motion of his fingers, the warmth of his body as you’re curled into him — it all begins to stitch something back together. Just slightly, like sunlight warming something frozen.

You shift slightly, feeling your body open just a little, the soreness and discomfort still there, but not sharp. Just part of the landscape. Luigi keeps his rhythm gentle, eyes between you and your sensitivity, asking without words if everything is okay. You nod, reaching to take his hand, holding it while he touches you so tenderly.

“If we start slowly with touches like this… no matter how little or how much it makes you feel, it’s the start of something, at least. We don’t have to rush anything, baby.”

You nod again, and a tear falls. Not from pain or pleasure, but from being seen. From being loved right in the middle of where it hurts.

After a few moments, Luigi pauses the movement of his fingers momentarily, to shift behind you. He settles against the headboard and gently pulls you to sit between his legs. His arms remain around you, keeping you tucked against his chest like you belong nowhere else. The sheets are loose around your waists, the room quiet beside the rhythm of your breathing.

“I thought this position would be better for you. Just rest your back against my chest, I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing so many soft kisses to your neck as he continues his soft strokes over your clit. “I can feel you tensing a little. How is this feeling, baby? Tell me.”

“It’s nice,” you sigh contentedly, holding onto his bicep. “It doesn’t feel as good as it should, but it’s better than when I’ve tried by myself recently.”

Luigi smiles against your neck; you feel another quick peck on your skin. “That’s good, but don’t use words like should. This feels like it needs to right now, don’t pit yourself against a standard.”

You nod. “You always know what to say. Thank you for helping me, for talking me through it… You’re so patient.”

“Shh, of course. I just wanna love on you, beautiful girl.” His chin rests against your shoulder, fingers never stopping their soft pattern. “I love you. I’m gonna help you through everything, one step at a time.”

You lean back into him further, eyes half-lidded. “It’s been so weird… not wanting anything. Not feeling anything. You should, I don’t know, jerk off or something, but I know you don’t watch porn…”

Luigi laughs softly against you. “Don’t worry about me. Send me some pretty pictures and maybe I’ll use those.”

You exhale a quiet giggle.

“Seriously, don’t feel guilty. I’m fine.” His arm wraps tighter around your waist. “Just want you to heal.”

You rest, content in the moment, feeling his chest rise and fall. The strokes between your legs continue, steady, light, as if reminding your body it’s still capable of softness, of pleasure. You’re not soaked naturally — that part of you is still adjusting — but the lube helps. So does his touch.

And after a few quiet minutes, something shifts. Nothing dramatic, just a subtle stirring in your lower belly. You press your thighs together slightly, not out of real need, just curiosity.

You tilt your head a little, whispering without turning around. “Lu?”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is close, lips brushing your ear.

You take a breath, heart a little unsure but hopeful. “Can you try pressing inside? Just one finger. Slow. I don’t know, I’m thinking I could be ready for it.”

He pauses for only a moment, and you feel him smile softly against your shoulder. “Of course. I’ve got you.”

He shifts gently behind you, pulling the blanket down just enough to give himself room to move. His fingers slip away from your clit as he reaches for the lube.

He warms the liquid between his palms before sliding his hand back into your panties, spreading the lube carefully, easing it over your sensitive skin. “Still tender,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “You promise you’re okay, baby?”

“Mhm, yeah, I don’t feel too bad right now.” Your eyes flutter closed as he strokes just along your entrance, not pushing, just testing. His other hand keeps rubbing slow circles over your hip, lips pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

“You’re doing so well,” he says softly. “Just let me love you, baby girl.”

When he finally begins to ease his middle finger inside, it’s like he’s moving through silk — slow, careful, never past your comfort. The lube helps of course, but more than that, his presence helps. He listens with his whole body, feeling for every flinch, every breath.

“There we go…” he coos, lips brushing the edge of your ear. “Just one finger, yeah? You’re doing amazing. So warm around me already.”

It doesn’t hurt, not with how slow he moves, how he pauses with every millimeter, waiting for your breath to guide him. You grip his thigh where your hand rests, grounding yourself.

Inside, his finger moves slowly, searching for that familiar place — the spot he knows by heart. He doesn’t go straight there. He explores, patiently, waiting for your breath to hitch, your body to lean toward him.

Then, he curls upward.

And there — a gentle pressure. Only gentle, but it’s there. A glimmer of sensation you’d forgotten. You close your eyes, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected, more emotional than physical at first, the sheer relief of being reminded that pleasure is still possible.

“That’s it,” Luigi murmurs behind you, his voice melting against your ear. “You feel that, baby?”

You nod, your lips parting slightly. “Yeah… I think I do.”

He keeps his finger curled gently, moving in soft pulses, and after a few strokes, returns his thumb to your clit — resuming those gentle, patient circles. The combination is delicate, like a whisper to your nerves.

“There she is,” he says, barely above a breath. “That sweet spot. Your body remembers.”

Silent tears slip down your cheeks again, quiet and freeing. Luigi doesn’t stop holding you. Doesn’t stop murmuring your name like a promise.

“You’re still yours, you know that?” he whispers. “This part of you — all of you. Depression might try to take it, but it can’t have it. I see you. And I’ve got you forever, my girl.”

Your breath hitches a little as the feeling builds — not like before, when arousal hit fast and easy, but a slow climb out of a fog. The dullness you’ve been living in for weeks has lifted just slightly.

Your body involuntarily shifts to meet his hand. Your thighs part a little more. You’re wetter now — still not soaking, but more than before — and you listen to the soft slide of lube mixing with your natural wetness as he moves.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mhm…” Your voice is a whisper, surprised and relieved. “I’m feeling better.”

There’s a pause. Then you add, almost shyly: “can we try two?”

Luigi stills for a moment, his breath catching — not from lust, but from love. From how much trust you’re offering him right now. He kisses the back of your shoulder. “Yeah. Of course. Let me go slow.”

He eases his finger out, taking a moment to reach for the lube again. The cold of it makes you jump slightly, and he laughs quietly, rubbing your hip. “Sorry, baby. Let me warm it up.”

He slicks his fingers, warming them between his palms, then trails one hand back down your thigh as the other guides his fingers again.

He presses his middle finger in first — smooth, familiar now. Then the second comes gently beside it: his ring finger. He waits; you breathe. He pushes only the tiniest bit at first, and you tense just for a second.

“Hey,” he murmurs near your ear, stilling completely. “You’re okay, shh. Gonna take this so slow for you.”

You exhale, your body relaxing into the slow stretch. It’s not easy — the soreness is still there, alongside that depressive tension that lingers in your muscles, in your skin. But with him behind you, holding you so gently, it’s bearable. More than that, you start to feel real pleasure.

The second finger slides deeper. There’s pressure now, more than before, and a pinch that makes your breath catch. You make a small sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

Luigi’s voice comes right after. “Yeah, I know, baby. It’s a stretch. You’re so tight. So sensitive. But you’re taking me so well. So slow, that’s it…”

You nod, breathing deep. He curls both fingers gently, and this time you feel it deep — the press against your g-spot, more distinct, more layered now. Pain and pleasure tangle together, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like your body is waking up.

You whimper, not from discomfort but from the sheer intensity of sensation after so long without it.

“There you go,” Luigi coos. “That’s it, I can feel you, angel. Feel how your body wants this, even if your mind’s not caught up yet. I’ve got you.”

His thumb returns to your clit, barely brushing now, but every movement adds to the growing fullness inside. The way he rubs over you isn’t fast — it’s rhythmic, grounding, like a pulse. Like a whisper from your own body saying, this is what you need.

Then he pauses — not stopping, but slowing even further — and he kisses your temple. “I’d love to make you come,” he murmurs. “I’d love to feel that from you again. But you don’t owe me that, okay?”

You turn your face just enough to look at him. “I know. I just… I wish I could.”

Luigi shakes his head, brushing your hair back. “Shh. You’re giving me so much already. Letting me in like this, feeling something again. I don’t need anything else, baby, listen to me.”

His fingers are still moving, coaxing now — more confident as your body begins to open. The soreness is still there, but now it lives beside a soothing pleasure. Not heavy, but comforting and warm.

He curls again, more firmly, and your hips shift. You feel pressure that might turn into something, and for the first time in a long time, you want it. Even if your body doesn’t let it come today.

Luigi senses it too. “There she is,” he says softly. “That’s my girl.”

You breathe through it, letting the feelings come in waves. Some are pleasurable, some are emotional. But all of them are yours.

And through it all, Luigi holds you. Kisses you. Keeps rubbing you and curling his fingers like the movements are an act of devotion, not seduction.

Eventually, your body begins to settle again. The tension softens. You don’t come, not today, but you feel good. You feel open, present, alive.

When he finally eases his fingers out, he does it like he’s handling something sacred. He grabs a soft cloth nearby and wordlessly wipes you clean before curling you into his arms again.

You turn toward his chest, pressing your face into him. “Thank you.”

He kisses your forehead. “Always. You’re my baby. Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

tags: @luiluvr @velvet-kissesss @multi-culti-girl @annanotherthingg @palmersluvr @lilbadblueeee @fligniuz @briarloves @daydreamingwithluigi @alleviatcd @mangionesdoll @dracula-reborn @bambimangione @contrarianshitstan-blog @iinfinitelimits @straw8berry @amoungusbartholo @loveauriana

[vbecker10]

Hi Neighbor (Part 5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You offer to help Bucky plan his housewarming party then convince your friends they need to come so you don't spend any time alone with him on Saturday.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-part series with a bit of a slow burn between you and your hot new neighbor. I'm not sure how many parts yet but I already have the ending all figured out. I hope you all like it! 💚

"Thanks for letting me use the backyard for the party," Bucky says. He's standing at your front door with Alpine half asleep against his chest, Bucky's metal arm gently holding him in place. In his other hand is a small plastic bag with two full Tupperware containers he promised to return.

"No problem," you tell him with a smile and a light shrug. The duplex apartment you and Bucky live in has a fenced in backyard that's shared between both units. You can access it from your back door while Bucky has access through a gate in the fence. The apartment complex keeps it well maintained and you've always enjoyed spending time back there in the summer with your friends.

If anyone told me a few months ago I'd be helping a super soldier host Earth's Mightiest Heroes in my backyard, I'd say they were crazy, you think. Actually, this is still kind of crazy. "Besides," you smirk, "I don't think all of the Avengers will fit in your apartment. Some of you are pretty big."

He chuckles, "Ah, so you're just worried about us coming through your ceiling."

"Pretty much," you nod and giggle.

"Well I appreciate it anyways," he says when you open your front door. "I'll see you Wednesday, sweetheart," he winks when he steps out onto the stoop.

You roll your eyes dramatically, "Not if you keep that up buttercup." You hear him laughing at your new choice of pet name and empty threat as his key slides into his lock. Once it was decided that Bucky would throw a party like Sam insisted, you offered to meet him in a few days to help him plan it. Wednesday was cutting it closer than you'd like but you promised him it was doable and you both knew you'd never bail on him.

"Goodnight Y/N," Bucky tells you when he opens his door, you can't see his smile but you can hear it in his voice.

"Goodnight Bucky," you reply, closing your door quickly.

Once dinner was finished, Bucky helped you pack up the leftovers, most of which he took home, then he washed, dried and put away your dishes. You told him you could just throw them in the dishwasher and take care if it later but he wouldn't hear it. A part of you wondered if that was his way of getting you to let him stay longer, not that he needed an excuse. You would have gladly let him stay and hang out all night but that couldn't have been what he was doing. Guys from back then were supposed to be gentlemen right? you had tried to reason with yourself. It would have been rude if he didn't at least offer to help me clean up.

You shrug to yourself as you stand alone in your apartment. There's nothing left to do now but freak out over the upcoming party and you know exactly who you need to talk to. Grabbing your phone off the dining table, you head to the couch, your head falling in defeat on the pillow when you see your new lockscreen. The picture shows Apline asleep on your kitchen counter, a few small treats scattered around him. The white cat found the bag you completely forgot to hide and decided to snack until he passed out.

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

"He's kinda cute when he's not clawing viscously at me isn't he?" Bucky says, looking at the picture on your phone over your shoulder.

You nearly drop the device when you suddenly feel his chest lightly press against your back. "He's absolutely adorable all the time," you force yourself not to look at Bucky when you talk. If you turn your head just a bit, you could easily kiss his cheek without even moving.

"If you say so sweetheart," he says, his lips close enough for you to feel his breath lightly on your neck. "What are you going to do with that?"

You feel him chuckle against your back after a moment of silence then blink as you focus on the fact that he said something after he called you sweetheart. "What?" you ask, taking a few steps a safe distance away from him before turning to face the super soldier.

He repeats his question but your original plan to ask for his phone number so you can send him the picture vanishes when you see his insanely cute smirk.

I have no doubt he'd give me his number if I ask but if I have it, what would I do with it? you think. I could send him memes when he complains about having a day full of boring meetings to see if it'll make him smile. I could call him so he can bring Alpine down and I'll have an excuse to see him during the week. I could text him in the middle of the night when I know he's still awake because I can hear his TV faintly.

"I'm gonna save it as my new lockscreen obviously," you tell him. That's the least complicated option, you think. No point having his number since I'd never be brave enough to reach out anyways.

"Aw, such a good aunt," he says with a laugh, remembering how you announced your title to him earlier.

"Yep," you force a smile to match his but it quickly becomes real when he leans in closer again to see the finished update. "Adorable right?" you hold your phone up for him to see better.

He grins at the image on your screen then looks at you, "Absolutely sweetheart."

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

Y/N: HELPPPPPP!!!!

Soubi: What's going on?

Rose: Are you okay!?

Shivanie: What happened?

The three messages come back almost instantly in the group chat and you tuck the pillow under your elbows to be more comfortable, this could be a long conversation.

Y/N: Bucky and I were cooking dinner and he told me he's having a housewarming party next weekend. All the Avengers are going to be there and he wants me to come!

Rose: No way?! 🤯

Rose: So that means Steve Rogers is going to be there? 😏

Soubi: That's great! Why the panic??

Shivanie: I'm sorry, we're not skipping over you two making dinner together lol

Soubi: Oh right, what'd you guys make for dinner?

Shivanie: Not what I meant 🙄

Rose: OMG! Wait, was dinner a date!?

Shivanie: Did you cook at his place or did you finally get him into your apartment?

Y/N: It was NOT a date!

You sigh, rubbing your eyes and know you probably should have skipped over the dinner part.

Y/N: Can we focus on the problem??

Soubi: 🤷‍♀️ I have no idea what the problem is but sure

Y/N: I need you guys to come, it's next Saturday

Soubi: To the party?

Rose: I'll be there! I'm not missing a chance to see America's ass up close

You laugh, Rose has never hidden how big of a fangirl crush she has on the famous Captain America. The minute you told your friends Bucky moved in upstairs, she threatened to move into your apartment despite it only being a one bedroom unit. She probably would have followed through on it if Steve spent more time at Bucky's but they seemed to mostly still hang out at Stark Tower.

Shivanie: 🤦‍♀️ Are you sure Bucky didn't invite you so he could spend time with you?

Soubi: Good point, plus I don't like going places I didn't get invited

Soubi: Oh and I'd need to get him a gift cause it's a housewarming right? You bring gifts to those?

Soubi: Does he seem like a guy who likes candles? Or maybe something cute for his cat

Shivanie: The only gift he wants is Y/N 😏

Y/N: NOT HELPING

Rose: Lol idk I think Shivanie figured out the perfect gift

Soubi: We can get you a big bow to wear!

Shivanie: Yes!!

You groan loudly at their collective lack of sympathy and text back.

Y/N: I hate all of you

Soubi: Lies

Y/N: Please tell me you'll come Saturday. It'll be so awkward if I go alone, just me and a bunch of literal super heroes

Rose: Yeah, that sounds awful 🙄

Y/N: It will be, the only person I actually know is Bucky and I can't just follow him around the whole time. Please, you guys need to come

You plead with your friends, hoping they'll save you from the potential disaster that awaits Saturday.

Shivanie: Fine, but if Rose gets Steve's number before you get Bucky's I'm gonna be really disappointed in you

Soubi: You still didn't get his number!!? 😳😳😳

Soubi: How?! I thought you said you were gonna get it like a week ago

Y/N: 🫣

You cringe thinking about how you failed to get Bucky's number again tonight. It was the third time you've had an opportunity to ask and couldn't go through with it.

Rose: Ooh, I'm definitely getting Steve's number at the party 😉

Shivanie: Maybe Steve can get Y/N Bucky's number cause she is never gonna ask 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Y/N: I'll ask him if you guys come

Shivanie: Really?

Y/N: I swear

You bite your lip when you type out the promise you're not sure you'll be able to keep based on your track record.

Y/N: Just get here at noon, you guys don't need to bring gifts or food or anything

You make one final plea to your friends and cross your fingers as you wait for them to respond.

Shivanie: Of course we're coming 😊

Soubi: See you Saturday

Rose: I'll be there! ❤️

You toss your phone gently onto the coffee table and roll over to stare at the ceiling, briefly wondering if Bucky is in the space directly above you before you realize you now need to let him know you've invited all of your friends without asking him. If I hadn't chickened out of getting his number I could just send him a text, you think as you cover your face with your hands and groan.

(Wednesday)

You close your front door and kick off your heels, both excited and a little nervous about heading up to Bucky's apartment. You spent your last meeting of the day making a list of things you two needed to figure out for the upcoming party and it was a long one. Hopefully planning will go smoothly so you can follow it up with telling him you invited your friends without asking him.

You can hear Bucky's footsteps above you when you walk into your bedroom to get changed. Throwing a t-shirt and jeans on in place of your blouse and dress pants, you instantly feel more comfortable. The outfit is finished off with a pair of sneakers and a quick check in the mirror to make sure you didn't mess your hair up while changing.

After grabbing your phone and the list from your bag, you go back outside and ring Bucky's doorbell. You bite your lip, trying to push down how excited you are to see him when you hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs quickly. Without thinking, you fold and unfold the list until he opens the door wearing a dark sweatshirt and that smile you can't get enough of.

"Thanks for coming sweetheart," he takes a step back to let you into the small entry way.

"No problem pookie," you tell him with a grin and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head. You can't see his face when he turns to go up the stairs but you know he's rolling his eyes at your random new pet name.

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure your first party this century isn't epic?" you ask. You force yourself not to cringe at how much you dislike what calling yourself his friend feels like. Friend is better than neighbor, you think as you follow him up the stairs, but girlfriend would be even better and also completely unrealistic. Yay for being delusional!

He laughs which brings you back to the conversation as you both reach the top of the stairs. "It'll still be a disaster for one reason or another I'm sure," Bucky says. "Trust me, you can't get everyone on the team together without something stupid happening."

You barely notice his left hand buried in his sweatshirt pocket while he bends to pet Alpine. Instead, your attention is on how the cat accepts only two brief strokes along his back before wandering away to find something more interesting.

"It's gonna be great," you insist although you're not sure you believe that.

He walks towards his bedroom, leaving you standing in his living area, watching Alpine attack a stuffed mouse with a bell in it. "I'm gonna grab something from my room. I'll be out in a second, you can grab a drink if you want," he suggests.

"Sounds good, thanks," you make your way to his kitchen, giving Alpine a wave that goes completely unnoticed. "Do you want a drink too?"

"I'm good," Bucky responds and when you hear a chuckle from down the hall you know he's going to say it. "Thanks sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and try to ignore him, opening the fridge to grab a pitcher of filtered water then open his cabinet.

"Oh, cups are clean but they're still in the dishwasher," he calls from his bedroom and you wonder if he heard the soft squeak of the door.

"So you do remember how to use the-" you scream loudly in surprise then your hand clamps over your mouth as you take quick steps back, nearly tripping over Alpine.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice much closer but there's no concern is his tone. If you weren't so freaked out, you might have noticed he was fighting to keep from laughing.

Your eyes are still glued to the open dishwasher, Bucky's freshly cleaned metal arm resting on the top rack. You take a small step closer to get a better look then yelp in surprise when the wrist lifts and the fingers wave at you.

Bucky laughs as your back slams into his chest when you try to back out of the kitchen. "Sorry about that," he says but you know that's not even a little true.

You turn to face him and hit his broad chest in annoyance, "What the hell?"

"I told you that's where I clean it," he reminds you.

"Yeah but-" the words die in your throat when you watch him move around you. For the first time, you notice one sleeve of his sweatshirt dangles loosely at his side. You assumed he was wearing it because it had been a bit chilly today but apparently it was to hide his missing arm. "You did this on purpose," you put your hands on your hips.

Bucky grabs the arm, placing it on the counter then hands you a glass with a smile. "Not sure what you're talking about sweetheart," he insists innocently.

You open your mouth to argue with him but every thought leaves your brain when he pulls the sweater off over his head and his white shirt comes off as well. You stare at his toned back, vaguely hearing Bucky say something as he turns to face you while he pulls his t-shirt back down.

"What?" you ask, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes even though you can feel your cheeks heating from a blush.

He smirks and picks up the arm, holding it close to his shoulder until both exposed ends glow faintly and make mechanical whirling sounds. He reattaches his left arm, the plates recalibrate then he rotates his arm in one sharp, quick motion to set it back in place.

"Wow," you mumble without meaning to and he chuckles at your reaction.

"You were saying," Bucky fills the empty glass you've been holding with water and turns to put the pitcher away.

"I..." you think and look down at the full glass, what the heck was I saying? Ooh right. "You freaking did that on purpose!"

"Why would I do that?" Bucky asks, closing the dishwasher and ignoring the rest of the clean dishes.

"To scare the crap out of me," you say obviously then add, "And it waved at me! What the hell? I didn't know you could do that."

He laughs, walking into the living room to sit on the couch and you follow him, "I would never scare you on purpose, but it was pretty funny."

"It was not," you fold your arms across your body, not wanting to admit it was a really good prank.

He leans towards you as you stand in front of him, "Then why are you smiling sweetheart?"

You blush again when you realize he's right, you can feel the smile on your face despite trying to hide it and decide to change the subject. "Okay seriously though, you can move your arm when it's not attached?"

He shrugs and sits back, making room for you on the couch. "Sometimes I can. I have to be pretty close to it but I'm getting better," he explains vaguely, looking at his vibranium fingers as they wiggle.

Without meaning to, you visualize Bucky's arm crawling across the floor, chasing Alpine like the Thing and shake your head to rid yourself of that image.

"So... you really think we can pull off this party?" he asks after a moment of silence between you both.

"Sure," you answer, pulling the long, detailed list out of your pocket and picking up a pen he had laying on the coffee table. "We've totally got this."

Bucky smiles at your determination and you decide to start off easy, suggesting he doesn't bother buying any decorations and he quickly agrees. Next you move onto food and you're surprised to learn just how much super soldiers and Asgardians can eat.

"Maybe we should just order like... an insane number of pizzas," you say with a giggle.

"That's not a bad idea sweetheart," he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes, continuing to act as if it annoys you when he calls you that although you both know it doesn't.

After a lengthy discussion about pizza toppings and how many pies should be ordered, you move on to music. "We can play music off my phone, connect it to my speakers," you suggest then realize you have no idea what type of music Bucky likes. "What do you listen to? I wanna make sure I put things you like on the playlist."

He shrugs and doesn't answer.

"You really don't listen to music?" you ask in disbelief.

"I like 40s music," Bucky admits after a moment.

"You're so old," you giggle but write 40s on the list next to music and circle it. I'll need to figure out what the heck 40s music even is, you think.

"Ouch, thanks sweetheart," he laughs. "You don't need to put that, whatever you want is fine," he says pointing to the note you made.

"Don't worry honey buns, I'll find some," you smile and when his head turns instantly to look at you, you know he doesn't like that pet name at all.

"Are you going to call me stuff like that at the party?" he asks.

You can't help but smile even wider at how concerned Bucky looks waiting for you to answer him. "You know the rules pumpkin," you try not to giggle, "You call me sweetheart, I call you something cute."

"Pumpkin and honey buns are not cute," he says but you can see he's fighting back a smile.

"What would you rather I call you then, boo bear?" you ask.

He lets out a laugh, "Bucky."

"Ducky?" you ask with a grin and now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Aww, ducky is actually kinda adorable," you insist then add, "I could call you James?"

"Please don't," he shakes his head but he can't seem to lose his smile.

"You're no fun," you pout, folding your arms over your chest as you sit back on the couch.

He leans close to you and smirks, "I'm a lot of fun sweetheart."

His expression and closeness cause goosebumps to travel over your skin and you giggle nervously. "You worried Sam and Steve might catch on and help me give you fun nicknames?" you shift as far away as you can on the couch which isn't more than another inch or two.

"A little," he admits and you smile, figuring now is as good a time as any.

"I'll make you a deal," you say and he looks at you curiously, waiting for you to continue. "If I can invite my three best friends, I won't call you anything super cutesy in front of your super friends," you grin, hoping he'll buy it.

He thinks for barely a second before agreeing, "Deal sweetheart."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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heyyy

an idea finally came to mind, what about Pau x reader were he is not feeling well after the loss against inter so reader does everything to help him, like takes him out on a walk and they have a picnic by the sea, she comforts him and when night comes around she hugs him tight cause he couldn't fall asleep and he sleeps with his face in the crook of her neck??

thank u girll <33

AFTER THE STORM, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: You comforting him after the Champions League defeat

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff/Comfort. Romance.

→ Author's note: I'm still sensitive about the loss in the semi-final...

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

You entered the apartment silently. I had already expected to find him there, alone, but the image still tightened his chest: Pau was sitting on the sofa, his face hidden in his hands, his shoulders hunched as if they were carrying the weight of the world. The television was still on and showing highlights of the match. It was cruel.

The Barcelona uniform was thrown over the back of the sofa, crumpled, forgotten. The boots were lying on the floor. And Pau… Pau was destroyed inside.

You approached without making a sound, your heart aching at the sight of someone so used to being strong, now shattered. You sat down next to him, slowly.

“Pau…” he called softly. “Do you want to talk?”

He didn't answer. He just shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. His fingers were intertwined, tense, his eyes red—not from crying, but from exhaustion, frustration, pain.

You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Then come with me.”

He looked at you for the first time since he came in, confused, his eyes sunken and tired. You held out your hand.

“Please. Trust me.”

There was a pause, short but full of meaning, until he intertwined your fingers with his and stood up. He didn’t say a word—and he didn’t need to. The simple fact that he had agreed to go out with you was enough.

---

The sky was tinted in shades of gold and orange, the sun slowly hiding behind the sea. You drove to a small, secluded beach, an almost secret corner where few people went at that time. The trunk carried a basket with fresh fruit, juice, some bread, and a soft blanket.

You spread everything out on the sand, arranging it carefully, while he watched in silence. His feet sunk into the sand, his gaze lost on the horizon. You knew him well enough to understand that he was trying to find air in the middle of his own storm.

“Come, sit here with me,” you called, patting the blanket lightly. Pau walked slowly, as if each step still carried the frustration of the night before.

He sat down next to you. You didn’t talk about the game. Or the press. Or broken expectations. Instead, you opened the basket and started offering him pieces of fruit, trying to lighten the mood. Little by little, with light words and disconnected stories, you began to disarm the weight on his face.

And then, he finally spoke:

“You know what hurts the most?” His voice was low, choked. “It’s the feeling that I could have done more. That I failed. That I let everyone down.”

You dropped the glass you were holding and moved a little closer, turning your body to face him.

“Hey…” her hand reached for his, intertwining their fingers lovingly. “You haven’t let anyone down. What you’re feeling right now just proves how much you care. And that’s beautiful, Pau. But you don’t have to carry that weight alone.”

He looked away for a moment, as if fighting against everything he felt. And when he looked back at you, there was something different there. A small crack in that armor he tried so hard to maintain. A desire, perhaps, to allow himself to be taken care of.

You leaned in slowly, brushing your forehead against his.

“I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “With you. For everything.”

His eyes closed for a brief moment, as if he breathed you in. As if your presence was the only rest he knew.

---

Night fell, and the sky was now a blanket of stars. The sound of the waves filled the silence with calm. The blanket was still spread out on the sand, and the two of you lay side by side, in comfortable silence.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how his eyes wouldn't stop blinking, restless. His shoulders were still tense, his jaw clenched. Pau couldn't turn it off.

“You’re tired. Lie down here,” she said, opening her arms, calling him closer.

He hesitated for a second, but then he gave in. He lay against you, his head in the crook of your neck, his arms around your waist, as if he was allowing himself to collapse there. And you took him in completely.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. “My head won’t stop.”

You began to stroke his hair slowly, in a steady rhythm, like someone singing a lullaby.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against his forehead. “I’m here. Just breathe slowly… that’s all. You don’t need to think about anything else right now.”

The minutes passed and you felt his body begin to relax, as if he was finally handing over the weight of the entire day into your hands. His breathing slowed down, became deeper. His fingers were still firmly on your back, as if he was afraid of losing you even in your sleep.

But then… he fell asleep.

There, in your arms, with her face hidden in your neck and her body pressed against yours, as if you were the only certainty after everything that fell apart.

And maybe it really was.

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