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vettelsvee · 6 months ago

Note

Hey, how's it going?I have been thinking, for me, Seb gives off a GREAT vibe of a big family guy, who has a big family with the person he loves, my opinion of course. Could you write something like this?

E a propósito, adoro tudo o que você escreve!!

ROADTRIP TO MONACO | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 2894

summary: seb and a pregnant y/n go and have a trip to monaco with their three little ones after seb's retirement

warnings: none, just mentions of pregnancy sickness as y/n is on her first term of her pregnancy! fluff, lots of fluff, and dad!seb

a/n: i love that seb. i actually love seb and oscar so much that the only thing i want to do is write about them. i'll be waiting your feedback, comments and requests please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated (also, so close to 1k! tysm to you all because i most of the times feel surreal with all of this and how much you seem to enjoy my fics). also, anon: hope you like this!

The soft melody of an alarm broke through the darkness of the bedroom Sebastian and you shared around one-thirty in the morning, interrupting the couple's deep sleep. Sebastian, still startled by the noise, managed to quickly stretch his arm to turn off the alarm in an attempt to fully wake up. Meanwhile, you rubbed your eyes, fighting against the tiredness.

"Is it already time to get up, sunshine?" you asked sleepily.

"Yes, darling, it's time," Seb nodded as he sat up in bed. "If we want to get to Monaco on time and avoid Charles from killing us. We should leave in about an hour and a half."

You yawned, curling up under the blankets.

"But it's too early, love… Don't you think we could, and should, sleep a little longer?"

Sebastian approached you and gently stroked your hair. He was aware that the fourth pregnancy was being a bit challenging for you compared to the previous three, despite being only in the second month.

If fatigue, nausea and dizziness were making life difficult for you at the moment, he didn't want to imagine how you would feel four months from now.

"Y/N, sweetheart, don't worry. Let me be in charge of waking up the kids and getting everything ready. You stay here and rest a little longer, okay? I promise I'll let you know when everything is ready so you only have to get in the car."

You looked at him with a tired but grateful expression. Still, you knew you had to help prepare the final details of the trip, and most importantly, make sure the kids were perfectly ready..

"Are you sure? I don't want you to take on all the work, really," you expressed with concern in your voice. "Even though I'm tired, I can help you..."

"I'm absolutely sure, darling," the man interrupted, smiling and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead. "These are the kinds of things I retired for, so focus on going back to sleep, alright? I'll see you in a bit, liebe."

"Sebastian…" you spoke again. "I'm really serious: we're in this together, and I don't want you to handle everything alone. It's a family trip, not a trip of Seb with his three kids. I want to help."

He admired your determination, but he wanted you to be treated as you deserved.

"I know, Y/N," he explained, "but I also know how tired you are. Really, allow yourself not to worry about your kids for once. I promise I'll wake you up soon enough so you can get ready."

You nodded, trying to avoid continuing the conversation and settling back into bed, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without thinking about how long your husband might take to prepare your kids.

Meanwhile, Sebastian left the room with determination and headed towards the children's rooms. Emily, Charlotte and Matilda slept all in different rooms, so he went from door to door, opening them gently and affectionately, and then approaching each bed.

He first woke up Charlotte, the middle one, who rubbed her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you have a nightmare and want to sleep with me? Or is mom having the baby?"

"No, no," Sebastian chuckled at his seven-year-old daughter's antics. "It's time to wake up. Remember we're going to Monaco today."

The little girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Yes, that's right! We're going to your old workplace!"

After letting her fully wake up, the head of the family went to the room of the youngest, Matilda, who was four years old.

"Matilda, wake up, honey," whispered Vettel, giving her a gentle tap on her shoulder. "We have an exciting day ahead. We're going to see those fast cars daddy used to drive."

The youngest Vettel lazily stretched in his small bed and yawned. Sebastian then smiled, picking her up while she just wanted to hug Seb.

"That's what I like to see, little one," he commented, tousling her hair. "Let me dress you so mom doesn't have to worry too much, okay?"

Both the children and Sebastian hurried to get ready. There was no doubt that, despite the sleepiness, the family was full of energy and excitement for what awaited them in the country about seven hours from their residence.

After also waking up Emily, your eldest, and making sure all of them were ready, Seb put cartoons on the living room TV to keep the children entertained and returned to his room, where you were still resting, seemingly peacefully asleep.

"Honey, the kids are ready. They're waiting for us in the living room. Are you feeling better?" he whispered as softly as he could, gently stroking your arm.

You opened her eyes and sat up in bed, stretching aggressively. “Thank you so much for getting our little devils ready, I owe you one."

He tenderly kissed you on the lips.

"You don't owe me anything, you did enough effort to bring them into the world and act as both father and mother when I wasn't around. Let me help you get ready, we have a great day ahead."

Quickly, Seb helped you change you clothes, gently touching your small but already slightly prominent pregnant belly. Once you were finally dressed in sportswear for comfort, you both walked hand in hand out of the room and headed to the living room, where your children were already waiting impatiently.

After making sure everything was ready and the kids had no further needs, you all headed to the garage, quickly getting into the family car. While Sebastian made sure the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk, you took care of buckling the children up and offering them a few games or movies to keep them entertained on the way, although you were quite aware they would end up asleep.

"Are you all ready?" you inquired, turning around from the passenger seat and looking at her children with a smile as Seb began to start the car.

"Yes, mommy, let's go!" exclaimed little Matilda, who received cheers from her sisters.

With the car's engine purring softly, they set off on the Swiss roads amidst the darkness of the night, which, despite being synonymous with tiredness, brought a surge of energy to the youngest members of the family, where conversations and plans for Monaco came to the forefront.

"Do you think grandpa Norbert is going to come, Dad? I heard you talking to him the other day," exclaimed Charlotte, once again showing her admiration for Sebastian's sister. "Is grandma Heike coming too?"

"I want to hear the loud noises of the cars and see how fast they go," Emily added immediately, excited.

Sebastian smiled as he drove, very happy to hear the excitement of his children and, especially, to be sharing such an experience with you all not only after his retirement.

As the hours went by, tiredness arrived, and the children fell asleep. Quite the opposite happened with you: you woke up when you no longer heard the sudden conversations between the siblings. As you progressed along the winding roads and approached Monegasque territory, the sky began to lighten, giving them a beautiful sunrise.

"Look, honey, the sun is rising," you commented to Seb, pointing to the horizon stained with warm colors. "I can't believe we're finally arriving in Monaco after weeks of waiting..."

After a couple more hours of driving, and lively conversation among the family resulting from a brief stop for breakfast and in your case, vomiting a couple of times, you arrived in Monaco. The city looked completely different from any other time of the year as the streets were adorned with flags and banners for the Grand Prix. Furthermore, the grandstands, the paddock, and the countless yachts docked in the harbor made Monte Carlo seem even richer than it already was.

"We're here, guys," Sebastian announced to his children sweetly. "If you need something, just make sure to tell me, alright?”

Seb parked the Mercedes in a parking lot reserved for VIP guests, and then got out of the car to help you. He made then a phone call, possibly to Leclerc, your kids began to stroke your belly. You reacted early and quickly moved them away, aware that journalists and paparazzi could discover the secret.

"Let's follow dad, guys," you whispered to them, getting down to their level. "And remember: no one, not Uncle Charles or anyone who asks you, can know that dad and I have made a little baby, okay?"

The children nodded in response to your question, which somewhat reassured you were still nervous. However, the excitement began to set in as you walked alongside your kids, following Seb towards the place where the free practice sessions would take place, partially pushing aside your worries. The sound of the engines grew louder with each step you took, with the youngest of the family covering her ears with his little hands.

"Look, mommy: there's the Ferrari team!" exclaimed Emily pointing towards the red team's garage.

Charles appeared in his racing suit, as Free Practice was set to begin in just thirty minutes.

As soon as he spotted your husband, who was slightly ahead of all of you, he raised his arms in the air with great joy at seeing him again on the circuits, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Charles!" exclaimed Seb when he finally reached the Monegasque, giving him a strong hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. The kids are very excited to be here, and especially to see you."

Leclerc returned the hug to the German, reminiscing about the two years they were teammates.

"You don't have to thank me, Seb," replied the Ferrari driver. "I'm sure Emily and Charlie remember something, but I know it's all new for Matilda. Anyway, I'm sure they'll enjoy it like the first time, just like Y/N!"

As the conversation continued between the two men, you and the kids surrounded the Ferrari driver, who felt a bit shy seeing the children's excited faces.

"Thank you, Charles," you expressed with your little ones embracing you somewhat shyly. "We're very grateful that you made it possible for us to come," you leaned closer to the Monegasque and whispered: "and don't tell anyone, but despite Ferrari's shitty strategies, you're doing great."

After a few minutes of conversation catching up on your respective live, and where Seb almost revealed you were expecting your fourth child, Charlotte, Emily and Matilda crowded around Charles, excited to see their father's former teammate again. Despite the constant denials from the team engineers, he managed to let your kids have a close look at his car.

"Look," said Charles, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle, "this is the car I'll be practicing with today, and that's my teammate's, Carlos," he pointed to the car beside it. "What do you think?"

The children's eyes widened with passion as they began to examine the car closely.

"Can we touch it, Uncle Charles?" asked the four-year-old, grabbing Leclerc's race suit pants.

Charles smiled, nodding enthusiastically, inwardly melting at the scene he was witnessing. He wished he could see himself like that with Olivia in a few years.

"Of course, but do it quickly so you father doesn’t get fined again," he said jokingly.

While the kids explored the car, and after you joined them shortly after, Charles and Seb began to converse animatedly yet seriously about the expectations for the Grand Prix and the sensations he had so far in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

The sudden hustle in the Ferrari garage made it clear that Free Practice 1 was about to begin. Sebastian and Charles had their conversation interrupted when Leclerc's beloved engineer insisted he get into the car as soon as possible. It was finally time for you to head to the corresponding grandstand to enjoy the practice session.

The Monegasque was forced, much to his regret, to interrupt his conversation with the your husband. Seb, however, understood, and immediately turned to you all, who were eagerly waiting to go to the best spot to watch the cars go around.

"Come with me, kids," notedhim, "it's time to go up to the VIP grandstand to get a better view of the session."

Taking Matilda in his arms, holding his daughters' hands with his free hand, and with you on his left, you all formed a little chain to avoid getting lost in the commotion on you way to the designated spot.

You were moved by the scene you were witnessing. Holding onto Seb's free arm, you tried to control your tears as your followed your husband's lead.

Minutes later, you had found your reserved seats, but numerous fans who had recognized Seb had delayed him. You were used to this, as were your kids. Moreover, none of your minded as they were aware that Seb had done great things for and in the world of motorsport.

“Look dad!��, exclaimed Emily excitedly as her father sat down next to her, “That's Charles! He's going really fast!”

"Yes, he's going fast indeed, Emily," Seb answered, still in shock at what he was witnessing after many time.

As the practice hour progressed, you captured some moments of the family with your camera, all of them fully caught up in the energy emanating from the circuit at that moment. The applause and words of encouragement, though impossible to hear for the drivers, were felt as the local hero made his appearance on the track.

When it came to an end, faster than they thought, you all made your way back to the Ferrari garage, where Charles had promised to meet his former teammate after the session.

Once there, you saw the blue-eyed with his girlfriend, Alexandra, engaged in lively conversation, likely about what had happened on the track during the previous hour. Charles, upon seeing Sebastian with you at the garage door, hurried over as fast as he could.

"Seb, I thought you'd be gone!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't get to see you: you know, speed problems," he laughed at his own bad joke, "but I'm sure you had a good time, and your amazing wife and kids did too, right?"

Matilda and Charlotte shouted in unison. You and Emily nodded quickly.

"I'm really impressed, Charles," Vettel said enthusiastically. "Apart from the track being in wonderful condition, the weather cooperating, and not having too many idiots running around today, your performance has been incredible."

Alex joined the conversation, greeting your and the kids first, and then Seb.

"It's been wonderful seeing you in the stands. I wish I didn't have to stay locked up in the garage all day, but there are these crazy Charles fangirls out there..." she joked.

You laughed at the comment. If she only knew all that you had to go through in the early years of your relationship with Seb…

"Anyways…" Leclerc began, placing his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "Alex and I have been talking these past few days and we'd like to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight. It would be nice for us to spend some time together, just relaxing, and celebrate that you've finally come back around here," he explained, looking directly at your husband.

"But really, if it's any inconvenience for you," she hurried to add, "or if you need to head back home or..."

Sebastian looked at you, who nodded excitedly at the proposal.

"It would be an honor, Charles."

After exchanging details for the dinner, they bid farewell momentarily due to Leclerc's press commitments. During that time, you returned to the hotel where you would stay for a couple of days to freshen up and prepare for dinner, as managing three children wasn't an easy or simple task.

When you met again, this time at the restaurant, you were warmly welcomed by its members. Dinner unfolded amid laughter and lively conversations, mostly revolving around Formula 1 anecdotes and your private lives.

As the night progressed, Seb and Charles delved into deeper topics about the world that absorbed so much of their lives. Alex and you, on the other hand, got to know each other more and realized they had more in common than you initially thought.

The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives: Charlie, Emily, and Matilda, who fell asleep early, spent the night playing games with the young couple, who still seemed like kids in your eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed the day, guys," Charles said, raising his glass of wine. "I hope we can enjoy many more moments together, especially when the little one comes because, Y/N, I know there’s a reason why you’re not drinking alcohol when you like wine so much."

"Cheers!" you all exclaimed while you tried not to get nervous and more shy than you actually were, laughing at the revealed secret.

As you continued to enjoy the delicious food, along with the laughter and entertaining stories, you knew that trip to Monaco would become a cherished memory in the years to come. There was no doubt you should definitely do this more often and, above all, around the world if given the chance, something you had been waiting for years.

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cosmicdahlias · 2 months ago

Text

Top Student

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Professor Pines has seemed a little down lately. You stop by his office with the intention of raising his spirits, as well as… other things.

tags: professor ford au, teacher/student relationship, oral, multiple orgasms, biting, fdom/msub, bondage, praise kink, p in v, creampie

okay confession this is inspired by a crush i had on a teacher in my senior year of high school, dude was a total nerd but in like a hot way. i literally applied myself so hard for him that i finished top of the class, still got the medal to prove it lmao. i’ve always had a thing for well read older men and that ain’t ever changing!!!

You stood outside the door to your Astronomy professor’s office. As of late Professor Pines had seemed less like himself, appearing to be not nearly as engaged in his lectures. He covered the material just fine, but his passion for the subject matter just wasn’t there anymore. He always looked exhausted and worn out as well. Were it any other professor, you still would’ve cared, but there was an ulterior motive that led you to stand at his door. You gave a knock.

“Come in!” Professor Pine’s voice called from behind the door.

You opened it and took in the sight of his office. The room was softly lit by both a floor and desk lamp, giving the space a cozier feel than what overhead lighting could achieve. Well stocked bookshelves stretched to the ceiling and multiple PhD diplomas lined the walls, from what you’d heard he had accumulated at least twelve. His desk faced the window and a couch sat in the corner. You stepped into the room.

“Oh hello, y/n. What a pleasant surprise.” He said.

“Evening, professor.”

“Good evening to you too. Please, take a seat.”

You sat on the couch, it was almost far too nice for just an office. Professor Pines really went above and beyond to make sure his students were comfortable. He turned in his chair to face you.

“So, what can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, to be blunt I’m a little worried.”

His brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’re doing incredibly well in my course. Don’t go spreading this around, but you’re top of the class. I promise you have little, if anything, to worry about.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about myself. I meant you, professor.”

He gave a confused chuckle.

“Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

You took a deep breath.

“You’ve just been so… sad lately. It’s subtle, but you seem distant during your lectures, like you’re just going through the motions. You look so exhausted too.”

Professor Pines fidgeted with his hands.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I’m doing just fine. I promise.”

You looked at him directly in the eyes.

“Professor…”

“I’m sorry, I really do value your worries, but the life of your professor isn’t something you need invest yourself in. You’re incredibly sweet, but seriously I’m fine.”

“I know depression when I see it, I wouldn’t be a good student if I didn’t care.”

He let out a long sigh.

“If I really cannot dissuade you, then alright. Just promise to keep this between us.”

“Of course.”

“Things haven’t been going well for me romantically. It seems to be one failed relationship after another. They start off great for a few weeks, or if I’m lucky maybe a month or so, but no one has seemed to enjoy my company long term. I’m not exactly romantically adept, so it’s more my own fault than them, but still I’m starting to lose hope of finding someone. I’m not getting any younger and at my age you become painfully aware of just how little time you have left in the grand scheme of things. It’s really starting to feel like loneliness might be it for me.“

“Oh, professor. I had my suspicions that it might’ve been something like this, but I’m so sorry.”

He gave a small, dejected smile.

“You know, I really thought I was doing my best to hide it. Foolish of me to assume that you, my top student, wouldn’t catch on with that intuition of yours. I apologize if it’s affected the quality of my teaching.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh goodness, no. You don’t need to do anything for me.”

“Are you sure?” You said, standing and coming close to him.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any, but I’ve always found you attractive, Professor Pines.”

His cheeks turned a dusty pink.

“Um… I- ah- thank you. I’ve always thought you were incredibly attractive as well, but perhaps you shouldn’t be standing so close like that.”

You moved a hand to his chest, there was a slight firmness to it. You moved in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“I think I could benefit from some private instruction, don’t you?” You whispered.

His breath shuddered. You leaned down and kissed him, he moaned softly into your mouth before pulling away.

“N- no, this is wrong. I- we can’t do this. Look, you can sit back down and we can discuss anything pertaining to my class, or you can leave and I’ll see you for tomorrow’s lectu-“

You sat on his desk, spreading your legs and slowly pulling up your skirt.

“I know you want this as badly as I do.” You cooed.

“I can’t- oh dear god, you weren’t wearing anything underneath that skirt this whole time? Did you… plan this?”

“I just figured I could help out my favorite professor.”

You slipped a finger to your clit, Professor Pines watched intently.

“You’re so wet, is this because of me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve touched myself to you.”

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, but someone as radiant and stunning as you with your hand between your thighs and dripping onto my desk for me is by far the least expected.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, professor. Do you know how many people would throw themselves at a silver fox like you?” You purred.

Professor Pines moved himself out of his chair to stand in front of you, he cupped your cheek, kissing you passionately.

“If your flattery is a means to get me on my knees for you, I’d say you’ve won me over.” He said as he sank to the floor, his face level with your pussy.

He allowed his hot breath to linger on you for a moment before dragging his tongue up your dripping lips.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.” He said, his mouth finding your clit as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Despite claiming to be romantically inept, he certainly wasn’t at pleasuring his lover. You had no idea what his past partners didn’t see in him, he could be as awkward as humanly possible, but his looks and skilled tongue would keep you cuffed.

He stopped for a moment and looked at you.

“How does that feel?” He asked.

You stroked his cheek.

“You’re so good for me.” You praised.

Your praise seemed to invigorate him, he returned his mouth and tongue to your clit, lapping at you furiously.

You felt yourself growing close and you tightened your grip on his hair. You moaned loudly as you came, bucking yourself against his face. He held your hips steady, keeping his mouth on you and making you cum again in record time. He refused to stop, not even allowing you to catch your breath before making you cum again and again until you lost count. Your ears rang by the time he removed his mouth.

“Holy fuuuuuck. You’re incredible, Professor Pines.” You panted, your final orgasm subsiding.

“Please, just call me Ford. After making you cum on my tongue that many times I think we’re past the need for formalities.” He said as he stood to kiss you.

“Well then Ford, how about we move this to the couch?” You said as your hearing fully returned to normal.

“But of course, sweetheart.”

He picked you up underneath your thighs and sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. You felt his hard cock press against you through his pants as you kissed him passionately, pulling down the turtleneck of his maroon sweater. You were about to bite his neck when you noticed a cartoonish tattoo of a smiling star giving a double thumbs up with the words “Hey now, I’m an all star.” You failed to stifle a laugh.

“What is it?” Ford asked.

“Nothing.”

You bit down on him, he gasped.

“Oh god, no one has ever done this to me before. People my age aren’t nearly as adventurous.” Ford whimpered.

You laughed again.

“You think that’s adventurous? Let me ask you something, have you ever been dominated before?”

He blushed hard.

“I- no, never. My partners have always preferred I take the dominant role.”

You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you pulled away.

“I’m about to blow your mind, Stanford Pines. Now lie back.”

He followed your command, shifting himself to lay on the couch with you still on top of him.

“You ever had someone tie you up before?” You asked.

He looked away, embarrassed.

“…Not in a sexual way.” He mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Just what were you doing before you became a college professor?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the information out of you.” You teased.

“You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

You unbuckled his belt, pulling it free from his pants. You pinned his arms above his head, looping the belt around his wrists and fashioning it into handcuffs.

“How’s that, not too tight?” You asked.

“No, it feels snug.”

“Good.”

You let your hands travel to his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock.

“Goddamn, your previous partners are idiots. Who would pass up a cock like this?” You said, giving him a few strokes.

“Mmmnn, your hand feels so good.”

“I think I know something that’ll feel even better.”

You moved yourself to hover over his cock, slowly sinking down his length. He throbbed as you reached the base of his shaft. You looked down at him and smirked, staying still.

“Y- you can’t just sit there with my cock inside you and not move. Don’t tease me like this.” Ford whimpered.

“I need to hear you tell me how much you want this.”

“Please, I need you.” He said as he frantically attempted to buck his hips.

You pulled yourself off of him.

“No no no, please no, you can’t stop now.” He whined pitifully.

You cupped his chin, your thumb stroking his lips.

“You have to beg. Tell me just how badly you need your top student to fuck you.” You commanded.

“Oh god, please y/n. I need you. I fucking NEED you. Ever since that first day you walked into my class I’ve desired you so intensely. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to stroke myself because I lay awake at night thinking of you. I’ve even touched myself in the lecture hall between classes after seeing you sit in the front row in those little skirts, crossing and uncrossing your legs, your panties just barely visible. I’ve never longed for someone the way I have for you. Please fuck me, I can’t take much more of this.”

“Ugh you’re adorable when you beg, music to my ears.”

You took his full length back inside you, he let out a loud gasping moan as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Thank you, dear Moses thank you. You feel so good, s- so warm and tight.” He shuddered.

You slipped your hands under his sweater to his nipples, pinching and tugging them. He was a mess of moans and whimpers.

“You like that, smart guy?” You purred.

He looked up at you in surprise.

“Did I say something?” You asked.

“No, I just- it’s funny, you’re not the first person to call me that, but I like it far better coming from you than I did him.”

“That’s my good boy.” You purred.

You felt him throb hard inside you.

“Nnngh, no one has ever said that to me before. Your praise alone could make a man cum.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips to fully slide him out and back in over and over. Your name left his lips with a moan and he looked up at you, eyes full of pure lust.

“Oh god, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” He whined.

“So needy, you’re doing such a good job for me.”

You felt him throb repeatedly as his moans and whimpers increased in volume and prevalence.

“I’m so close, m- may I cum in you? I need to know what it’s like to fill you with my seed. Please, y/n.” Ford begged.

“Very good, handsome. I didn’t even have to tell you to beg. That alone deserves to be rewarded.”

You picked up your speed and felt the pulse of his cock one final time as he came deep inside you. He bucked his hips, trying his hardest to go as far in you as he could.

“Y- you’re s- s- so incredible.” He stuttered.

“And you make for one hell of a ride, handsome.” You purred, stroking his cheek.

You pulled yourself off of him and he looked down, his and your cum had completely stained the front of his pants.

“Oh god, we’ve made a mess.” He said, putting his hand to his forehead.

You giggled at the sight of him.

“Don’t laugh, you’re wearing a skirt, you can get away with it.” He groaned.

“Sorry, I just like the idea of leaving you with a little reminder of myself.”

Ford took your hand.

“You really are amazing, sweetheart. No one has ever come close to feeling like you.” He whispered.

“Yeah? How would you like to do this again sometime?”

“R- really?” He asked.

“Oh without question.”

“Then by all means, feel free to stop by tomorrow. Perhaps you could let me see you sans clothes next time.”

“Good boy, sounds like a plan.” You said, leaning down to kiss him.

#gravity falls #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines fanfic #ford pines smut #my fics

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transformers-spike · 3 months ago

Note

Human SO giving TFP Ratchet a well-deserved break. Doctor gotta update his knowledge on anatomy, right?

Get his ass

Hours of watching Ratchet slave away at his workstation have taken their toll. You walk up behind him, confident enough he won’t accidentally crush you after dealing with the hyperactive-likes of Miko. “Hey docbot!” you cry out waving an arm at him. He turns around just enough to acknowledge your presence, massive brow plates furrowed into a wide V. “You should really consider taking a break now, it’s been at least…” you tap your chin thoughtfully – “20 cycles since you started your uh…” you gesture at the massive mechanical mass on his desk, “the thing.” To his credit, despite being clearly exhausted, he tones down the annoyance in his voice when he tells you he’s fine. Right, fine and dandy, you think. You’re half considering shimmying up his leg to get to his massive workstation, look him in the eye and tell him to clock in for the night. But before you can so much as touch his leg, he moves away from you, kneeling down to save your sorry ass neck from developing early onset scoliosis. “I appreciate your concern,” he says matter-of-factly, “but our kind can operate without rest for a considerable amount of time.” You almost wait for him to add something about humans being unable to withstand the same sort of stuff after the two-days-and-a-half all-nighter he watched you pull fuelled up on nothing but coffee and spite. Still, you are a shameless being, and so you overlook the judgment of his optics and reel him back in.

“Nope,” you shake your head. “Not when everyone else takes time to recharge, and especially not when you’ve been neglecting your energon intake.” You’re unsure if he seems more proud than frustrated when you give him his usual “get some rest” speech. You offer his pede a “that’s final” pat as he takes the time to contemplate his next course of action. While staring right at the thingamajig on his desk… “Alright,” you say with your hands on your hips, “well if you don’t want to stop working, guess little old me’s going to keep all their human anatomy for themselves.” You hide the evident smugness in your voice with whininess. Said whininess rings out just loud enough in the (thankfully) empty bridge room for you to cringe inside. Cybertronians have thinner face plating compared to the rest of their frames, which gives the energon underneath just enough transparency to come to the surface in what you’ve come to describe as a blueberry blue blush. Holy shit, you think. Did my lack of game actually work? “I won’t let you impale yourself on my spike,” he states with the finality of a death throw executioner. “I know I know,” you mumble sheepishly, “but what do you say?” You flash him a smile promising mischief. He gives you a final once over, ex-vents loud enough to have the noise reverberate in your ears, and gently offers you a hand to climb on.

Back in his berthroom, you grind against his interface panel with enough force to fuck up your zipper. Another pair of jeans ruined in this economy to Ratchet’s bemusement, even if he hides it under a good-natured scowl. “Well shit,” you say, proceeding to remove your pants and everything else on your person in the sexiest manner you can strip, which probably looks more like a headless chicken wrestling with the clothes it evidently shouldn’t be wearing. Not that Ratchet minds. His optics trail from the curvature of your neck to the moles and odd freckles bespeckling your chest before receding down to the stretch marks across your stomach and hips. As odd as it feels having someone – an alien lifeform no less – taking in the many flaws of your body, you feel no judgment emanating from him. You would assume the interest he has in your shape is aesthetic in a scientific manner, like a botanist observing the upturned petals of a newly discovered species – but the softness of his gaze indicates much more than that.

You don’t flinch when he reaches out an exploratory digit to stroke your skin – heck, you turn around and give him 360 access to everything he wants, completely unabashed by your own nakedness. Glancing over your shoulder, you can almost hear the anatomical jargon in his head as he traces a finger over your trapezius.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking mental notes again.”

“My processor is resting just fine,” he responds. You’re halfway through calling him a liar when he scoops you up with ease and brings you to his lips. The kiss is featherlight, tickling the nerves between your trapezius and latissimus dorsi. You let out a short sigh of content and crane your neck just enough to kiss him right on his nose-ish area. It feels much harder than the rest of his face, probably because it’s part of his helm. Eh, you’ll ask later, you’re already far enough with your one way ticket to fingertown. Right on cue, his eyelids flutter open, blue optics draping warm light over your naked and suddenly too cold body.

You hear the familiar whirring of his interface panel and you send him a look of incomparable excitement as you glance from his rapidly pressurizing spike to his flushed face.

“Can I?” you ask like a child at an ax throwing competition. His vents flip to their third setting, but he nods cautiously.

Mass displacement, for all the three hour and a half explanation he gave you, may be completely off the table with team Prime’s worrying level of energon, but at this point you’re too excited to care.

He sets you down in his lap, close enough for you to finally get a good up close and personal look at his spike. Fuck human flashing, this thing literally glows with blue biolights, grey and metallic with the same orange accents of his frame. If you had any brain cells left, you’d be tempted to ask him if Cybertronians can cosmetically change the paint of their spikes. Sadly, you’re too busy ogling at his valve to care.

You crawl over to it and lean down to look into its upside down vastness like a cave explorer. Not a second later, your 300 IQ brain considers shoving your entire arm up his valve, if only to prove you can be just as good if not better than a Cybertronian in the berthroom (human ego and all). Just as fast as the thought appears, you’re now batting it away reminding yourself it’s too risky considering its piston mechanism. If it can take a 7 foot tall metal dick, you don’t want to find out how easily those walls can close around you and shatter your radius, ulna and humerus, and possibly turn your muscles into organic mush.

Oh shit. Naked and bent over like this he’s definitely gotten a good look at the entirety of your wiggling genitals while you were exploring his open interface panels. Quite the gentleman (and pervert you assume), he hasn’t mentioned your – ahem, situation until now.

Taking it in stride with overinflated confidence, you send a wink his way and immediately shove the tip of his spike into your mouth. If your jaw’s aching is anything to go by, going deep is most unwise – but Ratchet’s startled moan is all you need to go down another inch.

Whatever meager trust you’ve instilled in him is your one way to make your giant robot boyfriend overload so hard it cures his resting bitch face. You throw yourself into your work, mandibles threatening to give out as you bob your head up and down not even half of his spike tip.

“That’s enough,” he calls out, struggling to regain cognizance from the sound of his strained vocalizer.

His warning means well, but at this point you’ve sacrificed too much of your jaw to give up. You take your courage by the dick and go as far as you can without dislocating it, breath cut short by his sheer girth.

This, for all its meager worth, is just what he needs. Your remaining brain cell has enough foresight to constrict your larynx when his transfluid shoots down your throat.

“Spit it out!” he cries out like an underpaid teacher watching a student shove the class pet into their mouth. “You don’t know what it could do to your biology!”

You cough and sputter, but it’s too late, you’ve swallowed it whole. You turn to meet Ratchet who’s looking at you like he’s about to turn into an ambulance and cart you off to the hospital with June on speed dial.

“Hopefully get me pregnant,” you say with a wink, batting your eyelashes at the docbot.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x reader #is this a medical k1nk?#idk #june darby

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Study Buddy 4

Warnings:this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

“She’s sleeping, fever’s still there,” you say as you ease the door shut behind you.

As you come down the hall, Walter puts his phone away. He sighs. His curls are mussed from his stressed ruffling. He looks even more grumpy than usual. At least, what you know to be his usual.

“Right,” he sighs. “Just called the captain...”

“Captain? You military?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Detective. Left the force a while back,” he sniffs. “I can’t exactly call in, you know?”

You nod awkwardly. You’re not sure what to do and you know better than to say anything. He barely appreciates your opinions on fiction, let alone his life decisions.

“You know, when she was a kid. A real kid, small one, I'd put her in the back seat with her teddy and blanket. Drive her around with me. She slept like a rock...” he shakes his head. “It’s too cold and she’s too sick. Too big for that now.”

You fold your hands behind you. You don’t feel too bad for him, but you feel awful for Faye. She’s old enough to take care of herself but she’s in such a state, she should be left to.

“Well, I don’t work tomorrow. I could—uh, I just realised how presumptuous--”

“What?” He asks desperately. “You’ll stay with her?”

His expression changes in an instant. Hope, concern, the face of a father. You nod.

“Sure, I could,” you shrug. “I mean, I’ll keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t get worse.”

“Really?” He asks.

“She’s really sick,” you say. “And I mean, you’re a cop. That’s a hell of a lot more important than what I do. Oh, I’ll even finish the report. A draft of course, I'll let you edit out all my mistakes.”

He nods and scratches his beard, “hm, alright. I guess... you don’t got any priors and you look harmless enough.”

“Wait? You don’t trust me?”

“I just said--”

“Priors? Did you... Did you look into me?”

“If I’m going to bring someone into my house, I’m doing a background check,” he says nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, you passed.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I pocketed a tootsie roll at the corner shop when I was eight. Maybe I should just go--”

“I was just being safe. She’s my daughter,” he insists.

“I know, I look like a criminal,” you go and grab your bag.

“Please--”

“Relax, I’m not going anywhere. Faye didn’t run a search on me,” you say. “I’m just grabbing my phone charger.”

“Oh, right,” he drawls.

“So uh, I’ll just work on that paper then. You probably gotta get ready soon, huh?”

“Right about now, yeah,” he grumbles and rubs behind his ear.

“Cool, I’ll get back to it,” you go to the table and plug the cord into the outlet behind the chair.

You plug in your cell then turn the laptop towards you. You pay Walter no mind as you review the paragraphs he added in your absence. Or you try not to notice him. He looms and you feel the heat of his gaze on you, for about a minute before he disappears down the hall.

You focus on your task. You might as well get the report out of the way. Faye won’t sleep very long. You can’t let her either. You have to make sure that fever doesn’t get any higher. You’re no nurse or anything but you know that at least. Writers do tend to have peculiar search histories. Even aspiring ones.

The night promises you little rest. You’re a bit disappointed. You hope for a break to refresh a bit. You can’t be too upset, you should feel lucky you’re not sick as a dog.

Walter returns. He smells like pine and mint. He moves around the kitchen wordlessly. He opens a few cupboard before nearing the table.

“Kid likes grape soda, there’s lots in the fridge. Some mac and cheese in the cupboard if you feel up to it,” he offers.

“No problem. I think I’ll probably just finish this then deal with my other assignments. More than enough to last the night,” you assure him. “Uh...” you sit back and look at him. “Good luck?”

His brows furrow, “thanks. Well, I’ll be off. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” you agree and go back to typing.

He grunts and stomps off. He rustles around in the entryway as you try to concentrate on the half-finished sentence before you. Even as the door shuts and the lock grinds, you find it hard to add anything. This is weird. You definitely didn’t expect this.

Another hour and you call it quits. It’s good enough. Besides, he will be sure to make it perfect. At least, to his standard.

You get up and stretch. You pace around restlessly then go to check on Faye. You were never much of a babysitter. The few times you did so, you felt wildly incapable. You tap on the door before you enter.

She’s awake but groggy. You touch her forehead. She’s still hot but not feverish. You’re relieved. You bring her some more water then leave her to rest some more.

Your keep your ears pricked as you go back to the kitchen table. You open up another course and work your way through the lesson. It won’t be so bad if you can even get ahead of schedule.

You cup your chin as your eyes turn fuzzy. You blink and make your vision clear. You can do this. There’s nothing else you can do. You gotta make it through the night, make sure Faye is okay. With how Walter gets about novels, you can’t imagine what would happen if you failed at this.

You yawn and rub your temples as you try to shake some life into yourself. You get through the lesson and submit your discussion response. You go into the assignment then start to plot out your project. The clock ticks by.

Nine turns into midnight before you stop again. You stand and jump around, getting your blood going. You look in on Faye again. She needs tissue and tea. Does he not have any honey? You leave that with her as she scrolls dully through Tiktok.

In the kitchen, you stare at the blinking cursor. You don’t get much done. Your brain clogs with molasses. Your eyelids droop. 2am. You blink. 2:07. Blink. 2:22.

You don’t realise you're asleep until you wake up. The smell of coffee tickles your nose and draws your head up with a gasp. You wipe the drool from your cheek and feel the imprint of the table’s edge on your skin. You bat away the glossiness in your eyes as Walter stands on the other side of the laptop.

“Oh, hi.”

“Morning,” he says as he puts down one of the plain paper cups. “Coffee.”

“Uh, thanks,” you glance at the cup. “Er... Faye’s fever broke. I think she’s feeling better. I must have... must have dozed off.”

“That’s fine,” he says.

“So I guess...” you stand and close your laptop. “I should get out of your hair. Finally.”

“No hurry. If you need to sleep, there’s the couch,” he offers. You hesitate. You look at him and his cheek ticks. “What?”

“Hm? Nothing. That’s nice of you.”

“I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say--” you begin to argue. “I know. Thanks for the coffee.”

You wrap up your charging cord and scoop up your phone and laptop, balancing the cup in your other hand. You turn and groan at the stiffness in your hips. Oof, those chairs are not forgiving.

He follows you like a shadow as you head for the door. “I am nice,” he insists.

You look up as you put the cup on the corner table and pack up your bag, “I know. First draft is done.”

He huffs. “Thank you.... you know, for keeping an eye on her.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” you assure him as you go to pull on your shoe, only to nearly tip over. “Oomph.”

“Look, you shouldn’t go right away. I can see you’re beat, so why don’t you get a few hours in. Buses don’t come out this way more than once an hour before ten.”

You look at him again. He crosses his arms, his thick chest bulging beneath. Is he suggesting or commanding? It’s hard to tell with him. And you are exhausted.

“I don’t want to bother.”

“If it was a bother, I wouldn’t offer,” he retorts.

“Oh, of course, I guess...”

“I’ll get you a blanket,” he spins and marches off before you can finish your sentence. You never said yes.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #study buddy #night hunter #au #drabble #series

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 1 year ago

Text

Kiss It Better - Sebastian Vettel

"Baby, is there any way you can keep the bees down the other end of the yard? I don't mind them, but I don't want to get stung," you said as you propped your feet up on the outdoor coffee table under the veranda.

You knew Seb loved his bees, and you loved them too, but you didn't want them buzzing around you all the time. "Once the flowers grow up there, they won't come down here," he explained, stepping out of the glass doors and handing you the water you had asked for.

"And they won't sting you, I promise," he said, taking a seat next to you. You watched as the bees buzzed around, landing on the flowers in the planters that you had all around the garden. You and Seb had bought the house a little over a year ago now, and it was certainly your forever home.

"So, I was thinking we could put the swings over there?" He said, pointing at a section of the garden that had the trees shadowing it over. "You're already thinking about swings?" you smiled as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yeah, we've only got a month to go, we need to think about these things," he said as if it were the most obvious answer ever. Seb ran a hand over your heavily swollen stomach, still never getting used to the feel of it. "Even so, they won't be able to go on the swings until they're older,"

"I'm still putting the swings over there, and I will use them until they are old enough," he laughed. Seb was pretty much still a big kid himself. Well, a big kid who loved to race really fast cars, take care of the environment and the people he loved.

"You stay here, I need to water the plants," Seb smiled, pushing himself off of the seat and heading to the hose. Of course, all of the water he used to water the plants was rainwater collected in a drum by the side of the house, but it was covered in plants so it wasn't sore on the eyes.

"OK," you said. Watching Seb watering the plants was just like seeing him in his element. Sure, racing was also his thing, but tending to the gardens and all of that kind of stuff was what he did now.

He leant over the bushes to get all of the plants, but you heard a sharp intake of breath that sounded like a hiss. He dropped the hose and ran to turn it off. "Hey, you alright?" You asked concerned, sitting upright. "Yeah, yeah. I just caught my finger on one of the rose bushes," he said, holding his finger.

You could tell he was trying to hide it from you, but the blood dripping down his hand couldn't be concealed. You looked at it wide-eyed, and he noticed. "Honey, don't worry-" he started, but you were already in full parent mode.

"You sit down, I'll go and get some stuff to clean it up and a plaster," you said, standing and waddling through to the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you, following you through to the kitchen. You were ignoring the ache in your back and hips as you walked, simply worried about Seb.

He stood behind you, holding his finger. "It's really not a big deal, you go and sit down," he tried to tell you, but you weren't having any of it. You pulled his other hand away to reveal the nasty gash down his middle finger. "Does it hurt?" you asked, ripping a paper towel off the roll and holding it to the wound.

"A bit, but not as much as I know your back hurts," he said, giving you the puppy dog eyes that made you melt. "Honestly, honey, I can take care of this. You need to sit down," he said, blocking your path to the cupboard that had the medical supplies in it.

"I don't do anything anymore, Seb, and I appreciate that, I really do. But, please just let me do this for you," you said, gently pushing him out of the way so you could get the stuff you wanted. "Fine, but promise me you'll take it easy for the rest of the day, OK?"

"I always take it easy, Seb," you chucked, causing him to chuckle along. You found the cupboard and bent over to retrieve the first aid kit from the bottom shelf, but you couldn't really reach. Your bump was in the way and heavily restricted your movements.

"You need some help over there, or are you good?" Seb teased, leaning against the counter next to you. "I've got it," you said through gritted teeth, focusing fully on reaching the bottom shelf. Seb watched for a moment, then deciding that he had had his fun and needed to help you.

"OK, come on, let me help you," he said, moving so he was behind you and gently pulled you up with his hands on your waist. "Sometimes you have to let me help you," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against the skin.

Playfully, he peppered a few kisses down your neck, his hands gently tracing over your stomach. "Hey, I don't want you getting blood on me," you laughed, wriggling away from him.

"Sorry, sorry, I just can't help myself," he smiled, getting the first aid kit back out and handing it to you. "OK, this is going to hurt," you said, ripping open the package of a disinfectant wipe. "Nothing I can't handle," he said.

You took his finger and wiped it clean, and the blood definitely made it look worse. Seb winced slightly, "Yeah, that does kind of hurt," he said, his cut stinging.

"Sorry," you said, making sure the wound was fully clean before unwrapping a plaster and sticking it onto his finger. "Better?" you asked, looking at your handiwork. You had done a pretty good job, if you did say so yourself.

"I don't know, I think you've missed something out," he smirked, giving you the puppy eyes again. You just couldn't resist those big blues. You lifted his finger to your lips and pressed a soft kiss onto the area, and you saw as a huge smile spread across his face.

"Much better," he smiled, "Now come on, let's get you sat down," he said, looping an arm around your waist and walking you back outside. Helping you back down onto the seat, you propped your feet up.

"Does your back feel any better sat down?" he asked, standing in front of you with his arms crossed. It showed off every muscle in his arms perfectly, and you tried to ignore how crazy your hormones were going right now.

"I never said it hurt?" you said.

"A good husband knows these things, you know?"

"I guess a good husband does know these things, because you are spot on," you smiled, thinking about how lucky you were to have him. "Aw so I'm a good husband? I am flattered," he teased.

"Lay off it," you laughed as he came to sit next to you.

"Do you want a massage?" He asked, trailing his fingers lazily up your arm.

"That is all I want right about now," you said, your back already feeling soothed at just the thought of it. "What about me?" he whined like a child wanting his mother's attention. "Sebastian, wanting you is a given. Now, get massaging," you playfully commanded, turning your back to him.

"Yes ma'am," he giggled, gliding his hands over the span of your back. He worked his fingers into the overworked muscles in your shoulders and back. Carrying the extra weight of a nearly full-term child was difficult work, and it was showing.

When he hit a particularly sore spot, you couldn't help but let out a small groan of happiness. "That good, huh?" he teased, and you could hear the cheeky smirk that was on his face by how he spoke. "Yeah, it really is,"

"I can show you something else that's that good," he said, as he tugged you closer to him. Slowly he planted some more kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. "Hey, not now," you chuckled. "But you're already pregnant, I don't see the problem," he smirked against your skin.

"Seb, go finish watering your plants or something," you laughed, pushing him away.

"Fine, but only because you told me to," he smiled, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. Swiftly, he knelt down and pressed a tender kiss to your stomach. "Don't you move, and I mean it," he said, going to turn the hose on again.

"I won't," you said, thinking you probably wouldn't be able to move, even if you wanted to. You looked out onto the garden of your perfect home, where your perfect husband was tending to the plants and his bees.

And to top it off, you had your perfect child on the way, and your life was shaping up to be the best one you could ask for.

A/N - If anyone has made a request, I promise I am working on it! It's just taking a bit of time. If anyone else has any, feel free to submit 💖

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #fluff #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel imagines #sebastian vettel fluff #sv5

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pitchsidestories · 9 months ago

Text

Promise me II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

masterlist I word count: 1274

a/n: hi, this was inspired by the current transfer rumours, we hope that you still like it despite the topic.

Lucy was on the phone with her agent while Ona was napping in her lap on their sofa. They had a tough training session in the morning and untypical for Barcelona it has been raining the whole time, one could hear the rain drops falling against the windows.

This sound has been a constant background noise for the entirety of this afternoon. The weather seemed to know which news were about to break into this peacefulness.

“But..”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. They don’t plan to extent. Not with Alexia staying.”, he apologized with such sincerity that it hurts the English woman even more when he said it the first time a couple of seconds ago.

“Two old players are too expensive, right?”, she hissed.

“That’s what you said.”, the man responded cooly.

“Yes, because that’s what everyone is thinking!”, Lucy answered enraged. The player’s body turned tense. Even in her sleep her girlfriend noticed that change, struggling to find the comfortable position she was in before.

“It basically is.”, he admitted.

“Fuck.”, Lucy cursed under her breath.

“Luce?”, Ona stirred up from her sleep.

“Sorry, love.”, the older defender bit her lip guiltily.

“What’s wrong?”, the Spanish woman asked big eyed, sounding deeply concerned.

“Keep sleeping.”, Lucy tried to reassure her, pressing a kiss to the forehead of her girlfriend.

“But you said fuck.”, Ona gave her a mildly amused look.

“Yes, because they won’t extend my contract.”, the English defender explained, sadly.

“What?!”, the younger woman exclaimed furiously.

“I don’t have the Alexia bonus.”, Lucy added.

“We’ll find a solution, I’m sure.”, Ona shook her head stubbornly.

“Sorry, little one.”, the older player whispered unhappy.

“No, you can’t leave.”, she stated firmly and stood up from her sofa.

“Ona where are you going?”, Lucy raised an eyebrow. The Spanish woman mouthed an apology before she went to get her sneakers and left to meet someone who might help them.

Meanwhile Lucys mood was almost as bad as the weather outside, but Ona’s optimistic smile chased her sad thoughts away when she returned to their shared home.

“I talked to Alexia. I think she can help.”

“Oh, Ona. I’m not sure about that, but I appreciate your effort.”, the older woman was in awe of her girlfriend’s unshaken optimism.

“Of course, it’ll work.”, the younger defender replied confidently.

“We’ll see, okay?”, Lucy responded.

“Okay. Just promise to not go too far away. “, Ona nodded, although letting her girlfriend gave her a comforting hug.

“I promise it won’t be the USA.”, the older player joked.

“I was hoping you’d say that you stay in Spain. But that’s something.”, the younger woman remarked, the sadness was still lingering in between them, but that silly reply of the English defender made her smile again.

“I’ll tell my manager that I won’t take any clubs that are too far away from you.“, Lucy half-joked.

Ona bit back a small smile: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome.“

“That calms me a bit.“, Ona admitted, unsure if she felt better because of Lucys words or the lightheartedness she brought back into this conversation.

Lucy smirked: “Anything else I can do for you?“

“Hug!“, Ona yelled and immediately bridged the gap between the two football players to jump into Lucys arms. The English defender had to react quick to catch her and not lose her balance.

Laughing, she looked her girlfriend that clung tightly to her body: “Better?“

“Yes.“

“Agreed.“, Lucy grinned.

“Thanks, Luce.“, Ona said, relaxing into her girlfriends embrace.

Carefully, Lucy set the Spanish football player down and asked: “What do you want for dinner?“

“Something Portuguese.“,Ona ordered in hopes that Lucy would treat her with one of her delicious family recipes.

The older defender just gave her a nod of approval: “Alright.“

“Thanks.“

“No worries. Sit down, I’ll start cooking.“

Lucy disappeared into the kitchen, Ona following close behind her. The Spaniard sat down at the kitchen table and watched attentively as her girlfriend started to cut some vegetables.

“You don’t need any help?“, Ona asked.

“No, thanks.“

She shrugged: “Fine, I’ll watch then.“

“Good.“ Lucy continued to focus on the food. Ona, however, chose to focus on Lucys backside while she was busy.

“Nice view though.“, she remarked, her head propped up on one hand.

“Oh, yeah. I was pretty proud, the market still had this amazing fish.“, Lucy continued to talk about her cooking, completely ignoring what Ona had meant.

The younger defender smiled to herself, Lucy always was in her own world when she started to cook. So she decided to let work in peace.

Only as the ingredients started to simmer and fill the kitchen with a mouth-watering smell, Ona sniffed once: “This smells so good.“

“It’ll taste even better.“, Lucy promised her.

“Can’t wait.“

“It’s almost ready.“

Ona took this as her cue to jump up and set the table in the meantime. “I’ll get the wine.“

“Perfect.“

Lucy placed the pan on the table while Ona filled their glasses. “Here, we go.“

“Cheers.“, Lucy lifted her glass to clink it to her girlfriends.

“Cheers.“, she echoed.

Both of them took a sip of their wine before Lucy started plating the fish. For the time they sat there in the kitchen, having dinner, the conversation they had earlier seemed far away.

“Don’t be sad.”, the English woman stated after noticing that her girlfriend had stared absent minded at the wall.

“I’m not. I would just miss this.”, Ona quickly replied in a sincere tone.

“Me too.”, Lucy admitted seriously.

“Even though I do ask myself, who’s going to cook for me if you’ve to leave.”, the younger player only half joked.

“Maybe Olga?”, the older defender suggested smiling mildly.

“No. I don’t want to be third wheeling. It’s going to be alright, because I can cook.”, Ona reassured her girlfriend. She recognized the sceptical risen eyebrow by the woman sitting in front of her. That was why the Spanish player added:” I’ll survive.”

“I hope so because I’ll leave my heart here.”, Lucy told her earnestly. Hearing her saying this out loud made Ona’s heart sink.

“Oh, Luce.”, she muttered.

Immediately the English defender’s hands went up.

“Don’t say anything more, that was embarrassing.”

“It was the cutest.”, the younger woman responded, giving the older one a kiss to her temple. With a cheeky grin she continued:” I’ll get that tattooed.”

“No, it doesn’t go with the rest of your pretty tattoos.”, Lucy protested, while pulling the smaller player onto her lap.

“But it means a lot to me.”, she confessed, looking into the green eyes of the woman she loved and hoped her glance would transfer her feelings which run as deep as the tattoos on her skin.

“Ona, I love you.”, the English defender muttered in a raspy voice.

“I love you too.”, she said, while her girlfriend started to kiss the many freckles on her face to highlight what she was saying only a couple of seconds earlier.

“No, matter what happens.”, Lucy remarked in between the kisses.

Under the touches of the older woman Ona felt something like hope fluttering in her chest.

“We’ll make it work somehow.”, the Spanish player answered optimistically.

“Yes, we did it before too.”, the taller defender reminded her.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s enjoy this while it lasts.”, Lucy murmured.

“Hopefully longer than until summer.”, the smaller woman whispered into the ear of the older player while holding on to her like Lucy personified the little hope that was left of her staying and hopefulness always dies last.

There was the reassuring feeling that no matter what happened over the next months that they were going to be alright.

pictures are from pinterest.

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze x ona batlle #woso x reader #woso couples #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso oneshot #woso one shot #woso #woso community #barca femeni #espwnt #engwnt

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doe-eyed-fool · 10 months ago

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Guess who’s back!(sorry if you’re sick of me but my squirrel brain has blessed me again!)

Lucifer X Reader whose love language is food, loves eating, cooking, and sharing food. Shows their care for Luci by buying him or cooking food, making sure that every time they’re together that he’s fed. Cuz you can’t tell me that this man doesn’t forget to eat. Reader always asks if he ate today and always insists on making something if he hasn’t. Packs up leftovers for him to enjoy later and almost always knocks at his office door with a plate of food, a snack, or something sweet she baked.

I love this so much, he deserves to be taken care of like the princess he is🥺

Also no way am I sick of you, I like getting requests! Especially cute ones like this

Made With Love

Lucifer x Reader

Being the king of hell came with a lot of responsibilities. Meetings with the other sins and powerful demons, mountains of paperwork, and now he was a full time father again.

It was all time consuming. But whenever he had some time for himself, he would usually pour himself into his, duck focused, creations. He'd be tinkering away for hours, he wouldn't even know that it was the middle of the night until he nearly passed out in the middle of his work.

At that point, he was too tired to feed himself and would just flop down onto the bed. Only to wake up and repeat it all over again.

That is, until you showed up. You and Lucifer had been dating a little while after the hotel was rebuilt. And once you learned of his unhealthy habits, needless to say, you were a little more than upset. But mostly concerned.

"Luci?" You open the door to Lucifer's workshop. Lucifer responds with a light "hm?" as you walked inside. He didn't even look at you, he must be really invested in whatever he was working on. You walked up beside him and look down.

There were noticeable bags under his eyes, and his hair was a bit of a mess. Worst of all, his hands were shaking. "Lucifer? How long have you been at this?" You ask.

"Oh uh, a few..." Lucifer looks up at the clock. His eyes widen slightly. "Hours..."

You frown and cross your arms. "Lucifer." Your tone was stern, but not harsh. Lucifer sighed and set down his tools. "I know. I'm sorry." You place your hand on his shoulder. "Have you had a break at all? Or eaten anything since you started?"

Just as you asked that, there was a rumble that came from Lucifer's stomach. And that was all the answer you needed. "Alright." You say before helping Lucifer up. "Come with me." You walk him out of the room. "B-But my-"

"You can finish it later." You interrupt him. "Right now, you're going to take a break and eat something." You lead Lucifer to the kitchen and sit him down at the table.

You would have started on something new, but you were willing to bet Lucifer hadn't ate since breakfast. So for right now, you decided to heat up last night's leftovers.

"It's not new but, you need to eat something now. I saw you shaking back there." You say as you placed the dish in the microwave. You turn and walk to the table. "Luci, you have to start taking better care of yourself. I'm worried."

Lucifer frowns slightly. "I know. I'm sorry, Y/n, really. It's just...I get so busy and, whenever I get a minute to myself, I usually just go to my workshop. It's a stress reliever, you know? But I understand, I get a little too into it and loose track of time and everything else."

You place your hand on his. "Well, it's a good thing you have me now." You chuckle. "I'll help you out with this, I promise." Lucifer smiled and held your hand. "Thank you, Y/n."

And so, you decided to do something nice for him. Every morning he'd wake up, you'd present him with breakfast, truly fit for a king. You'd also make sure to send lunch with him whenever he had a meeting. And at the end of the day, you'd make dinner for you and him both.

Lucifer was a tad overwhelmed by this, but of course he was appreciative every time you cooked for him. You worked so hard after all. And it was always very delicious.

One day, when he was in his workshop, you walked in with a tray in your hands. "Luci, I brought you something." Lucifer looked up from his work and faced you. On the tray was apple slices with a side of peanut butter and caramel, along with his favorite tea.

"Oh, Y/n you didn't have to." He says with a smile. You sat the tray down on a table next to him. "But I wanted to." You tell him. "You also give me no choice mister." You say teasingly. Yes, Lucifer knew, or finally realized more like it, that he wasn't taking care of himself like he should have been.

He had no idea how much he missed a good home cooked meal before he met you.

"Heh, yeah...Thank you, Y/n. Really, you do so much for me. I have no idea how I could repay you."

You smile softly and hand him the tea cup. "Just try to take better care of yourself, that's thanks enough. Oh, and I was thinking tonight I'd make something really nice. Maybe we can invite Charlie over too?"

Lucifer graciously took the cup and nods. "That sounds nice. It's been a while since Charlie's come over. Maybe she can bring Maggie with her too."

"Vaggie, Lucifer. Vaggie." You laugh. "Oh. Right." Lucifer chuckles lightly. "In any case, I look forwards to it. I'll help you too, if you want."

"Sure, I'd like to see what the big boss can do in the kitchen." You say with a playful grin. "You'd be surprised." Lucifer smirks. "But no magic. You're doing it by hand." You tell him. Lucifer's confidence dropped.

"Oh. Well, shit."

You laugh and pat his shoulder. "You'll do fine. You have me to teach you."

Lucifer's smile returned. "Yeah. You always do make the best food."

#hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer x reader

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haveihitanerve · 3 months ago

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Had an idea but I forgor it so here's a different one

Bruce Wayne, concussed and on several strong painkillers, socializing with socialites from outside Gotham. They ask him about his kids and joke about how they all look so similar to him.

His brain, moving at about 3mph, does not register that his kids were ADOPTED (safe for one) and answers their questions as if he gave birth to them, forgetting he also doesn't have the facilities for that (unless you want him to- we love old trans people)

"Master Bruce I really must insist-" Alfred tried for the fourth time in seven minutes, Bruce had counted, reaching to push him back to bed and pull off the suit jacket he had only moments before helped Bruce put on.

"'M going Alf." Bruce grumbled back, rubbing a bleary hand over his eyes. "There's no use in putting it off. Don't have a good excuse and.." He grimaced. "They need to see me. It's been a while."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest again, even going so far as to move in front of the door to block his exit. "You are on far too many medications Mr. Wayne, not to mention a concussion! You simply cannot."

Bruce's lips twitched it amusement. It was a rare day when Alfred's composure was rattled to the point of calling him Mr. Wayne, and while Alfred was admittedly very strong, there was no way his physical blockation of Bruce's path would actually stop him.

"Alf." Bruce began gently, and the butler scoffed, rolling his eyes as he moved out of the way, striding down the long hallway. "Well. I see my advice isn't heeded. As always."

Bruce threw him an apologetic smile, heading for the main door. "Love ya Alfie!!" The butler snorted, but Bruce could tell he was softening.

"Call if you need boy." Alfred murmured. Bruce grinned, offering a wink as he pulled the door open. "I will." He promised, sliding into the backseat of his limousine, heading to the Gala.

He hissed as the needle broke his skin, biting his lip to prevent any further sounds as the anti-biotic worked its way into his system. Alfred would most definitely have protested its use, especially as Bruce tossed back a handful of other added painkillers, but if he was being honest, he needed them to get through the night.

"Thanks Hank. Tell your wife I said hi and grab her a bouquet on your way home. On me." He patted his driver's shoulder as he climbed out. Hank grinned, tipping his black cap.

"You always make me seem like such a good husband Mr. Wayne, I appreciate it. Have a good night." Bruce grinned back, stumbling slightly as he moved towards the doors, using the car to stabilize himself.

"You give me too much credit, send your boys some love and you have tomorrow off, try to actually use that baseball glove I gifted you." Hank chortled, setting the car into drive. "Will do sir. Good night." Bruce nodded the same back, watching until the car pulled away fully to stumble up the steps.

"Maybe those pills weren't such a good idea." He mumbled to himself as he made it to the doors, pulling them open to walk inside, heading straight for the table laid out with food. Of course, one couldn't enter a Gala without greeting the hosts, and he barely made it two steps before he was intercepted.

"Mrs. and Mr. Ketch. How lovely to see you." Bruce offered a bow, bending too low before rocking back upwards. Mrs. Ketch was smiling at him, a lovely, true smile that Bruce noticed tended to happen whenever he greeted the woman first instead of the man. Mr. Ketch was frowning, but more at Bruce's bizarre drunken act than any offense towards being placed after his wife.

"Are you alright, Wayne?" He asked, and Bruce hated that he actually liked the Ketch's, because there was genuine concern in the mans voice. Another reason why he had come.

The Ketch's were new money, self made, and trying to blend in with the old elites, though Bruce had to admit they never would, they were just too good, too kind, too sincere.

He wondered, dimly, in the back of his foggy, drug addled mind, if perhaps they'd finally tire of all the snide comments, rude looks, sneers, and give up on their well meaning charity that they had chosen Gotham for. He hoped they wouldn't. He liked having actual good conversation at these dull events.

"M fine, truly." Bruce answered, a few seconds too late, smiling lazily. "Might've had a few." He tried his best imitation at a drunken smile, wincing as he realized it was dangerously close to how he really felt.. tipsy. Off balance.

Robert, because that was his name, he had told Bruce his first name instead of demanding he call him Mr., frowned a little in concern, and before he knew it they had herded him to one of the seating places, settling down by him.

"How're the kids?" Mrs. Ketch asked, handing him a glass of water that Bruce gratefully accepted. "Amazing." He answered. "Splendid. They're always doing so well. They don't see it though." He frowned at his glass, wondering why that was.

"They're so amazing though. It just doesn't make any sense," He sat up, leaning forward to look at the couple in front of him intensely. They both had their eyebrows raised in surprise, but leaned forward in tandem, intruiged.

"Because see, they're so brilliant, and lovely, and smart, really I think they're the smartest people in the world- like ever. And Dickie, he's so kind and sweet and nice, and he's got a few problems and I'm sorry about it but he's really just amazing and an all around good person, I really oughtta try and be more like him, and oh he's got my eyes, im so glad he got my eyes, but i love his nose too, its nothing like mine- anyway Jason too- whoo he got my height im so happy for him- he also has my eyes! they all have my eyes actually, except cass, and damian, but like he's so brilliant and smart and he was such a good kid, he is now too- oh he doesn't like me calling him kid, but he'll always be my baby, and oh i cried so much when he died, but he better now, oh and Timmy, oh timmy is so smart. Soooo smart like genuis level, and he's wayy smarter than me, wayyyy smarter, and alfie says he has my hair, but i dont see it- i think he got my jaw though- and then Cass oh Cassandra My baby girl she's lovely and sweet and a charmer, beautiful girl, so is Barbara, but she won't let me say that to her, no no, but she is, she's so pretty and smart and quick, she scares me sometimes but I love her, such a good girl yknow? And Stephanie? Oh she and Tim need to make it official so shes mine. mine mine mine. I need another daughter you know? Too many boys. Equality of men and women at home. I need them home. And then Duke. hes so lovely too. Oh and Damian. Damian took some adjusting but they're all so lovely yknow? I remember the day they were born so vividly. I was so happy. I love them so much. It hurt, of course, but what is that to the joy they bring now yknow?"

Bruce took a sip of his drink, nodding thoughtfully as he leaned back. Mrs. and Mr. Ketch blinked a few times, opened their mouths, closed them again, and leaned back as well, exchanging glances.

"Yes. Well. Quite." Mr. Ketch cleared his throat. "Bruce, perhaps we should call you someone? To take you home?" Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you home. You need to go to bed and.. and sleep this off." Bruce nodded, letting them help him stand and guide him to the door as Mr. Ketch called someone.

"Yeah. I like bed. And sleep. Oh- but I can't. Uh-uh, I promised Dickie I'd call him." Bruce nodded, turning to head back inside as though that would help his quest.

Mrs. Ketch grabbed his arm and gently, but firmly, led him back outside. "Rob just called him sweetheart, he's on his way."

"Oh." Bruce nodded. "Oh. Thas good." Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement, rubbing his back soothingly. "I like that." Bruce hummed, letting his eyes close. "Its like what my mother used to do." Mrs. Ketch looked at him in surprise, hand stilling for a second before resuming.

"Really?" She asked gently. Bruce hummed in confirmation. "Oh yes. Yeah she did. You do it well. You'd make a good mom. Just like me. Well, I don't make a good mom." At that he frowned at the ground, biting his lip. "But I try."

Mrs. Ketch smiled, turning them as a car pulled up. "Yes. You do. And you do it marvelously Bruce, truly. That's all we can ever do. Try." Bruce nodded his agreement as the door opened and his eldest emerged, rushing to his side.

"Bruce!" Dick looked genuinely worried, grabbing his shoulder. "You alright?" His son's eyes were searching, scanning his body.

"Oh hes fine." Mrs. Ketch waved with a smile. "Just a few drinks. I think it'd be best he go home though, sleep it off." Dick nodded his agreement, smiling at her. "Yes. I think thats best. Thank you." She shrugged, waving it off.

"Of course. It's what he would have done for me." Dick lowered Bruce into the passenger seat, heading for the drivers. "Bruce." Ketch tapped the window, leaning down. "Hm?" Bruce tilted his head, rolling it down.

"I'm pregnant." Bruce waited, jaw dropping slowly as the words connected in his brain. "You are?" She nodded, a small smile crossing her face.

"Yes. You're the first person I've told." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, to where her husband was waiting on the steps. Bruce reached for her hand, clasping it in his own.

"You'll make an excellent mother. And he will make an amazing father." He promised. She smiled, biting her lip anxiously. "You think?" Bruce nodded. "I know." At that her smile softened, and she patted his cheek.

"Thank you. And, for what it's worth Bruce," She glanced past him to Dick, who was kindly pretending not to listen. "I think you make an excellent mother."

#ahhhhh here #i tried #i hope you like #gods my ocs are always like motherly ladies #and i guess drivers??#idk #hope it fulfilled your visions #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #good mom bruce wayne more like #dick grayson #batkids

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 4 months ago

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hiii 🫶🏽 i’m so sorry you’re going through a tough time and i hope it improves soon!!💙 college is suuuuper stressful, especially with life outside of school it can get overwhelming so your feelings are completely understandable and i hope you’re alright. 🫂🤍

i am by no means a writer, but maybe little sister!winchester:

- always tries to mimic the boys because they’re the coolest people she knows. so like if dean is rocking out in the impala bobbing his head, drumming and humming, she’ll start trying to imitate him.

- the boys of course realize this after a while and find it amusing. dean tries to get her to mimic certain behaviors and sam has to be the one to draw a line sometimes lol

- she is a picky eater. which is hard enough considering they don’t have many options to choose from most of the time but usually they’re able to convince her with something simple like the promise of a bedtime story

- she likes being held by her brothers, not only because they’re her comfort but because the height makes her feel safer too 😭

- idk i feel like she’d get anxious a lot because she’s so short and small and surrounded by all these tall adults, but as soon as they lift her and she’s like 6ft up in the arms of her brothers she instantly relaxes

- which means she usually has a hard time sleeping without them putting her to sleep but they don’t mind because she falls asleep fairly quickly most of the time.

- i’d think that’s because as much as they try to shelter her from the life she’s still generally aware enough of ‘the monsters that hide in the closet’ and she’s constantly anxious which tires her out.

- so with her brothers and the right setting she can fall asleep in less than 10 minutes. the only times it takes forever for her to settle in and sleep is when one of the brothers are out and about

- she is bobbys favorite 100%. he can act grumpy all he wants especially when she wants to put stickers on him or gets marker stains on the table, but he obviously favors her :p

- she goes quiet if she’s feeling unwell.

- like she will talk a lot usually, but if she says maybe one or two words in 20 minutes, the boys start to get concerned

- they of course always take care of her and as you’ve written before they’ll be an anxious mess the whole time until she feels better

i’m not sure if i did this whole headcanon thing right but these are some of my thoughts 😅 (little!sister winchester being like less than 8 in all of these)

i hope your day gets better!!🫶🏽 i adore your writing and appreciate you for sharing it :)💗 have a lovely day!!<3

I’m not alright but hopefully I will be, thanks 😅.

Oh my gosh these headcannons are literally so cute, thanks so much! This is exactly what I needed, you’re awesome 💜💜💜

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader

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oosa3x · 4 months ago

Text

secret moments (rd3)

ii. begin again

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: rúben dias x f! celebrity! reader word count: 10, 910 warnings: feelings of anxiety/doubt author’s note: again i don’t want to butcher the portuguese language so the conversations between rúben and his agent that are italicized are meant to be them speaking in portuguese

Almost a week later, Rúben was in the middle of his post-training routine when his phone buzzed on the bench beside him. He glanced at the screen, seeing Pedro, his agent's name flash across. He wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbed the phone, and answered.

“Hey, Pedro. What’s up?”

There was a pause on the other end before Pedro’s voice came through, slightly confused but amused, "Rúben, care to explain why I’ve been sent an NDA from Y/N L/N’s lawyers?”

Rúben froze for a second, the words catching him off guard, "Wait… what?”

“Yeah,” Pedro continued, clearly enjoying this a little too much, "Just got an email from her team, with a non-disclosure agreement. They want me to review it. Something about you having dinner with her?”

Rúben groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, "Ah, right… that.”

Pedro laughed, "So you’re casually having dinner with Y/N L/N now? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Rúben shifted, feeling the heat rise to his face, "We met at 6lack’s concert the other night, we hit it off, and I asked her to dinner. That’s all.”

Pedro hummed thoughtfully, "And now I’m handling NDAs for you from the biggest popstar on the planet. I have to say, Rúben, this is a new one.”

Rúben sighed, "Look, I wasn’t expecting all the paperwork. But, you know… her level of fame. I guess it’s just how things are done.”

Pedro chuckled, "You’ve dealt with high-profile situations before, but this… this is different.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rúben admitted, "But it’s not a big deal. Can you just handle the NDA for me?”

“Of course,” Pedro replied, still sounding amused, "I’ll look it over. Just remember to stay focused—you’ve got training, and I’d hate for this dinner to become a huge distraction.”

Rúben smiled, appreciating Pedro’s concern, "Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

Pedro laughed again, "Alright, Rúben. I’ll take care of it. And good luck with your…dinner.”

Rúben shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. You had followed through with your promise, and the reality of it all was sinking in. Now, all he had to do was prepare for dinner. But no pressure, right?

Pedro’s voice crackled through the phone again, his tone a mix of amusement and seriousness, "Oh, and by the way… It says here that if you breach the contract, you could be fined for anywhere between $1 million to $10 million, depending on the severity.”

Rúben blinked, sitting up a little straighter, "How much?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat. He knew an NDA was standard for someone as famous as you, but the stakes suddenly felt much higher than he’d anticipated.

Pedro chuckled softly, clearly entertained by Rúben’s reaction, "Yeah, that got your attention, huh? They’re not playing around. This is serious business, Rúben. I’ve seen tough NDAs, but this one takes it up a notch. She’s got great lawyers.”

Rúben groaned, rubbing his forehead, "Ten million dollars for breaching it? What am I supposed to do? Not breathe during dinner?”

Pedro laughed, "Look, it’s more about protecting her from any unwanted attention or leaks. I mean, she’s a huge star, and I’m guessing she’s been burned before. As long as you don’t spill any secrets to the media or post about it on Instagram, I think you’ll be fine.”

Rúben sighed, "Yeah, I get it. Just wasn’t expecting this much... legal pressure.”

“Well, that’s the price of dating a megastar, huh?” Pedro teased, "Just don’t breach the contract, and you’ll avoid that $10 million bill.”

Rúben chuckled, though the weight of the NDA lingered in the back of his mind, "I’ll be careful. No talking to the press, no social media, no problem.”

Pedro’s voice softened slightly, "Good. It’ll be fine, Rúben. Just keep things low-key, enjoy the night, and don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Pedro,” Rúben replied, grateful for the advice.

“Anytime. I’ll finalize the NDA and get it back to her team. Now go focus on your game—and your dinner,” Pedro added with a smirk in his voice before ending the call.

Rúben sighed, leaning back on the bench, staring at his phone. Dinner with you was going to be a little more complicated than he’d imagined, but he couldn’t help the flicker of excitement building inside him.

You had also told your manager and publicist about the date, obviously, expecting the usual reactions—some cautious excitement, maybe a few questions about who this guy was. Instead, they immediately shifted into full-on research mode, typing away and cross-referencing like detectives uncovering a hidden scandal. It was the same routine they went through for anyone who got close to you. Being her meant that even something as simple as a dinner invitation required a background check.

Of course, you’d done your own research, too. After all, you couldn’t afford not to. You’d agreed to the date with Rúben, intrigued by his easy charm and genuine interest in music, not just your fame. A quick search confirmed what you knew: he played for Manchester City and Portugal. He wasn’t exactly an unknown, but all you could find were mostly details about his professional career. You had scrolled past images of him on the field, mid-game action shots where he looked like a force of nature. There were a few interviews, some charity work, and a couple of awards for his defensive skills, but nothing screamed “media circus” like the ones you were used to dating.

Now, the sound of the makeup brush softly sweeping across your skin was almost meditative, a steady rhythm in the otherwise whirlwind of activity that surrounded you. You sat in the makeup chair, script in hand, though your mind kept wandering away from the lines. The trailer was buzzing with the quiet hustle of your team: Amelia sitting across from you, iPad in hand, rattling off a list of tasks that seemed to grow by the second, and your makeup and hair stylists.

"…and we need final approval on the cut for the music video. The director sent over two options for the final edit again, so you'll have to choose one today," Amelia said, scrolling through her screen without missing a beat. “Plus, the feature you did for Elijah’s track. His label's asking for approval on the single artwork. I said we’d get back to them, but the deadline’s coming up.”

You nodded, barely registering the words. The past week had been a blur of early mornings on set and late nights running through lines. This new film—your first big role in over a year—had consumed most of your time since arriving in Manchester, but somehow, it wasn’t the movie that kept pulling at the edges of your focus.

Amelia continued, “And, of course, there’s the perfume. They sent over the final concept for the bottle. We have to let them know by tomorrow if you want to make any other changes, because they’re going to start production soon.”

You glanced up from the script, meeting Amelia’s eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, I liked ‘Option A’ for the music video, I loved the artwork, and I love the bottle, no changes needed.” you replied, more distracted than usual.

Amelia nodded, tapping her screen and continuing her list. “Right, and Rúben’s agent sent back the signed NDA we sent him yesterday.”

That caught your attention.

You looked up from your notes, surprised. “Wait, he sent it back already?”

Amelia nodded, not even glancing up from her phone. “Yep. Signed and everything. Got it in my inbox this morning.”

A mix of relief and curiosity washed over you. Rúben hadn’t even hesitated. “Huh. That was quick.”

“He’s efficient, I’ll give him that,” Amelia said with a small smile, still not looking at you. “I think he’s serious about seeing you.”

You took a breath, trying to process it all. It was a good sign, right? He understood the importance of protecting your space, your career, your life. “Yeah, that’s... good,” you said softly, the reality of the situation setting in.

You let the script rest in your lap, your fingers curling around the pages as you tried not to look too obvious about the way your pulse quickened. It had been a week since the 6lack concert, a week since Rúben had slipped into your life with that casual confidence, asking you out like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it had been, in that moment—natural. You hadn’t thought twice before saying yes.

Now, though, with the space of a few days and the reality of your world crashing back in, things felt more complicated. The layers of your life—the NDAs, the contracts, the eyes always watching—didn’t just disappear because you wanted to have dinner with someone who wasn’t in your industry.

Amelia glanced at you then, her expression softening. “He even suggested a place in the city for dinner. Low-key.” She paused, gauging your reaction, “He seems really genuine.”

You bit your lip, thinking it over. Rúben had been nothing but considerate since the moment he texted you the day after the concert—he’d gotten your number from Ricardo—checking in to see how your schedule was going and making sure you didn’t feel pressured. It was refreshing, really. He wasn’t pushing for some grand, over-the-top date, just something simple. But you knew that even a “simple” date in your world required layers of preparation.

“Do I have time?” you asked, glancing at Amelia’s iPad where your schedule was probably packed to the brim.

She tapped at the screen, scrolling through your appointments. “If you don’t mind having dinner after an eleven-hour shoot day, we can squeeze it in tomorrow night.”

“Eleven hours?” You sighed, leaning back in the makeup chair as the artist moved to your eyes.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of filmmaking,” Amelia said dryly. “But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll make it work. I’ll get security to check out the location Rúben suggested. I can handle it.”

You thought about it for a moment, considering. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him—you did. But even the thought of it came with the weight of everything else: the media attention, the inevitable gossip, the protocols. And Rúben… he didn’t really know what that meant. Not fully.

You were famous-famous. The kind where one blurry photo could send Twitter into a meltdown, where rumors could spread with a single comment taken out of context. Rúben was a footballer, sure, and not an unknown one, but his world wasn’t consumed by the same level of public obsession. He lived a life with a little more freedom, a little more room to breathe. You weren’t sure he understood how little of that you had left.

But the thought of him waiting for your reply made something flutter in your chest—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“I want to see him,” you said finally, keeping your voice calm, like it wasn’t a big deal. “But let’s keep it discreet. No paparazzi, no fanfare. I’m talking top-secret here.”

Amelia smiled, nodding, her fingers already moving to make it happen. “Consider it done. I’ll update you once everything’s confirmed.”

The makeup artist finished, stepping back to give you a final look in the mirror. Your face was flawless, but even the layers of foundation couldn’t hide the anticipation building under your skin. Tomorrow night, after the cameras stopped rolling and the lights of the set faded, you’d step into a different kind of spotlight—one where it wasn’t your career on display, but something far more personal.

You thought about what it meant to potentially do this to Rúben, your mind wandering as Amelia's voice faded into the background. You’d stalked him on the internet more than once over the past week, trying to piece together a better picture of him. Amid the match highlights, interviews, and charity appearances, one thing was made clear to you: how private he was. He talked about it with such ease, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to guard your personal life like a treasure. There was a certain calmness in the way he spoke about it, like he knew exactly where to draw the line between the field and his life outside it.

Could you really do this to him? Could you tilt his entire world on its axis?

You’d been down this road before. You knew what would happen the moment a photo of the two of you surfaced. The whirlwind of speculation, the invasive questions, the opinions—oh, the opinions. Everyone would have one. From football fans to the music industry, people who knew nothing about either of you would have something to say. They always did. You could already imagine the headlines: Man City defender Rúben Dias and global pop sensation Y/N L/N spark dating rumors! And once the narrative started, it wouldn’t stop. Not for a long time.

It didn’t matter that he was already in the public eye—this was different. He wasn’t the kind of athlete whose personal life fed the media machine. He wasn’t out there for show; he kept his circle tight, his private life nearly impenetrable. And here you were, potentially about to obliterate that.

A wave of guilt swept through you. You knew what the attention could do to someone, especially someone who wasn’t used to it on this scale. It could be suffocating, relentless. And it wouldn’t just be the paparazzi. Social media, gossip sites, random strangers dissecting his every move, his every interaction with you. The noise was constant, and it was exhausting. You’d learned to live with it, but could Rúben?

You shifted in your chair, your grip tightening on the script in your lap. He hadn’t asked for this. He’d asked you out, sure, but he couldn’t possibly know the avalanche that came with it. You wanted to be selfish—you wanted to see where this could go. But at what cost? Was it fair to bring him into the chaos that surrounded your life?

You could already picture the look on his face when the cameras started following him to training, reporters asking him about you instead of his performance on the pitch. You didn’t know if he’d signed up for all that, and that uncertainty gnawed at you.

You felt Amelia’s eyes on you, sensing your hesitation even as she ran through the call sheet, “You okay?” she asked gently, breaking through your thoughts.

You forced a small smile, nodding. “Yeah… just thinking.”

But the guilt lingered. Could you really drag him into your world, knowing what would happen? Would he be able to handle it? Or worse—would it change him, warp the private, grounded person you’d come to admire in such a short time?

You didn’t know. And that uncertainty hung over you, making the decision feel heavier than it should have.

He had this calmness about him that completely unarmed you. That was, without a doubt, the scariest part. Your walls were usually impenetrable—years of living in the spotlight had taught you to keep your guard up at all times. But with Rúben, it was different. You found yourself talking to him like it was nothing, like you were letting him inch closer to parts of yourself you typically kept hidden from the world.

And you couldn’t figure out why.

Maybe it was because Ricardo, someone you trusted implicitly, had vouched for him. He’d spoken so highly of Rúben when you’d first mentioned him after the concert, describing him as solid, down-to-earth, the kind of person who didn’t need to be the center of attention. That had reassured you. But that wasn’t all of it.

No, it was Rúben himself. There was something about him, something that felt like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the chaos that usually consumed your life. His easy smile, the way he had listened to you more than he spoke, the way he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you—not the version of you plastered on billboards or dissected by the media, but the real you.

That calm confidence of his was disarming. It made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for a second. And that scared you because every time you did that in the past, it hadn’t ended well. You knew better. You were supposed to be better. You told yourself you’d be better.

But then Rúben would text you, or you’d think back to that night after the concert, when he’d talked about music with a kind of passion that matched your own, and all the caution you’d built up over the years seemed to fade, just a little.

He didn’t deserve the dark cloud that always seemed to loom over you.

So, again, you found yourself wondering: should you put an end to this before it ever really starts?

It would be the easiest option. You could send a polite message, thank him for the lovely conversation, and tell him that your schedules just didn’t align. You had plenty of reasons to fall back on—your filming commitments, the relentless pace of your career, the complexities of your world that someone like Rúben shouldn’t have to navigate.

It would be so simple. Clean. You could move on without guilt, without dragging him into the whirlwind that was your life. He would return to his own, continue as the quiet, private man he was, and you’d both walk away without the inevitable chaos that would follow if you continued down this path and the general public would be none the wiser.

And yet, even as you toyed with the idea, something inside you resisted. Because a part of you wanted to see where this could go.

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Rúben was a breath of fresh air, something different, something real. He didn’t seem fazed by your fame, didn’t want anything from you other than your time. There was no pretense, no hidden agenda. He wasn’t trying to leverage your celebrity, and that alone felt rare and valuable in a way you hadn’t expected.

This was the difficult part about dating you. The weight of it was almost unbearable at times—the way one simple dinner could spark a wildfire of speculation. You couldn’t possibly be spotted on a first date without headlines appearing the next morning, suggesting marriage plans, analyzing every glance, every smile. The assumptions were always dramatic and relentless, as if you were navigating life with a script already written by the world.

At least with the men you’d dated in the past, they’d understood the rules. They knew the game because they played it, too. Fellow singers, actors, people in the same industry—guys who didn’t flinch when a camera flashed or when their names trended on Twitter for a day. They knew what they were getting into because they lived it, too. Even when things went south, at least they knew the stakes going in. The pressure, the speculation—it wasn’t foreign to them.

But Rúben? He lived in the spotlight, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Football had its own level of fame, but he hadn’t been subjected to your level of scrutiny. He’d been able to maintain that sense of privacy, to keep his personal life tucked neatly out of the public’s reach. How could you expect him to be okay with what was waiting for him on the other side of one dinner with you?

Even now, just the idea of going the extra mile for privacy—just for one date—felt overwhelming. And it wasn’t even about what the press might think; it was about the reality of your life. You’d have to go through so many hoops to keep it under wraps. NDAs, a carefully vetted location, your security team on high alert, making sure no one could snap a photo or overhear a conversation. It was exhausting to think about. And all of this… just to see if there was something there, if this thing with Rúben could even get off the ground.

The stakes felt so high for something that was supposed to be simple. You weren’t even sure if the chemistry would translate beyond the concert, beyond the texts and the flirty exchanges. What if you went through all this trouble, all this effort, and then… nothing? You’d have pulled him into your world for a fleeting moment, made him part of a spectacle that would haunt him for weeks, maybe months, for no reason.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around your phone. That was the hardest part, wasn’t it? The what ifs. You couldn’t move in your personal life without thinking ten steps ahead, without calculating every possible outcome. It was how you’d learned to survive in this world, but it also kept you from taking risks, from just living.

The reality was, even if you could keep this date under wraps, it wouldn’t last. You couldn’t keep a relationship hidden forever. The media would find out eventually, and then it would be everywhere. And what would that do to him? To both of you?

You glanced down at your phone as it buzzed, Rúben, of course. It would be so easy to back out, to save him from the inevitable. But the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not yet.

Maybe that was selfish. Maybe it was reckless. But for once, you wanted to see where something could go without overthinking every consequence before it even began. Maybe you owed yourself that much.

My god.

You couldn’t believe you were doing all these mental gymnastics over a guy you spent, what, an hour with backstage? One hour of conversation, some texts, and suddenly you were spiraling, weighing the consequences of a first date like it was a life-altering decision. It was pathetic, really. You should’ve been able to shrug this off, to compartmentalize it the way you did everything else in your life. But here you were, running circles in your head, trying to predict the future and safeguard both your world and his.

And for what? A guy who—while undeniably attractive, grounded, and charming—was still a relative stranger to you. It wasn’t like you were head over heels. This wasn’t some whirlwind romance, not yet. It was just… potential. The spark of something new.

But the spark of something new had the power to completely change everything. You’d been here before. You knew that once the public got wind of a new relationship, there was no turning back. Your life would become theirs to dissect, and his—someone who wasn’t used to that level of attention—could be pulled into the chaos, whether he liked it or not.

You exhaled, leaning back in the chair, suddenly feeling the weight of it all press against your chest. Why was it so hard to just… go out with someone? Other people seemed to manage it just fine. But with you, it was always this dance of “what if” and “how bad could this get?”

You glanced at your phone again, the unread message from Rúben staring back at you. It was probably something simple. He wasn’t asking you to commit to anything monumental, wasn’t trying to force you into anything. It was just a date, a moment to see if there was something real between the two of you. But you already knew there was no such thing as just a date when you were involved.

You thumbed the screen, finally opening his message.

I found a place. Really private, no one will bother us. I spoke with the owner. Let me know if you’re still up for it.

Your stomach twisted the second you read it. Rúben had been nothing but patient—gentle, even—and here you were, doubting yourself. Part of you knew you should’ve been excited, but instead, all you could feel was that familiar pull of hesitation. Do you really deserve this? the voice in the back of your head whispered through your mind, uninvited. You tried to shake it off, but the guilt had a way of lingering.

Still, you typed your response, fingers moving almost mechanically.

Let’s do it. Tomorrow night works.

You hit send before you could second-guess it. But as soon as the message went through, that tightness in your chest returned. You were agreeing, but the wall was already halfway up, built from everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit.

The next day was grueling—a relentless 11 hours on set, with every scene and every line feeling like an uphill battle. By the time you wrapped, exhaustion clung to you, both physically and mentally. The thought of the date lingered at the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside, trying to focus on getting through the day. When it was finally over, there was no time to unwind. You went straight from set to getting ready, slipping into the role of someone who wasn’t completely spent.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stared at your reflection, feeling disconnected from the person staring back. Your makeup was applied with precision, but it felt like armor more than anything else. As you brushed through your hair, a part of you wondered if it even mattered. Would he notice how tired you were? Could he sense the hesitation you were trying so hard to bury? You added a spritz of your favorite perfume, hoping the familiar scent would bring some comfort, but even that felt a little distant tonight.

You pulled on the dress you had picked out, one you thought would make you feel confident. But now, it felt like just another layer between you and what you were really feeling. Despite your best efforts, the weight of the day—and everything you were holding back—clung to you like the exhaustion in your bones. You exhaled, taking one last look as you slipped into your heels.

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you made your way downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase, Amelia was waiting, her phone in one hand, an encouraging smile on her face. She knew it had been a long day—longer than most—and her presence was a quiet reminder that you didn’t have to go through the motions alone.

“You look amazing,” Amelia said, her eyes scanning your dress before landing on your face. “Rúben’s lucky.”

You gave a tight smile, still feeling the weight of everything from the day pressing on your chest. “Thanks,” you murmured, fiddling with your necklace, trying to shake the nerves. But before you could say anything else, Amelia stepped closer, lowering her voice gently.

“You know… you can still cancel, or reschedule,” she offered, a knowing look in her eyes. “He’d understand.”

“That would be so rude to do so close to the reservation,” you replied quickly, though the thought of canceling lingered for just a second longer than you wanted it to. You sighed, straightening up, determined to go through with it.

Amelia didn’t push further, but her gaze was soft as she squeezed your hand. “Okay. Well, we’ve got everything arranged. Mark has spoken to the restaurant, and NDAs have been signed by the staff. You’ll go in through the service entrance, and the private dining room is ready. No one’s going to bother you.”

You rubbed your temple, feeling the weight of it all. “God, when did this become my life? This is so ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath.

Amelia chuckled lightly. “You want to walk in through the front? Be my guest.”

You laughed, despite yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, maybe not.”

As if on cue, Mark appeared, his expression serious but reassuring. “We’ll drop you at the back. Eric and Jason will escort you in, but it’ll be quiet. Everything’s been triple-checked.”

You nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over you. They had thought of everything, as they always did, but there was still that part of you that wondered if you could get through the night without letting your walls slip.

“Don’t be nervous, he’s just a guy,” Amelia added, her voice light, trying to bring some levity back into the moment. She smiled one last time before stepping aside, allowing Eric and Jason to escort you out the door and into the car.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet. The low hum of the city streets outside passed in a blur, but inside, your thoughts were loud. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, glancing occasionally at Eric, who sat up front, focused on the road ahead. You wondered what Rúben was thinking right now—if he was as calm and collected as he always seemed to be, or if he had any idea how much of yourself you were trying to keep hidden.

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop. Eric and Jason were quiet as they opened the door for you, guiding you toward the discreet back entrance of the restaurant. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out, the cool night air doing little to settle the nervous energy swirling inside you.

The service entrance was exactly as Mark had described—hidden away, out of sight. You glanced around, half-expecting someone to recognize you, but no one even blinked as you slipped past the kitchen staff and through a narrow hallway. A host appeared almost immediately, offering a polite smile. He gave you a slight nod, his fingers adjusting his collar almost unconsciously as he spoke.

“This way, Miss L/N,” he said, his voice steady but just a touch quieter than you expected. You barely noticed, preoccupied with your own nerves, as he led you through the hallway. His steps were quick and professional, though there was something a little rigid in the way he moved. Maybe it was the fact that Eric and Jason were standing nearby.

When you reached the private dining room, he paused in front of the door, his hand resting on the handle for a moment longer than necessary before he turned it and opened the door for you. “Mr. Dias, your guest has arrived. Your waiter will be here soon. Enjoy your evening,” he said, his smile lingering a bit too long before he quickly stepped aside to let you pass.

You offered a quick smile before he slipped away, leaving you standing there for just a moment. You stepped into the private dining room, the warm glow of the low lighting greeted you, casting long shadows across the intimate space. It should have been calming, but instead, your nerves buzzed under your skin, making every step feel heavier.

And there he was—Rúben. Standing at the head of the table, locking eyes with you the moment you entered, his eyes softening with that familiar warmth. Even after your insecurities sunk their teeth in you, his presence was striking, but tonight, there was something more. He seemed relaxed, yet focused, as if he’d been waiting for you all day. His smile was warm, a subtle reassurance that everything was okay. He smiled a little more deeply when you approached, the quiet confidence in his posture reminding you why you’d said yes in the first place.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady, that smile on his lips as he took you in.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile in return, though the tightness in your chest remained. He pulled out your chair, the gesture thoughtful as always, but even as you sat down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were about to step into something you weren’t quite ready for.

The reality of what this meant had settled in over the past few days, like glitter that had fallen to the ground after the initial rush. It was the same glitter that used to make you feel alive, back when you thought fame was everything. But now, it was just dust, settling into all the cracks of your life.

You suddenly felt the need to keep him at arm’s length tonight. Maybe it was your instinct to protect yourself—or worse, protect him. The walls that usually kept people at bay were fully up tonight, and despite how charming Rúben was, how easy it had been to talk to him the first time you met, something was stopping you from letting go and enjoying the moment.

You sat down across from him, nodding in acknowledgment as the waiter poured water into your glass. Your fingers played with the edge of your napkin, your body stiff, your mind a million miles away.

The baggage that came with dating you was impossible for you to ignore. Your fame was always there, an elephant in every room you stepped into. The weight of it pressed against you now, reminding you that this wasn’t just a date—it was a potential headline, a potential disaster.

All the men you’d dated before had told you as much. They might’ve tried to play it cool, but eventually, the truth always came out: it was exhausting to be with you. The constant attention, the scrutiny, the lack of privacy—it was too much for anyone to handle for long. The reporters who called their jobs, their families, digging for details, crossing every line just to get a story. It wore people down, and no one deserved that. Especially not Rúben.

Looking at him from across the table, his features warmed by the glow of the low lighting in the room, it affirmed what you already knew. He was… normal. At least, as normal as someone in the public eye could be. You imagined he could still step out and grab groceries if he wanted to. Maybe fans asked for a photo, but that was probably the extent of it. He wasn’t hunted by photographers the way you were, he didn’t have rumors about his love life splashed across tabloids every week. His life, while public, still had space for normalcy. Space for peace.

You couldn’t remember the last time you did something as mundane as buying groceries. That wasn’t your life anymore. Every moment was calculated, planned, protected. You couldn’t just “date” someone, not without it being analyzed, picked apart, and turned into a circus. You’d seen it happen before—one photo of a first date, and suddenly it was the start of a romance the whole world was invested in. And when it inevitably fizzled out, the headlines would make it seem like you were heartbroken, a mess of emotions over something that had barely started.

“Hey,” Rúben’s voice broke through your thoughts. His eyes were on you, concern softening his features. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t said much since you sat down. You were here, but your mind wasn’t, and clearly, he’d noticed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, offering a weak smile. “I’m just… distracted, I guess.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Is it something I did? If you don’t want to be here, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

There was no hint of judgment in his voice, just understanding. And that only made the guilt twist deeper inside you. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve the weight of your internal battle.

“No, it’s not you,” you assured him quickly, offering a small smile in an attempt to brush it off. “It’s nothing, really.”

Rúben raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying it. He didn’t have to say anything right away—his silence was enough to gently coax you into continuing.

You sighed, glancing away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “Okay, maybe it’s not nothing,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping you. “It’s just… complicated, you know?”

“What’s complicated?” he asked, his voice soft but direct, his gaze steady on yours. He wasn’t pushing, but you could tell he wasn’t going to let you hide behind the word either.

You hesitated, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of your water glass as you carefully considered your words. “I’ve just… been here before,” you said slowly, trying not to give too much away too soon. “When people see me with someone, they make assumptions. And then it snowballs into something it’s not. I don’t want that for you.”

Rúben was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady, and then he leaned in just slightly, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “People are going to assume what? That I’m on a date with a beautiful, talented woman that I’d really like to get to know?” His smile grew warmer, more sincere. “Because that’s exactly what this is.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of his statement, how direct yet lighthearted it was. A quiet laugh escaped you, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. He wasn’t dodging the weight of your words, but he was reminding you what was real, right now.

Rúben’s eyes softened as he watched you. “Look, I understand what you’re saying. I know what could come from this, but we don’t have to worry about what everyone else thinks. Right now, it’s just us. I want to be here with you.”

His words hit you in a way that made it hard to resist smiling. You weren’t used to someone meeting your fears with such calmness, with no rush to make promises or minimize how you felt.

You smiled, a real one this time. “You make it sound so simple.”

He shrugged lightly, still smiling. “Because it is simple. Let’s just… have dinner, and see where it goes.”

You exhaled, some of the weight lifting from your shoulders as you nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

His calmness once again disarmed you. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t have to be as complicated as you were making it. Rúben’s smile widened, his eyes soft with reassurance, and for the first time that night, you felt a little bit of the weight on your shoulders begin to lift. You hadn’t realized just how tightly you were holding yourself together, but now, in the quiet of this private room, with Rúben’s steady presence across from you, it felt a little easier to breathe..

The waiter returned to take your order, and you both exchanged polite words with him. The moment he left, the silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. You felt Rúben’s gaze on you, not in a scrutinizing way, but more like he was waiting for you to relax, to meet him halfway.

You took a sip of your water, letting the coolness calm the lingering nerves. “How do you handle it? The public attention, I mean.”

Rúben leaned back slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Honestly, it’s different for me,” he said after a moment. “Football comes with attention, sure, but people care more about what happens on the pitch. If I’m playing well, everything’s good. If I’m not, well… they let me know,” he added with a small smile. “But my personal life? It’s not under the same kind of microscope. It’s not like it is for you.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. For athletes, the focus was often on their performance, their game. But for you, every part of your life—on stage and off—was up for public consumption. “That must be nice,” you said softly, almost wistful. “To have some part of your life that’s still just yours.”

Rúben’s eyes softened as he watched you. “It is,” he admitted. “But I get that it’s not the same for you. I’m not naive about it.” He leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “I know the pressure on you is different. But it doesn’t have to be something we figure out all at once. There’s no rush.”

His calm, steady voice had a grounding effect on you, like he wasn’t trying to fix things or demand more than you were ready to give. He wasn’t expecting you to map out your entire future right here and now. He was just present, in the moment, willing to take things one step at a time.

You smiled a little, shaking your head. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

Rúben chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, “but I’d like to find out.”

The waiter returned with your food, and for the next few minutes, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—football, music, your time in Manchester. It was easy. It was light. And the more you spoke, the more you realized that this was exactly what you needed—a break from the heaviness of your life, a moment to just be a person sharing a meal with someone interesting. It reminded you of why you’d said yes to this date in the first place.

You caught yourself relaxing into the evening, the initial nerves and hesitation melting away little by little. You laughed when Rúben told a story about a chaotic team practice, and he asked thoughtful questions about the movie you were filming, genuinely interested in your answers.

By the time dessert arrived, you almost forgot why you’d been so hesitant in the first place. It was nice, being around someone who wasn’t trying to impress you, who wasn’t intimidated by your fame or overwhelmed by the attention that came with it. Rúben was just himself, calm and steady, and it was a welcome contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded your life.

At some point, you glanced around the room, the reality of your private setting sinking in. The service entrance, the NDAs, the security—it all seemed so distant now, like you’d left that part of yourself outside the door when you’d walked into the room. You weren’t just Y/N, the global superstar in this moment. You were a woman on a first date, with a man who seemed genuinely interested in knowing the real you.

“Thank you.” you said quietly, catching his gaze across the table.

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For being… sweet,” you said with a soft laugh, though you meant it. “I’m not used to that.”

Rúben smiled, his eyes warm. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that.”

You smiled back, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to just be in the moment without worrying about what came next. Maybe, just for tonight, you could forget about the fame, the pressure, the inevitable headlines. Maybe, for once, you could just be you, and not her.

Rúben leaned back in his chair, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve never seen someone have an effect on people like you do.”

You furrowed your brows, curious but trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters,” he began, leaning in slightly, “I think I have permanent hearing loss from when you came on stage the other night. The crowd lost it.” He chuckled softly. “And the host who led you in here looked like he was about to pass out. The waiter? His hands were trembling as he took your order, barely even noticed me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. You weren’t exactly unaware of the effect you had on people, but it always caught you off guard when someone described it so plainly. To you, it was just part of your life—people’s reactions had long since become background noise. You’d gotten so used to it that you sometimes forgot how overwhelming it could be for others.

“That can’t be true,” you said, smirking as you tried to downplay it. “They were probably just having an off night.”

Rúben laughed again, shaking his head. “You seriously didn’t see it, did you? You walk into a room, and it changes the energy entirely. People react to you—they can’t help it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little bashful despite your best efforts to stay composed. This was the part that always felt strange—the acknowledgment of your impact, how larger-than-life you could seem to others. It wasn’t something you did intentionally, but it was a reality you had learned to live with.

“And what about you?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could overthink it. You tilted your head slightly, genuinely curious now. “Do I have an effect on you?”

Rúben didn’t hesitate, his expression softening. “I’ve been nervous all week waiting for this.”

His honesty catches you off guard, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady but genuine. “But not for the reasons they’re nervous.”

You blinked, feeling the air between you shift. “Yeah? What’s the reason then?”

He held your gaze, his eyes unwavering, and for a second you felt the world around you slow down, like this moment existed outside of everything else. “It’s not your fame making me nervous,” he said, his voice lower, more intimate. “It’s how absolutely gorgeous you are.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, a blush creeping up your neck before you could stop it. His words, so direct, so unaffected by the world you usually navigated, hit you in a way that felt... real. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you blush like this.

A soft laugh escaped you, more out of nervousness than anything else. “I don’t usually get nervous on dates,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands before looking back up at him, “but… you’ve managed to make me a little nervous too.”

Rúben’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement. “Good,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “That makes two of us.”

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself sit in that feeling—being nervous, being unsure, but also feeling something real and genuine. The walls you’d been so careful to keep up tonight were starting to crumble, piece by piece, and it didn’t feel like it was such a bad thing.

Rúben looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady as the conversation quieted. “Why’d you say yes? To this date, I mean. You could have said no.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. It wasn’t something you’d really considered, not in those exact terms. Why had you said yes? You’d had plenty of opportunities to turn people down in the past, often with good reason. But with Rúben, something had felt different that night.

You laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Have you seen yourself?” The joke slipped out easily, and Rúben chuckled, but there was a sincerity behind his question that lingered in the air, making you feel like you owed him a real answer.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts, and then your voice softened. “No, I… I said yes because it was easy to talk to you. You didn’t seem intimidated by her. ” You gestured vaguely, indicating the version of you the world knew—the celebrity, the public figure, the icon. “It seemed like you were more interested in getting to know me.”

Rúben’s smile was soft as he nodded, clearly understanding what you meant. “That’s because I am.”

There it was—that calmness again, the way he didn’t flinch or overreact. He was steady, present, and focused on you, not the image the world projected of you. You appreciated that more than you could put into words, and it was why you felt so disarmed around him.

“People… people don’t always see me anymore,” you continued quietly, feeling more vulnerable than you expected. “They see what they want to see. The fame, the persona, the things they read in magazines. It’s exhausting sometimes, you know?”

He nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can imagine. But that’s why I wanted to ask you out in the first place. I wanted to get to know you. Not the version of you everyone else thinks they know.”

There was something about the way he said it, with such honesty, that made you feel safe—like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry the weight of your fame with you all the time.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you, the kind that came from being truly seen. “I’m glad I said yes,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Even if I was nervous.”

Rúben’s smile grew, and he leaned forward slightly. “Me too,” he said, his voice low and steady, and for the first time tonight, you felt like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on you. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment, getting to know each other in a way that felt real.

“For the record, though,” he added with a playful glint in his eyes, “I still am intimidated by you. Look at you.” He leaned back slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Have you looked at yourself?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading across your cheeks betrayed you. "Oh, come on."

“No, seriously,” Rúben continued, his expression shifting into something more sincere, but still playful. “I mean, you walk into a room, and it changes. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t throw me a bit.” He shrugged, a little self-deprecating. “But the part that matters—the part that got me to ask you out—is that it’s you behind all of that. And that’s what I’m here for. ”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “Your job, what you do—it’s huge. I get that. People are obsessed with your work, with what you represent. But at the end of the day, it’s still just that—a job. And everyone has a job.” He paused, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. “It just so happens that yours comes with a lot more attention. That doesn’t change who you are.”

His words hit you like a punch, a force that knocked the wind out of you.

God, what the fuck. He’s perfect.

You blinked, trying to recover from the feeling, but the way he looked at you, so matter-of-fact, so sure, made it impossible. You weren’t used to this—someone seeing past the glamor, the spotlight, the fame, and just… you. The real you. No pretense, no agenda.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for something to say, anything that wouldn’t make you sound completely floored by his simplicity and depth. But all you could manage was a soft, “That’s… wow.”

Rúben’s brow furrowed slightly, a small grin forming at the corner of his lips. “What?”

You shook your head, exhaling softly as you let your guard drop just a little more. “You just… get it. I don’t know how, but you do.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m just being honest. I don’t think it’s all that complicated. You’re more than the job, just like I am.”

That did it. Your chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and disbelief swirling inside you. How did someone like him—calm, grounded, and yet so sincere—make you feel so seen? You bit your lip, fighting back a smile, wondering if he even realized the effect he was having on you.

You sighed, shaking your head again with a mix of amusement and gratitude. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Rúben grinned, leaning forward slightly. “I’m just a guy on a date, trying not to say the wrong thing.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job so far,” you teased, feeling more relaxed than you had at the start of the evening.

The tension you’d been carrying with you since the moment you walked in was slowly unraveling, bit by bit, and as you looked at him, you realized you were glad you’d taken the chance. Maybe this wasn’t the simple, carefree date most people got to experience, but for tonight, it was close enough. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like your fame was the only thing defining you.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, the conversation between you flowing with an ease you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t looking at you like everyone else did, as if you were some untouchable figure. Rúben saw past the glitz, past the brand. He was here for the woman sitting in front of him, and that was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was refreshing, almost grounding, in a way you hadn’t known you needed.

Just as you felt the lightness of the moment settle in, the waiter discreetly placed the check on the table, offering a polite “Take your time,” before stepping back. As soon as the black leather folder hit the table, your hand instinctively reached for it, but before you could even touch it, Rúben’s hand was already there, swiftly grabbing it and pulling it out of your reach.

You raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-annoyed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of playful disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to split the bill,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rúben laughed, shaking his head as if you’d just told him the most ridiculous joke. “You’re funny. Absolutely not. That’s not at all happening. I’m paying.”

You leaned forward, playfully trying to push back. “Come on, let me at least pretend I had a chance at paying. I need to keep my dignity intact.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart flip, and shook his head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. This is my treat. I asked you out, remember?”

You sat back, crossing your arms with a half-pout on your lips. “You’re making this difficult, you know.”

He chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You can get the next one,” he teased, his tone light and casual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a “next one,” but you tried to play it cool. “Next one, huh?”

Rúben raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Unless you’re already planning on bailing on me?”

You shook your head, the playful tension between you lightening the mood even more. “Not bailing,” you said softly, the truth settling in as you looked at him. “I guess I’ll just have to let you pay this time.”

“Good,” he said, sliding his fingers across the edge of the checkbook. “Because that’s how it was going to go either way.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It was moments like these, little glimpses of ease and lightheartedness, that reminded you why you’d said yes to this date in the first place. Even with all your initial anxiety, Rúben had managed to make the night feel lighter than you expected, and for once, you didn’t feel weighed down by the complications of your life.

He took his card out and paid without even glancing at the amount.

You took a small sip of your water, watching as the waiter thanked both you and Rúben and disappeared once more, leaving the two of you alone in the soft lighting. The atmosphere shifted subtly, quieter now, almost expectant. Rúben stood up first, reaching for your coat, and you followed suit, standing from the table.

When he held out your coat, you turned, feeling the light brush of his hands as he helped you slip it over your shoulders. The touch was brief but deliberate, his fingers grazing your arms in a way that sent a shiver through you. He took his time adjusting the collar of your coat, his movements slow, like he was savoring the moment.

You could feel the shift between you, an unspoken tension building, something that had been simmering beneath the surface. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary, and you felt your pulse quicken as his gaze met yours, his eyes darker than they’d been before. There was no denying the spark now, that quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to tighten the air between you.

He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, the warmth of his presence drawing you in like a current. His eyes flicked down to your lips for just a moment—long enough for you to notice, but not long enough for him to make a move. You felt a tug in your stomach—a longing, an anticipation—and you knew where this was headed. You wanted to kiss him, of course you did. He was sweet, attentive, calm, and his scent—a mix of something clean and warm—wrapped around you, making you want to melt into him.

And God, did he look good. He looked so good, that much you could admit to yourself when you walked in, despite the cloud of doubt that had loomed over you.

But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

You leaned back ever so slightly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t kiss on first dates, you know,” you whispered, your tone playful but firm, just enough to keep him on his toes.

Rúben paused, a small smirk played on his lips. “No way I can convince you?” he asked, his voice low, playful, but with a hint of challenge in it.

His hand rested gently on your waist, the warmth of his touch steady but restrained. It wasn’t possessive, but more like a promise—one that made your heart skip a beat. The way he looked at you, with that quiet intensity, made it harder to stick to your own rules, but you weren’t going to let him win this easily.

With a soft laugh, you reached up, letting your hand brush against his arm, the touch light but deliberate. “You’ll have to try a little harder than that,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile.

His brow arched, amusement flashing in his eyes as he leaned just a fraction closer, his voice dropping lower. “I can be patient.”

The desire was there, simmering between you, but neither of you were rushing to give in. It was like a game, a slow dance where neither of you wanted to be the first to step forward.

You felt the spark, the undeniable tension, but you liked the way he wasn’t trying to force it. He was letting it build, savoring it just as much as you were.

“I guess we’ll see,” you teased, pulling back just enough to leave him wanting more, the playful glint in your eyes matching his.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned, feeling the lightness between you grow, the chase still very much alive. As you both stepped out of the private dining room, you noticed Eric stationed just outside, always quietly observing but never intrusive. He gave you a small nod before turning to Jason, who stood a few feet away. “Bring the car around,” Eric said quietly, his voice low and efficient.

Rúben placed his hand gently on the small of your back as you began to walk through the same service hallway you had entered from. The soft murmur of kitchen sounds echoed around you as you passed through the bustling space, the warm scents of food lingering in the air. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you, as if the weight of the outside world hadn’t quite caught up to you yet.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you slowed, noticing Rúben pause. He caught the attention of the restaurant owner, who had been discreetly overseeing the kitchen’s final tasks. With a quiet, purposeful gesture, Rúben handed him a small envelope—an unexpected but thoughtful gesture. The owner looked momentarily surprised, but Rúben’s words were warm, genuine.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. “The food, the dessert—it was perfect. But more than that, I appreciate how quiet and private the evening was. Your attention to detail, and everyone’s discretion… it meant a lot to us.”

The owner’s face softened into a grateful smile as he accepted the envelope. “It was our pleasure, Mr. Dias, Miss L/N. We’re happy you enjoyed your evening.”

You watched the exchange, feeling a quiet admiration for Rúben. He didn’t have to do any of this—personally tipping the staff, speaking so kindly to the owner—but he did it anyway, without hesitation, with the same quiet thoughtfulness he’d shown all night.

With that settled, Rúben guided you toward the back exit. As you approached, one of the restaurant employees stepped forward to hold the door open for both of you. You offered him a small smile, murmuring a quick “Thank you,” as you passed, and Rúben did the same, his voice calm and polite.

Stepping outside, the cool night air greeted you, a welcome contrast to the warmth you’d felt in the restaurant. The faint sounds of the city buzzed in the distance, but here, in the quiet alley behind the restaurant, it felt like you were in your own world. You took a deep breath, feeling the tension from earlier in the night dissolve a little more with each passing moment.

Just ahead, your SUV was already waiting, its black frame gleaming softly under the dim alley lights. Eric stood nearby, his posture relaxed but alert. As you approached, you fully expected Eric to open the door as he always did, but before he could move, Rúben was already a step ahead.

With smooth, instinctive grace, Rúben reached for the door handle, pulling it open for you. It was such a simple gesture, but it caught you off guard. You paused, looking at him for a second longer than you intended. You weren’t used to this. So few of the guys you’d dated before had ever bothered with the smallest acts of respect—holding doors, offering real consideration—and yet here was Rúben, doing it effortlessly. He wasn’t making a show of it, and it wasn’t an act. It was just who he was, and it took you a moment to process that.

You stood between him and the open door, the moment suddenly feeling more intimate than it had a right to be. As you adjusted your coat, a cool breeze brushed past, loosening a strand of hair from where it had been tucked behind your ear. Before you could reach for it, Rúben’s hand was already there, gently brushing the stray hair back into place. His touch was soft, tender, and the simplicity of it made your breath catch.

“I appreciate you coming tonight, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice warm and genuine. “I had a lot of fun. I’d like to keep getting to know you, as long as you’ll let me.”

His words were so sincere, cutting through any lingering tension with their honesty. You felt your heart flutter slightly at how real this all felt. Rúben wasn’t pushing for anything more than you were ready to give, but he made it clear that he wanted more, when you were ready for it.

You smiled up at him, your voice soft. “I’d like that, too.”

Before you could stop yourself, you rose on your tiptoes—despite the heels you were wearing—and gently placed a soft kiss on his cheek. His skin was warm against your lips, and you felt him lean into the touch, just slightly, like he was savoring the moment.

When you pulled back, his smile was gentle, his eyes still holding yours as he helped you up into the SUV with that same quiet grace he’d shown all night. You noticed how his hand covered the grab handle above the door, making sure you didn’t bump your head as you slid into the seat. It was another small detail, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

Before closing the door, he leaned down slightly, his voice low but gentle. “Please, let me know when you get home safely.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his thoughtfulness. “I will. Good night, Rúben.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

He smiled, giving you one last look that made your stomach flip before turning to Eric. There was a polite nod exchanged between them, a silent acknowledgment of respect from both sides. Eric returned the gesture before stepping aside.

As the door closed and the SUV pulled away from the restaurant, you sank into the plush leather seats, sighing softly, dreamily. A small smile tugged at your lips as the city lights blurred outside the window. Rúben had been… well, everything you hadn’t expected but had secretly hoped for.

Eric slid into the front seat, glancing at you in the rearview mirror with a knowing look. “Good date?” he asked, though you could hear the teasing in his tone.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you nodded, sinking further into the seat. “Yeah… it was.”

As the car rolled through the quiet streets of the city, your thoughts drifted back to Rúben, to the way his hand had felt on your waist, the way his gaze had lingered on yours. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for the first time in a long time, you felt excited about the possibilities. And for tonight, that was more than enough.

author's note: sorry for making y'all wait for so long! let me know what y'all think :)

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x you #secret moments

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toomuchracket · 1 year ago

Text

stupid cupid (d word matty x reader fluff)

day 3 of valentine's week, in which you realise you're in love with matty in an unexpected circumstance. cute as shit. enjoy <3

you collapse forward onto matty's chest, both of you breathing heavily. he's still partially inside you, and you can feel his cum dripping from your hole and pooling below you on his body, but you don't mind; you like this sort of post-sex intimacy, when the orgasm haze fades from your brain but the stickiness and tiredness of your body still continue as reminders of how good it was.

and fuck, was it good.

matty strokes your messy hair. “mad how we've never had bad sex with each other, isn't it?”

“shut up,” you laugh, looking up at him adoringly. “you'll have jinxed it now.”

“impossible,” he grins. “i like watching you try to walk normally the day after a good fuck too much to not make an effort…”

“oh my god.”

“... and you are just too eager to please me to half-arse anything, my little princess,” matty boops your nose, laughing when you screw your face up. “in conclusion - great sex forever.”

you hum, tracing the chest tattoo next to your head. “that really was great, that. unexpected.”

“d'you mean?”

“thought you'd be exhausted after the show. s'why i insisted on being on top,” you laugh breathily while matty flicks your nose. “pleasantly surprised at how much work you did.”

“you've been running around in tiny shorts all day. course i was gonna go fuckin feral,” he smiles, hand weaving into your hair and massaging your scalp. “tired now, though.”

“same,” as if on cue, you yawn, and snuggle further into your boyfriend. “night night.”

matty giggles. “nope, not yet. need to clean you up first, darling,” you're not quite sure how he manages it, but next thing you know you're being scooped up bridal style and carried to the bathroom. he sets you down next to the toilet, and reaches in to turn the shower on. “you piss, i shower, then you come in with me. yeah?”

“mmmkay,” you nod, smiling as matty kisses your head before stepping into the shower. normally, you wouldn't let him in the room at this point, but the glass is so frosted that you don't care. you do what you need to do, giggling to yourself as you stand up and lean over to the sink to wash your hands and listen to your boyfriend sing (for what reason, you've no idea) lucky ones by lana del rey over the sound of the taps.

and then, you try to walk over to him, and your legs almost give way to the point you have to cling to the counter to stay upright. you yelp. “matty!”

he's over at you within seconds, sliding a little bit on the floor. concern on his face, he gently holds yours in his still-wet hands. “what’s wrong, angel? you alright? did you see a spider again?”

“no, i just,” you sigh, looking up at him with a pout. “i can't walk. tried to get to the shower and my legs gave way.”

“already? nice,” matty smirks. you deliberately wobble your lip, and his face softens. “oh, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing your forehead and lifting you up to sit on the counter. “give me a second to rinse my hair, yeah? then i'll take care of you. promise.”

“‘kay,” you sniffle. “you can leave the shower door open if you want.”

your boyfriend laughs. “it won't turn you on again, looking at me naked and dripping wet?”

you shrug. “maybe. but you're beautiful like that. s'nice to appreciate you.”

“flatterer,” matty's cheeks go adorably pink. he kisses you, long but chaste, before walking backwards to the shower. “front or back view?”

“back. you've got a cute arse, and i never get to see it.”

“not as cute as yours.”

“yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “hurry up, please, i miss you. wanna go to sleep.”

he grins. “alright, darling.”

in fairness to matty, he really only is a few minutes rinsing the hair mask from his curls - he's so quick, in fact, that you’ve half a mind to tell him to go back in so you can appreciate the view even longer. but as much as you like ogling his peachy little bum and the way his back muscles flex under the water, you like it when he takes care of you even more. so you keep your mouth shut and smiling, hand him a fluffy towel from the stack beside you (with a final bit of ogling as he runs it over his body and wraps it low on his hips), and let him do just that.

he kisses you as he runs a flannel under the hot tap, then wrings it out and presents it to you. “temp ok?” he smiles when you nod, tapping your thigh as a sign for you to open them so he can clean you up, cooing when you wince at the feeling of the warm fabric on your still-sensitive cunt. “i know, sweet girl, i know. just a second longer, yeah? need to make sure you won't be all sticky and uncomfy, that's all. alright?”

“mhmm,” you smile at the way matty’s concentrating on you, the same as he always does during aftercare - brows furrowed in focus, bottom lip between his teeth, whole face softening as he looks you over in satisfaction once he's done. it's almost reverential, the way he treats you, and still totally overwhelming, even after all these months. nobody else you’ve been with has ever been so caring towards you, nor so affectionate; once he's chucked the flannel in the laundry bag, the first thing matty does is straighten up and kiss you. it makes you melt. “thank you, baby.”

he pecks your lips. “just doing my boyfriend duties.”

“you do them very well,” wrapping your arms around his neck, you shuffle forward to hug matty, snuggling into him while he holds you tightly. you don't know if you've ever felt so safe in your life. “m'really sleepy. will you take me to bed now?”

“course,” matty gives you a final squeeze and pulls back, smiling softly; his eyes widen when he looks at your face, though. “wait, no, i can't. not yet.”

“why?”

“you've still got your makeup on, darling.”

blinking tiredly, you look over your shoulder at your reflection. “oh, so i do. never mind. i'll sort it in the morning. let's just go to bed, yeah?”

matty shakes his head. “nope.”

“matty,” you whine, stroking his face. “please can we just go to sleep? m'too tired to do it.”

“angel,” your boyfriend sighs, taking both your hands in his. “the first time i stayed at yours, you made me promise - promise - to never let you fall asleep with your makeup on. said it was the worst thing i could ever let you do. so, yeah, we're not going to bed until your skincare is done. alright?”

a wave of something unfamiliar passes over you as you take in matty's words. it's not unpleasant, though; quite the opposite, actually. kind of warm, but not in an embarrassed way. you don't know what it is, or where exactly in your body it starts, but you like it.

you smile shyly. “i can't believe you remember me saying that. i was half-joking, honestly.”

matty copies your smile and shrugs. “well, i took it very seriously. so, to that end,” he kisses you quickly, resting his forehead against your own. “if you're too tired to take your makeup off and all that, would you let me do it instead?”

the warmth passes over you again as he speaks, increasing by a couple of degrees when you look at your boyfriend's adorably expectant face. god, his eyes. you want to drown in them. “yes, please,” you smile. “if you wouldn't mind, that is.”

“i never mind getting to touch your beautiful face,” he grins. “i know you're tired, darling, but could you put your hair up while i wash my hands, please?”

you oblige, reaching to the side for your claw clip and headband. matty quickly cleans his hands, fiddling about with the tap once he's rinsed. “tepid for skincare, yeah?”

“right,” you nod. “if it's too hot it…

“... strips the skin too much. makes sense,” matty carefully measures out your makeup remover on his palm, while you blink in surprise. wetting the cleanser, he brings his hands to your face. “let me know if i'm not doing it right, sweetheart.”

“okay,” you close your eyes, and he begins. his hands move gently across your face, the soothing circular motion of his fingers lulling you into relaxation - ironically, in total contrast to the circular motions matty was using on you earlier. when he giggles quietly, you keep your eyes closed, but smile. “what?”

“you look like a raccoon. your mascara's completely melted,” matty replies, and you can hear him smiling. “a really cute raccoon, though.”

“a callback to my emo days,” you smile, closing your mouth as matty wipes the makeup residue away with a facecloth. “is that us done?”

“yeah. take a look, please.”

you do as asked, turning to examine your totally makeup-free face in the mirror. “perfect, baby. thank you,” you turn back to peck matty - glowing with pride - and smile. “d'you want me to guide you through the rest of the routine?”

“oh, no, it's ok,” matty’s cheeks go pink again, and he looks bashfully at the ground before peeking up at you through his eyelashes. “i, uh, i actually made a note of it in my phone, one of the times i sat with you while you did it. just in case, you know, something like tonight happened, and i would be the one doing it for you.”

oh. your eyes widen, and matty starts some frantic monologue about… well, you've no idea what. you can't focus on anything he's saying, because now you know what the new warmth in your body is, spreading from your heart to your brain and tinting the world just a little bit brighter.

it's love.

you're in love with matty.

as soon as the realisation hits, though, reality follows - all it took for you to realise was for him to offer to do your skincare for you? really? that tiny little gesture? christ. how pathetic of you.

but it isn’t a tiny gesture, though, is it, if you think about it; matty cares so much about you that he physically noted down which skincare products you use on your face and in which order. it might be a basic ritual, but it's intricate and intimate, and he's willingly offering to enact it for you because he knows you’ll feel bad if you abandon it tonight.

god, you love him so much.

shit, you still haven't said anything - you tune back into matty talking about “i'm sorry if that's a bit creepy or stalker-ish, i just know you spend a lot of time taking care of yourself like that, and really i think you've got it down to a fine art cos you always look amazing, and i don't know i just thought it would be useful to know if i was ever lucky enough to be so close to you that i could take over with it if necessary, and-”

“matty, baby,” you stop him before he talks himself unconscious, smiling. “i’m really touched that you would do that for me. really.”

he smiles, clearly relieved. “i'd do anything for you, darling.”

you swear you can feel your heart grow three sizes like the grinch. “well, in that case,” you kiss the back of his hand. “i'd like you to do my skincare for me, please.”

“alright. can i kiss you first?”

you say nothing, just pout your lips and close your eyes. matty chuckles and kisses you deeply, hands on your jaw; you sigh into him, lips parting to let him in, and he takes the bottom one between his teeth and releases it ever so slowly. when you whimper, he smiles, pecking your lips before pulling away completely. “right. cleanser time.”

you smile, too, closing your eyes and sitting back while he washes and hydrates and treats and moisturises your face. again, matty's so gentle with you, humming whatever tune is in his head and quietly murmuring instructions like “pea-sized amount of niacinamide, grape-sized amount of moisturiser” to himself - you huff out a laugh at those, and he stops talking to himself in favour of talking to you. “what?”

“nothing, you're just cute” and i'm very much in love with you.

“nowhere near as cute as you, sweetheart. just your lip balm left to do, by the way, and then we can finally go to bed.”

“thank god.”

matty laughs as he quickly swipes your overnight lip mask on, tapping your thigh once he's done. “that's you, angel,” he washes his hands again, while you open your eyes and beam at him. “shiny and beautiful.”

“thank you, my darling,” you pull the claw clip and headband from your hair, shoving them in your cosmetics bag before making grabby arms at matty. “bedtime?”

“bedtime,” your boyfriend lifts you and wanders to the bedroom, laying you gently on the bed and kissing your hair; in complete contrast to the tenderness, he parkours over you to get to his own side of the bed, and you giggle as he winces. “fuck, that was a bad idea.”

“oh baby. c'mere,” you slide under the duvet and open your arms. matty slots himself between them, resting his head on your chest. “better?”

“so much,” he yawns, eyelids already fluttering closed. “night, baby. see you in my dreams, and then in the morning.”

“goodnight, darling,” you lean down to kiss his forehead, gently massaging his scalp until his breathing indicates he's properly, genuinely asleep. then you smile, and your voice drops to a whisper. “i love you.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #valentine75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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