#Ladies Day Trophy

[entitled-fangirl]

War prize.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: The North hates Cregan's wife and shows it rather harshly. Cregan is there to tell them off.

Warnings: violence, sexism, talks of losing virginity unwillingly, the poor reader just going through it😭

A/n: My writing is kinda eh on this one but I got it done which is all that matters. Huge italicized sections mean like a little flashback in case you needed to know that. Based on an ask!

Masterlist

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She watched her guard lock the door behind him.

How long had she been stuck in this castle?

She felt used. Taken as a trophy and nothing more. Purely a way to show status.

Purely a way to show who won the war.

Cregan Stark had won the war. And now she was his.

He was kind and caring, quick to compassion and slow to anger. If not for the others, she could've seen this as a happy marriage.

But the others made that impossible.

For the door was not locked to keep her in, but to keep others out.

Cregan saw the very actions his people tried against her, and he was concerned. 

It didn't help that all of her dresses were green. A reminder of what had come to pass.

Anytime Cregan's back was turned, something happened to her. Whether it was harsh words, spitting at her feet, or even once a manhandling that almost turned into a mob.

Cregan knew she deserved better. She was kind. He hardly believed her to be a Hightower. At first glance that day in the Keep, he thought perhaps she was Aemond's wife, or another one of Aegon's whores he had always kept around.

But no. Aemond's twin sister.

…

He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness when two men threw the woman to the ground in front of him.

Her dress was torn in places. Her hair was tangled and dirt ran from her temple to her chin, clearly having been thrown around a lot. She wiped the falling tears from her face with bruised hands. 

"What is this?" He asked the men. Others began to crowd around them to see what would become of her.

The men had only seen prostitutes along the path from the North to the Keep, and even those were few. Seeing a highborn lady was a rare sight.

"Found her hiding away," the man on her right commented.

Cregan sighed and reached down, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. He tipped her face from side to side, observing her. "And what did you hope I'd say when you threw a princess down at my feet? Did you expect me to reward you?"

The man paled. "Well, this is a traitor, my lord. Surely-"

"-Her only crime was the womb she was born from."

"She wears their colors still, Lord Stark-"

"Is she? I can hardly tell under the mud you've drug her through." He huffed, "I want you two out of my sight."

They looked at one another and nodded, moving to pick up the girl again. She jerked back in fear. 

"Leave her," he grumbled. "Well? Be gone. All of you!"

Slowly, they filed out of the room. "Are you gravely injured?" He asked softly.

"Not particularly, my lord," she whimpered.

He sighed and bent at the knee, joining her on the ground. "Did any of them truly put their hands on you? More than to drag you here?"

She wiped her face again, "Are you hoping to take my innocence, my lord?"

A noise involuntarily left his throat. "What?"

"I… It is yours. Just please don't harm me," she sniffled.

Any motion he made to comfort her, he pulled away as if burned. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, no please don't leave me to them," she begged when he pulled away. "Please don't let them have me. I'll do anything."

"They won't have you," he tried again. "Nothing more is going to happen to you. Now, go get redressed and come back. You're not leaving my side until I get this situated."

…

After a few hours, Cregan unlocked the door and entered their shared chambers. "My love?"

He cursed under his breath when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the bed. He wouldn't have been so loud had he known.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair from her face. "Wake up, dear wife."

She hummed in discontent.

His lips pulled into a thin line. Things had gone especially wrong lately and it had begun to show in her actions. 

"C'mon." He began to pull her up. 

She whined and began to lean into him, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled, "I have something for you."

Her eyes opened, "Oh, do you?" 

…

There was outrage when Cregan took her as a wife. The North fought against the idea of having a Southern traitor as their Lady.

He had promised King Aegon III to be fair and just, and the boy said okay, knowing that he would stay honest to his word. 

But the North hated her all the same.

Cregan never considered to fear for her safety, for she was the Warden's wife, and he thought the people would know better than to touch her. 

That, and she hadn't told him of the things said right to her face when he wasn't around. She figured he knew. 

They walked through the city, her arm in his as he showed her around. She took in every sight she could, entranced by the culture of the North. 

But that also welcomed the stares.

Cregan had noticed them immediately, and he flipped her hood up. He didn't care about them, but he knew she would. So by doing so, he was hoping it would bring her a little more comfort. 

Anyone in Westeros would recognize that silver hair.

He leaned down just a bit. "Just tell me when you grow tired or cold."

She nodded, "May I go explore?"

He smiled, "So eager to get away from me?"

"No," she corrects.

"I'm only jesting. Go on."

She grinned and began to look around, trying to decide where to go first.

"Don't wander off too far," he remarked as he moved towards a lord to chat.

She nodded and went, walking a little further down the road. She looked back occasionally to make sure she was still in his line of sight. In doing so, she bumped into a woman harshly.

Y/n pulled back and apologized. "Forgive me!"

The woman set her basket down and straightened her skirt. "Foolish girl. Watch where you step next time."

"I do apologize." She dug in her pocket, pulling out a few coins. "Here. For your trouble."

The woman's eyes widened. She pulled the coins from her hand accusingly. "Where did you get these?" She hissed.

"Well… I… just from…" she turned back to where she could see Cregan. 

The woman grabbed her arm. "Did you steal these? Tell me where."

She jerked against the woman's movements. "No. No, I didn't."

"My lady, is this girl bothering you?" A tall man interfered, helping the woman.

The woman tilted her head, "She's throwing around coins like she's something of value. Look at 'er."

The man eyed her and reached up, pulling the princess' hood down. Their eyes widened. 

She turned to try to catch Cregan's attention, but the man pulled her to him. "A Targaryen, eh? The usurper's bitch sister, aren't you?"

"Please let me go," she whimpered.

"A green traitor in Winterfell? Seems the rumors were right."

She tried to pull her arm away, "Unhand me."

"Shut it, traitor scum."

"CREGAN!" She yelled out of instinct.

Cregan's head snapped immediately, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find her amidst the people that had begun to gather. But he couldn't see her. His worry grew and he began to step out into the crowd in hope of finding her.

She fought against the man's grip. She remembered this feeling of helplessness from only weeks before. "Stop! Please… Please, I'll do anything! Just stop!" 

Anyone around them was stopped now, onlooking or shouting at what was going on.

Cregan's jaw set as he figured she was in the midst of it, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"CREGAN!" He heard again, and that was all he needed.

He began to shove people to the side in an attempt to move through the mob that had begun to form. His angered shouts were drowned out.

Luckily, the Northern Warden was burly and built like a wall, so he was able to work through the crowd by sheer force alone. 

Once towards the middle, he finally saw her. 

The man held her tightly by her silver hair. Her hands were trying to lighten his harsh grip on her as she cried. She couldn't stop the others’ hands from pulling at her skirt or the way they spit at her, but she could at least try to stop the pain erupting from her scalp.

"ENOUGH!" Cregan yelled. He finally made it to them, and his hand gripped the man's throat tightly and he leaned down to his ear. "Unhand her."

She sunk to the ground and clutched at her dress.

Cregan kept his hand firm but looked out at the others that still surrounded them. "Leave." he growled through his teeth. "All of you." When no one moved, he threw the man to the ground and turned to them in rage. "LEAVE!"

One by one they left quietly. He looked down at the man. "May the gods have mercy on you, for I have none."

…

"Keep your eyes closed," he chuckled when she almost stumbled. "I've got you."

"How far must we go?"

"Almost there, I assure you."

After a while, he finally sat her down and instructed her to hold out her arms.

A heavy weight was placed in them. Something soft. Something moving.

"Open."

"A dire wolf?" Her eyes widened.

"Mere pup now, but a mighty predator later. I felt I owed you one."

She frowned, "You don't owe me a thing. I… I feel as if I owe you."

He couldn't stop a bright laugh from escaping his throat. "Hardly."

"Cregan," she began, trying to ignore the way the pup cuddled into her for warmth. "You have saved me time and time again. Without you, I would be in some brothel, or maimed by a man without heart, or…" her voice faltered, "Paraded through King's Landing as a true war prize. But I am not. I'm your wife instead. That is a fate I did not deserve."

"But I failed you. I promised to protect you, but I find that I cannot do that as well as I had hoped. This war was hard on my people. While I cannot fault them for their anger, it is wrong to use it on their Lady of Winterfell." His voice grew persistent. "You are mine. You are no Hightower anymore. You and I both know that."

She nodded and began to pet the wolf. "I pray that the North does one day."

"They will," he confirmed. "I shall make them if I must."

"I just don't want to be stuck in this room anymore. These walls are driving me mad," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm sure they are. But soon you shall have a protector for when I cannot be there." He leaned down to pet the small pup on her lap. "This too will pass eventually."

"Once I give you an heir?"

"Once we have a child," he corrected, "I'm sure they shall be lighter on you."

"And until then?"

He smiled sweetly, "I'll do all I can. Now." He brushed hair from her face. "Please say you like it," he said as he looked down at the pup.

Only then did she let herself truly consider that she now had a dire wolf. "It's beautiful. I just…"

He held a finger up, "Enough of that. I promise you that I and this pup will not let another hand touch you."

She flushed lightly and smiled. "Thank you. I do not say that enough."

He shrugged. "You do, it just usually looks like other things instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he looked down at her dress, "wearing the dress that I had made for you is a thank you in and of itself. Blue suits you well. I could name things for all eternity. You are a perfect wife. And I admire you greatly."

"You've only known me seven moons."

"And that is seven moons enough to know."

"Cregan, I am a trophy of your accomplishments."

"You are hardly that."

She sighed, "But that is what they see me as."

"Do I?"

She considered his question. "I don't believe so."

"Then does it matter? I respect you, and with time, I will make sure they do as well."

She nodded and adjusted the dog in her arms. "Very well. I trust you."

He smiled and stood. "That's all I ask for. Now, name your pup and dress for supper. I'll come collect you myself. Is that alright?"

She nodded again.

"The North will like you," he left off with as he closed the door behind him.

She heard the lock behind him.

In time. 

In time.

Either they learn to like her, or they shall meet a Stark dire wolf closely.

The actual dire wolf or Cregan Stark, it didn't matter.

Their jaws would both equally snap at any threat.

.................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[bblairxe]

content warnings : fingering ( r receiving ) , praise , nsfw , porn w/ plot , a lot of tension , a lot of eye contact , idk man it’s just freaky

wc : 2k

note : bro it wasn’t even supposed to be this damn long i’m just a freaking sucker for pwp 😓. but yeah this was supposed to come out a couple days ago but i kept losing motivation, so i just wanted to finish this up today. sorry if it’s booty dookie cheeks ! this is a part two of this , but it can be read by itself ! minors / men do not interact or i will find you ( that’s a promise not a threat )

    a soft knock echoes through abby’s apartment, followed by the sound of unlocking. the door opens, your body filling the frame. a mix of hesitation and anticipation swirl in your eyes. 

    “you’ve made it i see.” abby says, a soft smile playing on her face. 

    “yeah, it was a bit of traffic, but you know i managed.” you replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

    the two of you lock eyes, the moment stretching longer than it should, until abby snaps out of it and clears her throat. “sorry, come inside.” 

    your steps are soft as you look around the high rise apartment. it feels like you’re finally being let in her world, taking occasional glances at small paintings hung on the wall. 

    a certain portrait catches your eye, it’s one of abby and her mother. she has her arms wrapped tightly around a golden trophy, the biggest smile stretched across her face. she’s wearing her signature dutch braid, dirt and grime smeared all over her cheeks. her mother’s arm rested on her shoulder, holding abby close to her. it’s such a beautiful sight it almost makes you tear up, but the sound of abby’s footsteps startles you, quickly setting the frame down. 

    “i was so proud of myself that day,” she chuckles, her voice calm as she reminisces about the memory. “won first place in a soccer tournament.” 

    you look up and smile at abby, “who’s the lady?” 

    she’s silent for a moment, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve overstepped her boundaries. the thought sits heavy in your chest, but her face doesn’t change—her soft smile stays in place, and her eyes still hold that same nostalgic warmth.

    “my mother,” she pauses, thinking back to that day. “she was my biggest supporter along with my father.” 

    “she’s a beautiful woman, ms. anderson.” your tone is genuine and light, moving your hand to place over hers.

    the gesture is small, and abby should brush it off, but she doesn’t. her body turns to face yours, and something about the way she looks at you ignites a feeling within. maybe it’s the way her compressed tee shows off her muscles perfectly, or how her face framing strands bring out her facial structure, or maybe it’s her hunger - filled eyes scanning your body up and down. 

    she adjusts your hand, her fingers now interlocked with yours. her body turns to guide the two of you to the couch, the vanilla scented candle fills your nostrils. its a beautiful sight, a fire place just beneath a flat screen tv. ceiling to floor windows right behind the two accessories, projecting the city life to you, and your mouth falls open in awe.

   she chuckles at your expression before asking, “can i get you anything?” you just melt at her words. her soft eyes and caring eyes traps you further into her spell. 

    “just you,” your words are slightly above a whisper, patting to the empty spot next to you. 

    her cheeks redden at that, the feeling of someone actually wanting her presence is so foreign it’s painful. a small, hesitant nod is all she gives before settling into the spot beside you. you don’t mean to, but you do, your gaze focuses down to her lap. her legs are spread, wide enough to be considered manspreading and enough to fit you in between them.   

    “you with me, princess?” her voice is so low and smooth you almost don’t catch it, but there’s no missing the way her look lingers on you.

    “yea, yeah, i’m here — sorry just uh, sorry, yeah, hi.” your words come out stumbled and mixed, and you’ve neverbeen more embarrassed in your life.

    another soft laugh leaves her lips, an ‘it’s okay’ following right after. she places a hand on your thigh, running it up and down. “you know,” she starts, her eyes meeting yours, “your grades have improved a lot since that lesson. i think you deserve to be shown how proud you make me.” 

    your breathing starts to come out in small hitches, your thoughts going a thousand miles per minute. that familiar trance like state comes again, her words turn into background noise and all you can think about is her hand on your body. 

    she notices the way your pupils dilate, that dazed expression on your face appearing once again. “love, you’ve gotta pay attention when i’m speaking.” she muttered, inching her hand from your thigh to your hip. 

    “yeah, sorry, i’m listening,” you stammer, shaking your head to rid the lewd thoughts from infiltrating once again. 

    “it’s alright, here,” both of her hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you to straddle her lap. 

    the sudden movement was shocking. sure, you and abby have been close before, but never full body contact kind of close. you’re practically inhaling her exhales, hell you could count each freckle on her face if you wanted. her hands remain steady on you, tracing slow, deliberate circles against your sides. she’s wearing that same mixture of cologne and perfume again, and it takes everything in you to keep yourself from losing it completely.

    “you okay?” abby asks softly, her voice is barely above a whisper. her eyes search yours, warm but heavy with something unspoken.

    “yeah, i’m good” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky, and each breath comes out faster than the last.

    “you sure?” her lips quirk up slightly, teasing but tender, “you look a little . . . overwhelmed.”

    “i’m fine,” you insist, a small giggle breaking in between your words, “just wasn’t expecting this” 

    “oh really? thought you liked surprises,” she tilts her head slightly, her braid shifting over her shoulder. 

    her words have a playful undertone, but the way she’s looking at you tells a much different story.

    “depends on the surprise.” 

    “this one a good surprise?” 

    “very. too good maybe,” it feels as if your cheeks are hotter than earth’s core. you bring your fingers up to play with her face framing pieces, swirling them around your finger. 

    “too good?” abby echoes, her smile present through her words. “don’t tell me you’re scared of me now.” 

    “never.” 

    her breath hitches, her hands trailing up to your waist and back down to your hips. the air between you feels tense, heavy with the kind of tension that makes your heart flutter.

    you lean in closer, your fingers sliding up her shoulder and brushing against the loose strands of her braid. a sudden urge to wrap your hand around the base of her braid and tug hits you. you give in, slipping your hand up and giving the slightest pull, just to see how she reacts.

    but oh, she liked that, more than she needed to. an exasperated gasp leaves her lips, her eyes softening. her fingers tightened around your waist, using it as a way to stabilize herself. you felt her hips buck up ever so slightly and her body slowly sink further into the couch. 

    your faces draw closer and her breath mixes with yours. she brings her hand up to rest on your cheek, nervousness setting in as she pulls you closer, until your lips meet. the kiss is cautious at first, waiting to see if either of you would pull away, but she notices the way you respond, your fingers pulling harder, your body pressing into her, how your hips begin to grind against her lap. 

    “you’re so damn beautiful,” she mutters before slamming her lips back into yours. 

    the kiss becomes hungry and filled with lust. her tongue brushing against your bottom lip, begging to be let in. your lips trail from her lips to her jaw, sucking and licking every part of her. 

    “so eager, hm?” she teases, her fingers toying with your waistband. 

    she pulls her head away from your needy kisses to look back at you, searching for any sign that you want to stop. but, you might as well have read her mind saying, “i want this, i want you.”

    she grins at your words, leaning in to press a quick peck to your lips before tugging your bottoms off. one hand dips under the hem of your shirt, calloused fingers brushing against your waist. the other guiding your hips into a slow rhythm against her lap. 

    “can we get this off too, angel?” her breath tickling your neck but she plants a swift kiss as forgiveness. her hand just at the base of your bra, not going any higher. 

    you give a hesitant nod, too focused on the way the material of her sweatpants feel against your damp cunt. the fabric of shirt flies over your head, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties.

    you’ve never felt so bare, but so comfortable in front of someone before. sure, you’ve been intimate with people before but it’s never felt this way, never felt so cared for. 

    her finger traces along the slit of your cotton underwear, feeling the texture of your swollen clit on her finger tips. a soft, satisfied hum escapes her lips as she feels how soaked you are. “you’re already this wet f’ me?” her words are teasing but filled with warmth. 

    your breath hitches at both her words and the sensation, slowly rocking your hips to gain more friction. “you make it impossible to resist,” you whisper, your voice trembling with each movement of her hands. 

    she plants a long kiss on your neck, her fingers slowly inching towards your core. “that’s what i like to hear.” 

    her words send a shiver down your spine. before you can respond, your panties are pulled aside. a hiss leaves your lips, the sudden temperature change is uncomfortable at first, but it’s soon replaced with something better: pleasure.

    before you can think, you’re being filled with abby’s thick calloused fingers. plunging in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. your mouth falls agape and your head lolls forward, resting on her shoulder. 

    it’s slow for a while, her eyes watching how your body reacts to just one of her fingers, making sure to maintain a calm pace. but she wants more than that, she needs to see you fall apart on top of her. “gonna give you 2 angel, ‘kay?” she waits for a response, but all you can manage is a shaky, whined-out “okay.”

    she begins to plant more kisses along the side of your neck, while she fills you with her fingers. of course, she curls her fingers just to hit that spot inside of you, making your eyes roll and her name starts to leave your throat like a chanted mantra. 

    “look at you,” she murmurs, her tone is laced with admiration and awe. her gaze flickers from your eyes and where her fingers disappear inside of you. “you take me so well, baby. so perfect.”

    a wave of heat courses through your body, her words having a very clear effect on you. your hips start moving on their own, meeting each thrust of her fingers with desperation. the scene is downright pornographic, the sound of your arousal filling the room, mixing with the whimpers and moans you can’t hold back. 

“abby,” your hands are clutching at her shoulders, nails leaving little half moons on her skin. “please — don’t stop.”

    “i wont, i’ve got you sweetheart.” 

    her thumb brushes over your clit, and the added sensation has your back arching. her lips find yours again, capturing your noises. it’s absolutely messy, desperate, and consuming — like she wants to devour every sound you make. 

    your legs start to shake around her, the pressure building inside of you about to snap. “abby, i’m —“ you try to warn her but the words are cut off with a guttural moan. 

    your orgasm crashes over you and you’ve never felt so euphoric. it feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning and it’s only the two of you. her fingers still work inside of you, but it’s much more gentle and slower, similar to her pace before. 

    “thaaat’s it, angel. just ride it out,” she whispers, rubbing your back soothingly in attempt to help you come down. “so, so beautiful.” 

     your forehead rests against hers as your breath comes back to normal rate. abby gently withdraws her fingers, her touch careful and reverent, watching your body language. 

    “you okay?” she asks, analyzing your face for any unspoken words. 

    you nod, giggling as you slump down further into her embrace, “more than okay.” 

    a wave of relief washes over her, planting another kiss on your shoulder. “i’m glad, let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

🏷️ : @ellieslosttwofingers , @sapphichounded , @macabremilieu , @polarhues , @iris0-0 , @velvetinkbym , @jinxedbambi , @hyazinthx , @plum-coke , @dyk3miffy , @pornoangelz , @while-my-angel-weeps

[bunny-jpeg]

heart-pounding satisfaction

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, teammates au, driver!reader, mean!reader, (implied) sub!max, reader is a bitch (affectionate), mean & degrading language (also dirty talk), face sitting/masturbation

a/n: i can imagine fans hating the reader for being so vocal, especially towards max, but in the world of formula one, it's do or die. i need these fuckers to get nasty!! this fic is also nasty as hell, don't look at me....

max had fucking lost it. he was convinced he had lost it. you two had been teammates for close to six months now. three months of off season, three months of the twenty-twenty-five season. and you drove him up the wall.

this was a teammate up in the making, red bull's savior, their prince and the princess plucked from haas and placed in a car next to him. it should all be roses, singing birds and happily ever after.

but you couldn't be more disinterested him. almost hostile. as you said to the press, "i am here to win. i respect max's previous teammates, but i won't fumble because someone needs a fifth title." not even glancing over at your teammate.

after that, other women felt boring. any city on the globe, he could easily find a lovely lady for the evening. someone to spoil with orgasms and a rocking bed, a tale for her to tell her friends the following afternoon. but lately it had felt like the only thing that got him excited was you. when you were mean.

it had been a long time since someone was mean to him. aside from comments online or snide comments from other drivers. everyone knew he was in charge, and his teammate should be second on command. but you had zero interest in that. he hadn't complained, and instead played along with the niceties of teamsmanship. he only did it because he didn't want it to stop.

he liked it, he liked it a lot.

and while max was in a self inflicted dry spell. you were taking a liking to the new found fame you've acquired. max had gone to get you from the hotel room a few times and every time a man had sheepishly left your hotel room.

"sorry, mate." they'd often say. that or, "holy shit, it's max verstappen." and only scurry off when max glared at them. willing to give these guys some action, but not your teammate? cruel woman.

regardless, he let your words tumble off your tongue. venom that turned into honey in his brain. the more you spoke, the more he wanted to jerk off. you had ruined him without a second touch.

as you lazily held the trophy for the canadian grand prix in your hand on the way back to the hotel in montreal. you leaned up against the wall of the elevator and laughed, "fourth, verstappen." your tone mocking, "i'm pretty sure if you were less of a bastard on the second turn you could've given stroll the podium he wants. he could've over taken piastri... you could've as well, but you've become comfortable."

max swallowed and the elevator door opened. he didn't exit until you did first. you reached around him and pulled him close to you. you looked marginally up at him and he said, "i...i'll win next time." he could already feel the red in his face.

you laughed, "sure, sure, verstappen. why, is daddy coming to visit?" you gave him a mocking look. you acted like you weren't heavily scarred with your own daddy issues. you at least had the option to never mention the man who pushed you until you broke through any barriers to get into f1.

he hated that he was getting aroused. that he could feel the spike in his soul as his heart skipped a beat. it could be cute if another woman was mean to him. but when you did it, it blew a fuse in his mind.

you laughed and looked at him, "you gotta get over it one day, max. if you don't that fucking bastard is going to outlive you." there was a moment of honesty, "if i want to beat you, i'd like you alive." then squeezed him for a moment more.

he swallowed then asked, "do you hate me that much?"

you pulled away and stalled in your step for a moment, you collected yourself quickly and said, "no... as much as you'd love to hear it. i don't hate you." you looked at him briefly, "you love being the villain. the lion, mad max, whatever else they call you. i'm just giving them the drama they want." you looked at the trophy, "beating you is just half the fun." you went to open the door to your room and max pressed himself up against you which made you drop the trophy and get squished between his solid body and the harder door.

"be mean to me. fuck... be fucking nasty with it." the words poured from his mouth, "just, be brutal." he swallowed, "but please, just give me a taste of you. i hate those bastards that get to fuck you every weekend. get to feel and taste you." he pressed you further, "give me a hard time and let me have my way with you."

you exhaled deeply and felt a quickening of you heart rate. you were quick to respond, "well then, verstrappen. why don't you make yourself useful and help me get my key out."

you could already hear the cheering in max's head as he helped you open the door. that you only assumed grew louder when you two started kissing. your arms wrapped around him as you got into the room backwards, your trophy left behind in the hallway. almost tripped over your shoes, but clothes were of little issue once max got your red bull branded t-shirt of you.

clothes tossed variously throughout the room before you two ended up in bed together. you rank your fingers down his chest and exhaled deeply. "you're a pain in my side, max. from the moment i met you. you were always the golden boy, the champion. god's gift to racing." you pinned him down on the bed and he shuddered.

"k..keep going." the heat was high in his face. he could feel the stagger of his heartbeat. it felt good. your words sounded like heaven, but yet it sank him down to the pits of hell.

"oh my god, you're pathetic! do you hear yourself, max? four championships and you're still chasing a prize that you'll never get." you straddled his chest and put your hands on his jaw. you looked down to stare in his eyes, "but yet you live in my head rent-free."

he exhaled, "imagine what you do to me." grabbed your hips and pushed your cunt over his mouth and nose. he gripped your ass and pressed your sex against his face and groaned loudly.

you had to brace yourself with your hands so you didn't go nose-first into the wall. his pace was brutal on you, his licks were sloppy. he was messy with his movements in a desperate attempt to bring you pleasure.

he was less like a lion and more like a desperate dog. you moaned loudly and held your position against the wall as he desperately ate you out. like a man starved.

you really had burrowed into his brain and invade every empty space in his skull until his thoughts were swamped with you.

"jerk yourself off, you useless idiot." you spat, "you're so used to girls getting you off. if you want to get off, you actually have to work for it. can you do that? actually work hard for something." you clenched your thighs around his head.

max kept one hand on your hip and the other around his leaky, achy cock. he groaned as he pleasure himself. it was hot, to see a sort of moral collapse on a four time world champion. that even a man with power, could be reduced to a moaning slut. you wondered how wet you could get lips.

if your wetness could stain his mouth as he made pleasure shoot through your body. you held onto the wall with one hand and a his short blond hair with the other. you shuddered and felt your nipples grow hard, "this feels fucking wrong." you yanked on his hair which only made him jerk himself off faster, "you have driven me crazy. everything you fucking hard, most would kill for. i at least want to give you a run for your money. actually make the wins feel real, because when i take over. when i beat you, it'll only make the victory sweeter." you arched your back a little more and moaned loudly.

the movements only continued and you felt the pleasure course up your body. the heat in your breathing as you closed your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. you croaked out through an intense feeling of pleasure, "fuck, max. i didn't know honestly that you got off to it." you panted heavily, "if i knew, i would've been nicer. but knowing your perverted ass, you would've gotten off to it. you would've loved if i was gentle and mean to you. a firm yet cuddly hand." you let out a sharp exhale and a small moan.

max would easily admit that any attention from you would go right to his cock. he continued to tease the blunt head as he orally pleasured you. the feeling of your thighs on his face and head. your pussy right up to his mouth and nose. he could feel the lack of oxygen, but it only increased the pleasure in his body. he felt like a live wire, he felt like a hurricane. it was an intense feeling that pounded in his chest. it left him sexually starving, a lion without a feast as he devoured you. and the way you tugged on his hair only drove him more mad.

"you love being used like that. hoping that i'll give you praise one day. but you're just a stupid, stupid boy. a toothless lion, a failure to your country. and your fucking family. you're a failure to me and that stupid trophy we left outside was evidence of that. do better, be better and maybe you'll be someone worth being on the same track at me." your words laced with venom, but held heavy sexual want as the pleasure continued to course through your body. your chest heaved and your pulse pounded. it felt hot, you felt hot. it was erotic in a way that would make most disgusted.

how dare the world champion be used like for your sexual gratification. while he pathetically jerked himself off. you allowed him to breathe out of his nose and his pants were heavily as air allowed blood to be pumped to somewhere other than his cock.

you hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to orally pleasure you, "you deserve to be some low-level job. get off the track and make yourself useful by picking trash off the stands." it only made him jerk his cock off harder. you panted heavily as the words tumbled out as pleasure near hit its peak, "get out of my way, i refuse to be second fiddle to you. i refuse to be in your shadow." you clenched your thighs around him tighter, "i am better than you, max verstappen." your voice toxic.

but yet, it made max cum all over himself. he groaned loudly and panted against your cunt as he continued to stroke himself to overstimulation while he continued to lap at your cunt hungrily. max had lost it, he had officially lost it.

it was the most erotic thing that he had ever been a part of. and years and years of a life like this had made him experience many interesting things. this topped everything. you groaned once more and felt the pleasure curl up inside of you.

it was becoming too much, with one more slew on words, "you cum to me calling you weak.. huh? interesting. i guess the great max verstappen is weak just like every other man. why call you a god of racing when i can make you whine and beg like a dog." you coursed under your breath. and then you came. you admitted to yourself, it was the closest to heaven you had ever be. damn max verstappen, damn him. you slowed your pace down and got fully off of his face before you got into bed.

he wiped his face with his hand and tried to go in for a kiss, but you put a hand over his mouth. you looked at him dead in the eyes. he looked at you quizzically.

"oh, you're not shutting me up until i can make you squirm with my words, verstappen. now get yourself hard again, i'm not done with you." <3

[multific]

The Gladiator’s Empress

Lucius Verus x Reader

Summary: He choose you, and you had no other choice.

Lucius’s rise from a skilled gladiator to Emperor was a tale told across the Empire. 

A story of determination and skill. 

You first saw him in the Colosseum, his fierce presence captivating the crowd, though it wasn’t the adoration of the masses he desired, it was you.

He became obsessed, his eyes finding you in the sea of faces each time he fought. 

After a while, he didn't even have to look.

You had a specific place where you liked to sit.

Though you didn’t know it at the time, Lucius’s victories weren’t merely for glory or freedom.

They were for you. 

When he became Emperor, his first rule was one that surprised you, he wished to marry you.

Fear filled your heart when you heard the news. 

Lucius was known for his ruthlessness in battle, his unyielding will, and his obsession with victory. 

You imagined a cold, authoritative man who would force you into a loveless marriage, one where you would be nothing more than a trophy.

A nice piece by his side.

Your parents were thrilled by the chance, a union with the Emperor would elevate your family beyond anything they had dreamed. 

But you, with uncertainty in your heart, didn’t share their enthusiasm.

The day you were summoned to the palace, you braced yourself for an encounter with a tyrant. 

Instead, you found Lucius waiting for you in a beautiful garden, surrounded by blooming flowers. 

He rose from his seat when you arrived, his expression softening at the sight of you.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, his voice gentle, surprising you. “I have no intention of hurting you. I only wish for you to give me a chance.”

His words were unexpected, and you found yourself speechless. 

He wasn’t what you had imagined. His eyes were intense and yet they held a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius smiled faintly, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Because from the moment I saw you, I knew there could be no one else. You made me want more than battles and blood. You made me dream of a life beyond the Colosseum.”

His honesty surprised you, but your fear didn’t vanish overnight. 

Still, you agreed to get to know him before making any final decision.

"I wish to get to know you first. If you truly care about me as you claim, you would understand."

"I greatly appreciate the chance, My Lady." 

In the weeks that followed, Lucius showed you a side of him that the world rarely saw. 

He was patient, never demanding more than you were willing to give. He walked with you through the palace gardens, listened to your thoughts, and even laughed at your sharp wit.

One evening, as the sun set behind the palace walls, you found yourself alone with him in the grand hall. The flickering light of the torches cast a warm shine over the room.

“I was wrong about you,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “I thought you were ruthless and cold. But you’re not.”

"I’ve fought many battles, but winning your heart has been the greatest challenge of all.”

A smile played on your lips, and for the first time, you didn’t feel fear when you looked at him, you felt something far deeper.

The night he proposed again, it wasn’t as an Emperor demanding a bride but as a man asking the woman he loved to spend her life with him.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, holding out a simple ring, his voice trembling slightly. “Not because I’m Emperor, but because I love you.”

“Yes, Lucius. I will marry you.”

The wedding was a grand affair, but despite the grandness, all you could focus on was Lucius’ unwavering stare and the love shining in his eyes. 

He had proven you wrong in every way, turning fear into love, doubt into certainty.

As his wife and Empress, you stood beside him, not as an unwilling partner but as someone who had fallen deeply in love. 

And in his arms, you found the warmth and safety you had never expected, but always longed for.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[euphoria-looney]

I Got You On My Radar, Soon You're Gonna Be With Me, "Strategy" By TWICE

Creds to @dollywons for the dividers

This will have a lot of POV switches so get ready 😀

(This has a mother!darling and a daughter!darling, and they are separate from the reader- unless you decide they aren’t 😍😍)

gn!reader (if I accidentally make them seem too feminine, I’m sorry 😞)

Next chapter I'm going to make [name] crash out but not for the reason you think (hopefully not the reason you think)

So Much More.

Pt. 1 Pt.2

Alfred's POV

I couldn't say if I have a favorite among the Wayne family. I've served them for years even now in my old age. Left my own child, Julia, to train to be at my side, servicing the Waynes.

If you had to ask me to narrow down who was my favorite though, it would have to be young master, [name].

They aren't trained to be assassins, vigilantes, or even able to tame feral animals, instead, they excel in normal activities. I remember the first time they approached Master Burce, eyes that had stars glow in them. They wanted to invite Master Bruce to a ballet recital. They danced with such grace and perfection that many had asked them to continue the said sport. Professionally.

However, they had no time to spare as they raced down to see me, looking around frantically, and excitedly, it hurt my heart to see their eyes dim down so quickly after finding out that unfortunately none of their family had come.

Undeterred, they kept trying figure skating, football (soccer), and volleyball. They'd try the music pathway once they noticed sports didn't work. They excused the absences starting with opera since "opera was boring and easy anyway; maybe instruments are more interesting." They tried the violin, cello, organ, and harp. Still nothing.

Of course, it wasn't just these events that the family missed out on, it was also their birthdays, trophy events, everything. I could only try to support them on the side.

They were a gifted child, one, that had a fire burn so brightly. Till it wasn't.

They never stopped doing the activities, but you could tell they no longer cared if the family attended. I'd go and make excuses for them, and they would brush it off.

Then it seemed they had that fire extinguished when Lady [M/D] and Misstress [D/D] came into the picture.

I could only do so much as I wasn't their personal butler.

Then a day ago was their graduation. I believed I could make it, but the circumstances were too busy and important to go to the graduation. So, today, I hope I can make it up with cupcakes. Today is their birthday.

Imagine, my surprise when they started crying, how I felt such guilt, was it the missed events, or even bigger, the graduation?

None of that. They only said how thankful they were for me. I tried to spend the rest of the evening with them, but it just ended up with me being called to see [D/D] with a new animal. I didn't want to leave them.

I had to though, that is my duty as a butler. To serve my masters.

Another perk about [name] though was how understanding they were.

I should've seen the signs.

A smile and nod gave me all I needed to know that they were going to be okay if I left.

After a long day, I went back to my quarters, to see an envelope.

Sealed in wax with a Lotus flower imprinted on it.

Opening it up and reading the contents made numerous thoughts run rapidly in my mind.

Dear, Alfred

I can only hope this news doesn't affect you in any way. I simply couldn't find it in my heart to tell you in person. I'll be leaving the manor. I've left many things in my room that I hope you mind leaving in there. I don't want years of my work to go down the drain, as you see they hold memorial and sentimental value to me.

That's beside the point, Alfie, you mean the world to me. I don't think I could've made it this far without you. There were days I thought of quitting. Seeing your approval was enough for me to keep pushing myself. Alfie, you are the most capable person I've ever seen in anything. This is why I know my disappearance will help you more by taking the unneeded burden off your shoulders.

Alfie, I hope that when I make a name for myself, you will still look at me with such fondness that makes me feel like a child again, clinging onto you like my last hope, as you always have been. Take of yourself, as that is the most important thing about this message. You matter too much for me to ever forget or let go of you, whether it be through memory or anything else.

With love and appreciation,

[name] [last name]

I re-read that letter, over and over again.

True to their words I never saw them again, but they were wrong about one thing.

They were never a burden on my shoulders. Far from it. They felt like- my child, I raised them up and felt proud of the achievements they managed to get on their own.

I knew I had to understand. It was their choice. One that I didn't want to respect. I wanted to drag them back, but with no leads, how does one even do such a thing?

My only choice was to read their entries and watch recordings they did for themselves to look back on.

But that doesn't do the trick, does it?

I'll find a strategy to bring you back young master, I promise.

Journal 7th

(Entry #1)

I'm going into the 7th grade this year. Honestly, everything sucks. I wish to give up. Alfie has been busy since those two new people came into the house. They seem that they don't want to be here. Honestly, relatable.

Alfie tries but he can never understand me. (GUYS THIS WAS THEIR EMO PHASE, it's so unrealistic 😭)

I have to go, I have an ice skating competition to go to.

(Entry #45)

How is this fair!!! This is so sickening.

I've tried everything and what do I get?! NOTHING.

NoW I'm writing all sloppy! Forget it who says I even need their dumb attention!

Here comes waltzing in this mother-daughter duo!

"Oh~, I don't want you guys"

"But we're obsessed with you!"

WELL SCREW ALL OF YOU GUYS.

SIGNING OFF,

[name] [last name]

Journal 9th

(Entry #1)

It's been two years since [M/D] and [D/D] have entered the manor.

Despite what I wrote somewhere in my old journal, I don't hate them. If anything I feel pity for them. They do something that the family doesn't like and it is like their babies that did something wrong.

Not to mention Damian is always monitoring [D/D] at school and it doesn't help that not even the soundproof wall can block off the sound of Mr. Wayne and [M/D].

It's worse at home than before the family would be busy off doing whatever vigilantes do.

Also, it didn't take a while to find that out. As a kid, I thought they were playing dress-up without me. We'll ignore that though.

Anyway, now as soon as their done doing whatever they're to save the city they rush home to smother those two.

I'm starting high school soon. Slowly I'm changing my style so my hair, and clothing. The hoodie phase was... something.

Anyway

Yours truly,

[name] [last name].

Closing the entries, my thoughts are once again interrupted.

"Where's big sibling [name]?" a child/teenager approached me.

This would be [D/D] with a python on her shoulder.

"They're gone, young mistress." I kneeled down to her height.

"Gone?" The tone was menacingly, annoyed. You could hear the python hissing in agreement with his owner.

[D/D]'s POV

I hated how this family held me in such a possessive and obsessive way, but now I think I understand them.

How could I not when staring at [name]?

My precious sibling. If anything I do have something I appreciate this family for, but if I told them they'd probably annoy me even more, they ignored [name] allowing me to be their one true sibling.

They were special compared to everyone else in this whole world.

It sucked every second, moment, that I didn't spend with them. They give the best cuddles anyone could ask for, and they smelled so good.

I also liked their room, it was so ethereal sometimes. Mostly because they were in there but also because they had customized it perfectly, the decorations. I loved the figurines, the Hironos and Smiskis, the most.

However, the most important thing was the scent.

Did I mention that?

When I had first met them it had been a week since I got kidnapped to this god-awful place, I kept getting smothered and needed to just- get away from it all.

I felt so overwhelmed.

Then they walked in front of me, in this, from what I had assumed, abandoned hallway. It freaked me out and I asked what they were doing in this hallway as I was guessing that his hallway would be closed off or something.

"What are you doing here?! Did one of the freaks send you!?" I directed my anger at them since it would only make sense why I'd encounter them.

"What are you talking about? This is my 'wing' of the house, my room is right over there." They had made a confused face at me.

I felt embarrassed but I shook my head not believing them.

"Are you making this up? Listen as much as I don't want to admit this the only people who are living here are my family and Alfred, the only butler. You certainly can't be a part of this family with that attire, and not once has anyone mentioned you." I looked at them up and down.

"I get that a lot, well not really, I don't talk to anyone other than Alfie." Alfie?

"I'm [name] [la- Wayne. I think I'm older than Duke, so I'd be older than you. We don't really interact..."

"Oh, so you're my sibling." Weird her reaction was normal meeting me... "Well don't bother me like the rest of them." I stuck my head up, glancing at them, which wasn't as they were taller than me by a lot."

"The rest of them?"

"Yeah, they're so annoying, you're cool, for now. But they constantly bother me, going on and on about how I'm their precious little sister, boasting their love to me, notice all the jewelry? That's from them." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh." Their tone had changed seemed distance and the way their eyes sharpened, I didn't even notice.

"You know, I like you, you're perfect, want to hang out?" I batted my eyes at them. Something I wouldn't do in front of the others, they just gush over it.

"I'm busy." They answered shortly, already making their way out.

That made me frown.

"Busy? Doing what? I could join you."

"I'd rather you not, I have a performance to do and have no time to waste."

After that moment I would notice them more and more, that even a second not seeing them felt like my world was dying just to be fixed seeing them at the library. They Looked So Cool!

Flipping through a book, typing faster than my eyes could track, and their note-taking, gosh, that handwriting.

Just to be dragged away by that annoying pest, Damian, he'd be like "Good, you're in the library, I have a bunch of books that we can read together.

No, Damian, I don't want to.

I think I also grew on them, a wee bit.

Not to mention, my pets loved them, even more than they loved me sometimes, ungrateful 🙄.

Then one time, I wanted to skip school, and I knew none of the family would let me, even my mom! She would let me do anything to spite the family but not this, as she deemed education important.

So I maybe, sorta, kind of took [name]'s phone number at one point and called them up.

Damian wasn't near me at the moment. Thank Christ, since we attended the same school, same grade, and everything.

They showed up, sighing, they looked so cool with their windbreaker jacket, those s0ny headphones, the pants, the shoes, and that cool instrument case on their back!

They told the principal that they were my babysitter. Like c'mon, we're siblings. Signed their name really fancy and took me in the car.

One of the best memories as they allowed me to watch them practice at their school as long as I didn't bother them.

So I'm a bit peeved at the news I received today from Alfred.

"Gone?" Seems Copperhead agreed.

My head was reeling as a few days passed and my mom seemed to notice (so did everyone else but who cares about them)

I'll have you on my radar soon, my sweet-hearted [name].

"Honey, is something wrong?" She showed concern.

"Of course not, darling-" Father got cut off

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me" I could feel myself deteriorating even more at that sentiment I just said.

"They what?!" Mom seemed to explode at that moment. Her aura suffocating.

[M/D]'s POV

I had no choice; it was by some coincidence that I bumped into Bruce again. In some way, he tricked me, more like manipulated me into marrying him.

It was hard to adapt, of course, it was, somehow my daughter got used to it quicker than me, every time I did something simple one of the kids, those poor traumatized kids would ask to help me. At first, I didn't mind but they did become overbearing just like Bruce.

Don't get me wrong, they've somehow wormed their way into my heart even that dang handsome Bruce, which makes me show signs of Stockholm syndrome, but therapy is not something I need right now.

Though, they could never top [name].

They reminded me of the woman I met through Bruce, and how she was perfect.

So when I found out that she had a child, I couldn't be even more excited to meet her child, [name].

Even though they had no supporters, even one speck of some kind of light kept them going.

I love my daughter [D/D], but she gave up on doing anything used to being spoiled. That just makes me want to spoil her more though.

[name] did many things. I got an invitation to an ice skating competition. Alfred had handed me two tickets.

"Master [name] would appreciate it if you came to her competition, Lady Wayne." Alfred bowed before leaving."

"Woah!~ [name] ice skates?" [D/D] had stars in her eyes.

"Would you like to attend, sweetheart?" I patted her head.

"Anything to get away from home! Though one of my siblings will bother me again." [D/D] pouted.

True to her words we were delayed to the competition.

The sight that we witnessed though, well, I couldn't even describe it.

"Woah~! They did it! They did the triple axel!"

"Okay, but we all know they could've done a quad axel."

"Shut it, Coral, you got disqualified in figure skating when you were 5 years ago, you don't even know how to figure- much less ice skate anymore."

Apparently, the Axel move was one of the hardest moves to pull.

As they made their way off the podium and to Alfred, they smiled understandably as he made excuses for the Wayne household.

"Congratulations [name]!" [D/D] cheered, it made their smile drop for a moment, I didn't notice though, too enamored by their frame.

"Yes, congrats, I didn't know you had such a talent for ice skating." I gave them a bouquet of roses, which I have to thank that dang Bruce for, or else I would've had nothing to give them.

"Figure skating, but thank you." She accepted the flowers before motioning to Alfred that they were going away.

I was going to stop them, but my phone was getting flooded with messages, and when I looked over [D/D] phone was no different.

"Ah! So annoying! I didn't even get to say bye to [name]!" [D/D] had ruffled her hair out of agitation.

Year after year, my schedule got busy and I could never see them that much.

So tell me why, why in the world did my world have to crash and burn during this dinner that seemed to be perfect.

It even had scallop butre.

"Honey, is something wrong?" I was concerned. [D/D] had been in a bad mood all week.

"Of course not, darling-" Bruce got cut off by me.

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me"

"They what?!" I slammed my hand on the table.

"G-gone? What in the world are you talking about, angel?!" I tried to reason.

"They moved! Left! No one knows where though!" [D/D] cried shoving a piece of food into her mouth. Damian scolded her and tried to pat her back before getting his hand slapped away.

"Calm down." Dick went over to calm [D/D] down and Cassandra went over to rub my arm to console me.

"[name]? Darling, who is that." He chuckled, in that stupid possessive way, which would've made me drop this but this was his child!

"Your child! Yours! Remember! The one that has all the trophies!?"

"Trophies?" Tim chimed in.

"don't worry mom, They aren't that many trophies I've earned," Jason added in.

For god sake you pricks! Are any of your names, [name]?!

"I think they are referring to [name] [lastname], masters." Alfred brought out the dessert, his thoughts seemed to also be clouded.

Realization seemed to hit, starting off with Bruce and then spreading.

Who cares about them though.

Don't worry [name], soon you're gonna be with me.

Guys were already making our schedules for next year and being an academic weapon I am I signed up for all Ap.

Junior year is going to kick my ass.

Also

“I can write descriptions”

“Well I can write dialouge”

Man, I can't do either, unless… 😏 y'all beg to differ/j

Jk I feel confident on my writing, I just need validation 👁️🫦👁️

@cozmie @nxdxsworld @overcaffeinatedfreak @strwberryglass @leiiasurez

(Guys why is my taglist not working 😞)

[moongreenlight]

Headcanons for Captain John Price and his VERY young housewife.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Like unsure if you’ve graduated university yet young. Like he’s gotta be 13 years your senior at minimum. And he eats that shit up. Loves the way people stare and whisper when he parades you around, massive hand planted just above your ass

He’s like Simon in that he prefers you stay at home where he can keep you safe. Hires maids and housekeepers and cooks so your only responsibility is lounge and look pretty. You’re his biggest trophy. Like a prize show cat. Keeping you groomed and pampered and happy. Purring into his hand the moment he comes home.

Lowkey gets so sour when you send the cook home for the day and make dinner yourself. Not that you aren’t a fantastic cook, he just doesn’t want you to lift a finger. Doesn’t like the idea of you accidentally cutting yourself with a kitchen knife or burning yourself on a hot stove. Wants you to just be a trophy on his shelf.

Doesn’t even like the idea of you showering by yourself. Gives you bubble baths so that he can be sure you’re perfectly preened because obviously he’s the only one that knows exactly how to take care of you.

LOOOOOVES that even though you’re so young you fit in perfectly with the other housewives in the neighborhood. Going to spin classes in the early morning, book club, brunch, shopping at the most expensive grocery stores.

Literally treats you like a pedigreed cat. Weekly manicures and pedicures that he’s put his card on file for. You just walk in and they know you’re Price’s wife and that your appointments are prepaid.

And pre-tipped obvi. GENEROUS with his money when it comes to you. And there’s probably a note under your profile that you’re to be paid careful attention. God forbid they accidentally graze your skin with the nail file and hurt his pretty kitty.

Facials and hair appointments biweekly that are the exact same way.

Your picture is posted at the gate of the base because all the guards are expected to know their chain of command and wave them in without question. He just loves that your status as his wife is enough to get you the VIP treatment you deserve.

His ultimate goal is to make you a young mom. Even though you’ve only been married for a year and you’re like 22 he’s actually so pissed that you’re not bouncing a baby on your hip.

Bet he loves the idea of his kids getting bullied because their mom is hot.

Brings you around base for the sole purpose of showing off. Purposely leaves his lunch at home just so you come see him.

The first time you ever met the task force boys he’d asked you to bring something DUMB up. Like a water bottle or something. Who cares. You end up accidentally interrupting the meeting they’re having and Price pulls you onto his lap before introducing you as his wife. Soap and Gaz are kicking each other under the table. Swear to god Gaz does that cartoon gulp. Soap looks like he’s about to explode.

Probably calls you his ‘old lady’ but with the most disgustingly smug smirk on his face.

Btw if you even care you’re such a trophy to him and he’s so invested in his team that he wants to share you with the guys. There’s no ‘I’ in team. So confident in knowing that he’s the only one that can truly pamper you properly that he doesn’t mind using you as leverage to get them to perform well.

Oh Soap did really well on the last mission? He can come to dinner with you guys. Price will dress you up nice and let Soap wrap his arm around your waist when you walk in. Then Price will invite him back for a nightcap and instruct you to drop down between his thighs. Coaching you through the process of palming him through his trousers, unzipping them, springing his cock free from his underwear, taking just the tip into your mouth. Being soooo nice about letting you take your time adjusting your throat. “It’s different, doll. I know. Being so good.” Until he finally snaps and fists the back of your hair, pushing you all the way down so that the room is echoing your lewd, wet gags and moans. He doesn’t let Soap come in your mouth, though. That’s a luxury only he can afford.

And you’re soooooooo happy to do whatever John asks. He treats you so well. The least you can do is oblige his requests every once in a while. He asks so little of you. Plus no other cock compares to his. Even after getting fucked dumb by Ghost, drooling down your chin, you find it in you to look for him. Pupils blown-out, whining softly up to him. Weak and slurring “Need you, daddy. Need you.”

That last part is only if you care tho. I’m normal about it. It’s fine.

[sunni-stuff]

Knight Johnny and Simon tasked with taking care of their kings beloved daughter. She's a gem and deserves nothing but the best in regards to security. A job only they were deemed worthy enough for. The kings daughter, a living treasure, required their constant vigilance.

Failure was not an option.

Your timidity startled them upon introduction. Their king's daughter - so meek? You mumbled, eyes averted, fidgeting with your silk gown.

They anticipated a bolder spirit, akin to your sister. She daily paraded knights Kyle and Price through the village, flaunting them like trophies. Her sharp tongue challenged them at every turn. Yet the duo knew how those knights truly managed their princess behind closed doors.

You were clearly the calmer choice out of the rest.

The first couple days, you gave them no strife, an obedient thing who likes to keep to herself and read in the library. A harmless gem. So why did the other servants regard you with such cautiousness.

"Do not let her fool you." A servant whispers hastily, their steps as quick as their warning.

Johnny scoffs, the warning falling on deaf ears. His princess reigns supreme, unblemished. You? A fragile creature in his eyes - wobbly legs, wide-eyed naivety. Soap erases concerns, leaving only blind adoration.

Across the room, Ghost's eyes narrow. Your fearful gaze meets his, then darts away as if scorched. He silently absorbs the warning, his intense stare lingering.

Innocence's wings concealed mysterious. What laid beneath your angelic facade?

Inside the castles keep, Simon shed his armor, his blunt words filling their shared chamber. "The princess doesn't sit well with the servants. We'd best tread lightly."

Johnny lounged on his bed, eyes closed, arms cradling his head. "These walls thrive on gossip," he retorted. "You, of all people, should know better than to indulge it."

Simon, stripped of his knights garb, turned to face Johnny, a twinge of mirth in his eyes. "Yer just saying that because she's not giving you work."

"A likely assumption."

"Likely? You end up nodding off in the archive with how quiet it is."

"Really now? And what about you getting all red eared when she offers you to sit for tea. You don't say anything then."

The pair continue their banter back and forth, their "friendship" one formed through bonds on the field and off.

Their banter could've lasted the entire night if it weren't for a gentle knock against the wooden door, causing them to halt.

Simon tensed. His first instinct was to reach for his sword, Johnny, however, already made to the entrance. No one ever visited them this late or even had the courtesy to knock. Cautiously, he opened the door, only to be met with you.

Candle in hand. You stood draped in purple silk. Your nightgown's trim trailed behind you. Johnny's eyes met yours briefly, taking in your sweet expression. His gaze then wandered downward, drawn to your décolletage - your breasts pushed up enticingly, spilling over like frothy ale in a brimming tankard.

"Jewel, what are you doing here?" Soap inquired, peeking his head out of the threshold to ensure no one else wandered the halls. "Come inside, it won't do good for your reputation if you're seen."

Johnny's gentle aura drew you near while Simon's barriers held you back. The candle flickered on a nearby table as you approached the stoic knights. Nightfall had brought silence, the servants long gone. Loneliness crept into your room, driving you to seek comfort in the oddest of places. "Might I rest here tonight?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper in the dim chamber.

Johnny crumbled right there. How could he say no to his princess? With a guiding hand pressed against your back tenderly, he leads you further inside. "Of course. You just have to leave before sunrise, my lady."

Clad only in underwear and an incongruous helmet, Simon looked absurd. "Johnny, this is bloody insane," he hissed. "If rumors spread, we're dead men walking. And her reputation? Shattered beyond repair."

Johnny tugs you onto his bed, smirking at Simon. "We'll be stealthy, jewel," he whispers, making room beside him. Your drowsy nod seals the deal. He drapes the covers over you both, triumph gleaming in his eyes. Who would turn down sleeping next to a princess?

Simon's fury simmered beneath the surface. Jealousy and caution warred within him, but he couldn't change the outcome. "Your choice, your consequences," he growled. Snuffing out candles, he retreated. His heavy steps and angry shuffles punctuated the air as he returned to bed, seething silently.

Simon's ears perked up late in the night. A wet sound broke the peace, followed by hushed whispers and moans. Until then, only slumbering knights, watchmen, and crickets disturbed the tranquil darkness. Now, an unsettling change rippled through the air.

"Shh, jewel," Johnny's voice cautioned.

"J-Johnny—I'm trying—"

Simon froze.

Johnny's whisper had pierced the silence and your muffled response - your voice, trembling, sent Simon's heart into a frenzy. His eyes fluttered open behind his helmet. Heart racing, he peered into the darkness, straining to glimpse the unfolding scene. Your stifled moans confirmed his suspicions, sending a shiver down his spine.

---

A/N

Trying out a new writing style, I don't like the way I write usually bc it seems way too casual? So wordhippo and analyzing some of my favorite writers on here are like toast and butter.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ onlysainz (smau) ੈ✩

pairing :carlos sainz x fem reader ( piastri best friend )

summary : the admin chooses red

fc: Thylane Léna-Rose Loubry Blondeau

a/n : This is the series end, I know it was a short one , I might make a prologue though ! it was requested anonymously, thank you for requesting it 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norizz, ospastry, chillijr and 137 others

mcynburger why are all men in my life clean shaved ?

view comments

ospastry what now

mcynburger NO, YOU LOOK NICE, YOU DONT GROW ONE

mcynburger Wait, I forgot, YOU CANT EVEN GROW ONE 🫶🏻

norizz 👀

mcynburger PLEASE BET THE GOATEE BACK

norizz oh come on

mcynburger I will set you up with max

norizz done, threw out my razor

max1 excuse me what !?

max1 I AM LOYAL

mcynburger just like you are to red bull 💪🏻

georgey if toto begged me to join like that -

max1 you don’t have 3 wdc now, do you ?

hamsandwich you say that in front of me ?

chillijr hermosa? you like my beard ?

mcynburger LIKE!? LOVE 🧡

mcynburger ask oscar how much love it on you

lordperceval or me

alexmieux I know the sexual fantasies as well

mcynburger ALEXANDRA SAINT MIEUX

mcynburger Well, I won’t say no THE CARLOS SAINZ

albono don’t let love distract you from your target

lilyhye 💀

mcynburger Mate, go have some pad-thai

chillijr wait, if I ask you out you won’t say no?

mcynburger I would be mad if I do

liked by chillijr, ospastry, alexmieux, max1 and 167 others

mcynburger onlyfans ❌ onlysainz ✅

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ospastry WHY IS THERE SO MUCH NAKEDNESS

ospastry y'all so nasty

mcynburger it was hot 🔥

norizz I think I just stumbled on pornhub-

mcynburger THIS IS A CHILD FRIENDLY ACCOUNT

norizz SAYS THE LADY POSTING NAKED SELFIES

lordperceval this is literally my daily view

lordperceval I pray I become Carlos’ boyfriend in next lifetime

alexmieux stay at his house only then

alexmieux also, did you do the dishes ?

lordperceval I could eat off you …?

norizz Oh Lord, this is not your OF

chillijr I look good 👍🏻

mcynburger you always do 🥺

max1 and I thought it was not obvious they love each other

lordperceval you both fucked on first date

mcynburger not the first time 🤭

alexmieux COME TO GC LIKE RIGHT NOW !?

alexmieux YOU GET THAT SMALL ASS RIGHT HERE

chillijr it's not small -

lilyhye if you want the girl gc to approve, stay shut carlos

chillijr it’s not like you guys are going tell y/n to break up

carmenvroom where tf is she !?

chillijr in my bed, sleeping 😴

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 2,754,389 others

mclaren a well deserved podium for the constructors 🧡💪🏻 congratulations @ scuderiaferrari

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user1 PAPAYA FAMILY

user2 why do I feel admin sneaked someone ?

user3 admin fangirling over Ferrari?

user4 admin, Spanish or French 🗿

mclaren Spanish any day 😗

user5 admin is simping over a certain someone

mclaren ssh 🤫 we don't let it go out.

user6 I think the admin has gained another bother 🙂‍↕️

mclaren * blocked *

user7 CHAT, ADMIN IS LETTING PERSONAL FEELINGS SHOW

user8 admin forgetting this is the main account

user9 I swear I only follow mclaren for the admin content

user10 admin right tho, who would not simp over Carlos !?

landonorris me

liked by chillijr, alexmieux, lordperceval and 160 others

mcynburger one red mcfreak please 🔥🎸

view comments

ospastry I see dead people..

ospastry YOU BETRAYED ME

ospastry WHERE IS THE TROPHY !? SHE GOES RUNNING TO HIM

ospastry SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW

ospastry You were my sun, you were my earth

norizz you just googled that -

norizz the font

ospastry oh-

hamsandwich did soemthing happen between you and lily ?

ospastry NO, I WOULD HAVE DIED IF IT DID

ospastry my best friend, my diaper mate, my classmate, the girl who introduced me to the love of my life just abandoned for some red suit guy

mcynburger and then Lily left me for a idiot like you ?

ospastry I AM YOUR BESTFRIEND !

chillijr mi amor ❤️

mcynburger 🥺

ospastry not the Spanish nicknames 🥴

norizz we are telling zac, you traitor

mclaren We do not have any problem with our staff having their respective personal lives - Zak

norizz WAIT- ALL THIS TIME, THE OFFICIAL ACCOUNT FOLLOWS YOU ?

mcynburger duh, it’s my account technically

norizz they heard me bitch?

mcynburger duh, why do you think your salary reduced

norizz I LOVE MCLAREN 🧡

mcynburger @ ospastry dw, I will steal Ferrari strategies and give to you

ospastry Ferrari strategies? Then I can as very much retire with just one win

lordperceval it’s @ alonsomango we need to look out for

strollinginpark or my rich dad issues ?

max1 rich dad perks having to steal Adrian

max1 my car has become Mercedes 2.0

georgey meet you in the track you dutchman

lilyhye can you stop discussing cars while appreciating Carlos and y/n?

liked by mcynburger

alexmieux WE ARE FERRARI WAGSSS

alexmieux LESSGO

alexmieux WE LOOK SO GOOD IN THE MIDDLE PIC

mcynburger Y/n x Alex = best 🫶🏻

taglist : @sainzzreputaticn @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goldenmclaren

@taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @formula1-motogpfan @npcmia @hc-dutch

@nuccibeboo2 @amberjazmyn @nataylia-f1 @fastfactory @sltwins @hoeforlifee

@scarletwidow3000 @kissesandmartinis @d3kstar @mayusaatma @willowsnook

@forza-dolce @velentine @runs-with-sciss0rs @unknownmystery22

@technicallypleaseanttree @lolzzzzzzzzzz @michelleyw81 @awritingtree @tellybearryyyy

[chimcess]

⮞ Teaser Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Coach!Yoongi, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Drop Date: 01/20/2025 Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player.

I never used to think about what came after. Why would I? It felt pointless, like trying to guess the end of a novel when you’re still tangled in the middle. Every chapter rushing by, barely letting you catch your breath. Sometimes, life dangled a dream so vivid, so close, you could almost feel it in your hands. But right when you thought you had it? That’s when life reminded you—pages stop turning. Lights flick off. And suddenly, you’re back in the grind, stuck right where you started.

Normal? No chance. I wouldn’t recognize normal if it jumped out of the shadows and hit me. Normal was for people who punched clocks and sipped lukewarm coffee in beige cubicles. My mornings started when the world was still dark—lacing up my skates, the cold air biting at my face. Stretch until the pain dulled, practice until my routines were burned into my mind like a broken record. The rink smelled like sweat, frost, and desperation, clinging to me as I chased that perfect moment, day in and day out.

That was my life. Until it wasn’t.

From the moment I took my first steps, the ice had been my escape. My personal sanctuary. Each time my skates touched the frozen surface, electricity sparked through me, alive in my bones. My mom, Emily, she saw it first. She recognized that fire in me and latched on, pulling me headfirst into the competitive skating world. She wasn’t just supportive—she was relentless, like a storm barreling down on me, pushing me to be perfect. To her, maybe that was all that mattered.

People whispered behind her back, saying she was living vicariously through me, chasing dreams she’d lost. But I didn’t resent her for it. Her ambition, fierce and all-consuming, burned like a fire. It kept me warm—even when it scorched me. It wasn’t the trophies or the standing ovations that drove me. It was the ice itself. Out there, I wasn’t just a name on a roster. I was free.

Emily had been a skater once, too. But life, cruel and chaotic, had other plans. Her dreams fizzled out, lost somewhere between time and circumstance. When she got pregnant with me, she married my dad, Jim, and watched her ambitions wither like dead leaves. Year by year, regret settled in, until all she had left was me—and the ice. I became her second chance.

She met Jim when she was still a bright-eyed girl in a small town, dreaming big. He came to Michigan for police training; she was restless, yearning for more. They fell in love—or something close to it. Soon enough, I came along, and after a quick courthouse wedding, our lives unraveled. Emily and I left Michigan for Colorado, chasing skating dreams. Jim drifted back to Olympia, Washington, sinking into his routine like it was quicksand.

I became the bridge between them, constantly tugged between my dad’s predictable world and my mom’s fierce drive. Stability—something I longed for—was never in the cards. Emily hated Michigan, so we stayed away. Jim became less of a father and more of a ghost.

The crackle of the intercom yanked me from my thoughts. My knee throbbed, a bitter reminder.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re starting our descent into Detroit, where it’s currently five-eighteen p.m., and a frigid fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please secure your belongings.”

Michigan. I was back, but it didn’t feel like home. It hadn’t for years. And yet, here I was. Family wasn’t a refuge—not with Jim. He felt more like a stranger now, a shadow of someone I used to know. The home we once had? Long gone.

Monday, I’d meet with Dr. Jeon. People swore he was the best, but deep down, I already knew none of it mattered. The moment my skate hit that rough patch of ice, when my body twisted and the world flipped upside down, I knew—my skating days were over.

I could still see it. The rink, bathed in soft afternoon light, the sound of *Swan Lake* floating through the air. I wasn’t competing that day, just skating for the sheer joy of it. Emily and my coach were in the bleachers, discussing my next routine. I built up speed, heading into a fan spiral, when it happened. My blade caught. My leg buckled. I hit the ice hard. Everything went dark.

The plane’s landing gear screeched, snapping me back to the present. My heart raced, the memory fading like smoke. As the plane stopped, passengers scrambled for their bags. I waited, letting them pass, before grabbing my things. The crutches in my hands were cold, unfamiliar. I used to glide effortlessly across the ice, and now, here I was—struggling just to stay upright on solid ground.

At baggage claim, I stared at the mountain of luggage, feeling the weight of it all sink in. How was I supposed to manage with no free hands?

“You need a hand?”

The voice startled me. I turned and saw him—tall, with warm brown eyes that somehow felt like they saw right through me. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me, and my crutch clattered to the floor. I wobbled, reaching out to steady myself, but he was faster. He caught me.

For a moment, the noise, the crowd, everything blurred. It was just us, frozen in time.

“You alright?” His voice was soft, steady, his hands still gripping my arms. I nodded, heat flushing my face as I pulled away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I muttered. He bent down, picking up my crutch. As he handed it back, his eyes lingered on me, not with pity, but with something else. Understanding, maybe.

“No problem.” His smile was easy, casual, but there was something behind it, like he had more to say.

Around us, life resumed its frantic pace—people rushing by, voices bouncing off the airport’s high ceilings. But for just a second longer, it was still only us.

“Need help with your bags?” he asked, glancing at the heap of luggage. 

I hesitated, my pride prickling. “I’ve got it,” I said, even though I clearly didn’t. My knee throbbed in protest.

He didn’t push. Just smiled, unbothered, and shrugged. “Alright. But it’s no trouble if you change your mind.”

As I shifted my weight, feeling the twinge in my leg, I sighed. “Okay, yeah, I could use some help.” The words tasted like defeat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He easily grabbed my suitcase, balancing my smaller bag on top. I clung to my messenger bag, determined to carry something myself.

"Is someone picking you up?" he asked as we walked toward the sliding glass doors, the cold Michigan air sneaking in like a thief in the night.

"No, I'll just grab a cab," I said, weaving through the crowd. His presence next to me felt steady, comforting, like a life raft I didn’t even know I needed. 

“I’ve got my car in the overnight lot,” he offered casually, like it was no big deal. “I could give you a ride if you want.”

For a moment, I hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. “No, it’s okay,” I said, almost too quickly. “A cab’s fine.” But something shifted in his face—just for a second. Disappointment? Or was that just my imagination?

We stepped outside, and the cold hit me like a slap, sharp and biting. I cursed under my breath for not grabbing my gloves. 

He noticed, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile. “Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, pulling my coat tighter. “Something like that.” I should’ve been used to it by now. I grew up on ice, for God’s sake. But standing there in the freezing wind felt different, like the cold wasn’t just outside—it was creeping inside me, gnawing at the edges of something deeper.

“So, where were you before this?” he asked, his curiosity genuine, his breath hanging in the air like smoke.

“Nevada. Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot.” I don’t even know why I was telling him this. I didn’t even know his name.

“We?” He raised an eyebrow, the question soft, but pointed.

“Me and my mom,” I said, my voice quieter now. “She’s never been one to stay put. Wherever she went, I followed.”

He nodded, like he understood more than he should. “A modern-day nomad. Sounds... exhausting.”

I let out a small laugh, more out of habit than anything else. “Yeah, it can be.” But there was something easy about him, something that made this whole conversation feel less strange, less fleeting.

“You staying here for a while?” he asked, his dark eyes locking with mine, the cold forgotten for a moment.

“For the foreseeable future,” I replied, surprising myself with how easily the words slipped out.

“Good to know.” His voice softened, like he was letting me in on some secret only we shared. That crooked smile crept back, and I felt my pulse quicken again. He had no idea what he was doing to me.

I bit my lip, trying to steady the rush of nerves rising in my chest. What was I even doing? Standing here, flirting with a stranger in the dead of winter? This wasn’t real life—it was the stuff of daydreams. But somehow, with him, it felt real. Almost too real.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, his hand lifting to ruffle his hair again. The messy strands fell back into place like he didn’t care—like he knew exactly how disheveled he looked and leaned into it.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. The airport, the cold wind—it all seemed to fade away, leaving just us in this strange, fleeting moment.

“You live nearby?” I asked, even though I knew I should’ve been hopping into a cab by now, getting out of this freezing wind and back to whatever was left of my life.

“Detroit,” he said, his breath fogging in the air like a ghost of something lost.

“Me too,” I said, a little too quickly. “Just moved there, actually.”

“Downtown?” He asked it casually, but his eyes were sharp, as if my answer might mean more than I realized.

“Royal Oak,” I said, nodding. “The old houses there... they’re beautiful.”

“They are,” he agreed, and there was something in the way he said it, like he was noticing things I didn’t even realize I was showing. His gaze flicked between my eyes and my lips, and for a moment, the air between us stretched thin, a fragile thread pulling us closer until a sharp gust of wind snapped it, jolting me back to reality.

"Welcome to Michigan," he said with a laugh, his voice warm against the icy air. Without warning, he reached down and took my bare hands in his. The warmth of his touch jolted through me, electric, racing straight to my core. For a second, I swore the ground shifted beneath us. Something unspoken buzzed between our hands.

“We should get you a cab,” he said, glancing down at my frozen fingers, his expression softening with concern. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather.”

"Yeah, I probably should’ve planned better,” I admitted with a laugh, still caught up in the warmth of his hands, the way they made everything else feel just a little less cold. 

He waved down a cab with the ease of someone who’s done it a hundred times. I watched him as he loaded my bags into the trunk, every movement feeling like a countdown. And then, when he opened the passenger door for me, I hesitated. I stood at the edge of that moment, torn between the part of me that wanted to leave and the part that wanted to stay, just a little longer.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, looking up at him, my heart thudding hard in my chest.

“Jungkook,” he said, his voice soft, that crooked smile still tugging at his lips. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I replied, the name slipping out of my mouth so naturally it felt like it was meant for him, like it was always supposed to be said here, in this cold, surreal moment.

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was testing it on his tongue, like it was something fragile and precious. He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Y/N?" His hand hovered near my shoulder, his voice even quieter now, almost as if he was about to share a secret meant only for me.

And suddenly, the world around us—everything—fell away. The cold, the noise, the blur of people rushing past. It was just him, standing there with that crooked grin, making me wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of whatever this was.

“Yeah, Jungkook?” I asked, my breath catching, anticipation curling low in my stomach.

“My friends and I... we hang out at this bar on Grand most Tuesdays. Billy’s?” He said it like a suggestion, but it felt like more. Like a bridge to whatever might come next. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”

A thrill shot through me, quick and unexpected. This wasn’t just some random, fleeting connection. He wanted to see me again. “Yeah,” I stammered, my voice barely steady. “I could swing by. Once I’m settled in.”

“Great.” His whole face lit up, and it was like watching a door creak open, revealing something softer, something vulnerable underneath. "I’ll see you around then, Y/N." He stepped back, shut the door behind me with a quiet finality.

As the cab pulled away, I turned, craning for one last look. He waved, easy and casual, and I lifted my hand in return, my heart still racing. Part of me wanted to freeze this moment, hold onto it before it slipped away. But the cab turned the corner, and just like that, he was gone.

I slumped back in the seat, exhaustion settling in like a heavy weight. I rested my head against the cold window, letting the chill ground me. This wasn’t just some daydream—it was real. And yet, as the city lights blurred by, doubts started creeping in, shadows curling at the edges of my mind. Would I really show up at Billy’s? Or would I let this whole thing fade, convincing myself it was just a fluke? 

But then I thought about him—Jungkook. That crooked smile. And a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... What if?

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[rikosseen]

Shintaro Yamazaki x Reader: Predawn

Anon request

The Yamazaki syndicate is full of weirdos. Hot weirdos. And amongst these hot weirdos, Yamazaki Shintaro holds the golden DILF trophy. It’s not like you had anything better to do than to gawk anyway. Fulfilling clan duties, cleaning up whatever you needed to, spying on Somi Park and the other ladies- what’s a woman to do with such a repetitive lifestyle?

Previously, the main objective for your presence was to carry the future heir for Yamazaki. However, before even meeting Shingen himself, news had spread across the clan that a child with reverse eyes had been born.

And so, to prevent your family from embarrassment for not fulfilling your duties, your days were spared working as- well- a maid. A servant, if you will. Not the brightest role, but it was something. And hey, at least your insides didn’t get destroyed by big, Tora Oni dick.

Anyway.

Today’s a nice day. It’s sunny, but not unbearably hot. There’s even a cool wind breezing around. What makes it nicer though, is that Shintaro’s blessing your eyes with his presence.

God, look at those forearms.

Could a man of his calibre be seduced? Probably not, but what did you have to lose? You’re scrubbing floors for crying out loud. So, shamelessly, you sit on your knees, looking up at the hulk of a man in front of you.

Shintaro isn’t stupid. And while he doesn’t care too much for his looks, even he can’t deny the amazing traits that the Yamazaki genetics has been able to carry. So of course he notices your bulging eyes. Of course he’s aware of your staring- of your drooling even.

The man doesn’t complain though. Your behaviour is… amusing. In the dead atmosphere of the syndicate, your presence brings humour. To complain would be to form contact with you. And, well, Shintaro’s adamant on thinking that there’s no need for him to initiate conversation. After all, he has better things to do.

.

You swiftly wipe the bead of sweat from your forehead, and sit on the ground. It’s 5am- the sun’s not up yet, but you figured it’d be in your best interest to finish chores early so that you’d have more free time during the day. Needless to say, the morning was a productive one.

“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”

You jump at the voice beside you, heart thumping against your chest.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh god, he’s so close.

The man looks down at you with his default, bored expression.

“You're up too,” you say, voice cracking.

Ugh, how embarrassing.

Shintaro hums, and showcases the paper in his hand.

“Don’t you get bored with the same routine everyday?” you joke, shifting and fiddling with the grass beneath you.

His face turns solemn, and he seems hesitant, but after giving you another look, he sits down beside you cross legged. You grip on the grass a little tighter, sucking in a quick, quiet breath.

“Someone has to keep things in order, no?”

You suppose that’s true. “Doesn’t it weigh on you?”

Shintaro wants to criticise you and tell you how much of an honour it is for him to be in the position that he is. But in the wake of predawn, and the result of the restless nights he’s endured, the Yamazaki can’t help but feel a tinge of agreement. Maybe so, but it’s something Shintaro will never voice out. It’s just the sleep getting to him. Actually- he wouldn’t be thinking such ridiculous thoughts if not for you. Maybe he was right to avoid you from the beginning. Doubt clouds his mind now. He glances back at you, and watches as you fiddle with blades of grass.

“I suppose,” he concludes.

.

A schedule breaks out, and you find yourself waking up early. Not to complete your chores, but to see Shintaro again. Time and time again, the Yamazaki joins you on the grass, and the two of you end up talking about nothing in particular. It’s mainly you doing the talking, but regardless, Shintaro listens.

He doesn’t say anything unless absolutely necessary. The man feels it too dangerous to even be in contact with you like this. His thoughts are never kept at bay during these predawn shenanigans. But somewhere deep inside him, he’s grateful. Grateful for the serene warmth you provide. Shintaro doesn’t complain. He doesn’t need to. Because slowly, even he’s finding excuses for why he’s sacrificing his sleep to be here.

[lizzyiii]

just wondering 👉🏼👈🏼 when the next update of his lady love will be? i’m just so excited for the next chapter im OBSESSED with the story 👻

I'm so sorry I took this long, I've been having a mental block with this

His Lady Love (9)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 3,8k words

summary | finally you make your return back to king's landing and reunite with aemond

tags | hurt/comfort,

note | I'm so sorry I took so long

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The storm had raged for a week, battering the old farmstead with rain and howling winds. Inside, the small prince had finally begun to show signs of recovery. Jaehaerys, once pale and on the verge of death, now had the flush of life back in his cheeks, thanks to the small doses of your ancient vampire blood. His eyes, once glazed and distant, now held a quiet strength. Despite his reserved nature, the boy had grown fond of you in his own way, calling you “munās”

The crumbling farm had served its purpose. Though it was no Red Keep, the rations you had scavenged from Tym’s meager cupboards had been enough to sustain the both of you. Tym, the unfortunate soul whose blood had been your own sustenance, now lay rotting in a closet—his death no more significant than a footnote in a much larger story. The smell of his decaying body was thick in the air, but it hardly bothered you. In your long life, you had smelled far worse.

Outside, the rain had finally ceased. The journey back to King’s Landing would be dangerous, but necessary. You could already envision the uproar awaiting your and Jaehaerys’ return. Let them fret; it was no concern of yours.

You gathered what little provisions were left and tucked them into a satchel, slinging it over your shoulder. The food wasn’t for you, of course, but for the prince. He would need his strength if he was to survive the coming days. As you approached Jaehaerys, he looked up at you with a small, fleeting smile—a gesture that melted your dead heart. Without a word, you draped a thick cloak over his shoulders, pulling the hood low to hide his silver Targaryen hair. The last thing you needed was to draw unwanted attention on the road.

The air was damp and heavy as you stepped outside, the smell of wet earth mingling with the distant scent of the ocean. You hoisted the boy onto your horse, his small frame easily fitting in front of you. The skies were still dark, but the rain had stopped for now. With a flick of the reins, the horse began its slow trot down the muddy path.

As you approached the towering walls of King’s Landing, the familiar stench of sweat and desperation thickened in the air. Your grip on Jaehaerys tightened, pulling him closer to you as your sharp senses took in the chaotic scene ahead. The streets swarmed with restless peasants, their voices a cacophony of rage and despair, echoing through the narrow alleyways that led to the Red Keep.

You focused, your hearing tuning into the mob’s cries. They were angry, starved. "Food! Bread!" they screamed, their desperation palpable. The realization struck you almost immediately—Rhaenyra must have sealed off the city. No traders, no merchants, no supplies flowing in. It was a power play, of course. She sought to starve out the opposition within her rightful walls, but it was the smallfolk who suffered most. Typical.

But it was what you saw next that made even your blood freeze.

Through the throngs of people, a procession of white cloaks—Kingsguard—marched proudly through the streets, their armor gleaming in the dimming light of dusk. In their hands, they bore a horrifying trophy: the severed head of a red dragon. Melys, you thought, the Red Queen, her crimson scales dulling in death.

The thought of Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, crossed your mind briefly, but you dismissed it just as quickly. Daemon was not so easily felled. He was a force of chaos, relentless and unyielding. But Rhaenys... She had fought valiantly for her kin. It had to be her. Aegon had slain her and had the audacity to parade her dragon’s head as if it were some twisted victory.

The crowd grew louder, their protests turning to angry shouts as they watched the grotesque display. You could feel the fear rising among them, but it was overshadowed by the hunger—both for food and for rebellion. The city was on the brink, and Aegon was playing with fire.

Jaehaerys stirred slightly in your arms, oblivious to the grim spectacle unfolding before you. He was innocent in all this, yet he would soon be thrust into the heart of this brutal war. With a final glance at the dragon’s severed head, you urged your horse forward, pulling the hood of Jaehaerys’ cloak lower to shield his Targaryen features. The mob surged around you, but you moved through it like a shadow, unseen and unstoppable.

As you slipped through the shadowed alleys and hidden paths of King’s Landing, the weight of Jaehaerys in your arms was a reminder of just how fragile human life could be. The streets were filled with chaos, but to you, it was nothing. In six hundred years, you had perfected the art of moving unseen, a phantom in the night.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how those men, Daemon had sent, had managed to infiltrate these halls. It was almost laughably easy for you to slip past the guards. They were easily distracted, and you had no trouble avoiding detection.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Aemond, his sharp, striking features, the single violet eye that gleamed with intelligence and ruthlessness. You yearned for him in a way that surprised even you. In all your centuries of existence, through the rise and fall of empires, you had never felt this way about anyone. Aemond had a way of stirring something deep within you—a hunger, not for blood, but for him.

It was strange to admit, even to yourself, but you loved him. In your immortal life, you had seen love twisted and turned into something vile, something manipulative and fleeting. But with Aemond, it was different. His ambition, his fire, even his darkness—those were things you understood, things you were drawn to.

Still, love would have to wait. For now, your priority was Jaehaerys, the boy asleep in your arms, his silver hair tucked away beneath the hood you had wrapped around him. You glided through the hidden corridors of the Red Keep with ease, your steps silent, your presence undetected.

Helaena’s chambers were quiet when you arrived, the door slightly ajar as if awaiting your return. You pushed it open gently, stepping inside to the dimly lit room. Helaena was sitting by the window, her eyes distant and unfocused, lost in her thoughts.

You frowned noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes as the frown that tugged on her lips. “Helaena,” you whispered softly, moving toward her.

Her gaze shifted slowly, her violet eyes blinking as if pulling her from a dream. When she saw Jaehaerys in your arms, her expression changed—a flicker of recognition, of hope. Her lips parted, a gasp escaping her as she stood from her chair.

Helaena breathed out your name softly, her voice fragile, as if uttering it too loudly might cause you to vanish. She rose from her chair, her steps tentative, as if unsure whether you were real or some apparition conjured by her grief. Her eyes glistened with tears, her hands trembling as she reached for you.

You gently placed Jaehaerys in her arms, watching as she clung to him with a desperation that broke your heart. Her tears flowed freely as she kissed his sleeping face, her maternal love rekindled in the boy’s presence. For a moment, the weight of the world lifted from her, her sorrow held at bay by the soft rise and fall of her son’s breathing.

"I knew you weren't dead," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with conviction.

A frown creased your brow, confusion settling over you like a fog. "Why would you think that, Helaena?" you asked softly, your concern growing as you saw the pain etched into her delicate features.

Helaena’s gaze dropped to Jaehaerys as she gently rocked him in her arms, her sorrow palpable in the silence that followed. "Three dead Kingsguard, your carriage burnt to ash... what were we to think?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, the words heavy with the weight of grief she had been carrying.

The shock hit you like a dagger to the chest. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "My carriage... burnt?" The last time you had seen it, it had been intact. And worse, Aemond—he must have thought you perished in the flames.

You could feel the fear rising in you, not for yourself, but for him. What had Aemond been thinking all this time? The very thought of him mourning you sent a pang of sadness through your heart.

You swallowed the rising tide of emotion, forcing a smile to reassure Helaena, though it felt strained and unnatural. Your hand rested gently atop hers, offering comfort the way you always had, with a tender touch and a steady heart. "I am fine, my Queen," you said, your voice soft but firm, hoping your words could ease some of the burden that weighed on her. "Jaehaerys is fine. We are both safe, and that is all that matters now."

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, she seemed to believe you. But you could see the remnants of her anguish still clinging to her, a shadow she could not shake.

Seeing Helaena in such a state—it wounded you, though you could never let it show. You had centuries of practice hiding your own grief, your own longing. But now, with Aemond believing you dead, you felt the familiar weight of sorrow creeping back in.

You had to find him. He needed to know you were alive.

"I have to find Aemond," you murmured, the urgency in your voice betraying the calm you had tried to maintain.

Helaena’s eyes snapped to you, her sorrow deepening as she spoke softly, "He’s changed."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Helaena hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. "The battle at Rook’s Rest," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "He brought down both Rhaenys and Aegon."

You flinched, a ripple of shock running through you. "He killed Aegon?" Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke. Despite Aegon’s many flaws, despite his cruelty, he was still Aemond's brother. How could Aemond have done such a thing?

Helaena shook her head, her expression mournful, weighed down by grief. "No. He didn’t kill him, but he might as well have. Aegon is burnt beyond recognition... A shadow of himself now."

The words hung heavy in the air, and you struggled to grasp them. "Why?" you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. How could Aemond, the man you loved, have let things go so far?

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she pressed another kiss to Jaehaerys' forehead, her voice filled with a melancholy acceptance. "Aegon’s taunts… his cruel words… Perhaps he had enough of being belittled, of being treated as lesser, when in truth, he has always been the stronger of the two."

You could see the weariness in Helaena’s eyes, the understanding of how deep the rift had grown between her brothers. But what you couldn’t understand was how much Aemond had changed in just a week. The man you knew, the one you loved, was fierce and proud, yes, but he had always been measured, calculating. To hear that he had snapped so violently, even against his own kin—it worried you.

But you had to see him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

Without another word, you turned toward the door, your mind already racing with thoughts of Aemond—of the man he had been, and the man he might be now.

Aemond was riding a dangerous high, the taste of victory bitter on his tongue. He had dealt with Aegon—though not as thoroughly as he would have preferred. Aegon still lived, if one could call it living. Burnt beyond recognition, a husk of his former self, barely clinging to life. But it didn’t matter. Aegon was no longer a threat to him, and now, Aemond stood as Prince Regent. His mother’s protests were of no consequence to him anymore. She had forsaken him, after all. Turned her back on him, chosen Aegon despite everything. Well, now he would forsake her.

He clenched his fists tightly as he forced his thoughts away from her disappointment, her judgment. It wasn’t Alicent's rebuke that tormented him now. No, when he allowed his mind to drift, when the battlefield fell quiet and the bloodlust faded, his thoughts always, always came back to you.

And that was a pain he could not bear. The sharp sting in his chest that came whenever he remembered your face, your voice, the way your eyes looked at him with a softness no one else could offer. That softness had been his anchor in a world of chaos, and now it was gone. You were gone. Aemond clenched his jaw, forcing the memories back down, but they refused to be silenced.

You haunted him.

So he clung to the one thing that had never failed him: anger. The rage burned hotter and clearer than any sorrow ever could. Vengeance had always been his closest companion, and now it was the only thing he had left to keep him standing. It was easier to drown in that fire, to let the heat scorch away the grief, than to face the aching emptiness your death had left behind.

Because to truly feel the weight of his heartache—to allow himself to grieve—would be a descent into madness. It would be a slow, deliberate suicide. And Aemond Targaryen would not be destroyed by sorrow. He had survived too much for that.

His face was a mask of cold determination, but inside, the wound you left was bleeding still. Anger was a salve, not a cure, but it was the only thing keeping him alive.

As long as he was angry, he couldn’t be sad. And as long as he avoided sadness, he wouldn’t have to confront the truth: that without you, something in him had already died.

Aemond made his way to his chambers, eager to escape the oppressive weight of the castle and the relentless thoughts swirling in his mind. His steps were heavy, and though he had embraced the cold edge of his anger, exhaustion tugged at the edges of his resolve. He needed a moment, just a fleeting break from the burdens of regency and family strife.

But as he pushed open the door, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the center of his room, with their back turned, was a figure he knew too well. His entire body froze, heart pounding so violently it hurt. His mind, sharp and disciplined, rebelled against the sight before him. It couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real.

Aemond's throat tightened, and he rubbed his eye, the patch over the other itching against his skin as if willing this cruel vision away. His breaths became shallow, harsh gasps escaping him as the figure turned.

And there you were.

The eyes he had dreamt of, that he had mourned for, were looking back at him, alive with warmth and familiarity. "Aemond," you murmured softly, your voice like a balm to his tormented soul.

He stumbled back, his chest heaving with the effort to contain the surge of emotion ripping through him. You moved toward him, your hands reaching out as if to soothe, but he flinched. The pain in your eyes mirrored his own, though he couldn't understand why. He had believed you dead, and now you stood before him. But his mind, ever cautious, doubted the reality before him.

"You're not real," he choked out, the words leaving his lips like a prayer, desperate and broken.

You faltered for a moment, your face contorting with an expression of pain. But it wasn’t for you—it was for him. "I am real, Aemond," you said firmly, your voice unwavering even as his trembled. Then, softer, you added, "As real as the sun and stars, my love."

Tentatively, he reached out, his hand shaking as he brushed your cheek. The soft warmth of your skin against his palm sent a shock through him. His lone eye stung with tears as he leaned closer, feeling the truth of your presence in the softness of your flesh. And when you leaned into his touch, his entire world seemed to shift.

The sob broke from his chest, raw and aching, as he pulled you into his arms with a fierce desperation. He crushed you against his chest, his face buried in your hair, inhaling the scent he had feared he would never experience again. It was real. You were real. His hands trembled as they tightened around you, holding you as if you might slip away once more.

"You're real," he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips in a reverent chant, as if saying it enough times would make it an undeniable truth. "You're alive."

Tears streamed freely down his face as he clung to you, the walls he had built around his heart crumbling in your presence. You had returned to him, and in this moment, the weight of the world, the rage, the grief—it all faded away in the warmth of your embrace. He whispered your name like a prayer, his chest shaking with the sobs he could no longer control.

The two of you had eventually found your way onto Aemond's bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip. The moonlight spilled softly through the window, casting a gentle glow over the room, but all that mattered in this moment was the warmth of his body beneath yours. You lay on top of him, your noses touching, your breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the night.

And yet, he only stared at you, his eye searching your face as if trying to memorize every inch, every detail. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"I don’t understand how," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the confusion and longing in his eye clear as he tried to reconcile your presence with the grief he had been drowning in.

You lifted your head slightly, his gaze following your every movement. Gently, you brought a finger to trail down his scar, your touch soft and comforting. His eye fluttered shut at the sensation, as if the weight of the world lifted momentarily under your fingertips.

"Helaena told me what was believed," you began, your voice steady as you prepared to weave the lie once more. "But the truth is, our carriage was ambushed. The Kingsguard were killed." You paused, then continued with conviction, "I escaped with Jaehaerys. My intent was to return."

His eye opened slowly, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his gaze as he asked in a voice that was unusually soft, "Why did it take so long?"

"The prince fell ill on the journey. My only priority was his health, not how quickly we could return," you explained, your lips pressing together in a thin line. "I'm sorry it took so long," you added, guilt weighing your words, though the truth of your ordeal remained hidden beneath layers of carefully constructed deception.

Aemond's expression softened as you rested your head back against him, in the crook of his neck where you could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. "You're here now," he whispered, his voice filled with relief. It seemed as if that was all that mattered to him in this moment.

The silence between you lingered, a peaceful reprieve from the chaos that awaited outside these walls. But after a while, he spoke again, his voice barely breaking the quiet. "I'm Prince Regent now."

You already knew, of course. Helaena had told you, but you wanted to hear it from him. "Helaena told me what happened to Aegon," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully. You had to know the truth, not from Helaena’s recounting but from Aemond himself. You needed to understand what had happened, why he had done what he did.

There was a pause, a silence that stretched on too long before he finally spoke. "He was not supposed to be there. At Rook’s Rest," he said, his voice low and distant, as if recounting a memory he wanted to forget.

Your hand rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. "What happened, Aemond?" you asked, your tone soft but insistent, though part of you dreaded hearing the answer.

Aemond’s face hardened, his eye staring up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "Aegon got what he deserved," he said flatly, his tone almost indifferent. "He was unfit to rule. Unworthy to sit the throne."

His words hit you like a stone sinking into a well, and though you had expected them, it still hurt. Aegon was not a good man. He was cruel, selfish, and unfit to lead, but knowing that Aemond had taken such drastic action—it was a bitter pill to swallow. The world was better without Aegon’s reign, and yet the weight of Aemond’s decision loomed over you.

You studied his face, searching for any hint of remorse, of conflict. "Was it worth it?" you asked quietly, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Aemond didn’t respond. He simply stared at the ceiling, his silence speaking louder than any words could. And you didn’t push him. You knew Aemond better than anyone; his guilt, his anger, and his desire for power all warred within him.

So you lay there, your hand on his chest, letting the silence stretch on, knowing that in time, perhaps, the answers would come. But for now, you were content to simply be there with him.

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[me-loving-woso]

Today. Tomorrow.

Author's note: Hi everyone! So I know I've been MIA for several months. But I'm back! This fic will be divided into 3 parts cause I've realized that I can't write a short one-shot. In no way am I an expert in medicine. The information is from Greys Anatomy and the internet. I apologise in advance if I offend anyone Summary: You never thought you'd find love under these circumstances, but sometimes, love works in mysterious ways. For you, it came in the form of Aitana Bonmatí.

TW: Illness, Cancer, Surgery, Happy Ending

You've just returned to Barcelona after being away due to your job. You were an art restorer and had established a small company with some friends from university. While you specialized in medieval and Renaissance art, your three partners specialized in Japanese art, antique jewelry, and ancient Egyptian art. Your company's diverse expertise made you wanted all around the world. 

Although managing such a company and traveling extensively at 26 was demanding, you wouldn't trade it for anything. You loved your job and your colleagues, who were also your best friends. Supporting each other through thick and thin made this life worthwhile for you.

That morning, you were driving to your next job. FC Barcelona, yes, the football club wanted you to restore and polish their trophies. They were meticulous about their trophies, and despite the unnecessary level of care, they requested your services every year to maintain them. It was lucrative work with minimal effort. Even though you weren't specialized in that type of restoration, you were willing to assist your colleague and friend with the task since you had little else to do.

As you parked near the Barcelona training grounds, about to pull up the parking brake, you heard an unpleasant sound, like glass breaking, from the back of your car. You hoped it wasn't what you feared. Taking a deep breath, you checked the other side of your car, hoping it was just your imagination. But as soon as you saw the damage and a small woman approaching you with a mortified expression, you knew the worst had happened. She had hit your car. This couldn't have happened at a worse time.

Walking up to the culprit, you were angry. She was about to speak, but you cut her off. "Sorry, miss. How many fingers am I holding up?" You politely showed her two fingers.

Looking baffled, she replied, "Two?"

"Oh, so you have eyes!" you retorted sarcastically. "I guess an SUV right in front of you was too small for you to see." Your anger was palpable.

"I'm so sorry. I-I was overthinking and didn't turn the handlebar all the way to the right," she stammered apologetically. You could see she was genuinely sorry, but in that moment, you didn't care.

"They should revoke your driver's license. You're a menace," you said, crossing your arms and returning to your car. Taking out the accident report, you said, "Let's fill out the accident report so I can be done with you." She nodded sadly and helped you complete the report.

You knew you were being unfair to her. Stuff happens, but this one was the final straw for you.

As you started filling out the report, you noticed her coming back towards you. Despite her being attractive and all, you were too mad to give a damn. Once you wrapped up your part, you handed her the report to fill out while you rang up your insurance company.

After a couple of minutes of you dialing your mechanic and finishing off the paperwork, you said goodbye to the lady and headed to the Barcelona training grounds.

While you were hanging around, you checked out all the team photos with the trophy. The left side had all the guys' photos, with Messi and the 2009 team, while the right side was all about Barcelona Femeni. Your father was a die-hard Barcelona fan; back in the day, you'd go to some games with him. But when you hit high school, you kinda lost interest in football.

As you spotted last year's Ballon d'Or picture, you suddenly recognized her, which made you laugh out loud. You had just had a small car accident with none other than the Ballon d'Or winner, Aitana Bonmatì.

You thought she looked familiar, but it didn’t really click at the time. Well, at least she's better with her feet than with a steering wheel.

When Eva finally showed up at the training grounds, you rushed over to her.

"Hey Y/n, how's it going?" she greeted.

"I'm good. Some car bumped into me about ten minutes ago, but I'm all right."

"Wait what?!" Eva exclaimed, shocked. Since she found out about your condition and all, she's been super protective. "Are you sure you're okay? Do I need to go all out on someone?"

"The damage ain't that bad. And you'll never guess who I had the run-in with."

You pointed at Aitana's photo on the wall. "Aitana Bonmatì?" Eva asked, puzzled.

"Yep."

"Well, at least she's better at kicking a ball than driving a car."

"That's what I was thinking!" you said, pumped. "Now let's get down to business."

A couple of guys from the club gave you the grand tour and hooked you up with a whole room to work in. You offered to take the trophies back to your lab, but they were set on leaving them there.

As you got everything set up, just as you were about to dive in, the bearded dude was heading out. "Just a heads up, the squad might swing by to check out your work. You know, for Instagram and stuff. Don't sweat it; it won't take too long." You gave a hesitant nod, gearing up for your first trophy. 

"Imagine if Aitana walks in here with all her teammates!" Eva quips jokingly as the two guys leave you alone. "I'd pay to see her face when she realizes it's you," she chuckles.

"I think it's the men's team. Otherwise, they would've said it," you comment, preparing your materials.

"How was meeting her?" Eva asks eagerly. She's a big fan of the women's side.

"I didn't even recognize her. I was kinda harsh, actually," you chuckle.

"Luck hasn't been on your side lately, with the car and all," she replies sadly.

"Yeah," you say, feeling a wave of emotions you'd rather not deal with. You shake it off and force a smile. "Let's focus on making some good money. I'd love to have jobs like this every day!"

You start working on Champions League and La Liga trophies. There's a lot, and as the hours pass, you feel even more exhausted.

After a couple of hours, the guy from earlier shows up. "So, the team's about to arrive. Is it okay if we film you?"

Eva looks at you, waiting for your response. "Only if I get some free advertising out of it."

He thumbs up. "I'll tag you in the story."

"You better!" you playfully retort, returning to polishing the 2005 men's Champions League trophy. You fake a smile and wait for the team to arrive.

As soon as you hear female voices, you glance at Eva and chuckle. She whispers a "I told you so" and gets back to work.

When they come in, you make eye contact with Aitana. Her smile turns to shock, then mortification. It takes all your willpower not to laugh. Out of all the people in Barcelona, she had to be the one to hit your car?

You quickly present your work, using fancy words you rarely use and explaining all the procedures. Aitana never comes near you, which makes you feel a bit sorry for her.

Once the cameras stop rolling, some of the players ask you both questions. As they're about to leave, Aitana walks up to you, apologizing awkwardly.

"I'm sorry again."

"Don't worry about it. Let's start fresh, okay?" You offer your hand, and she shakes it, smiling.

"I didn't know you worked with trophies," she adds quickly, not wanting the conversation to end.

Now that the anger has passed, you actually look at her. She's one of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen, and you're a sucker for nose rings.

"I'm actually an art restorer for Renaissance art. I'm here to help my friend with this job."

"That's so cool!" She beams at you. "So, are you going to work on my Ballon d'Or trophy too?"

You glance at Eva, who nods slightly. "Yeah, but probably not until next week."

She looks at you hesitantly. "Can I be there? I mean, it's not that I don't trust you, but I'm just curious, that's all."

"Are you done rambling?" You chuckle lightly at her nervousness. She's probably still embarrassed about the accident.

"Yes, I am," she replies shyly, making you chuckle. There's something about her that draws you in, as if you were meant to be near each other.

"Of course, you can join us. It might be a bit dull for you though, since you're all about adrenaline during your football games."

"I'm just really curious, that's all. I won't bother you, I promise," she reassures you, still smiling.

"I don't think you could ever be a bother," you say before you can stop yourself, turning your head away.

"Well then, as a proper apology, can I bring you coffee tomorrow?" she offers.

"You don't have to, Aitana."

"I insist. How do you take your coffee?"

—

—

—

The next morning, you waited for Eva to pick you up for Barcelona's facilities. Since your car was at the mechanic's, she'd be giving you rides for at least a week. 

As soon as you arrived at the trophies, you got to work promptly.

"So, you think Aitana's actually gonna bring you coffee?" Eva smirks suggestively.

"I doubt it. She'll probably forget. And maybe she was just being polite," you reply, focusing on your task.

"Well, she was all smiles with you yesterday," Eva starts tentatively.

You turn to her, pausing your work. "What? What are you getting at?" you ask, eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"Maybe she wanted something more than your forgiveness. Like your attention, or an excuse to see you again," she smirks.

"You, Eva, have been reading too many romance novels lately," you chuckle, feeling defeated.

"Two is not too many!"

"We've only talked for fifteen minutes."

"Yet it was the first time I saw you smile in a month," she says, making you roll your eyes once again. You're certain Aitana was just being nice. But you can't deny she's cute. And kind. And nice.

"Eva, you know I can't," you say sadly.

"You deserve a shot at happiness too, you know."

"Yes, but I don't think a super hot football player is the answer."

"Well, maybe a super hot footballer isn't the solution, but I know one who promised you coffee," you turn your head towards the door. There she is, with three coffees on a tray, wearing a shy smile. You blush profusely, hoping she didn't overhear your conversation with Eva, but she seems unfazed, waiting for your acknowledgment.

You take a moment to compose yourself before removing your work gloves and standing up to greet her.

"Hi Aitana. Did you manage to park your car properly?" you tease.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" She hands you your coffee and then turns to Eva. "Well, I didn't know what kind of coffee you preferred, so I just brought you the most basic and likable."

Eva looks at her baffled; neither of you expected her to bring Eva coffee or to see her again. "Oh, thank you!" Eva responds before turning back to you, the absurdity of the situation evident in your wide eyes.

She takes a sip of her own coffee, then looks at the trophy you were just working on. "Have you already worked on ours?"

"We wanted to finish the men's trophies first, then do yours next week," you explain. Eva's phone rings, and she excuses herself to take the call, as it was a work call, leaving you and Aitana alone.

“It’s El Prado, I’ll be right back.” 

You sit back down to work, and she curiously comes around the table to your side to see what you're doing. "Don't you have practice today?" you ask.

"We have a rest day," she replies. "Your colleague said El Prado called her, like the museum?"

"Yeah, I have to go touch up some paintings, maybe next month? My schedule's really busy right now."

"You do paintings too?" she asks, surprised.

"I usually only do that. I'm just helping Eva with this job. These trophies are already well taken care of; they don't really need this much attention. But I have to say, LaPorta pays really well," you joke, trying to ease the tension. She chuckles lightly. She has a cute laugh, you think.

"Well, now I'll definitely tell LaPorta!" she jokes back.

"Don't you dare!"

You joke and chat for at least another fifteen minutes. There's something about her that makes your stomach flip in ways you definitely don't want it to. She's attentive, curious, and sweet. She's confident but never boastful, which you find refreshing. 

As the minutes pass, she gradually moves closer to you, coaxing you into letting her help with your work. You gently push her away, chuckling, telling her they don't pay her to restore trophies. But she doesn't budge. She grabs a pair of gloves, picks up her chair, and places it next to yours. She sits down, and you turn to her, wide-eyed at the proximity, but soon focus back on the trophy.

She tucks a loose hair lock behind your ear, asking for your attention. You turn to her, cheeks slightly flushed. "You're distracting me, Aitana."

"Maybe that is my intention," she smirks teasingly.

"Do you want me to lose my job?"

"It's not my fault you're easily distracted. I haven't done anything. I just sat next to you and put on some gloves," she raises an eyebrow.

"And that's more than enough," you utter to yourself.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" You reply hastily, but she smiles knowingly, as if she caught you saying something you shouldn't have.

You two stare at each other, like strangers trying to solve a puzzle on each other's faces. You can't quite figure her out. She's the best footballer in the world, yet she's so much more. Still, you feel drawn to her, as if you're meant to be there with her, and she with you. 

You're probably imagining things and being delusional. You blame it on your period. The silence fills the room, becoming suffocating. It's too intense, too much.

Thankfully, Eva enters the room, and you jump back into action, focusing on the trophy again, while Aitana stares at the floor.

You look at Eva, who's already sending you a big smirk, making you roll your eyes.

Aitana stands up and walks to the door. "I really have to go now. How about tomorrow?"

"What-" 

"Okay. Bye!" And she was already out.

You turn to Eva. “Did I miss something?” She asks.

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

—

—

—

"So, the blood work came back," your doctor says, settling into his chair and opening your file. "You have anemia. Until your hemoglobin levels increase, we can't proceed with the therapy. I advise you to adjust your diet to include more iron and vitamin B12-rich foods. Also, consider taking some vitamin supplements."

You nod lightly, already mentally noting a trip to the drugstore. After a final visit from the doctor, you head home.

This week has been relatively relaxed compared to your previous ones in Italy. You've been working on an undemanding job with your best friend, which couldn't have gone better. Well, maybe it did. Every day this week, she brought you coffee and lingered for at least 15 minutes to chat with you. Even with her busy training schedule, she always made time to talk. You wouldn't discuss deep topics or your condition, but you appreciated how she listened and remained interested in your life.

Occasionally, she'd flash you that beautiful smile, tempting you to throw caution to the wind and kiss away all her smirks and grins.

—

That same morning, Eva was alone at the Barcelona training grounds because you were at the doctor's office. Around 9 AM, Aitana arrived, searching for you.

"Hi, Eva. Is Y/n here?" she asks.

"Y/n isn't here today. She had a doctor's appointment. Did she forget to tell you?" Eva replies.

Aitana's face falls into a kicked puppy expression. "She did. Anyway, I wanted to give her this." She hands Eva a bag. "It's game tickets. She mentioned she's never been to a Barcelona Femení game, and I wanted to change that. Can you please give them to her?"

Eva studies her, trying to gauge her intentions. "You like her, don't you?"

"What?" Aitana's taken aback, clearly not expecting those words.

"I get it. She's a wonderful person. And stubborn. Just don't hurt her; she's already going through enough," Eva warns.

Aitana nods lightly. "I hope to see you at the stadium this weekend. Bye!" With that, she leaves.

—

Two hours later, you return to work. 

"Hey!" you greet Eva.

"Hey! How was the appointment?"

"I have anemia, among other things, so I have to wait for it to get better before starting treatment."

"That sucks. But on the bright side, your footballer came by."

Damn. You were so wrapped up in conversation with her, and also distracted by her presence the day before, that you forgot to tell her you wouldn't be at work the next day.

"I forgot to let her know I wouldn't be here today," you admit.

"I figured. I saw the disappointment on her face when she didn't see you," Eva says, overly dramatic.

"You're being dramatic," you lightly blush.

"Maybe, but she cares about you."

"She's a good friend. It's no wonder everyone likes her."

"She could be more than a friend. I think she's—"

"Again, Eva. You know I can't! Besides, do you really think a girl like her would go for a girl like me?" With every interaction, your feelings for Aitana have grown. You're ignoring them, but you know they're there. Acting on them wouldn't be fair to her. But there's an inexplicable pull that you can't control.

"Y/n, you have qualities not everyone has. If it's a worthiness issue, it's all in your head." Eva hands you the bag Aitana left.

"You know I can't be in a relationship right now."

"Why?"

"You know why. It wouldn't be fair to her."

"Then stop giving her heart eyes. It's annoying, especially when I'm trying to work," Eva chuckles.

"It's not you she's trying to distract," you admit, blushing lightly. "And I don't give her heart eyes." You pout.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," she comments ironically. "But I get it. You've never dealt well with hot women anyway. You're just playing it cool because you're still denying your feelings."

"Stop getting inside my head! Let's get back to work."

That night, you finally open the bag. Inside is an envelope with two tickets to Saturday's game against Atletico Madrid, along with a note.

"I hope you enjoy the game! Since I know you don’t have a jersey, I thought I’d give you one of my old ones."

You pull out the jersey, from last year with the Liga F patch. You subtly smell it, convincing yourself it's not weird. Her perfume lingers, but there's also a scent that inexplicably feels like hers.

The next morning, you wake up an hour early for work. You want to finish an be earlier to surprise Aitana and apologize. Knowing she has a physio appointment ending at 10 AM, you plan to surprise her with a macha latte, just as she did for you all week.

Waiting outside the physio building feels like a terrible idea, making you regret everything. As time passes and she doesn't emerge from the building, you were about to give up. But then, after what feels like centuries, she appears. The look on her face makes it all worth it. She walks quickly to you, still wearing a cute smile.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"I wanted to apologize. I forgot to tell you about yesterday." You hand her the macha. "Plus, this week, it's my turn." You both sit on a bench.

"Is everything okay? Eva mentioned you had a doctor's appointment," she inquired, causing your brain to pause for a moment.

"Uhm, yeah! Just some anemia, but otherwise, I'm good," you fib.

"That must be tough. My mom also has anemia, but fortunately, it's not that serious," she says, switching to a more excited tone. "So, are you coming to the game on Saturday?"

"Of course," you reply, grinning at her excitement.

"You know, since I gave you the tickets, you have to wear my jersey, or they won't let you in," she teases.

"Too bad, I was planning to wear my Putellas jersey. She's the best player on the team. Plus, I love the number 11," you try to rile her up. Her smile fades, and she's about to stand up when you put down your coffee and wrap your arms around her waist to keep her on the bench. "I'm kidding!"

She sits back down, crossing her arms childishly. "I want my jersey back."

You scoot closer to her, attempting to uncross her arms, but she's surprisingly strong. "Oh no. It was a gift. Besides, I think I can get used to the number 14." Finally, you manage to uncross her arms, and she takes your hand, intertwining it with hers. Your heart begins to race as you stare at your hands together. Her voice brings you back to reality.

"I'll show you who's the best."

"I have no doubt." With your free hand, you tuck one of her locks of hair behind her ear. "And you, woman, are one of the most competitive people I know. It's concerning."

"If we win, we'll probably go out to celebrate. Do you want to come?" she asks shyly.

"I'm already going out. One of my friends wants to celebrate his birthday at a bar. Maybe next time?" you suggest.

"Definitely."

You check your watch. "I really have to go now; I need to get back to work. Same time tomorrow?"

"Bringing you coffee is my thing. Are you stealing my ideas, Y/Ln?" she hints.

"Well then, I won't have a reason to see you," you imply, stepping into unknown territory, but it feels right.

"Well, that's just your loss. Coffee's my thing. You'll just have to find another way to see me then."

"Is that a challenge? Because I can find some other excuses to see you before the match," you grin confidently.

"Like?" she asks, smiling back.

"Well, I was thinking of working on your Ballon d'Or tomorrow evening. You've been bugging me for a week, asking for my help. I'll let you work on your Ballon d'Or, if you still want to, of course."

"Oh, so you want to invite me over to do your job?" she smirks.

"Definitely. This was all planned. You didn't see that coming, did you?"

"You just broke my heart. And for a moment I thought what we had was genuine," she says dramatically, making you poke her side.

"I really have to go now. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

You walk to your car with a smile plastered on your face, feeling a tingling sensation in your hand from when she held it. You feel and sound like a horny teenager. Never in your life has a person made you feel this way, and that scares you.

—

—

The next morning, you arrived at work with a newfound excitement, which didn't escape Eva's notice.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked.

"Just the usual," you shrugged.

"Does it have something to do with your footballer?"

"She does have a name, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I've seen her more than my parents this past week. It's concerning. By the way, where is she?"

"She'll be here in the evening when we work on the Ballon d'Ors."

"Then I'll be out of your way."

"You don't have to. Nothing will happen between us, don't worry."

"Yeah, no. I've suffered enough this week. All the giggles, all the weird flirting. I'm done. Plus, you're making me feel extremely lonely."

—

Fast forward to the afternoon, you were waiting for Aitana while finishing touching up all the material. Even though the supplement for anemia gave you more energy, you had been working for six hours straight and couldn't wait to finish.

What was left was Aitana's Ballon d'Or. You hated working with gold, so you were glad this was the last thing for Barcelona. You would probably miss being here, but most importantly, you'd miss a person more.

As soon as she came in, you noticed she was still dressed in Barcelona sweats.

"Hey! Did you just finish training?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

"Tiring. I didn't know you wore glasses." She put your glasses on herself.

"You are definitely blind. I remember you asking me if I was blind when we first met. I guess coming from you, it's even funnier," she teased, earning a poke to the side.

You rolled your eyes. "I had contacts on. What's your excuse?"

She showed you her tongue. "Do I look like an art restorer now?" she fake bragged.

"You are way too fit for anything to do with art," you chuckled, gently removing your glasses from her face.

"Hey! I do, in fact, love everything to do with art. I'm here; that should mean something."

"Being friends with an art restorer doesn't change the fact that you're for sports, while I'm for the visual arts."

"Maybe that's why we get along."

"Maybe." You handed her a pair of gloves, which she excitedly put on. "You're getting very excited for this. Working with gold is very boring."

She shrugged. "I'm working with Spain's best art restorer; it's a privilege," she teased.

"I'm far from being the best," you denied shyly.

"I looked you up, you know. Youngest woman to own an art restoring company, you travel the world because everyone wants you. What more can you do?" she insisted confidently.

"You're the best player in the world. Last year, you won everything. What more can you do?" you flipped the conversation.

"I'm far from being the best. I still have to improve," she repeated your words.

"To me, you are the best, if that means something," you admitted, making her turn to you with a big smile on her face.

"Well, I thought Alexia was your favorite player; you claimed that you love the number 11," she raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Well, I told you that I could get used to a 14 on my back. Plus, she didn't bring me coffee for an entire week just to see me. Lame, I might add," you teased her, making her blush.

"Shut up! You loved it," she said shyly, hiding her face away from you.

"Yeah, I really did... Now let's get started."

For the next half-hour, you taught Aitana a part of your work, filling your heart with joy at her curiosity. Whenever you guided her hands, Aitana would send you a look that you couldn't quite explain. It was intense and riveting, making you internally combust.

She was sitting so close to you; you could smell her perfume and shampoo. Your eyes focused on her, and she lightly stuck out her tongue, which you found extremely cute and distracting. As you gently took her hands, you could feel her calluses even with gloves on, you showed her a movement she had to do.

"Thank you for letting me help you," she said shyly, and you gently squeezed her hands.

"No problem. Plus, it's your Ballon d'Or," you shared a quick, soft look. "Actually, you're doing me a favor. Working with gold is my least favorite thing to do. You made it a little more tolerable."

"I'm glad to hear that," she chuckled. "I hope I didn't distract you too much from your work this week," she confessed insecurely. Insecurity didn't suit her well.

"Did you distract me? Yes," her face fell a little. “Do I care? No. We wouldn't be here now," you reassured her, and she lightly nodded in response. "So, on Saturday, I'll have to find ways to distract you from the game, so then we'll be even," you bumped her shoulder playfully.

"I never get distracted," she said confidently. You were glad to see her back to her confident self.

"Is that a challenge?" you raised your eyebrows.

"No challenge. It's a fact."

"Are we back to being all confident now?" you smirked playfully. "Well, now I'll definitely make it my main goal for Saturday to be able to distract you."

"And how do you plan to do that?" she turned to you defiantly.

"My master plan will be divided into plan A, which I still have to devise, and plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I kinda do?"

"Too bad," you chuckled playfully.

It was 6 PM when you decided to go home. You had stayed with Aitana for more than three hours, but strangely enough, it felt like thirty minutes. You had discovered a new side of her that you couldn't get enough of.

She was different in real life from when she was on the pitch—still driven and determined, but also funny, kind, and gentle. She cared about so many things and was so busy, yet she had time to be with you for more than three hours. 

She loved books and days spent at the beach. Her passion for football encompassed her whole life, and you admired how passionate she was about her work.

She reminded you of yourself and your love for art. When you asked her about her favorite books, you were surprised when she replied with nerdy titles. Looks could be deceiving; Aitana Bonmatí was a bit of a nerd, and you loved it.

She walked you back to your car with your bag on her shoulder, insisting that it was too heavy. As you reached your car door, you quickly turned to her. "So I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Definitely."

"Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?" you couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, boss," this time, you received a poke on the ribs. "Ow!"

"Thank you for today. I really had fun. I thought working with gold was going to be more boring."

"It wasn't, thanks to you," you wanted to hug her. No, you felt the necessity to do so. Unceremoniously, you brought her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her neck and drawing her closer. After the initial shock, she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you tighter. The hug lasted longer than necessary, but neither of you wanted to let go.

There was a pull that made you not want to leave her embrace. It was comforting, and even if you didn't realize it at the time, you really needed it. After some time, you broke off the hug, said your final goodbye, and left for home.

—

Upon arriving home, you noticed a light emanating from the living room. Initially startled, you thought it might be an intruder. However, upon entering, you found your annoying brother standing there with his arms crossed.

"Jesus Christ! I thought you were a burglar! Idiot!" you exclaimed, smacking his arms in frustration.

"Hi to you too, sis," he responded with a smirk.

"Why didn't you call me?" you asked, placing your bag on the floor before embracing him.

"I needed to talk to you, and I knew you'd find an excuse not to see me," he explained.

"You live in Manchester!"

"I'm back. Got transferred back to Barcelona."

"For good?" you inquired eagerly. Ciro, your brother, was one of the best sports physiotherapists globally, having worked with Man City for almost two years.

"Yeah, got a call from Barcelona. You know I can't say no to that. Plus, I really wanted to be home," he replied.

He towered over you, twenty centimeters taller, with medium-length wavy hair that made heads turn. You both represented the opposite ends of two worlds—you loved art, he loved sports.

"I'm glad you're back," you said warmly, stepping back from the hug.

"Now, why did I have to hear from Mom that you were sick?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"Ciro, I wanted to tell you, but you were busy with work. I really didn't want to worry you."

"You should've told me," he said sadly. "I would've been there. Could've come sooner."

"And do what? I'll start my treatment next week. There's not much you can do."

"I can be there for you. We made a deal to always stick together. You're my older sister, you've always been there for me. The least I could do is to be there for you," he insisted. You sighed sadly, realizing he was right. You should've told him. Perhaps you wanted to protect him, or maybe you feared that acknowledging your illness would make it too real.

"Did you come home because of me?" you asked tentatively, hoping for a different answer.

"As much as Man City pays, Barcelona is my home. And I really missed my sister."

"You're such a suck-up! What do you need?" you teased.

"Well, now that you ask... I might need a place to stay."

Rolling your eyes, you replied, "You can take the guest room."

After settling his stuff in the guest room, you both decided on pizza for dinner. He insisted you make the call, but you refused, playfully tossing his phone back to him. As soon as he returned, you sat on the couch to catch up on each other's lives. It had been months since you'd seen each other, and despite your reluctance to admit it, you missed him.

"Are you also working with Barca Femeni, or only the men's side?" you asked.

"I still don't know. Definitely covering all the home games and the key players if they're injured. Unsure about the away games."

"I have tickets to Saturday's game for the women's side if you want to come," you offered.

"I'll probably have to cover that game, being the first one," he replied with a suggestive smirk. "Why do you have tickets for a football match? Weren't you against 'the sports'?" he teased, using air quotes.

Blushing lightly, you retorted, "I never said I was 'against the sports.' I just prefer books to football games."

"Then why the sudden interest in watching a football match?" His face lit up. "Is it for a girl?" he asked excitedly.

"No girl!" you insisted, though thoughts of Aitana flickered in your mind. "Just felt like it."

"Then why are you smiling?" he persisted, tossing a pillow your way.

"No particular reason," you lied.

"Okay. You'll tell me when you're ready," he said with a knowing smile.

—

—

Fast forward to Saturday, and Ciro settled into his new job quickly. He primarily worked with the men’s side, working on Gavi and Balde, the most serious injuries at the moment.

On Saturday, he was to finally meet the women’s side in preparation for the game. Patri was the first to arrive, followed by Pina and Bruna. Aitana was the last, there for additional ankle support.

Upon seeing Ciro, Aitana gave him a strange look, as if he reminded her of someone.

"Hello?" Ciro greeted, puzzled by her expression.

Quickly snapping out of it, Aitana apologized, "Oh, hi, sorry! You kinda looked like someone familiar. I apologize if I gave you a weird look." Extending her hand, she introduced herself, "I’m Aitana."

"Hi. I’m Ciro. I’m the new physio. What can I do for you?" he responded.

During their time together, Ciro realized that Aitana was very chatty about nerdy things like books and coffee places—things that reminded him of you and how well you two would get along.

"You said you just came back from Man City, right?" Aitana asked.

"Yes, I did," Ciro replied.

"Did you know that the first atom was split there?" she commented, making Ciro chuckle. She would really get along with you.

"I think you’d be friends with my sister. She said the same thing when I left to go there," Ciro remarked.

"I guess it’s common knowledge," Aitana stated confidently.

"No, it’s not. But I’ll reply the same way I replied to my sister: who cares about atoms, when Manchester is home to the annual World Pie Eating Championship," Ciro chuckled.

"You got a girlfriend there?" Aitana asked unexpectedly.

Blinking at the question, Ciro replied with a crooked smirk, "Why, are you interested?" It was playful banter, no ulterior motives.

Raising her hands defensively, Aitana replied, "Nope, you’re not really my type."

"Then I should really introduce you to my sister," Ciro teased.

"Nah, I’m already interested in someone else. I’m sorry," Aitana smiled brightly.

"Too bad," Ciro finished up her ankle. "You’re all set. I’m sorry if this conversation was unprofessional. Please don’t report it to the club," he added with a tense smile.

"Don’t worry. We were just talking. But I do have to say, the more I see you, the more you look like a person I know," Aitana observed.

"Well, I hope they are great. I don’t want to leave a bad impression," Ciro replied.

"She’s wonderful," Aitana said before heading to the pitch.

—

—

Meanwhile, you were getting ready with Eva to go to the Estadi Johan Cruyff.

"So your brother’s back in town for good?" Eva asked.

"Yeah, he’s currently crashing at my apartment until he gets a flat of his own. Feels like we’re back to being teenagers living together for Uni," you replied, putting on Aitana’s shirt and giving it a subtle sniff.

"How’s that going?" Eva raised her eyebrows.

"So far, so good. She’s my friend," you reassured her.

"So, you told her about your condition, right?" Eva asked sternly.

You fell silent. "I’ve been meaning to! I just haven’t found the time yet."

"You need to tell her," Eva urged.

"I know. Let me just ignore it for a little longer," you replied hesitantly.

"She won’t go away, you know that?" Eva reassured you.

"I don’t care about that. We’ve only met three weeks ago. I don’t have some sick attachment issues, okay? I... I just really care about her," you admitted.

"I know you do. Or else we wouldn’t be going to a football game just to see her," Eva said with a smile.

—

At the Estadi Johan Cruyff, Aitana had secured great seating spots for you. As they warmed up, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. When she spotted you in the crowd, her face lit up with a huge smile, and she excitedly waved at you.

The game started quickly, with Aitana making a significant impact on the field. Her passing was precise, and she dribbled past opponents effortlessly. 

In the first 15 minutes, she had already made an assist and nearly scored a goal. At the thirtieth minute, she scored a remarkable goal from outside the box, prompting you to cheer loudly.

However, the next action worried you. A harsh tackle left Aitana clutching her ankle in pain. Thankfully, your brother quickly tended to her, and she was able to continue playing, albeit with some discomfort. At halftime, Ciro was still with Aitana, leaving you concerned. But what concerned you more was that she didn’t return for the second half, replaced by another player.You quickly sent a text to Ciro, hoping he’d see it.

**You:** Where are you?

**Ciro:** I’m at work, idiot. You saw me.

**You:** I know, but right now? Is everything okay with Aitana?

**Ciro:** Yes, why? Why are you so concerned?

**You:** She’s my friend. Can I come and see her?

Aitana was perched on the physio bed, visibly annoyed that they’d taken her off at half-time.

“Hey, Aitana,” Ciro turned to her, puzzled by her behavior, away from his phone. “How do you know my sister?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Who’s your sister?”

“Y/n?” He stated, as if it were obvious.

“Like Y/n Y/ln? You’re his brother?”

“Yeah!”

“I didn’t know that! She never mentioned she had a brother. That’s why you looked like her!”

“She wants to come and see you. I can’t let her in, but you can if you want.”

Aitana blushed lightly, a fact Ciro noted but didn’t comment on. Internally, she thanked him for it.

“Yeah, of course she can come if she likes.”

He smirked knowingly, making her blush again. “I’ll go get her. Then we’ll have a small talk on how you have the hots for my sister,” he teased, leaving the room.

As soon as you saw Ciro in the hallway, you understood immediately that he had something in mind.

“Since when do you know Aitana Bonmatì?”

“Since I worked on her Ballon d’Or. We’ve become friends.”

“Only that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Ciro. Only that.”

“Doesn’t seem like it. You are way too worried.”

“Shut up,” you smacked his stomach hard, making him whine. “And not a word about this around her, understood?”

“Can I say one thing?”

“Then you’ll shush?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“She’s really nice and chatty. I get why you like her. Plus, she’s really hot, not to mention your type?”

“You really want me to get violent on you?” You hit him again.

“Ow!”

“You deserved it.”

“You didn’t deny it though…” You hit him again, this time harder. “This one was my fault. I take it back.”

You both reached the door to the physio room. “Now get back to work, Ciro.”

“So bossy! I hope Aitana likes this side of you!” He teased, and you replied with a glare that clearly said, "I’m going to hit you." Your patience was really getting tested. “Bye!” He quickly left to get back on the pitch, while you opened the door.

—

She was sitting still on the physio bed, with some ice on her ankle, still dressed for the match, and lightly pouting.

“Hey,” as soon as she turned to you, she brightened up.

“Hey!” You approached her. “How’s your ankle?”

You took her in, noticing she looked exhausted even though she only played for 45 minutes. Even though you saw her play, you were glad they let her rest.

“It’s good. They took me off for ‘precautionary measures,’” she rolled her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re healthy,” you replied, turning around to show her you were wearing her jersey.

She grabbed both sides of the jersey and dragged you in between her legs. “You have it on!” she said excitedly.

“Of course! I only wear the best! Great game, by the way,” you lightly caressed her thigh, next to her knee, to give her some reassurance. “You scored a banger!”

“Thank you. I’d rather have played more, though,” she pouted, making you smile at her cuteness. “By the way, what was your secret plan to make me distracted?”

You chuckled lightly, completely forgetting. “Plan A was to distract you just by my presence,” you bragged jokingly, making her giggle and earning you a poke in the ribs.

“That’s not true. You just didn’t think of anything to distract me with,” she said confidently.

“Maybe.”

“What was plan B, then?”

“Becoming a pitch invader or just flashing you,” you said dramatically.

“I would’ve definitely loved to see that,” she gave you a playful smirk, lightly gripping your waist a little harder.

You chuckled, smacking the back of her head. Then, you looked at her properly, changing the mood of the conversation. Her eyes looked so tired. “You look exhausted. You still have the elastic band in your hair. Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“I’m just too lazy to take it off,” she confessed bluntly.

You rolled your eyes and then gently took it off her. “There you go. Do you want me to take out your ponytail too?” You looked into her eyes once again.

“You don’t have to. I can do it on my own,” she said shyly.

“I know you can, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to be near you.”

Her face softened, making you melt like chocolate under the sun. She nodded slowly, and you sprang into action. Taking a step closer, you gently took off the elastic band and looped it around your wrist. You scratched her scalp a little, making her release a relaxed sigh. Chuckling lightly, you took a step back to give her some space. As you were about to take another step, she quickly grabbed you, bringing you even closer to her. Swallowing some of the tension, you realized she was in control now and wanted you closer. You quickly looked at her lips, then back to her powerful gaze.

“You don’t have to find an excuse to be closer to me. I always want you near me all the time,” you tucked your head down to hide your blush, not wanting to show her how much those words had affected you. She gently grabbed your chin and raised it to her level.

“Don’t hide from me. I love it when you blush,” she teased.

“Stop doing that,” your face flushed again.

“Doing what?”

“Being all confident and so close to me. It’s distracting.”

She smirked in response. “Maybe that’s the effect I want you to feel. I’ll let you go if you feel uncomfortable,” she reassured you.

You replied by simply placing your hands on the sides of her face, playing lightly with her baby hair.

“We’ve been skirting around it for two weeks now. Don’t you feel the same pull towards me that I have with you? It’s consuming, and it feels so good,” she admitted.

It was intense, obliterating in a sense, yet you couldn’t resist it. You hated not feeling in control. Acting upon these feelings wouldn’t be fair to her.

“I feel it too,” you removed your hands from her and took a step back, seeing her expression change. You could feel her disappointment. “So much. But I can’t,” you sighed defeatedly. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Why?” she asked vulnerably. “Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”

You took a deep breath and decided to tell her. She deserved to know. You couldn’t continue like this.

“Aitana, I have ca—”

The door opened, and the entire team barged in. You subconsciously took another step back and let the team swarm Aitana. They were checking up on her, but her eyes never left yours.

“Hey, you’re the art restorer!” Patri pointed out.

You quickly changed your demeanor to something more cheerful. “Yes, I just came in to say hi to Aitana. I was just about to leave. I’ll see you.”

You quickly left to reunite with Eva and then headed home.

—

Later that night, you were going to a club to celebrate your colleague Pablo’s birthday, but for you, it was also the last party before you had to start your treatment.

The whole thing with Aitana earlier that day had left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like an asshole and couldn’t shake the feeling that things could have gone better between the two of you.

Realising that you never asked for her phone number and that you had finished your work for the club, you concluded that you probably wouldn’t see her again.

So when you left for the beach bar with your friends, you decided to indulge in some vodka. Eva didn’t question it. She knew that sometimes, when you were out with your friends, you stopped being the responsible one and drank more than usual to have some fun. Pablo and Eva always made fun of you because you never had filters and would always create chaos, but you never went overboard.

You were in the middle of the night, two drinks in, and you started telling your friends that you loved them. They only chuckled in response. You alternated between depressing states and euphoric ones, making Eva, who was also intoxicated, extremely confused.

The whole night shifted again when you saw a group of girls entering the bar, including the one girl you thought you’d never see again. As soon as she saw you, she tried to approach you. She wanted to talk about the conversation you had earlier that day, but you tried to drunkenly escape the conversation. It did not work.

A few moments later, you were met with her standing in front of you while you were sitting down at the bar stools. She saw that you were drunk, and her serious appearance faded for a moment. 

“Can we—Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Yep,” you confessed without even trying to hide it. “What are you doing here?”

“We are out celebrating the win. What are you doing here?”

“The birthday party,” you slurred. She had her nose ring on. You loved it when she wore it. “You have your nose ring on. I really like it,” you tried to raise your hand to touch it, but she quickly stopped you.

“How much did you drink?” she asked, concerned.

“Not that much. Why are you so serious? I don’t like it when your face scrunches up.”

She chuckled at your drunkenness. “You are so drunk. I’ll take you home.”

“Nooo. You just got here, plus my friends are about to leave,” you protested.

“It’s no biggie. You need to get home to sleep it off.”

“I think I should. On Monday, I have my first treatment. I shouldn’t feel hungover,” you blurted out.

“You have your first what?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“What?”

“A kiss. You know, the ones you give to a person with the lips,” you explained, while she slowly took your hand and led you out of the bar.

“I know what a kiss is. I don’t think I should give you a kiss, given your current state. And the fact that a few hours ago you rejected me.” You were out now.

“Wait. Why are we outside?”

“I’m taking you home.” She states.

“You tricked me. You are one little sneaky son of a bitch.” You pout, making her laugh.

“You drunk, is the highlight of my day.”

“That’s so sad.” You cover your mouth with your hand childishly. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She giggles in response. “I still want a kiss from you. And I want to you to know that I didn’t in fact reject you. I just told you that I can’t.” You specify.

She leads you to her car without you realizing it. “I hope you are not one of those people who takes me to their car and then try to kill me.” She opens the car door and helps you inside.

She buckles your seatbelt, and due to the closeness, you blurt out. “You are very beautiful. The most perfect face.”

She chuckles, lightly shaking her head. “You are very beautiful too.” She gives you a quick kiss on the temple and round the car to get to the driving seat.

“Was it that difficult to give me a kiss?” You ask her rhetorically, making her roll her eyes at you.

“Can you tell me your address?” She sat down on the driver’s seat and gently turned your head towards her to get some attention.

“I don’t wanna go home. My brother is there.” You whine. “Let’s go to the beach.” You say excitedly. 

“Y/n you are drunk. If you don’t tell me your address I’ll bring you to my home.” Aitana tells you seriously. 

“Is that an invite?” You smirk suggestively.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Y/n.” 

“Calm down. I was just joking!” You grinned.

“I should probably text Eva.” You sober up and sent her, very slowly, a text.

**You** I’m going hmoe with hot footballer. See you on mnoday. I’m drukn but I love you.

The drive pretty much sobered you up. You were still blabbering nonsense to Aitana, talking to her about the most random things. When you arrived, you quickly noticed that you weren’t in your apartment complex.

“I knew it. You brought me here to kill me,” you said, fed up.

“We are at my home.”

You opened the car door and got out before she could help you. “This whole building is your house?!” you said, shocked, while she quickly walked up to you.

“No, you idiot. I have an apartment,” she giggled lightly.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting to see me like this.”

“I am definitely enjoying this. Too bad I can’t make any videos of you like this,” she said, placing a hand behind your back to stabilize you until you got to her apartment.

You curiously wandered around her living room, taking in her home. It was just like her. Every decoration, every piece of furniture reflected her in some way, only something was missing.

“You should get some artwork to fill up the walls. Your house is beautiful, Aitana.”

“Thank you. I guess you can definitely help with that, don’t you think?”

“Not in this condition.” You sat on the couch, while you waited for her to join you.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Not with you like this, tomorrow morning?” she offered, but you weren’t on board with that.

So, with a swift movement, you sat on her lap, taking Aitana by surprise. You placed her hands on your waist and blurted out. “I’ll talk then. I really like you, but I can’t be with you right now. The connection you feel between us is so real and intense that it scares me. You have been one of my biggest blessings in disguise since you came into my life.”

“I’d rather talk about this when you’ll remember it, but I really like you, and I would like to know why we can’t be together.”

You were sober enough to stop yourself from telling her the truth. “I’ll tell you tomorrow morning, I promise.”

You gently rubbed her shoulders, feeling all her muscles, making you giggle.

“What?” she asked, tickling you for a second or two. She was back to being her unserious self, and her crinkle disappeared. Probably it was because she knew that you were safe now.

“You are so muscular.” You squeezed her biceps. “If we were in a zombie apocalypse, would you protect me from all the zombies? You go fend off our enemies while I do the housewife and part-time art restorer. Maybe zombies make art, who knows?”

“Okay, I will,” she indulged you.

“You promise?” You asked her seriously.

“Yes.”

“Pinky promise?” You raised your pinky, and she laced it with hers. “Now it’s sealed.”

“Let’s go to bed,” she spurred you to stand up and walked you to her bedroom. She quickly gave you some spare clothes to change, leaving the room for you to have some privacy. She gave you some Barcelona shorts and one of her old t-shirts.

Somehow, every item had her typical perfume, and that special something that was characteristically hers. You were now a little more sobered up, which made you less chatty and with some inhibitions.

As you opened the door of her bedroom to see where she was, you saw that she was getting the couch ready to sleep.

“Aitana, come to bed. I can take the couch. You already did more than enough for me today.”

“It’s no biggie,” she shrugged.

“No, it’s a big biggie.” You walked up to her and literally dragged her into her own bedroom. “You take the bed.”

“Then we’ll both take it.”

“We can do that.” You waited for her to take her usual side, then you climbed on the other side. She turned off the light, and you moved to your side to face her. “Thank you for tonight. You didn’t have to, but you still took care of me. You are truly one of the most amazing people I know.”

She kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

She laid on her back, making you subconsciously go near her as much as possible, until you looped your arm around her waist and cuddled into her. In response, she gave you another kiss on the temple and nuzzled into you.

—

—

The next morning, you woke up with a headache. An arm was keeping you down, and as you opened your eyes, confusion swept over you.

Aitana was still softly sleeping on your side. Memories of last night flooded back into your mind. You guessed that she felt you stir awake because not even a minute after you had woken up, she woke up too.

“Good morning,” she said gently, moving away from you and sitting up, quickly stretching herself. You basically mimicked her movements on the other side of the bed and followed her to the living room.

“Coffee?” she offered.

“Definitely,” you replied, sitting down at her kitchen table. “Can I have a glass of water? My head is killing me.” She quickly retrieved it for you and got back to preparing the coffee. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable last night.”

“You didn’t. I’ve thought about what you told me yesterday: that you can’t be with me because it wouldn’t be fair to me. I think… no, I’m certain, that we can work it out together,” she said hopefully. She was still standing when you chuckled sadly.

“Aitana, you don’t know how much I’d want that. But being with me right now isn’t worth it, and I won’t ask you to wait for me because that wouldn’t be fair to you,” you admitted sadly.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Whatever it is, we can—”

“Aitana, I have cancer.”

Now she sat down. “You told me you had anemia,” she said defensively, not really believing you.

“I do also have anemia. That’s why I’ll start chemo so late from the diagnosis,” you released a sigh.

“Is—is it curable?” she almost whispered, almost not knowing how to take the news.

“Thankfully, I found out early about the tumor. The doctors said a 70% success rate.”

“Where is it?”

“Thyroid cancer. It’s a little bump next to my vocal cords.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she pleaded, almost offended.

“Because...I didn’t want you to see me in a different way,” you confessed as your voice cracked vulnerably.

“I could never see you in a bad light. You are a fighter, Y/n, remember it.”

“Do you understand why I can’t be with you?”

“Yes, and I call it bullshit,” she remarked determinedly.

“What—”

“You know, statistics say that only 30% of relationships last the first year. You literally have more hope to live than us being together.”

“And so?”

“And so, why are you denying us to yourself?”

“Maybe because in the next month, all my hair will fall off, I’ll be as weak as I’ll ever be, and I won’t be able to work anymore?” you said sarcastically. “Do you really want a girlfriend like that?”

“I want you, Y/n. We’ll just have to go through the bad times first before the good parts.”

“You know, Aitana Bonmatì, you are one stubborn woman. You never stop until you get what you want, huh?”

She nodded confidently.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to give you an out? For God’s sake, I have cancer! I might die, and I don’t want you to ruin your life to take care of me. I can’t be that selfish. I care about you way too much!” you replied exasperated, still with your head pounding.

She rounded the table and knelt down next to your legs, taking your hands. “It’s not a decision you can make for me. If you won’t let me be there for you as your girlfriend, then I’ll be there for you as a friend. For the record, I care about you too. And even if you already have Eva and Ciro, I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“We could never be friends, you know that?” you gently caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch.

“I know. But you are in control, okay? Let me just be there for you, please,” she practically begged you in the last part. You made her stand up while you thought for a moment.

“You won’t surrender, will you?” Your face adorned with a sad smile, while she shook her head. “I’m just a stranger, Aitana.”

“You are way more than that, and you know it,” she paused for a second. “You would do the same for me.” You nodded. You’d probably do worse if you found out that she had cancer.

"Let's take things slow, okay?" you concede, rising from your seat and placing your coffee cup on the table. "I should probably go home. Tomorrow I start chemotherapy, and I should probably rest," you say with a tinge of sadness. Making your way to Aitana's room, you change back into your clothes. After about five minutes, there's a knock on the door.

She slowly opens it. "Do you need me to drive you home? It's no biggie," she offers.

You nod slowly. "Can I come with you for your chemo?" she asks, her voice tentative, not wanting to overstep.

"I don't want you to see me like that," you explain, seeing her disappointment. "But maybe you could come and pick me up afterwards? We can go to lunch somewhere," you suggest.

"I'd love that," she replies with a small smile. "By the way! I think it's time for you to give me your phone number! I still can't believe we haven't exchanged numbers," she chuckles, and you hand her your phone.

She bursts into a giggle, sending you a knowing smirk. "I'm glad to hear that Eva is happy you went home with a hot ass footballer. The next part of the text, it's better that I don't say," she teases, causing you to blush profusely.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, covering your face with your hands.

"Oh no. I love it," she counters, smirking confidently as she tosses your phone back to you. As you unlock it to read Eva's texts, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

**Eva** Fucking finally!

Now go and sex up that hot ass footballer!

"Damn it!" you exclaim, exasperated, prompting a chuckle from Aitana.

The drive back home is mostly silent. As she stops right next to your door, you're unsure how to bid her goodbye. It's been a heavy morning for both of you, and you need time to process everything. You had intended to push her away, give her an out. But she refused to give up, surprising you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right? You'll text me?" she asks, her voice tinged with insecurity.

You reassure her with a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tani. Thank you for everything." With that, you exit the car and wave one last time before entering your home.

Sitting on the couch with a sad expression, you stare at the turned-off TV. You feel awful, like you've made Aitana feel awful. Groaning loudly, you bury your face in your pillow.

Ciro emerges from the guest room, eyeing you. "Rough night?" he asks.

"I told her," you confess.

He sits next to you and pulls you into a hug. "Did it go badly?"

"No, I guess. Is it bad if I wish she had just told me to get out of her life?"

"No," he replies, rubbing your back soothingly. "But I'm glad she'll stick around."

—

Meanwhile, Aitana returns home and collapses on the couch, her face turned toward the wall. She lets out a light but painful sob.

"Damn it."

In the afternoon of the same day she found out of your cancer, she had a recovery session at Barcelona. For the first time ever, she just wanted to stay home.

Despite being off during all her training, her teammates didn’t ask what was going on, as she's not one to let her emotions affect her play. But that day, she was anything but focused. Ciro noticed and approaches her during a water break.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi, Ciro," she greets him, trying to hide her emotions.

"You good?"

"I'm good. Just tired."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Aitana nods and rejoins her teammates.

"When did you become friends with the physio? Are you over the Art Restorer?" Keira asks.

"Her name is Y/n, and that's her brother," Aitana replied emotionless.

"The hot gene really does run in their family," Patri remarks, earning a smack from Keira.

—

—

Your first chemo treatment isn't as bad as you feared. Your energy isn't drained at all; in fact, you're super alert, probably because of the steroids.

Aitana arrives half an hour early and joins you in the hospital treatment room.

You're nearly finished; you just have to complete the saline shot.

"Hey, how are you?" Aitana enters the room and gives you a quick hug before sitting beside you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't happy to see her. Her smile melts away your worries in an instant. She's here, and that's enough to lift your spirits.

"I'm nearly done. How's training?" you ask.

"It's good. We worked on free kicks and rondos, so some light stuff. I brought you some snacks," she says, handing you dried fruits and nuts. "I read that the first chemo might make you feel drowsy, and since you also have anemia, I brought you some food with iron."

You smile softly, thanking her with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Tani." Opening the bag, you search for some almonds. "I hate raisins," you remark.

"Just give them to me," she offers, and you quickly pass all the raisins to her as you eat the rest. "I don't know how you like raisins," you say, giving her a disgusted look.

"They're just fruit," she chuckles.

"How was the treatment? Do you feel sick?" she asks, worry evident in her voice.

"For now, no, probably because of the steroids. I should bring something to do next time," you say, your gaze softening. "About yesterday, we're good, right? I felt like we left each other on a bitter note.”

"It's okay. It was a pretty intense day. Let's just move forward, okay? So, I'm thinking... Let's go get some food, then we'll start our DreamWorks/Disney marathon. What do you say?"

For the past two weeks, the two of you had been discussing doing a movie marathon, and since you both liked kids' movies, you settled on that. However, there was one point of contention: she argued that Disney movies were better, while you favored DreamWorks. So the two of you had started arguing about which was best, and the winner was yet to be decided.

"I'm feeling great! We don't have to barricade ourselves in one of our homes. We can go to the beach and maybe take a walk," you offer, not wanting to confine her to spending the entire day indoors with you, knowing she's a very active person.

"Oh no! We have to finally settle this debate! It's been going on for too long now! Plus, you're going to need all the rest you can get, and I don't mind keeping you company," she insists.

"Are you sure?" You check once again.

"Yes, I'm sure," she reassures you.

—

Her idea proves to be right because as soon as you get home, you feel the steroids wearing off, with a sudden tiredness enveloping your body. As you drive to your home to start the movie marathon, Aitana notices almost immediately, quickly taking your hand and gently squeezing it, not letting go until you arrive.

"Your home is so full of books! I love it," she says excitedly as she steps inside your house.

"I love reading, and I have a college degree and currently doing my second specialization. I guess I have been the culprit of the death of some trees," you joke.

You fetch your grandma's blankets that she knitted for you, then return to the living room.

Aitana is already sitting on the couch with her arms open, waiting for you. Despite wanting to be held by her, you fear she might feel uncomfortable, so you sit on the opposite side.

She looks at you quizzically and then drags you to lay on top of her. You release a content sigh and proceed to hug her sides, fully taking in her body against yours. "Didn't you get the memo? From now on, I'll be your designated cuddle buddy," she giggles.

"Oh my god! How stupid! I completely forgot!" you joke.

She holds you tighter as you search for a movie to watch together, settling on "The Little Mermaid." You start to drift off, only remembering a faded kiss on the temple and a whispered, "You rest. I'll be here when you wake up, mi sirenita."

Approximately an hour later, Ciro returns home after spending the day with the men's team. He's really worried about you and how the treatment went, but he doesn't expect what he sees. You're lightly sleeping on top of Aitana, while she watches a movie on TV.

"Hey," he whispers.

Aitana's head shoots up to look at him. "Hey. She just fell asleep; the drugs wore off, and she got tired."

He smiles softly at the sight of his sister with someone who cares enough to be with her, even while she's sleeping. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.

"Oh, I'm good. She let me come inside while she finished up her treatment, and we had lunch at that place she always talks about."

"I'm glad she lets you be with her. She's stubborn, but don't give up. She'll come around," he reassures her.

She looks at you. "I really hope so," then turns back to Ciro. "Oh, you should text Eva! Y/n told me that she would text her, but I guess she forgot; she might be worried." Hearing all of this chatter, you stir awake, still drowsy.

"Tani, where is all this sound coming from?" you asked her groggily, still keeping your eyes closed.

"Ciro is here," she informed you.

"Hi Ciro," you lightly waved at him, then cuddled up against Aitana once again.

"Hey, how was chemo?"

"Tiring," you replied.

"I can see," he chuckled.

You raised your arm to show him the middle finger. "Okay! I'll wake you up later; you have to call mom."

You grunted at the thought. "Okay, okay. But now let me sleep."

"Do you want to go to bed?" Aitana asked you.

"You are too comfortable!" you replied.

"Why don't we go to bed? We'll be even more comfortable," she giggled.

"Okay," you slowly removed yourself from her and walked with her to your bedroom.

As soon as Aitana laid down on the bed, you resumed the same position as before. You indeed were more comfortable.

"You are the best cuddle buddy, Tani. Thank you." You gave her a kiss on the corner of her lips and fell back into a deep slumber.

—

Approximately an hour later, you woke up. You patted your bed to find Aitana, but she wasn't there. You quickly got out of bed, feeling a little better, and went to the living room to get a cup of water. In the kitchen, you found Ciro.

"Where's—"

"She left about five minutes ago; she had to do some media stuff with Barcelona, and she didn't want to wake you," he explained.

—

—

For the next two weeks, you had fallen into a routine. Whenever you had chemotherapy, Aitana would take you back for lunch away from the hospital, and sometimes you would take small walks together or watch movies if you were extra tired. In those two weeks, you had gotten a chance to know her better. The more you talked to her, the more you couldn't picture yourself without her. 

She was incredible. But most importantly, you loved how she made you feel. She was always so supportive, never failing to make you smile, but most importantly, she was ever-present.

Eva and Ciro would tease you so much because whenever she was around, you became a completely different person: nicer and more compliant. However, the mood from the first two weeks changed when you started losing hair.

You never really gave much thought to your hair; it was long and wavy, and honestly, you never thought about how being bald would actually make you feel. When single locks of hair started falling out, it was really a punch into reality. You had cancer, and your hair was falling out. Still, you didn't tell Ciro or Eva about it, and especially not to Aitana.

You were currently cuddling up next to her while she gently caressed your back. You had just finished your treatment for the week, and you were more exhausted than usual. Your throat was hurting, and your legs were aching as if you had just run a marathon. Aitana was rambling on about a book she started reading that you suggested.

"It's actually so good, no wonder you have great tastes in books," she lightly praised you, giving you a kiss on the scalp. She then tucked your hair behind your ear, but the lock remained in her hand.

"Since when have you been losing hair, Y/n?" she asked softly.

You moved away from her and sat on the couch, realizing that you had just lost another lock of hair. "It's been a week now," you uttered sadly. "Let's just not think about it, okay? I don't want to talk about it," you got defensive.

One thing that you didn't want was for Aitana to see you actually sick or suffering the consequences of cancer. One thing was tiredness, but another thing was losing hair.

"Do you maybe want to shave it all off?" she tried.

"Aitana, I don't want to talk about it, please."

"Okay, okay. I'll stop talking." You felt ashamed and embarrassed that she saw you like this, weak. So you completely closed off from her.

"It's getting late," you looked at your watch. "Tomorrow you have practice, and I have to study. I think that you should leave."

"Wha—"

"Aitana, please," you pleaded, with a vulnerability in your voice that you really didn't want to show.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." With that, she left.

—

You took a loud sigh and went to the bathroom. Your brother's electric razor sat on the counter, and you just looked at it, unable to bring yourself to use it. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't actually losing her, but that didn't quite work.

Whenever you touched your hair, a lock would fall off. It was time to shave it off. Sitting down on the bathroom floor, you sighed deeply. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice when your brother came back home.

He appeared in the bathroom after a couple of minutes. "There you are! I thought you left. Where is Aitana?"

"I told her to leave," you said absently, still looking at the razor. He looked confused, both by your state and how you had kicked out Aitana. "My hair started to fall off. I've been trying to shave it off all afternoon, but I can't." You broke down crying at the last sentence.

"Gosh, I feel so stupid! I never bothered until now about my hair, and now all of a sudden, I can't get rid of it!" Frustrated, you punched your leg.

He sat down next to you and grabbed the razor from you. "But it's not just hair, isn't it?" he stated simply. "Losing hair is a physical reminder of what you are going through. It's scary, especially because you are someone who deals with problems by ignoring them."

You released a choked-out chuckle. "It's scary. You have cancer, you can die. Just like dad. And losing your hair may feel like you are out of control, like your body isn't responding to you anymore like before. But it's just hair." He turned on the razor. "Hair will grow again eventually." He moved the razor next to his scalp, making you react almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" You tried to move his hand away from his hair, but he wouldn't budge.

"I'm showing you that you are not alone, and for as long as you are in this fight, we are in this together." He quickly shaved a whole strip of his hair.

"Are you an idiot! Why did you do that?!" You said angrily, knowing that he would most probably pull off something like this, and even if you begged him not to do it on multiple occasions, he still did it. He didn't bother with your angry tone as he kept shaving off his hair until he was nearly all bald.

"See! It's just hair. Losing your hair is tough, but you know what? It's just another step until you get better. You are a fighter, and you are stronger than this." You were at a loss for words, so you just hugged him.

"Did you search on Google how to talk with your family member who has cancer?" You chuckled lightly, trying to break a little tension.

"I did," he said honestly, earning a small giggle.

You stayed a while inside his embrace, but then you soon remembered why you were in the bathroom. "I think I'm ready to shave it off.”-

—

—

After a very intense and emotionally charged afternoon, you found yourself sitting on the couch wearing one of your old Adidas beanies. You realized that one drawback of being bald was the constant feeling of coldness. Touching your head without any hair on it was something you had to get used to. It felt strange yet oddly cathartic, signaling your readiness to continue with the treatment.

"So, are you going to tell me why you kicked out that poor girl who's been following you like a lost puppy since you met her?" Ciro jumped on the couch to sit next to you.

"She's not a lost puppy."

"Well, she's been ever-present, bringing you food and always taking naps with you even when she could be doing other stuff."

"Don't make me feel guilty," you said defensively.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. You haven't fully given her a chance, and I believe she wouldn't want anything more than for you to give her a chance. You are all she talks about." His confession made your cheeks redden, trying to hide away the stupid smile forming on your face.

"I don't want to hurt her," you uttered sadly.

"By pushing her away, you are doing just that."

"I know, but what if I give her a chance and it goes wrong? What if she decides it's too much, or I don't make it? I can't deal with that."

"What if it works? You're simply denying yourself some happiness, which I think you fully deserve."

"Why are you being so wise today?" You tried to change the subject.

"I'm just trying to help out my sister, plus I really hope that if the two of you get together, she'll stop talking about you during the physio sessions. That girl is chatty," he chuckled.

"I should probably go and talk to her," you said.

"She should be home; she told me she needed to rest for tomorrow's practice."

You put on your coat and left for Aitana's apartment with newfound determination. 

[gpcwsl]

Hey! Could you maybe write something for Lia Wälti where r has a reputation as a fuckboy/womanizer since they have quite a few one-night stands that never lead to anything more. They always get teased by the team for that. R and Lia are close friends and always very close physically: cuddling on the couch, sleeping in the same bed during sleepovers, Lia sitting on r's lap etc. One night they are watching a movie or smth on the couch and Lia straight up asks r why they have never tried anything with her. R tells her it is because they don't want her to leave, and then explains that basically all anyone ever wanted from them was sex, and no one stuck around after they had that, that's why now r just sticks to casual hook-ups if anyone approches them, and never actually initiates that stuff first. And they don't care about some stranger leaving in the morning, but they do like Lia a lot, and her leaving would really hurt, so they never acted on their feelings. And then a fluffy confession from Lia's side? Sorry this is really long, you absolutly don't have to do it if you're not comfortable with it!

Warnings: swearing, short, suggestive, mentions of sex (brief) mentions of fuck-boy, mentions of one night stands, kissing, making out.

Lia Wälti x Reader

You’re Different, and I don’t know why.

MasterList

Relationship’s aren’t your thing. You think they are underrated, love is underrated. You were taught that way while growing up. Sure, maybe the reason why is because you never knew your dad since he left the minute your mum got pregnant - ever since then your mother had taught you to never fall in love. So you took that advise. Never been in a relationship before, but definitely slept with half the girls in your hometown.

You always did a really good job with trying to not let those one night stands get in the way of football. Ending things with the girl as soon as the sunrise starts to shine awake. Cutting off any excess to phone number, instagram, ext.

Two years ago, you left your hometown. With getting a bigger contact with a new team who has been pushing for you for some time now - Arsenal. You decided to step up your game. Even win more trophies. Leaving was easy. You had no relationship with any family member, then not fearing enough to even say goodbye either.

But, ever since joining Arsenal things have been different. Different as in, not that many one night stand - and that’s because of a girl. A girl. Breaking a promise to your mother, you seem to be drawn into this woman. You so badly wanted to push her away, but you can’t seem to have the courage to. Which was weird. You always had courage to do anything. You never felt any sort of guilt of even thinking of doing anything like that.

She was driving you crazing.

Right now, it’s after training. Everyone is all gathered in the changing rooms. Getting into their own clothes they walked in this morning. You sitting down in the bench, tying your lases on your trainers.

Kyra, with the same old smirk on her face, sits down next to you, nudging your shoulder. “Y/l/n, you been with cute ladies lately?”

You roll your eyes, now knowing everyone is now focused on you. “No.”

Kyra raises an eyebrow, looking around the room before speaking. “Really? Cause if I remember what miss McCabe said to me the other day was - on your first day with the team you tried to get with everyone.”

You look up, immediately making eye contact with Katie who immediately moves behind her girlfriend. “I didn’t say tha-“

You roll my eyes again, before shrugging my shoulders. “Okay, sure but I didn’t try to get with them. Just flirted before I didn’t anymore.”

“That’s true, she hasn’t flirted with us ever since then.” Leah confirms, nodding her head.

“Why did you stop?” Kyra asks. Your eyes shifted to Lia, who was looking at you, smiling softly knowing the answer. “No reason.”

You then stand up from the bench. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going home. Why don’t you nag to Alessia to who she kissed at last nights party.”

“What?!” - “For fuck sake, Y/n/n!”

With all the attention to Alessia. You look for Lia who is still looking at me. You nod my head for her to follow me. She easily sneaks past everyone who is still pestering Alessia.

As soon as you walk out the door; when you see Lia, you quickly grab her arm pulling her into a storage room. She lets out a yelp as you push her in. You quickly shut the door, locking it.

You turn around to see Lia smiling widely at you. Her hands on her hips. “Seriously? This is so high-school relationship material. Sneaking into the storage room?”

You shrug, smiling at her. “Can’t help myself. Haven’t kissed you for hours.” You mumble, taking only a small step forward to wrap your hands around her waist.

“Is that so?” Lia whispered, immediately wrapping her arms around your neck. “Well, we should do something about that, hey?”

You nod your head, pulling her closer to kiss her. The kiss was soft. Very different to other kisses you had with other girls.

You smile into the kiss - again, different to other girls that you never smiled while kissing before.

Lia change your life straight away.

First day at Arsenal. Kyra was right. You flirted with everyone - but as soon as your eyes founded Lia’s body you stopped. All your attention was on her and her only.

Lia pull away from the kiss. “Let me ask you something.” She says, looking up at you. - You nod your head, hands rubbing against her hips.

“Why haven’t you tried anything with me?”

You burrow your eyebrows, looking at her. “What you mean?”

“Like you were at your hometown. You choked up with every girl you found hot - and obviously you found me hot but, you didn’t try anything. You didn’t even flirt with me like you did with the others.” Lia rambled, her eyes staying in yours the whole time.

“Dunno. You’re different, and I don’t know why. I definitely thought about it but then hated myself. I could never do that to you.” You answered honestly.

“But, I’m not. I promise.” You state, holding her hands. Lia smiles, rubbing her thumb along your hand. “I know. I can tell how much you care about me. Just wanted to know.”

Lia then pulls you back into a kiss. You instantly kiss back, again smiling. “Let’s go home… I got something planned.” Lia mumbles, smirking.

“Oh yeah?” You mumble back, pulling away to see her smirk, smirking back. “What?”

“It’s a surprise.” Lia whispers, unlocking the door and pulling it open. Once the cost was clear she grabs your hand, pulling you with her to the exit.

You never been more grateful that you left your hometown to London.

[zan0tix]

JAKE AND TRANSFEMININITY: PART 1

IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS im gona make a series of posts about jake because. Im crazy and i like writing (will also help me with writing my scripts bc im bad at doing that but im good at yapping on social media lol)

This first post will be about Grandpa Harley because yknow he was the foundation for Jakes text later.

(Take these with a grain of salt bc this is skaianet archive stuff) but Its stated over and over that HIC in both universes Despised Jake because he was a boy and saw him as an annoyance. (The reason he is even named Jake is because HIC just swapped a letter from Jane to make a male name) and this started a pattern of jake being waved off and disregarded.

Already day fucking one as a baby Jake isnt doing gender right😭 his name is a reminder that he isnt what people want him to be.

So he left home and sought off to find adventure at age 13. His shitty home-life already left him with a fraught relationship to his autonomy and control over his life (Again skaianet archives grab that Salt) But he gets groomed and taken advantage of by an older man. I believe this only further Jakes feelings of helplessness and desire to exert power over something.

Grandpa harley would then proceed to try so hard to embody the Old most admirable western masculine archetype to a T. The wealthy globe trotting adventurer/entrepreneur/inventor with female lovers galore and nothing tying him down! A mans man who isnt afraid to get his hands dirty, wrestle a few animals. Wield violence to exert power and control (hunting animals) I see this as his outlet to exert autonomy and establish an Identity for himself but its at the expense of innocent lives. But its how you are seen as successful and powerful living under patriarchy and imperial capitalism.

Though while being this stereotype of old timey masculinity, he has this fascination with a specific brand of femininity. A delicately composed vision, a photoshoot, a performance. Something unachievable.

Its something he brings everywhere he goes. The blue ladies photos and imagery litter both his Hauntswitch house and Jades island house juxtaposing all of his Trophies (taxidermied animals that he obtained through overtly violent masculine means) With his self titled “Beauties/Daughters of Eclectica” (IF THAT ISNT THE MOST OLD GAY MAN THING YOUVE EVER READ. BUT ANYWAY)

Hussie always describes it as “Haha old man jake is horny for blue ladies” but i think the fact he views them as aspirational figures, and holds them in such high regard, Telling Jade that She should aspire to be like them and maybe one day she could take a place amongst them in their elegance and beauty I believe was him projecting; where he believes he isnt able to emulate them because he is a man so he tells jade to instead. (then we see teen jake who is living in more progressive times with his blue lady equivalents and he Directly attempts to Emulate them)

I think theres something more happening here guys nerm..

A. Claire was a Ballerina, A performer of a very traditionally feminine art that is calculated, asking for pin point accuracy with your body as the instrument. The fact he was her “Biggest fan” I assume he went to see alot of her performances and greatly admired her for her beauty and performance skills.

Ive said it before but I dont think he was attracted to her sexually, I think he wished he could be what she was. Embody a finely tuned image of femininity he was barred from ever exploring, so he was drawn to women who could do what he couldnt. And i believe he conflated his gender envy with attraction (teen jake does this too really hard but well get there later) because they didnt have the terms for gender envy or anything back then. Jake grew up in the 1920s. I assume he believed his feelings were average hetero attraction and not something deeper.

I feel like its an elaborate gag that Jake made himself into a straight up Caricature of the burly gruff Adventurer Man. His houses are overflowing with hunting trophies and weaponry like hes over compensating Its insanely comical when you know Really on the inside hes a gay man with a great affection and identification with the effeminate and is actually really loud about it but everyone brushes it off as “Haha what a kooky old geezer!” OBVIOUSLY ALL OF THIS FUNNY. Homestuck is a tragicomedy, everything is simultaneously one huge elaborate gag but also offering commentary on what its pointing and laughing at, in this case its cisheteronormativity (thats the same for an ungodly amount of cases with this work)

I find it tragic, poetic, and endlessly hilarious that his final moments were spent Roleplaying Heterosexuality with a doll He dressed up and put makeup on; made with his image of femininity, and he dies by his own gun, the same kind of weapons that he used to exert violence upon innocent animals in attempt to posture his masculine persona. The ones he arrived to earth with, he was pushed and destined to embody this image of masculinity because of the world he was sent to and the connotations of violence instilled into those weapons by society and reality by Lord English; a being his alt universe self played a great part in shaping. Who too wields a Gun as one of his signature weapons.

Blows smoke off the red hot irony pistols! 😉

PART 2 WILL COME SOON (will add link when it does)

[frostara]

To serve, my beloved

Cregan Stark x Karstark!Female

Synopsis: If you pray hard enough the Gods may listen in your words; or do not – they may decide what is better for you.

Wordcount: 1k

Tags: Overall fluff, female character insert as I don’t like “Reader” labels, mind you this is medieval time and character’s view on things is misogynistic and partly delusional

Notes: Well here I go, hopefully some of you will like it! I desperately lack Cregan content here so guess time to make some of my own!

Oh, to be a wife to a good man...

It had always sounded like a fever dream to her. Something that she could not reach in her position. Her husband will be same to her kin - bitter and harsh on tongue, not someone who would love her or their kids, perhaps. She would be stuck with him, and mistake her not, she tried to look upon her future, finding hope that she would love her kids and husband, but, evil thoughts would still come back.

Thus it felt like a blessing from Old Gods when Astrid's father, lord Karstark, took her to Lady's Summons in year 125. Lady of ten and five years was given a chance for a life bettered by the will of Gods. At first, she felt trully amazed, faces and pictures dancing vividly in her head as she tried to portray what would it be like in Winterfell? What things would lay upon her gaze and who would she meet?

Her father made sure that she would be educated on story of the house they had served for many years and it's head - Lord of Winterfell. Listening to the stories, she knew he was a real man, someone to take rulement in his hands and be a true leader, a man who would have thousands following him. Her father would tell her about Starks with so much proud, not forgetting to mention the ancestory they shared.

-Fret not, my girl, conduct yourself with honor and do not forget that we are of the winter sun.

And Astrid listened. When she reached Winterfell after all the days in travel, she could not hide away relief that soon changed for worry - the time had come. All the things she was taught and saw with her eyes were put to use by her. She smiled at people, tried to talk to many and get to know this place. Her father indeed was an example to follow along the teachings of her lady-in-waiting.

But could anyone prepare her for the man when she saw him? Lord Cregan looked like a real wolf in man's skin: dark hair and eyes black like burnt wood in fireplace with furs wrapped around him, or rather, sitting on him like a trophy of a freshly killed animal. Perhaps, wisperers were true. Once he was a boy that killed his uncle, now was of tough kind. His features were heavy with shadows that danced on his face. Astrid thought of how she would look standing in the place beside him - hair of wood colour and eyes of cold water in a river. Mayhaps, she was a match to him.

She in fact was. Were it the other lords or masters or Cregan himself, but he did look at her. And was pleased with her company, as Astrid was later told, because the look on his face was hard to read, and she was worried of herself. Nonetheless, three weeks after the Summon through wich she was in Winterfell, a wedding ceremony was soon to be prepared. She had quite some time to meet people who were serving here as well as some other nobles or rather their children. What really caught her eye was the weirwood tree.

She knew that it had some remnants of ancient wisdom in it. It’s red leaves and face – mesmerising look. Astrid came to it with wary at first, as if she was invading a sacred place and putting a dark spot on it. She only had enough courage to look at it. Then, she dared to touch it and beg for some advice. In hopes that Gods would answer her she would sit or stand there, trying to realise what awaits for her.

The day she was dressed in furs, with hair combed and heart full of excitement mixed with anxiety was she standing in front of him. They only met a couple of times and there still was a lot she wanted to know about Cregan. He looked like he knew it all: what is it like to take a wife and create a family; to be the Warden of the North and the Wolf. Astrid thought they will have lots of moons for him to share his knowledge and to ask each other questions.

And as for now, as his cold lips would be on hers and his hands will wrap around her she will stay quiet – words are left for later.

[donatellawritings]

Hiiiii mamacita!! Totally love your writing! Wondering if you’ve seen the trend of girls pranking their bfs by telling them they got waxed by a guy? I’ve already seen loads of fics about it so I was thinking maybe you could do a Rafe one but instead of the wax maybe she could say she got a massage from a dude? And like not even a prank but she went to the spa and actually got massaged by a guy but she thought it was totally innocent so she casually tells Rafe LOL he’d go ballistic

hi baby! omg this is actually so funny

rafe was completely aware about how serious you were about self-care - you loved being pampered and that was partly thanks to the lavish lifestyle that rafe had introduced to you. you got regular blowouts, fresh sets of cutesy acrylic nails, monthly facials, weekly shopping trips on the mainland - you were a spoiled princess through and through. rafe didn’t mind it though, you worked hard in school and never failed to be the devoted trophy girlfriend that he proudly sauntered around the island. so, when you told rafe that you’d be treating yourself and sarah to a spa day, he didn’t even bat an eyelash, only pressing his lips to yours as he slid his debit card into your purse and slapped your ass as you walked out of the front door.

it was a typical spa day for you, you’d bashfully talk about your days with rafe to your nail lady, while she engrossed you with details about her barging clients. the two of you exchanged bubbly laughs as you sipped on your mocktail, wearing nothing but the fluffy white robe that came complimentary with your spa visit. you were so involved with the relaxing environment that came with getting waited on hand and foot, that you didn’t even realize that your regular masseuse had been swapped out for a middle-aged man who had taken over her position.

now dressed in your figure-hugging, white lace-trimmed romper that rode up the plush curve of your ass, you strutted through the front door of tannyhill, chanel bag in-tow as you relished in your fluid and relaxed state. the exposed skin of your legs, thighs, arms, and chest glowed from the luxuriously creamy oils and lotions used on your skin, your face radiant from your facial as you raised your dior sunglasses to sit on top of your hair. “papi, i’m home,” you sang, placing your purse onto the couch, a low sigh leaving your lips as you reached to grab a glass from the top cabinet.

the thin fabric of your romper became wedged between your taut asscheeks as you stood on the tips of your freshly pedicured toes, a shriek coming from your lips as a harsh smack came down on your ass, “coño, raaafe,” you whined, your pained pout quickly subsiding into a smile as your boyfriend chuckles lightly, pushing his hand down against your spine, bending you over the counter.

rafe was shirtless, wearing nothing but his belted slacks and socks as he feigned a few thrusts into your clothed bottom, before leaning over to kiss the back of your head, “how was the spa, mama, y’got everything done?” he questioned, reaching over you to grab your glass, bringing it to the fridge to fill up with water.

with a smile, you nodded as you approached rafe, sliding your arms around his naked waist with a dreamy sigh, “yeah, i got my nails done, we went for a french manicure and pedicure,” you raised one of your hands to rafe’s eyesight, your eyes brightening with excitement as he kissed your knuckles in approval, “i got a facial, my eyebrows and lashes done, i got waxed,” you sang, earning an enticed hum from rafe as his eyebrows raised with peaked interest.

a giggle escaped your puffed lips as rafe’s hand slid down your back, before he gripped your plush ass, jiggling it a bit as he curved his finger into your wet taint, causing you to throw your head back with a dopey smile, “rafe, listen to me,” you whined playfully.

with a nod, your boyfriend motioned for you to continue as he brought the glass of water to his pink lips, “and i got a full body massage, they used this warm oil - ugh, it was amazing,” you mewled, dramatically leaning your forehead against rafe’s bare chest, “the masseuse was really good, i think he was new-” you continued, bringing your swollen lips together as rafe cocked his head to the side, completely unamused by your revelation.

“he? didn’t y’tell me that it was a girl who does your massages?” rafe quizzed, setting his glass in the sink as he pulled away from you, adjusting his signet ring to sit further on his finger, his jaw strained.

internally you slapped yourself - sure, you knew that the masseuse was only there to do his job, but rafe had made it a point that you were to only have a female masseuse, he wasn’t too keen on having some guy running his hands down your oiled body. now nervously toying with the laced hem of your romper, you bit down into your bottom lip.

“yeah, but she’s on leave sooo,” you stepped closer to rafe, batting your wispy lashes up at his cold eyes, sighing in defeat as he remained stoic, “look, i didn’t even know that they hired someone new, papi,” you squeaked, bringing one of your legs to snake around rafe’s waist as you pushed yourself one, wrapping your other leg around him as his hand instinctively held you up by your ass.

rafe rolled his eyes, unimpressed as he carried you, “y’not going there anymore, princess,” he decided, pecking a short kiss to your lips as you opened your mouth to speak, “m’serious, y’know how i feel about it so don’t fuckin’ ask me,” he confirmed, patting your ass as you let out an exaggerated whine against the skin of his neck.

“you’re so strict,” you spoke, your voice muffled and strained as rafe nodded, refusing to fall into your complaints while he craned his neck back, forcing your eyes to meet, “wait- what if i just let you do my massages, but i can keep going to the spa?” you beamed.

searching your eyes for any hidden intentions, rafe shrugged, “i will fuck you up if you get another massage from him, y’understand?” he warned, completely entranced by your doe eyes and plump lips, not missing the way your warm pussy strained against the fabric of your romper.

smacking a noisy and wet kiss to rafe’s lips, you nodded furiously, “i understand,” you hummed sweetly, letting out a soft moan as rafe suddenly let you drop a few inches, before catching your thighs with his large hand, causing your aching pussy to taste the perfect amount of friction against the crotch of your romper.

with lowly hung eyes, rafe swiftly placed you on top of the kitchen counter forcefully spreading your legs to reveal the sticky wet patch that sat right on your pussy. crouching to reach eye level with your wetness, rafe wordlessly pressed his tongue against the damp spot, allowing his spit to dampen the sweetly-tinged fabric of your romper before enclosing his warm mouth around your clothed-pussy in a sloppy kiss. overly sensitive from the brazilian wax, you sucked in a breath as you tried to close your legs around rafe’s face.

“don’t fuckin’ touch me,” he hummed, licking another long and slippery stripe up your covered pussy, sucking on the wet spot as he held your legs spread with a tight grip on both of your knees, “y’so fuckin’ wet, mama - fuck,” he moaned needily, leaning his face in closer to your pussy as you blissfully throw your head back with parted lips.

“fuck, papi, s’so sensitive,” you moaned, exhaling an uneven shudder of a breath as rafe pressed his tongue into your fabric covered hole, maintaining his strict grip on your wobbly knees as he swallowed your pussy in an open mouthed kiss. your eyes rolled back as your lashes fluttered closed, your tummy tightening with each drooling lick the rafe pressed to you, your freshly painted nails scratching against the smooth countertop, eager for any kind of sensation to ease the race of your incoming orgasm.

rafe's piercing eyes closed with bliss as he pulled your knees to rest over his shoulders, carefully carrying you to lay on the floor, his slick and hot tongue continuing to lap at you, a short laugh vibrating against your clothed clit at the sound of you yelping as your back hit the polished hardwood floor. with your legs now thrown over his broad shoulders, it was easy for rafe to dig his face deeper into you. softly sucking on your clit through the fabric of your glove-like romper, rafe opened his eyes, the sight of your perked nipples straining against the flimsy clothing egging him on just right.

"y'gonna cum all over yourself, mama?" he mocked, hastily spitting on your the area right above your throbbing clit, greedily watching as his spit dripped down between your puffy pussy, "shit," he groaned, returning his head between your legs as you let out a hoarse cry.

with a few more generous licks, your warm cum creamed through the fabric that clung to your pussy, leaving rafe in a cum drunk state as he sucked every drop possible, through your clothing. your eyes slowly opened, your pupils blown as your gaze met rafe's as he licked you selfishly, eager to drink you whole. your chest huffed in and out, your vision grainy as rafe finally pulled his handsome face from between your legs, his nose, lips, and chin shining from your cum and his spit. your plump lips parted as you took in rafe's messy state, before they expanded into a dazed smile.

grabbing rafe's face, you pulled him into a searing kiss, shamelessly sucking on his tongue, eager to taste yourself before pulling away with a 'pop'. the two of you lazily smiled at each other, both too fucked out without actually fucking to speak.