#table cloth shop near me

[somashoponline]

Best the Latest Tablecloth Designs Online

Presently, round table covers are trendy because they're stylish. The majority of women prefer them because the colors are gorgeous and attractive to the eyes at the same time. The latest tablecloth designs in natural, light-colored shades look amazing on tables of any size: the office, home, restaurant, or restaurant.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

NOT YOUR BRO

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: y/n decides to use some ‘unusual’ nicknames for her boyfriend, drew, except it drives him insane.

based on this ask !! you come up with the CUTEST requests @xoxosblogsblog so thank you for this :) i hope it’s what you wanted, i tried to make it more of a one-shot than a drabble so i hope it’s okay <3

WARNINGS: just some fluffy goodness, one f bomb, and i believe that’s it !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, its soft jazz playlist creating a relaxed atmosphere as Y/N and the girls browsed racks of clothes. They had spent the morning shopping, arms now laden with glossy bags from Charleston's trendiest stores. Their conversation had drifted from outfit critiques to relationships as they admired a collection of flowy dresses near the dressing rooms.

"I don't know, it's just hard finding someone who actually gets me," Madelyn said with a shrug, running her fingers over the fabric. "You know, someone who doesn't freak out about my schedule."

"You'll find your person," Carlacia assured her. "Trust me, the right guy won't care how busy you are—he'll hype you up for it."

"True," Y/N chimed in. "Drew's my biggest cheerleader. Sometimes it's annoying how supportive he is."

The group laughed, and Madelyn smiled wistfully. "What do you even call Drew? Do you guys do the whole nickname thing?"

"Oh, for sure," Y/N replied, chuckling. "It's usually just 'babe,' but sometimes I call him 'Drewseph' when I'm feeling extra ridiculous."

"Drewseph?" Carlacia snorted, nearly doubling over. "That's incredible."

"I know, right?" Y/N grinned. "But seriously, I think he'd have a heart attack if I called him anything else. He's so used to those two."

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "Like what? What would actually make him freak out?"

"I don't know..." Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Probably something like 'dude' or 'bro.' He'd be so confused."

"Oh my God, you have to try it!" Carlacia said, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"What?" Y/N laughed, glancing between her friends.

"You should totally call him 'buddy,' 'pal,' or 'dude' tonight—just to see what he does," Carlacia suggested, practically bouncing on her heels.

"I don't know..." Y/N hesitated, though her grin betrayed her intrigue.

Madelyn joined in, nudging Y/N with her elbow. "Come on, it'd be hilarious. You know he'd lose his mind in the funniest way."

"I feel like he'd just be super offended," Y/N admitted, laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlacia said. "That's the point! He'll be all pouty and confused, and we'll all die laughing."

"Okay, but you guys better back me up if he gets mad," Y/N warned, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Madelyn promised, crossing her heart.

"Fine, I'll do it," Y/N said, shaking her head with a grin. "But you owe me if this backfires."

"Deal," Carlacia said, holding out her pinky for Y/N to shake.

As the group headed to the checkout counter, their laughter echoed through the boutique. Y/N could already picture Drew's reaction, and she had to admit—it was going to be fun.

—

The warm glow of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Drew and Y/N's spacious Charleston apartment. It was the perfect evening to host the Outer Banks cast for dinner and a game night.

The girls entered the apartment, greeted by the savory aroma of roasted chicken, mac and cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Drew met Y/N at the door, leaning down to kiss her. "How was your day, babe?" he asked, his voice soft and warm.

"Perfect," Y/N replied, grinning. "How about you? Are you a certified chef now?"

"Close," he teased, sliding an arm around her waist. "Go wash up; dinner's almost ready."

The girls exchanged knowing glances behind Drew's back, suppressing their giggles. Carlacia nudged Y/N with a wink. "You better deliver tonight," she whispered.

"Oh, I will," Y/N murmured, smirking.

At the long dining table, everyone was buzzing with conversation as Austin laid down the last plate. Drew, seated next to Y/N, had one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. She eyed the mac and cheese near him and decided it was time to set the plan in motion.

"Hey, can you pass the mac and cheese, please, buddy?" Y/N asked, her voice casual.

Drew froze mid-conversation, his head snapping toward her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at the plate, then back at her. "Uh, sure... babe," he said, emphasizing the word as he slid the dish toward her.

"Thanks, dude," Y/N replied nonchalantly, biting back a grin.

Across the table, Carlacia snorted into her drink, and Madelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Drew's jaw dropped slightly as he turned to her again, a mixture of offense and bewilderment crossing his face.

"Dude?" he repeated under his breath, as if the word left a bad taste.

"Hmm?" Y/N feigned innocence, loading her plate with mac and cheese.

Shaking his head, Drew tried to let it go, but the girls' muffled laughter didn't escape him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't press further—yet.

The dinner continued with more subtle jabs from Y/N. "Hey, pal, can you pass the salt?" she asked later, earning another baffled look from Drew. When he handed it to her, she responded with a cheerful "Thanks, champ!"

By the time they cleared the table and set up for games, Drew was visibly on edge, his lips pursed as he watched Y/N interact with the group.

They were midway through a heated round of charades when Y/N delivered the final blow. "Your turn, bro!" she called to Drew, grinning widely.

That did it. Drew stopped in his tracks, tossing the game card onto the coffee table. "It's babe! Not 'dude,' not 'buddy,' and CERTAINLY not bro!" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in exasperation. His hands flew up in frustration, and he turned to Y/N with wide eyes. "What did I do? Are you mad at me? Why are you calling me that?"

Y/N couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as tears welled in her eyes. Carlacia and Madelyn followed suit, collapsing against each other in hysterics.

Drew's jaw dropped further. "This—this was a joke?" he asked, his voice wavering between relief and indignation.

Y/N wiped her eyes, reaching for him. "Yes, babe, it was a joke. The girls dared me to do it to see how you'd react."

Drew folded his arms, pouting dramatically. "That's mean. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered.

"Aww, come on," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

Drew let out a dramatic sigh but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his face. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"Lucky?" Y/N teased, kissing him again. "You're the lucky one, Drewseph."

The guys, still confused about what had just transpired, looked at each other. "Are we supposed to get it?" Austin whispered to Chase.

"No clue," Chase replied, shaking his head.

The girls' laughter echoed through the apartment as Drew finally cracked, pulling Y/N closer and resting his forehead against hers. "You owe me," he murmured.

"Anything you want, babe," Y/N whispered back, her grin mischievous. "But admit it—you love me even when I call you dude."

Drew groaned, shaking his head. "Don't push it."

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet and silly !! going to get through to some angst requests soon, i feel like i’ve been drowning you all in fluff which is CRAZY because i’m an angst girly at heart🫣 i have enjoyed writing happy drew & rafe so i can’t complain !!

pls send some angst requests pls !! mainly w/ a happy ending :)

[na0koz]

jinx getting jealous and makin u pay for it :P

nsfw!!! MDNI. cw: blood, knives, kinda dubcon i guess?, strap use

anon request! wouldn’t let me respond to it in a post. this is my first time writing proper smut sorry if it’s bad

toxic!jinx masterlist

today was one of the few days you weren’t planning on hanging out with jinx, but obviously you ended up doing just that. jinx was just checking up on you, watching you work from the very back corner of the cute little coffee shop you were studying in (sometimes she is baffled by the fact that you have never ever noticed her stalking you. she is in plain sight half the time) when someone from your class comes in and approaches you at your table.

you smile up at them, moving your bag so they can sit opposite you and the two of you start chatting. several minutes go by, your studies long forgotten as you get to know your classmate, someone who you hadn’t really spoken to much before. jinx on the other hand, hasn’t moved a muscle and has barely even blinked as she watches the interaction unfold before her, eyes flickering between the two of you before noticing your classmate pulling their phone out.

jinx damn near gets up out of her seat when she sees you take their phone and type what jinx assumes was your phone number. she finally moves, though only to start bouncing her leg up and down, waiting for an opportunity to question you. she’s bitten her lip so hard that it bleeds.

after what feels like an eternity, your classmate leaves. jinx already knows their name and perhaps even their address after somehow finding a list of everyone in your class and researching each of them. they will face their punishment in due course. as soon as the door closes behind them, jinx is up and stomping towards your table.

the sudden movement opposite you as she sits down causes you to look up again from your laptop and you exclaim upon seeing her. “oh! hey jinx.”

jinx doesn’t say anything in return, just licks the remaining half-dried blood from her lip.

“who was that?” she questions, leaning on her forearms over the table. she sounds annoyed, and you really really hope she isn’t as angry as she sounds.

“someone from my class. they just wanted to borrow some notes they had missed,” you explain as you gather your stuff up and put it in your bag. you know she’s gonna make you leave with her so you might as well prepare.

“hm. whatever, let’s go.”

you follow jinx out of the shop and she grabs your arm to pull you along beside her while she thinks of the quickest route back to either of your houses.

you end up at her house, the door locked behind you as you push your shoes off. jinx tugs your bag off your shoulder for you, dropping it to the floor with a thud before leading you to her room.

she starts yanking off your jacket, your clothes and finally your underwear. she sheds a couple of her own layers, but pauses when she’s just in her underwear and a tight cropped tank top. you can’t say you’re not turned on, and you brace yourself for the teasing that will likely follow when jinx forces your legs open.

in the time you imagine how she’s going to chide you for how wet you’re getting over literally nothing, she’s managed to get her strap on and pulls you onto your stomach, bending your knees for you so you’re face down, ass up on her bed. she continues wordlessly as she begins tying a turquoise rope around your wrists behind your back.

jinx lines up her dick with your already dripping hole and pushes in, making you whine into the mattress. still without a word, she starts fucking you, and hard.

you quickly build up to your orgasm, chanting jinx’s name like a prayer begging her to let you cum.

she replies with a simple “go on.” and you cum hard on her dick, a few tears escaping your eyes and soaking the sheets below.

tonight, it’s her goal to make sure you know she’s the only one who can give you what she can, as well as she can.

jinx coaxes a few more orgasms from you with her strap before she decides to opt for a new method to make you feel so good you cry.

she pulls your fucked out body into her lap and drags your arms behind her head so they looped around her neck, still bound together by the blue rope. she kicks her legs under yours to force them open and keep them that way. then, she shoves two of her fingers into your mouth.

instinctively, you start to suck, tongue curling around her slender fingers.

“mhm, that’s it. good girl.” jinx muses as she watches your lips puckering around her digits. it surprises you how much she can change when she’s fucking you, becoming dark and dominant over you.

she pulls her now wet fingers out of your mouth with a pop and traces them down the valley of your chest, along your stomach down to your pussy. she teases your clit and your puffy folds for a second before plunging her fingers into your sensitive hole. you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, failing to notice jinx reaching behind her as she grasps for her assault knife. the one with the hot pink and turquoise handle she made herself.

as she curls her fingers inside of you, she gently prods your inner thigh with the knife and you twitch at the sudden pain. you open your eyes and look up at her, not being able to restrain the whimpers coming from your throat as jinx continues fingering you with her knife still poking you, threatening to pierce your skin.

“ji-… hurts..” you can barely get a word out from how tight the coil inside of you is.

she’s not letting you reach your orgasm on purpose. you hear her giggle at your whining through the haze of your pleasure.

“you gonna cum?” she sings at you. she’s just teasing your for her own pleasure now. freak.

“please…jinx. wanna cum so bad..” you plead with her.

“y’know no one else can make you cum like this, baby. no one else can do what i do.” she begins to drag the knife up to the space between your tits.

jinx doesn’t feel like drawing any blood from you today, but she doesn’t need to tell you that right now. she just needs to make you know that you’re hers. she owns you and she needs to punish you for making her jealous.

“tell me i’m the only one who can make you cum.” she presses down with the blade, hearing you moan even louder. she’s changed her mind now. she pulls the knife down a little, drops of blood blooming on your chest.

you’re writhing in her grip now. you’re so so close to cumming but she just won’t let you.

“go on. tell me.” jinx says bluntly before dipping her head down to lick the blood off you.

“yo-..! you’re the only one jinx! the only one who can make me cum! please- please let me..” you cry as your sentence dies on your tongue, brows furrowed and eyes shut.

she hums. “see, baby? wasn’t so hard.” she puts the knife down and finally fucking you just that little bit harder.

the band in your belly snaps and you cum so hard you see stars. your hot juices spurt out of your convulsing hole over jinx’s palm and her bedsheets. she licks the tears from your cheeks and strokes your hair with her free hand.

you relax against her, breathing heavily as she wipes the small wound she made with a cloth she had on her nightstand. she lets you calm down a little more before cleaning up your soaked pussy.

you think it’s probably best to ignore any texts from your classmate, and pretend you typed your number wrong. for their sake, not yours.

[woncon]

➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: yungisang focus, but everyone gets screen time, poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey. 

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown. 

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink. 

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you'll be so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement. 

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time. 

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely. 

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.” 

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

[adrienneleclerc]

Día de Muertos

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Mexican! Reader

Summary: Per Mexican tradition, Y/N makes an altar for her family members that passed away. She added Charles’s family members as well

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, death, inaccuracies

A/N: This was the first time I put up an ofrenda and since today is Day of the Dead, it’s fitting

The best thing about dating a Formula 1 driver is the traveling. Y/N joined Charles in all his races, mainly because she is able to work from home as an event planner. So when they were in Mexico City for the Grand Prix, she bought papel picado, sugar skulls, and little dog alebrijes. Now that they are in Brazil, Y/N bought candles, a table cloth, marigolds, and printed out photos to set up the altar.

Y/N made it back to the hotel while Charles was in the track for free practice. She placed the table cloth over the hotel room desk, added the papel picado and marigold before placing the photos in the place card holder. There was one of her aunt that died from cancer, her grandpa that died of old age, Jules, and Hervé. Onces the little altar was set up exactly how she wanted it, she placed the candles near their photos and added the sugar skulls and alebrijes wherever there was an empty space.

Though Y/N wasn’t in Mexico anymore, there are Mexican restaurants in Brazil and she ordered her aunt’s and grandpa’s favorite food plus pan de muerto to have it delivered to the hotel. There was a knock on the door and when Y/N opened it, expecting to see a hotel employee with Mexican food, she saw her boyfriend.

“Muñeco, i thought you would still be in the track.” Y/N said, charles leaned in and kissed Y/N on the cheek before walking into their hotel room.

“We finished, what’s all this?” Charles asked, pointing to the table.

“Right. Well, today is day of the dead and usually I’m in my apartment to make this ofrenda but now I’m dating you so I brought the ofrenda with me.” Y/N explained but Charles looked confused. “Um, it’s an altar, it’s a way to honor my dead relatives and welcome their spirits to our home. I usually go all out but this is a hotel room and I don’t want the fire alarm to go off.” Y/N explained and Charles looked closer at the ofrenda and saw a picture of Jules and another one of his father.

“You put them up?” Charles asked in a whisper, he felt his eyes getting teary, picking up the photo of him and his dad.

“I know you miss them a lot, everything you are doing in formula 1 in for them, I thought it would be nice to add them to the ofrenda. I know this isn’t really your tradition but it’s mine and I want to share it with you.” Y/N said softly, Charles looked at her and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, Mon ange, that is very sweet of you, really.” Charles said.

“Um, it’s tradition to add their favorite food on the altar. I ordered some Mexican for my aunt and grandpa, what did Jules and your dad like to eat?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t think we could get it here but they liked…” Charles told Y/N their favorite foods.

“I’m sure we could order it from somewhere.” Y/N said. There was a knock and Y/N opened the door, it was the food she ordered. She got the food and gave the man a tip before walking back to Charles. “We also have this bread that’s called pan de muerto, we place it on the ofrenda too.”

“I’m sure they would enjoy the bread.” Charles said smiling. He opened the bag to help Y/N place the bread on the table. “So when we were is Mexico and you told me you were shopping, you were preparing for this?”

“Of course! I’m still Mexican, Muñeco, my tradition won’t change because I’m in another country.” Y/N said and Charles chuckled. Y/N placed the food in front of her aunt’s and grandpa’s picture.

“Maybe next year you can put up the ofrenda in my place.” Charles said.

“You mean that?” Y/N asked.

“I do, we haven’t been dating long but I feel very happy with you, happier than I have been in a long time.” Charles said before he kissed Y/N softly.

“I feel happy with you too. Oh, do you want some bread? It’s really good.” Y/N said, grabbing a loaf (?) and offering it to charles.

“Sure.” Charles said, tearing off of a piece of bread to taste. He hummed in content. “This is really good, do they sell this a lot on Mexico for day of the dead?”

“Yes they do, Mexican bread is the best.” Y/N said,

“I Can tell. I’m going to send a picture of the altar to my mom, is that okay?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Y/N said and Charles took a picture of the altar, making sure Pascale could clearly see his dad and Jules. He sent it to his mom and got a response in 2 minutes.

“My mom said it’s very sweet and considerate of you to add my dad and Jules.” Charles said.

“I May not have met them but I know how much they mean to you, I couldn’t leave them out.” Y/N said, looking down all shy. Charles brought his his finger under her chin to make her look at him,

“I love you so much, thank you for this.” Charles said before kissing her deeply.

“Don’t mention it.” Y/N said as soon as they separated from the kiss. They hugged each other. “I think we should watch Coco.” Charles laughed at her suggestion. “Well how else are you supposed to get the day of the dead?”

“Fine, let’s see if you can connect you phone to the hotel TV.” Charles said.

And that’s how they spent Día de Muertos, watching Coco on Disney plus and eating pan de muerto.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[smutallyouwant]

Twice One-Shot World chp.4

Are You Satisfied Sir?

Word Count: approx. 1.5k words

Momo x Reader Dahyun x Reader

You're a working man that's in need of relaxation after a heavy work. And you tried the newly opened body massage spa with discounts for their opening.

After working in your minimum wage paying work you chose to walk to your home as it's less than 2 km away. You've walked by many food shops but only one shop caught your eye. It's not a food store but a body massage salon. It had crazy discounts that a minimum wage earner like you could afford. You think that your body needs this so you quickly enter and get greeted by a beautiful girl wearing a pink top, a robe, and a short white skirt.

" Hey boy, looking for relaxation? " She said.

" Yes, are the signs outside true? I mean your discounts "you answered

" Yes sir, I'm Momo and let me assist you "

" Our full body massage is only $6.99, and I'm the one who will be making it for you" Momo added.

" That's great, I'll avail that one "

" Okay sir, let me just get your name and your payment "

Momo talked to the cashier and made you fill up some papers. Then she guided you to a room with one bed, a pillow, and a table with some things for massage.

" I'll wait here sir, please remove all your clothes and put it in the box right there. Lie down on the bed with a cover on your buttocks and call me when you're done " Momo instructed.

" It's okay now you can come in "

" Okay, I'll start now sir "

Momo tapped your shoulders and back first, and then rubbed oil on them. Her touch sends shivers in your spine as every gentle thrust of her hand cools your muscle down.

" You know our spa did not have success on its opening so we are forced to have crazy discounts " Momo said.

She's trying to have small talks while she massages your back and shoulders.

" Oh is that so, but thanks to that I can relax after a full load of work. But I hope your business will succeed in the future "

" We're trying different approaches for customers now, so they will be regulars. Do you want to try it sir? " Momo said near your ear whispering.

Her airy breath made your skin cold.

" Does it come with additional payment? " You asked.

" Of course not, we just want to make sure that you're satisfied and relaxed " Momo said before licking your ears.

Momo licks your ears as she massages your shoulders. This causes you to moan gently. She sucked your earlobes and her hands are slowly sliding to your bottom. She removed the towel and slid her hand to your shaft.

" This is quite a big dick you got there sir, would you mind changing your positions? "

As you lay back in bed, you saw her lowering a strap of her top revealing a nice big tit. She made you suckle into it while she put oil on your dick.

" Here, suck my breast sir. Use it as a stress reliever. You can reach onto the other tit if you want "

With that said, you fondled her other tit while sucking into the other like a baby. Momo started stroking your dick and moaning gently.

" Can I kiss you? " You said.

Without hesitation, Momo leaned over with mouth open and her tongue exposed. You sucked her tongue and made out with her sloppily. This made you so horny that you came on her hands.

" Mmmmhh, that's a lot of cum sir. Are you satisfied? "

" Not yet " you answered.

Momo then removed her shorts and underwear leaving her skirt on and an exposed pussy. She leaned on the other table and spread her legs looking at you seductively. You quickly got up and lined your shaft to her pussy, thrusting as deep and as hard as you could.

" Ughh,ughh, ugh you're so big sir "

Her top was still hanging onto her chest, that makes her look so hot. Her make up is a mess and you can't stop fucking this beautiful masseuse.

" So you're ready to be a slut for your business? I'll advertise your business in exchange you'll be my personal slut okay? "

" Yeshhh shhiuur "

Her words are muffled as you hold her mouth with your big hands. You're near cumming so you rammed as hard as you can, things fell off the tables and Momo starts shaking.

" Ughh! shiirrr I..I..I.m cuosmming "

You planted your dick deep and creampied the masseuse as she trembled with pleasure. Momo laid down on the floor as her pussy is still squirting and oozing with your cum. You sat down on the bed and rested.

As you rest, the curtains opened and a masseuse with crazy slim body wearing pink tube and skirt appeared.

" Hello sir, are your sessions over? Can we clean this room now? " she said.

" No, I'm not satisfied yet "

" Well I'm Dahyun sir, can I help you with that? " She said while closing the curtains.

She held her hands on your neck and looked at you with a smile .

" Of course you could be of any help " you said before pulling Dahyun for a kiss.

Dahyun replied, not shy with using her tongue. Your hands automatically roam her breast and the other just slides on her silky smooth skin feeling her crazy curve.

" Fuck you have the sexiest body I've seen " you blatantly said.

" Then use my body to satisfy yourself sir "

You kissed and licked every inch of her body removing her tube bra. You sucked her neck, her shoulders, licked her underarms, her tummy, her hips, and suckled on her tits. You made her face the table revealing her silky smooth white back. Dahyun moaned as you licked her back and kissed it while playing with your dick.

You smacked her butt, repeatedly causing her to moan.

" Ughh! Sir don't hit me hard "

This just caused you to hit harder as Dahyun bit her lips every hit. It left a red mark, you lined your shaft now and started thrusting inside her pink pussy.

Dahyun looks at you with your mouth open as you ram her from behind. You smack her butt repeatedly so that the red mark won't disappear. You can see in her face that she was pleased with every hit you make. Her hourglass body was so crazy that you can use it as leverage with only one hand. Your other hand goes pulling her pony tail.

" Urrgh, uggrh, urrgh "

Dahyun moans with pleasure as you fuck her like a wild animal. You pulled her closer and slapped her many times. Dahyun likes it and smiles every slap. This made you cum inside her in an accident. You cannot hold it longer so your cum spurted inside her.

" Uughh, heheh hehe "

Dahyun giggles as she trembles in pleasure.

You ended up fucking her again in another room. Violating her more as she likes. After satisfying the masseuse. Momo greeted you goodbye with a gift.

A lifetime 50% off for the spa in exchange for advertising the business in the company you work on.

From then on their business had customers with some regulars. Momo and Dahyun become your personal prostitutes every time you visit the spa. Sometimes Dahyun likes to ' train ' new masseuses with you and you ended up fucking every new recruits they had.

[madamecaos]

Crush(ing) pt.2

Summary: Where Ghost goes a little too rough on you in training then makes up for it.

6k+ ish words │ Ghost (Simon Riley) x Y/N

Warning: Mature filth, probably depression

A/N: You know the drill, no proofread found here. (This is literally an experiment to fight head-on my perfectionism lol)

Part 1

Part 2

Johnny must have said something, you realized the next morning. There was no way the strict management would provide him a personal room without providing some sort of information of a necessity.

And the team was… nicer. You couldn’t explain nor figure out if Johnny had told all the details. Or at least some because no one looked at you with pity.

Training was the same, no sparring today, just some laps and some cardio-inducing sweat. You hadn’t seen Ghost anywhere yet, but something told you he wouldn’t go near you anytime soon. Despite this team being one of the most secretive amongst the military branches, it wouldn’t be excluded from a bureaucratic process if you were to accuse him of something.

Of what, you weren’t sure. You were angry, but you weren’t there yet.

Everything was… as if you weren’t just another ‘lad’ in the team. Soap greeted you with his usual jolly good morning, kept an ongoing conversation like usual, but he filled up your tray and carried it to your table. This was the first time someone had done that. Gaz offered to carry your gym bag back to your room. Price rescheduled a briefing on the intel, allowing you to have fun and explore the city, or whatever that meant without any sort of security to follow you around.

Odd, and confusing. You weren’t sure you were complaining at the sudden reprieve from military treatment, but you weren’t sure if you were comfortable with being treated like a child. As something fragile.

Whatever, your complaining could wait a few days. You wanted to get your hair done and get some coffee that didn’t taste like water and bitter mornings.

So you did, you went shopping for clothes that you weren’t sure about when and where you would wear. At the same time, you eyed the open-back blouses wistfully, a little part of you wishing that your life wasn’t so filled with bruises and scars.

But that was the job. You had to get by.

The taxi left you at the entrance, the driver not having the credentials to enter the base, but that was not a problem.

You couldn’t find your badge, the guard’s expectation making the rummaging of your purse more aggressive. And again, that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that, when the guard opened the gates, making you think that he had recognized you and would allow you in, Ghost was standing right smack at the middle as they parted, expecting you. He was as casual as yesterday, a long sleeve tee and the expected balaclava.

You returned his inquisitive stare for a few seconds, the handles of the shopping bags digging into your bruised-enough arms. The hot shower last night had helped tame down the swelling, but not enough to not to feel it.

Keeping that in mind, you walked forward with all intention to ignore him. As you neared-

‘Ma’am-“

“She’s with me,” Ghost said, not allowing any doubt in his tone. The guard, given Ghost’s no-nonsense attitude, didn’t argue. The guard had recognized you but was jut being difficult, surely.

“May I?” He asked as he matched your pace, the whirring of the gates closing behind you occupying the silence.

You faltered and cursed internally. So much for not being affected by him.

Without hesitation nor expecting an answer, he took your bags, and you couldn’t help but notice he avoided skin contact.

The walk to your room was tense. His footsteps were not as quiet as usual, which made you think he made noise on purpose, enough for you to be aware of how far behind he stayed.

Somehow that put you somewhat at ease, but not enough. Ghost being nice? Something was happening, you just didn’t know what, but at the same time you were done assuming things about him and what his actions meant.

“I’m in a different room.” You explained as you neared the corner of the hallway that used to be your bunk bed.

“I know,” he answered just as briefly.

From your peripheral, you eyed him. You returned your gaze forward immediately when you met his, as he was already looking at you. His eyes seemed to have more depth under the fluorescent lights, no horror nor worry to be found this time.

But they weren’t blank and unexpressive as usual. 

Eyes centered forward, you finally neared your room, eying warily the small cooler right by the door. When you opened your new room, you turned to ask for your bags.

You should’ve known this was a trick as he shouldered himself into what was supposed to be your safe space.

Tiny and cautious steps led you in as he placed the bags on the simple desk. You left the door open.

Then, he had the gall to point at the bed. “Sit.”

He turned back, and returned as he closed the door, now cooler in hand.

You stood frozen in the middle of the room. The frown that marred your face was enough for him to falter. You looked at the bed slowly, then back to him.

This room, away from the others, was all him. The room was far away from the people that knew there was tension between you two, and now he was demanding that you sat on the bed. There was no question as to what this might lead to.

You were no barrack bunny.

Your heart wanted to crawl up your throat.

“Please…” He showed his hands as a peace offering, placating. You were too in your head to notice the ice packs. He made another gesture towards the bed. “Cold helps swelling go down.”

You wanted to think that he genuinely wanted to help, but that tiny monstrous voice in the back of your mind told you he must want the bruises gone because they were proof enough of his brutality.

Intrusively, the dark thought developed. He must want a blank canvas to ruin again.

“You can barely see them now,” you said, knowing that your strong reprieve would loosen if you felt his hands on your skin.

He took a deep breath in, seeking patience at your resistance. “Right.”

Droplets hit the floor as the ice packs melted. When you realized he wouldn’t move, you sighed and took them from him. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

You sat on the corner of the bed and begrudgingly placed an ice pack beneath your shirt, the size of it barely covering the span of your shoulder. Thankfully, you were strong enough to hold in the hiss at the contact. “There, happy?”

“No,” he reached for more inside the cooler. “I know it’s not only your shoulder.”

He waited for you to act, but not patiently, that much you could tell, but he was smart enough to not push you. Instinctively, you held in an eyeroll and laid down on the bed, belly down. If this is what you had to do to get him out of here faster, then so be it.

Tentatively, he grasped the bottom of your shirt, avoiding skin. He managed to lift your shirt halfway, before it became troublesome for him to reach all the marks.

There was hesitation in his actions. The sure soldier now timid, uncertain, not knowing what was required. There was no way your clothes wouldn’t soak as the ice packs melted, and there was no way he could reach the bruises on your upper back without seeing.

He paused and you knew what he was asking of you, silently and unwearyingly. At least, he was smart enough not to make demands when you laid in this vulnerable position.

But, when you sat up and shed off your shirt and bra, he took a trembling breath as if he was the one being splayed open. Ghost looked away respectfully but caught the deep shades of blue and purple in the corner of his eye.

After shedding the only layer that covered your back, you laid belly down, pretending that you weren’t as nervous as him.

You expected clinical detachment from the man that had shown you only that, but as he sucked in a breath at the sight of your spine, you knew this was anything but.

Your arms pillowed your head as you faced the wall, concentrating on counting from one to ten as cold burned along the length of your spine.

Instinctively, you hissed when the cold packs reached a really sore mark that had been beneath the clasp of your bra all day.

“Easy,” he mumbled, deep voice doing nothing to help the rising goosebumps along your skin. “Going up now.”

He warned before you felt the branding of his fingertip, tenderly brushing away the hair from the nape of your neck. The shiver that racked through your body had nothing to do with the cold.

“Tickles,” you grumbled, burying your face further into the sheets.

“Yeah?” He mused gently, doing nothing to hide the fond undertone.

The voice inside your subconscious kept screaming that this meant nothing. That this was a soldier taking care of another. A weak link in the team meant repercussions.

The time passed in silence, and going against your instinct, you did nothing to fill it.

What could you say? That you mark easily? That it wasn’t his fault?

You said nothing, just like him. Thankfully, in the shadows of the sunset that bled into the room, you found yourself asleep before you had to face another awkward goodbye from the man that, surprisingly, felt something other than disdain for you.

--

This had been the offset routine for the last two days. And, for the first time in a while, you wished one of the terrorists reappeared for a whole other reason. This break had to end, or you would lose your mind.

“Easy,” he coached as he always did when he iced your back, as he’s been doing every night.  Only the phantom-like of his fingertips brushed against you as you hissed. “There we go.”

His hushed worry didn’t help.

The tension and the edging had you holding in the urge to squirm. The gnawing lust you felt for the man must be unnatural, and in the midst of your grudge, you thought he was doing this on purpose.

But, to your disbelief (and delight), he’s done nothing but be a gentleman inside and outside the bedroom.

During drills, he checked in often. Inconspicuous to your teammates, he let you off on not running the last lap. He also refused to let you spar with anyone “until you’ve recovered” he said once. The first day at training was fine, the second day you remembered why you were mad in the first place.

Despite doing the most in your mock fights, he didn’t believe you were strong for this job overall. The Lieutenant didn’t believe you were his equal.

But the third night you thought it over because, when the night was at its darkest, he visited your door, awaiting for entrance and a silent forgiveness for what he’d done.

When you removed your shirt, he looked away. He asked, checked and coddled you as he placed each icepack, never allowing his flesh to touch yours. Also, you weren’t going to pretend that he didn’t caress your hair away, being the opposite of methodical.

So you found yourself on the third night, laying belly down on the bed. The bruises were almost already gone, most yellow and transparent.

Part of you knew this was the last night he would do this, and part of you wondered if he would find another excuse to interact with you? Should you leave it up to chance and wait for him to act? Did he even want to? Or was this a one-time thing, a reprieve for the brutality he had put you through? That would mean that, when all wounds were healed, there was nothing else tying you two.

Maybe this was the last time you had the opportunity to speak with a semblance of privacy, outside of the norms of a soldier. This gave you enough bravery to do something different.

This time, as he was placing the last icepack on your upper back, you turned your head, now facing him.

If you weren’t so in tune with his movements, you wouldn’t have caught the slight falter as he pressed gently, right by your shoulder. Unintentionally, this was a sign that the dynamics had changed.

He didn’t have as much power as he thought, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was a conversation to be had, and he couldn’t bully nor punch himself through it.

Two days ago, you would’ve been furious at yourself for reading him so easily.

With no other space left to blanket your back, he leaned backwards, sighing heavily into his chair. At your ongoing stare, you dared to believe he looked defeated.

“The team is leaving in two days, 0800,” he started.

You merely blinked and his fingers twitched, fighting the urge to fidget.

He blinked back, the balaclava doing nothing to hide the tightening of his jaw. “Price has scheduled a briefing for tomorrow.”

“I heard.”

There was some information he wanted from you, but you weren’t sure what. The details mentioned were already rumors around the whole base, they were no secret.

After a pause, he looked around the barren barrack. “I haven’t heard of a request for transfer.”

“The Captain would be the only one privy to that information, would he not?”

He grunted in agreement. A long pause, then Ghost played again with the skin of his knuckles. What an odd time to notice that he hadn’t been wearing gloves this whole time.

“Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Don’t be difficult,” he snarked, baiting you for an answer in your usual anger, but you thought a lot about how you wanted this night to go. You laid placidly, feeling the ice melting against your back.

“More demands then,” you sighed, merely disappointed, cheek pillowed against your arm.

“Demands? You threaten to leave, and then I ask if you’ve requested a transfer-“

“That would imply that you, indeed, asked a question,” you said, gently as you kept staring at him, unexpressive. “The only question you’ve asked me since we’ve met is ‘are you dumb?’ three weeks ago while training.”

He went still and you waited for a refusal, an excuse that the military was no place for questions or politeness. He had been trained to take, follow orders and for others to do the same.

“You don’t ask.”

“I don’t… I only want to know if you’re leaving. After…”

-After he had to ice your back for several days straight after he didn’t know how to measure the severity of his strength. You were stealing one of his tactics, one that worked well with you. Allow the other to make the assumptions, fill the silence and reap the benefits.  

“Then ask.” You said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “What do you want to know, Lieutenant?”

In the dimmed lighting of your temporary reprieve, the silhouette of the man that had driven you near insanity moved and leaned in, elbows resting on his knees.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, lowly, as if it were a secret between you two.

You played along and tilted your head downwards minutely. His eyes followed the movement along as if he was starved for it. “Would you like me to?”

Just as gradually, he shook his head. The slow denial whilst holding your stare did something to you, enough to forgive that he hadn’t rebutted your leave with words. But, given the deep breaths he was taking, which might have been unnoticed for anyone else, you knew he was meticulously observing you, gauging you for your wants and needs.

You knew that look, the sudden shift. He was a soldier in a battlefield, a soldier with a mission. Ghost wanted you to stay and, right now, he was quietly asking what would get him exactly that.

“Anything else you wanted to ask me?” You asked, acting oblivious to his intensity.

You could play games too.

After a beat, still and unmoving, he shook your entire belief that he was cruel and uncaring. “Do you forgive me?”

Your breath stuttered, cool girl act failing, hardly hiding how those words affected you. Wide eyed, you stared and muttered dumbly a ‘what?’

While this night passed in the secret of your bedroom, you thought it would all be forgotten. Somehow, in your expertise as to what was Ghost, he was a man of action, not words. As you laid there, ice reddening the skin of your back, you believed that as soon as the bruises disappeared, nothing else would be mentioned. No words necessary. Transgressions would have never been declared again, and Ghost would’ve gone back to the cooly and indifferent Lieutenant you’ve come to known.

Asking for forgiveness and admitting fault felt like a whole other monster entirely.

At your silence, he leaned forward, allowing one knee to fall, then the other with a thud. The chair creaked at the movement as the man left the seat.

By your bedside, Ghost carefully knelt with hands splayed on his thighs. The bed wasn’t tall enough, so even kneeling, he had to hunch himself to keep eye contact with you. His eyes roved over your face, with thirst for any reaction that wasn’t hatred.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked again carefully, trying to get through your petrified form.

You merely blinked without words coming to mind, avoiding the burn behind your eyes. Along with a faltered breath, a shiver racked along the length of your spine, drawing his eyes to the goosebumps rising on your skin.

The ice had already melted, wetting the towel pinned beneath you. He had thought of everything.

Ghost returned his stared back to yours, finally catching the minuscule nod as an answer to his question.

He returned your nod with one of his own.

It seemed that the confirmation sprung him into action, like that was all he needed to hear. He stood and you did nothing else but lay there, immobile with your back exposed as he returned the melted ice packs to the cooler. Other nights, you had fallen asleep before he left, even with the cold covering your back.

You had often woken up with a towel-dried skin and the covers drawn up to your neck.

This time, you weren’t sure what to expect. Was this it? Now that you said yes, would it all go back to normal? Would he avoid you in the hallways and bark instructions in the battlefield?

The click of the cooler closing seemed to echo in the room and a sense of finality settled in.

You sat up, clutching the towel to your chest, doing the impossible to cover the shivers running through your body.

Despite his rapid movements to clean and organize every item he brought up, you knew he was running from the mere second he was vulnerable. There was no way this man had gotten on his knees before, not for anyone.

Given his braveness, you dared to ask the question that had plagued you since he stood up. “Is this it?”

No begging in your tone, no expectations. If he said he was done, you wouldn’t bring it up, wouldn’t claim nor believe he owed you anything, you decided. You weren’t also blind to the fact that he was always the one that set the tone for whatever sort of relationship you two had.

The man was always covered, always on guard, always a higher ranking, always more methodical.

And you already said what he needed to hear. There was no solid reason for him to come back.

“Are we… normal now?”

Ghost turned slowly, and you weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his intent gaze definitely brought you flashbacks. It wouldn’t be the first time he had looked at you like that after having access to your body, and then turn away and out of your life as if it meant nothing.

You had expected him to do the same as that night, the night where you found reprieve in each other’s bodies, then never spoke about it again.

Expectation kept you still, bracing for whatever nonchalant rejection came your way.

“You look at me as if you expect the worst from me,” he said as he turned towards the entrance, no hurry in his pace. His hand reached for the handle; cooler left behind at the desk. The lock clicked shut. “I aim to change that.”

You didn’t know what was more important, to breathe, to speak or to run.

He didn’t leave space for that as he headed towards you, expectation building at his leisurely pace. As if he had all the time in the world, he knelt again before you, eyes leveled with yours. This time, he was closer, enough for you to feel the heat through his clothing.

Hands that had known nothing but violence reached for your face, slowly but steady.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, something akin to worry in his tone. Thumbs caressed your cheeks as he held your face, searching for any reaction that might be against this.

“I’m cold,” you replied in barely a hush, shoulders caving at your vulnerable state.

Decidedly, you wanted to do the same. He saw the intention behind your actions as you gave him enough time to stop you.

Carefully, you reached forward, allowing the towel that covered your chest to drop, and rolled up the balaclava that had you spiraling over the last few missions.

Simon didn’t look down but searched for your eyes as you took in the face of the man that had plagued your dreams and nightmares.

You chuckled and he tensed.

“ ‘s not fair.”

His blonde eyebrows furrowed, distorting slightly the scar above his right eye.

“You can’t be buff and pretty,” you jested, eyes crinkling at the corners when you tried to hide your grin.

Uncharacteristically, he rolled his eyes and huffed at your joke. This made your smile widen, thinking about how expressive he really is as he was used to hiding behind a mask.

And you wanted to live in this moment, where you could appreciate every detail of his face, something that you’ve had the sole honor to see, but your anxiety was driving you wild.

You hated yourself for a moment, as he held your face fondly, for not being able to accept the present and wonder if this was a one time thing. After this night was done and he had proven he was more than pain and passion, would this tender moment live in your mind and your wishes for more.

It was sad but not unusual to expect crumbs.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, his head tilted, observing. Hands that radiated warmth drifted down to your neck, your shoulders then your hair as he caressed the wisps down your back.

“What is it?” he asked, low and worried.

The fact that he asked was monumental, but not enough to get you out of your spiraling.

“I’m not… I don’t expect anything,” you started, or tried to as the wide circles massaged into the tense muscles of your lower back served as a distraction. “But do I have to…”

His pinning and inquisitive stare had you stuttering and quivering.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know but…” You dared to finally look back at him and asked meekly. “Do I have to pretend this never happened? Like last time.”

No answer from him, merely a sigh and you bit your tongue. You sat up straight with a mournful smile as he retreated his arms from your body and you crossed your arms across your chest.

He stood up and this time you expected him to leave, truly.

Instead, you got a, “turn around and take off your pants.”

He certainly could be blunt when he wanted to. At your confusion and furrowed eyebrows, he took the liberty to manhandle you into what he asked of you. With his hands on your hips, you stood with no space between you two. As you stared, he methodically undid your belt with a clink and unclasped your pants, then knelt, bringing your pants down with him. One hand behind your knee had you lifting your foot, then the other, leaving you in your underwear.

You kept looking down at him, asking silently what the hell got into him that had you standing in your underwear. The expression on his face dared you to say something.

Did he look like that every time you had been stubborn?

Without regrets, he turned you then pushed down on you, until you laid flat, belly down, similar to what you had been 10 minutes ago.

“You might be bipolar, has someone told you that?” You huffed, annoyed, about to use your arms to rest your head. That was until your wrists were taken, arms placed by your sides.

Then, the bed dipped with the weight of a full-grown man as he sat behind you, inches away from your thighs. Unlike the other nights, you expected an icepack to be placed carefully on your skin. Instead, you felt something liquid and cold after something clicked open.

You hadn’t even noticed he had caressed your hair away, leaving the span of your back exposed.

Then hands burrowed into your skin, massaging away the shocking cold from the lotion that sat innocently on your nightstand. Simon was now digging his thumbs into the knots of your back and the nape of your neck, ignoring the hisses you let at the pressure.

If this was the way he would act whenever you bombarded him with a vulnerable question, you might do it more often.

“No,” he said after a few minutes, your mind already drifting to a calmer place.

“No, no one’s told you you’re bipolar?”

“No,” he answered gruffly. “You’re not allowed to pretend this didn’t happen.”

You kept your eyes closed despite your surprise as the pressure of his hands drifted downwards, avoiding your underwear, heading directly to knead your legs, your calves. The proximity of his thumbs between the apex of your thighs had you squirming.

“If you do, I’ll have to find ways to make you remember.”

You barely held the groan when his thumbs dug away into the sole of your feet. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it.

“You be stubborn. I’ll keep finding ways to make you feel good.”

Despite your newly found relaxed state, you couldn’t fight the sensation pooling in your lower stomach. You might’ve drifted to sleep in this tender moment, but your mind kept wondering what else those hands could do. How much pressure could those thumbs do?

As he drifted upwards, he caught on your squirming, teasing gently as he kept massaging your thighs. Just as carefully, his fingertips brushed against the edge of your underwear.

“Need something, sweet girl?” He taunted but did nothing to hide the grave tone of his own lust. Not long after, his thumbs ‘accidently’ brushed against the cleft between your legs.

You bit your tongue, aiming to be stubborn and curious as to what he would do without guidance.

After he had enough, your underwear was tentatively pulled down to your feet. Then the hands that had been so through on relaxing you were now silently positioning you upwards to your parted knees, back arched as your torso laid placidly.

When he got you like he wanted, his fingers dug into your upper thighs for leverage, expecting you to run away. And that you did as a soft breath brushed against you before the slickness of a tongue delved into you.

You flinched instinctively at the sensation with a whimper, but he held you to him. He was no shy adventurer.

Simon had been teasing all night, and it seemed he was done playing games. His tongue, along with his lips, left nothing unexplored. His hands roamed along your flesh, issuing pressure to your lower back when needed to keep you arched enough for him. There were no tentative licks nor touches as he hummed into your folds, slick running down his chin.  

Thumbs splayed you open, and your whimpers rose into moans as he lapped at your clit with enough tension to make you gasp for breaths. Instinctively, you reached back, fingers latching into a full head of hair.

When you pulled, he moaned just as loud as you. That seemed to unravel him, his careful lapping now an intense suckling as he inserted one finger, then two. The hollow beneath your lower stomach now partially full. You were wet enough to accept whatever he had to give you.

When he dug down, aiming for your upper walls, you keened. He rubbed and rubbed, fingers so thick he had no problem hammering away into your g-spot repeatedly.

Now your moans were let out brazenly, gasping into the pillow as he did his best to burrow himself into your skin.

The shaking started on your calves, the tension rising upwards to your lower back. The sensation seemed to spur him on into a continuous pattern where he kept his mouth latched on you as your nerves coiled into and impending life-changing orgasm.

With a shock, your body spasmed with a silent scream, the soldier holding you tight through your tremors. Violent shock after shock racked through you until you managed to get some air in a keening moan. After seconds, Simon petting you lightly with his tongue and feeling every spasm, you laid back down placidly, all energy sucked out of you.

At the first flinch of overstimulation, he languidly let you go, barely letting his hands off your skin as he laid you flat on the bed.

He was out of breath too, but something told you it had more to do with the tent in his pants than lack of oxygen.

Owlishly, you looked back at him through the haze. As soon as he started petting your hair, you knew you lost whatever battle had been going on between you two.

Simon had done the impossible; proven he was going nowhere and that he was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

And, as if nothing short of extraordinary had happened, his hands drifted lower to keep the ongoing massage as the remnants of your pleasured haze pulled you to sleep.

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 2!

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia had a few good days in training, and it showed. Her confidence was up, she was walking out for today’s training with Keira, seemed to be a theme Alexia just ahead yet again. As ever near by but never felt the awkwardness she was slowly creating.

Alexia was having an internal conversation with her self hyping her up to make such a simple comment to Mia. She stopped suddenly turning and seeing that Mia looked a bit taken a back, with her sudden spin. Smooth she said to herself, before speaking “Alba couldn’t get that jacket”

“Oh?” Mia said softly Alexia falling in line with her, “How come?” Mia asked after a few beats of silence

“Couldn’t find in her size”

“Shame” Mia looked to Alexia and they held eye contact, when Alexia didn’t speak, Mia broke the silence, “Well..” she broke the eye contact, “Um i seem to be in there a lot lately so i’ll keep an eye out, what size is she?”

“She’s looking for small”

“Ok” Mia nodded pierced her lips together and broke out into a jog to get to training.

+

Mia was in Zara, shocker, after training she was with Julia and her little brother Diego who only agreed to come, as he was told they were going out for dinner after the shops. He didn’t take into account how long two women can stand debating over a top however.

Mia was looking at tank tops when Julia appeared with the pink jacket, “Hey, you know how i love your jacket, they have one small left-“

“Please don’t tell me you’re buying that” Mia gave Julia a dumbfounded expression, “Just borrow mine!”

“Oh” Julia shrugged, “I’ll go put it back”

Mia pointed, “Just leave it there” Mia carried on looking through for her size

“You buy a lot of clothes”

“Surprisingly Julia, living in England i didn’t have many warm weather clothes, i need practically a whole new wardrobe”

Julia sighed, “I best find Diego before he gets himself into trouble”

“Are you buying anything? I’m going to go pay”

“No i’ll just get him and meet you outside”

Mia smiled, “Ok, find out where he wants to eat i can’t be bothered for a 45 minute argument wandering around the same places”

Despite the conversation they still ended up having the same 45 minute argument before settling on the same place they always go.

“So how’s it going? The captain like you yet”

Mia chewing her food shook her head, “I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, you can’t put 22 women together and expect them all to get on, i think as long as we can communicate effectively about football then that’s fine”

“Your tune has changed”

“I’ve come to terms with it, when i don’t get any minutes in the games then come back to me, then i’ll be bothered again”

“She can do that?”

“She’s Alexia Putellas if anyone can she can” Mia shrugged, “I have the same few girls who i speak to, i’m good with that”

Julia looked at her, “Do you hate me that i followed her on Insta today”

Mia laughed softly, “No”

“She’s hot” Mia rose her eyes, “What? I have eyes”

“I’m going to be sick” Diego spoke

“Shut up and eat your paella” Julia said to her younger brother shoving the dish closer to him

Mia pulled a face at Diego about his bossy sister that he laughed at, “When you’re older you’ll understand why she’s grumpy” Mia nodded

“She’s horny and no man will look at her that’s why suddenly she’s decided she likes women”

Mia burst out laughing as Julia was embarrassed and amused all in the same breath by her 10 year old brother. “Diego! How do you even know that word?”

“I’m 10 Julia, i’m not a kid anymore”

Mia was laughing softly, “You’ll always be our baby”

“Gross”

Mia stood up leaning over the table to kiss his face, “You’re so cute”

“You’re pretty, and a nice person, your captain will see that soon”

Mia smiled, “You going to come some of the games?”

Diego nodded, “I’ll get mami to buy me a shirt with your name on and everything”

“I might even show up” Julia smiled never being a fan of football, all the shouting was unnecessary! She didn’t understand how people got so invested in people kicking a ball.

Mia moved her eyes to Julia, “You’re just coming to eye up the players”

“No”

“Yes” Diego agreed with Julia, “You don’t even know the off side rule, that’s like going to church when you don’t believe”

Mia chuckled, “He’s got you there”

+

Mia arrived at training she smiled at the little boy rushing around reception, he took one look at her and went all shy, “Mia” She looked to the receptionist, “No ones answering the locker room phone, can you tell Irene her wife and son are here for her”

“Sure”

“¿cómo te llamas?” Mia looked to the little boy holding his arms over his chest shy but was seemingly so curious of the new face at his mamis work he could over come it.

Mia crouched extending her hand, “Mia, ¿cómo te llamas?”

“Matteo” he shook her hand animately moving it up and down greatly.

Mia told him it was very nice to meet him and that she’d go get his mummy, but Matteo started a conversation. He told her how he was going to the zoo with his school and all the animals he was excited to see. And that he was even getting a packed lunch.

Mia rose to her feet as Irene’s wife introduced herself, “He’s never this chatty, he’s meant to be going today but Irene forgot to sign his permission slip, we both have to sign it”

Matteo took hold of two of Mias fingers took the slip from his mum and told her to wait there he’ll go with Mia then come back he was a big boy and could do it.

Mia laughed softly as he lead the way not giving her much of a say on the matter, “This way” she said to him gently when he turned the wrong way.

“Mami” Matteo spoke pointing ahead of him, “This way?”

“Yeah she’s this way” Mia spoke, “What other animals do you want to see?”

“T-rex”

“T-rex” Mia exclaimed, “I don’t think they’ll be in the zoo” she said with a smile, she got the dressing room, she looked around and Irene wasn’t there. She caught Marta’s eye, “Do you know where Irene is?”

“Yeah they’ve um, they’ve just gone into meeting room 1 if you’re quick you might catch them before they start” Marta got a shy little wave from Matteo when she waved at him, she’d watch this little shy boy grow up to see him happily with Mia was a surprise to her. He normally clung to Irene, Alexia or Maria would get a cuddle if they were lucky on a good day.

“Come on handsome” Mia spoke luckily the meeting room was only mere metres away his little legs not moving him with any pace. She didn’t want to interrupt them if they’d already started.

Mateo turned first pulling on Mias fingers, “Come on beautiful”

Mia laughed with Marta, “Oh wonder where you got all this charm from ay?”

Mia got Matteo to the door and knocked, she heard a come in and when she opened the door, she was met with the coaches and the senior players of the team all turned to look at her and she felt like a bit of a deer in highlights in that moment. Pere smiled, “Hola Mia what can we do for you?”

“Well” she smiled, “I have a little boy out here that just needs a moment of his mamis time if that’s ok”

Matteo stood pressed against Mias leg until he spotted Irene “Mami” Matteo waved the slip at Irene rushing around the table to her

“You a nanny now?” Maria smiled turning more in her chair to look at Mia who smiled.

“Side hustle” Mia nodded leaning on the door frame, “Lucia said if i do a good job i get some of his rice crackers” Maria laughed as for some reason Alexia didn’t want to show her amusement. It showed for a second before she repressed it again. “You think i’m joking” she stood up from the frame.

“You going with Mia back to Mami?” Irene kissed Matteos cheek placing him back down on the ground.

Matteo came around the table, “Come on then handsome” she smiled putting her hand towards him.

Mia smiled down at him, “I coming beautiful” Matteo reached up, “Mia hand, no reach”

“Oh sorry” Mia lowered her hand, “Let’s leave them to there meeting and get you back to Mami so you can go the zoo”

“Mia i want to see monkeys to”

“Oh of course, Monkeys are the best animal” Mia spoke as she shut the door and off they went.

+

Irene found Mia on the training field, “I just wanted to thank you for before” Mia furrowed her brows, “You didn’t have to bring him through like that, it was kind of you”

Mia smiled, “It was no bother” Alexia bent over near them fixing her socks, “Honestly can he come more often the amount of compliments he gave me” Mia laughed softly

“Lucia text when she dropped him off at school, apparently he didn’t shut up about his new friend Mia so I think you won’t have much choice about that”

Mia rose her arms as Keira approached, “Guess what” she said to Keira

“What?” Keira asked giving her a funny look wondering where this was going

“I’ve made my first new friend in Barca” Mia smiled proudly

“Sorry what about me?” Keira asked

“I knew you pre Barca”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Matteo” Mia pointed to Irene who was smiling, Mia seemed always so collected, but when she dropped that ever so slightly, which seemed to only ever be around Keira, she had a little silly side.

“He avoids me like the plague”

“Maybe its that permanent scowl you always have.. honestly its a wonder Laura even entertained you”

Keira dropped her mouth staring at Mias cheeky grin laughing in disbelief, “Rude!”

“Oh calm down grandma”

Keira pointed at her, “Not from you, I’m not accepting it from you of all people, what did you do last night Mia?”

“I went out for dinner with my cousins”

“Then”

“My Grandma taught me to knit” she muttered

“Exactly” Keira gave her a look, “And you can’t question Lauras taste when you dated Katie McCabe for three months”

Irene scrunched her face trying to place the name, “Is that.. the angry little Irish woman?”

“Please don’t judge me.. it was a lapse in judgment”

Keira began walking away backwards to the other side of the huddle, “She’s judging you” she smiled pointing at Irene, who was indeed judging.

Mia sighed placing her hands on her hips, “You don’t know me very well, but I promise I have taste”

Irene laughed as Alexia smiled. Irene had noticed how Alexia hadn’t taken her eyes of Mia but had yet to say a word and Alexia always had something to say usually. “I feel I need to know who your other exes are now, because so far with what I know, I can’t say I believe you”

“Tell them about the hummer Mia” Keira smiled calling across the huddle.

Alexia lowered her head chuckling at the look Mia was giving Keira, if looks could kill as they say, Pere smiled, “What’s this about a hummer?”

Mia put one foot to the side and lowered her head as she put her hands behind her back, she rose her head, “It’s not that interesting of a story if i’m honest..” she smiled

Pere laughed sensing her embarrassment and started the training session with a quick run down of what they were doing and what he needed from her.

The girls were told to separate over the pitch and kick the ball back and to each other, Mia scrunched her face as Keira came towards her motioning they were pairing, Alexia and Mia seemed to be in perfect sync as they kicked the ball and received it. Mia noticed every one else seemed to be having conversations with those around them. Bar her and Alexia. So she struck up a conversation about something surely Alexia would talk about, “That jacket your sister wants”

Alexia looked to her, “She still can’t find it, she’s got everyone looking for it” Mia smiled as she controlled a tricky ball from Keira, “Nice, good control” she felt her cheeks warm at the compliment from the multi award winning midfielder.

Mia sent the ball back, “I went to Zara yesterday after training”

“Do you have second job there?”

Mia laughed as Alexia chuckled at herself, “No” Alexia looked pleased with herself she made her laugh like Mia was the one who had a wall that needed breaking down, “My cousin, she came over with the jacket in a small, last one left” Alexia looked to her after sending her ball back over to Irene who seemed to be paying a lot of attention, “I convinced her to not buy it,” Mia jogged back to control the next ball from Keira and sent it back with one touch.

“Your control” Alexia waved her hand, “Crazy”

“I wanted to be a defender” Mia told Alexia a story she never really shared with people before, it was that interesting but she found herself telling her anyway as a way to make small talk, “But my coach at the time, said with my touch, I had to be a striker and in the box”

“Your coach right” Alexia nodded, “We’re excited to have you here”

Mia pierced her lips together, “Thank you.. anyway, I bought the jacket, I have it with me so you can give it to your sister”

“Gracias, she be very happy, I give you the money” Alexia hid her surprise that Mia did that for her sister, Mia did a touch that made Alexia turn away, “You’re just showing off now” Mia laughed just as the whistle blew.

+

Mia was in the canteen after training having something to eat alone, by choice, when Alexia approached, Mia rose her head. “Can I join?” Mia nodded Alexia sitting opposite her silently, Mia was having an out of body experience she was sat opposite the Alexia Putellas putting a straw into a juice box and sipping it like a child. She looked cute in her soft tracksuit and her hair down wavy. Made her somewhat hardness towards Mia soften. Mia lowered her eyes back to her sudoko when Alexia’s eyes darted to hers and she thought she got away with Alexia not catching her but she did. “Suduko no?”

“Si” Mia spoke filling another number in

“To complicada for me, I can’t do them”

Mia smiled gently raising her eyes, “They relax me”

Alexia rose her eyes, and the soft smiley Alexia Mia had watched her be with everyone else was finally sat before her looking at her with those sparkly eyes with the glint in them, that part was new. “Relaxing, no? Not possible” she laughed gently shaking her head

Alexia felt her stomach flip when Mia smiled at her as she rose her eyes looking at her, “Si possible” she nodded with a little laugh

Mia and Alexia didn’t stop smiling the entire time they spoke, they made each other laugh. Mia found it endearing the biggest name in women’s football was a tad awkward, held herself gently. She was softly spoken towards her like if she spoke to loud it would spook her. Because she had so much aura about her on the pitch, that’s where she was the Alexia Putellas. Confident. Assured. Knew herself. Maybe here she was being just Alexia. Because she seemed none of those things. She seemed, human.

A person despite previous opinions formed, was growing on Mia. Showing a different side.

+

Mia came out reception after the team meeting, Alba spotted her before Alexia did, “Ay” she called Mia smiled seeing Alba with the jacket on modelling it for her with a smile on her face.

Alexia turned to see Mia coming down the steps clearly amused by Alba, “Suits you”

“Gracias” Alba was a hugger. Mia not so much she just let the hug happen. Can’t say no to a Putellas after all. Practically royals of the game.

Mia smiled, “You’re welcome” Mia kept walking as Alexia opened the car door, to Mia that was a signal she didn’t want her sticking around for a chat

“Wait, i owe you money for it” Alba spoke

“Alexia covered it, you owe her not me” Mia called looking over her shoulder

“Ay free jacket” Alba grinned to herself with a laugh

Mia laughed when Alexia frowned at Alba back handing her sister in the arm, she got into her Granddads car as they were seeming to bicker.

+

Mia looked as she got a notification, then an email. Then another notification.

Alexia Putellas has started following you

Alexia Putellas has liked your post

Mia felt, weirdly vulnerable knowing Alexia was looking at her instagram and actively scrolling as the post she liked about her announcing her move to Barcelona was several posts down.

She wondered if she would ever get to the point she would trigger an email when she followed someone because she was big time like Alexia.

+

Alexia locked her phone and placed it down as she was at dinner with Irene. “So i have a question” Irene spoke looking to Alexia, “What’s your deal with Mia?”

Alexia furrowed her brows, “What do you mean?”

“Ale, you seemed to always be around her but never make the effort to talk to her, then three four weeks go by and suddenly you’re seeking her out to have lunch with her and apparently stalking her Instagram” she motioned to the phone now sat down

Alexia sipped her wine, “I don’t know how to be around her”

Irene furrowed her brows but in bounded Maria babbling about it was Ingrid’s fault she’s late and she was hogging the bathroom. Oblivious Maria greeted them both taking her seat and she froze when she saw the look Irene was giving Alexia.

“You don’t know how to be around her?”

“I can’t explain it” Alexia carried on, she was sure Maria would catch on soon enough she didn’t feel she needed to explain.

“Try” Irene prodded

“She doesn’t seem bothered by me, every other person they speak to me whether i want them to or not. They cling and they fuss and they want constant validation from me but her… she doesn’t do that. It’s like she couldn’t care less”

It was like someone switched a light on in Irene’s brain, she didn’t dislike Mia, “You like her”

“Who?!” Maria exclaimed, “Please catch me up, i could flick Ingrid for making me late and missing the vital information”

“Calm down” Irene chuckled, “It’s Mia”

Maria looked to Alexia, “You like Larsen? Gosh i sounded 12 then”

Alexia smiled looking down at the menu, “I find her intriguing we’ll put it that way” Irene and Maria shared a look

“Yet you won’t speak to her. Hardly.” She wasn’t even aware of Alexia’s Instagram stalking. Mapi flipped her menu not making eye contact with Alexia, the pair learned she’s more like to open up if you don’t pressure her or stare at her expectantly.

“I talk to her”

Irene smiled, “If we had a team dinner and we sat her next to you, you would happily sit in silence next to her all night”

“I don’t know what to say to her”

“Talk to her about clothes or skin care, her and Ingrid are always going on about that, honestly who knew you needed so many different face creams.” Maria rolled her eyes, “She was meeting Mia to go face cream shopping like who does that?“

Alexia laughed softly before they ordered their meals conversation halting as the waitress arrived, “Would you date Mia?” Irene asked, Alexia furrowed her brows at that question, “It was just a question” Irene held her hands up as she smiled, “You said yourself, she doesn’t seem bothered by you” Irene shrugged, “Maybe she isn’t impressed by La Reina”

“Then what makes you think she’ll want to date me?”

“That’s my point, she may date you.. for you.”

“I’m not that interesting” Alexia spoke sipping her wine, she looked as Maria’s phone pinged. “That Ingrid?”

Mapi opened the text, “She didn’t mention Mia if that’s what you’re digging for”

“I wasn’t, can we drop it now?”

Maria leant forward and whispered, “She is your type” she sat back up putting her hands up, “Had to be put out there”

“Did it?” Alexia smirked, even she found that funny

The girls had a lovely meal they were having a drink after there meal, Maria checked her phone, it was odd Ingrid hadn’t text she was home, she was only going out for an hour or so she told Maria.

She checked Instagram, she smiled seeing why she hadn’t gone home yet

Mia and Ingrid were talking about her first couple of weeks in Barcelona, how she was finding it. “Daunting coming into a team like this isn’t it, I remember by first couple of weeks, I’d just go home and sleep it was so overwhelming, new country new language new culture, trying to learn the Barca way” Ingrid smiled sipping her wine.

Mia looked up from her wine, “Did you ever get imposter syndrome, like you felt like you didn’t actually belong here?” Ingrid nodded with a soft smile, “I feel like they’re going to turn around any minute and tell me to get lost”

“I’m not just bullshitting you with this, and I shouldn’t be telling you this because Maria shouldn’t of told me.. but in there captains meeting, she said how Aitana and Alexia were singing your praises”

“Alexia surprises me”

Ingrid tilted her head, “Why?”

Mia seemed to hold her breathe as she thought, “I’m not asking for a fan fair or anything from her, but I just seem to get tips from her, and I know its how I’m perceiving it and she probably doesn’t mean to come across like it but I’m taking it as your shit, sort your shit out”

Ingrid smiled shaking her head, “I can hand on heart say, Alexia is a perfectionist and very very self critical, but she’d never push that on someone else, she just wants people to come into things trying there best and wants the best out of them.. she hates loosing, honestly, she was backing you hard in that meeting.”

Mia smiled, “I appreciate that but I will still think she doesn’t want me here”

“Mia” Ingrid tilted her head

A finger came out the side of Mia’s glass pointing at the door opened behind Ingrid, “You will learn very quickly I’m quite self critical to” Mia smirked seeing the face come through the door first, “You have a visitor” she sipped her wine as Irene and Alexia came inside behind Mapi who instantly reached over the table to squeeze Mias hand before hugging Ingrid and kissing her cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were down the road having dinner, saw you were here, came to see how the shopping went?”

Mia leant on the table smiling, “You’ll be pleased to know you’ve got less room in the bathroom” Maria pulled a face at the bags under the table.

“How many face creams do you need?” Maria exclaimed, she pointed at Mia, “You are a bad influence”

Mia smiled shrugged and sipped her wine again, her eyes went to Alexia who was watching her, before Irene caught Mia’s attention, “Matteo said beautiful Mia would love the zoo, they had her favourite animal monkeys”

Mia melted, “He’s just adorable. Why can’t all men be more like him?”

Maria snapped her head so fast she went dizzy, “You’re straight!” She exclaimed

Mia sat up arms open slightly as Irene settle beside her Ingrid moving up one to let Alexia on the bench that side opposite Mia, “Wow.. when Keira told me you have to be gay and have tattoos to play football here I thought she was joking”

Maria laughed reaching to touch her arm, “Love is Love”

Mia giggled, “We’ll have to get you a flag with that on”

“I love flags”

“I’m not doubting you do” Mia smiled

“I’m going to go the bar, what do you want, Ale?” Maria asked Alexia who just pointed at Mia glass,

“Wines fine for me”

“Same again?” Ingrid smiled, Mia nodded, “We should of just bought the bottle” Mia smiled

“I’ll come with you, I fancy something different” Irene stood up with Maria as Ingrid turned on the bench to get out.

“Shall I just get the bottle?” Ingrid asked, “Would you drink that Ale?”

“What is it?” She asked then smiled when Ingrid pulled a face telling her she didn’t know

Mia held her glass to Alexia, “Try it”

Alexia looked to her it took a second but she took the glass and took a sip nodding her approval, “I’ll get a bottle then” she smiled and off she went to find the girls at the bar who shut up as soon as she got there, “What are you two up to?”

“Been to Zara today?” Alexia joked hands resting in her lap, looking at Mia who smiled ever so slightly looking at her, “You did didn’t you”

“Only because Ingrid wanted to go”

“Oh sure” Alexia shook her head, “Do you own any other clothes that aren’t from Zara?”

Mia scratched her face, “Got a bit of Barca stuff”

Alexia titled her head ever so slightly, “Please tell me you’re joking”

“I could tell you I was joking, but that would be a lie”

Alexia was laughing gently, “I’ll have to get myself to one and see what all the fuss is about, Alba is just the same”

“I’ll probably see you there” Mia joked Alexia laughed nodding knowing she probably would. And secretly hoping she did. “Bet you’re more of Passeig De Gràcia kind of girl huh?” Mia teased lifting her wine to her lips, Mia had walked down the street lined with all the designer shops on each side but hadn’t dared going into any of the shops

“You’re not funny” Alexia spoke with a smile that indeed told Mia and the returning Barca girls, she was in fact funny

Mia hummed tilting her head briefly, “If you say so” she sipped her wine, placing the glass back down.

Ingrid poured Alexia a glass, “Gracias” before she lifted her own glass

“Salud” They all clinked their glasses saying it several times to each other.

Mia looked at her phone as a text popped up, she read it on the front screen before opening it to read the rest, “Angry little Irish women?” Irene asked

“Honestly” Mia locked her phone, “You would think she’d get the message”

“When did you break up?” Ingrid asked softly

Mia seemed to have to think about it which gave them a clue of the time frame, “.. April”

“And she still texts?”

“And calls, and asks to FaceTime, a few times a day to, it had gone a bit quiet but now they’re coming to Barcelona for that friendly, she’s ramped up again wanting to meet up”

“Will you.. meet up with her?” Alexia asked sipping her wine, she was looking over Mia’s face, she was hard read

“No” Mia shook her head, “She had her chance, you don’t get to screw me over more than once”

The girls finished the bottle between them as they chatted and laughed, Alexia didn’t have much to contribute but she was at least laughing when Mia cracked a joke. Mia appreciative because sometimes she was the only one to. She felt maybe, the ice had been broken. It wouldn’t be as awkward, she knew there may always be that slight awkwardness due to the awkward soul that was Alexia in some situations, but slowly she was believing what Ingrid had told her earlier.

Mia got to the locker room the following morning, Alexia looked at the paper Mia picked up then to Mias face to see her reaction, “Irene said Mateo drew it for you” Mia smiled looking to where Irene sat and held the picture to her

“He was insistent that I gave it to you soon as I saw you”

Mia dropped her bag between her legs where she stood and the girls could see even though she never voiced it, she was clearly touched, she took some blu tack from a near by strategy board and stuck it in her cubby, before getting on with her morning to be ready for training. Afterwards she was shocked she had been picked to do media, with the queen herself Alexia Putellas.

Alexia sent a soft smile over her shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous, it’s fine” Never did Mia think she’d be thankful to have Alexia there for her but her calmness and composure as she walked in helped calm her. Alexia pulled the chair out for Mi

 before taking her own

“Gracias” Mia muttered sitting down, much to her surprise the first question was posed to her

“Mia, Welcome to Barcelona, you’ll have to excuse my English”

“La podemos hacer en español si lo prefieres.” Mia said with a shrug of a shoulder as she leant on the table telling the interviewer he could do it in Spanish if he preferred

Alexia as she pulled her chair in smirked looking to Mia, “Español? Si?” The interviewer tried to confirm

Mia nodded, “Si”

Alexia watched Mia the entire time she did her little bit in the media room, she fiddled with her hoop earrings as the next question was posed yet again to Mia, “What’s it been like these past few weeks in pre-season with some of the best players in the world, one of whom is sitting beside you”

Mia smiled as did Alexia, “Be nice” she spoke in a mock warning tone

“It’s a real honour” Mia started in a mock rehearsed voice before smiling, “No but seriously it has been an honour, like you say I’m sharing the grass with the best players in the world and I’ve just been trying to do my best and really take on board and soak up all the comments and advice” Mia motioned to Alexia briefly, “The team and players have been giving me, to be become a better player so I can contribute in my time here, its been an adjustment thats for sure like it would be to go into any new team but one with the stature and history of Barcelona brings with its own set of nerves, so just keeping my head down and focusing on pre-season to get a prepared for the season ahead as much as I can”

“Alexia, from your point of view how’s Mia been doing”

Alexia smiled as Mia mimicked her, “Be nice”

She laughed before speaking, “Shall I do mine in English?” Mia smiled nodding

“If you want to”

“Mia” Mia lowered her head briefly, it caught her off guard how much she liked the way Alexia said her name, she’d never heard her say her name before, “For sure, if you” Alexia paused briefly, “Pass her, it will be assist because 100% would be a goal, I tell her this in training, her touch crazy, how she control ball, incredible, I like a lot how she moves without ball also so I think she do well at Barca. We’re very happy she on our team”

Mia smiled timidly looking to Alexia looked to her, “Cheers, I’ll pay you later”

“100 euro no?” Alexia asked trying to surprise her smile playing along

Mia nodded as the room laughed, “Si”

Mia went on her daily Zara peruse after training feeling a lot better about how her captain felt about her, although as she was looking around she couldn’t help but giggle at the face she knew Alexia could give her if she knew she was here yet again.

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Can not believe the response the last part got! Thank you so much!

No idea how many parts this will be but let me know if you want more! Also do we like the fake socials

Part 3

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop. 

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck. 

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder. 

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into. 

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible. 

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess. 

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter. 

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face, 

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?” 

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop. 

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen. 

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.   

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent. 

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand. 

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are. 

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked  niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man. 

His face is even prettier up-close. 

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye- 

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone. 

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you, 

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question, 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?” 

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern. 

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it? 

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out. 

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy. 

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back. 

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means? 

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled. 

“You’ve got a very unique voice” 

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks. 

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says. 

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night” 

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work” 

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow. 

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side. 

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook. 

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not. 

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. 

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice. 

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one. 

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle. 

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”. 

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else. 

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.  

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them. 

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul. 

Sometimes you’re privy to that too. 

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together. 

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple. 

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend. 

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer. 

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before. 

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back. 

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words. 

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie. 

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart. 

Fuck that. 

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit. 

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt. 

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying. 

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions. 

Even when they prove too strong to push down. 

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours. 

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you. 

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans. 

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness, 

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb” 

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere. 

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.  

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”  

Oh. 

He’s jealous. 

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for. 

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall, 

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again. 

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one. 

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him. 

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest? 

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you. 

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.  

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation? 

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway, 

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck, 

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him. 

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall. 

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.  

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor. 

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart. 

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses. 

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him. 

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. 

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface. 

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time. 

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit. 

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh. 

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees. 

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink. 

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs, 

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal. 

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more. 

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.  

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal. 

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state. 

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word. 

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants. 

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers. 

He tuts and slaps your hands away, 

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression. 

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience. 

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-” 

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath. 

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose. 

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you. 

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,  

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more. 

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him. 

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth, 

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

You. Always you.

“You” 

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief. 

God it feels so good. 

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is. 

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth. 

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud. 

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility. 

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches. 

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you. 

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary. 

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt. 

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation. 

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours. 

What if the fans hate it? 

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love. 

What if it sounds awful live? 

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude. 

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek. 

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something. 

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’ 

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’. 

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though. 

See hurt in his eye. 

See his jaw tick in anger at your words. 

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’ 

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’ 

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’ 

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does. 

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends. 

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room. 

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag. 

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room. 

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table. 

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat, 

“I never said that, you know”. 

His voice is low. He sounds tired. 

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it” 

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours. 

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have. 

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,  

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship” 

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter. 

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse. 

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him. 

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add, 

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?” 

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder, 

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit” 

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage. 

You’d got to him. 

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”. 

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.  

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way. 

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship. 

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own. 

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back. 

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses. 

His voice isn’t cold anymore. 

His face isn’t indifferent. 

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours. 

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!” 

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry. 

Not anymore. 

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache. 

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in. 

You can’t. 

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue. 

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather. 

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall. 

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. 

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him. 

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond. 

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show. 

You think about the Aemond that loved you. 

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear. 

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. 

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams. 

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

[somashoponline]

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[lazysoulwriter]

Electric Summer - Paul Mescal.

requested! hope u enjoy! ♡ SMUT! just read if u +18.

It was an ordinary day for the two of you, a hot summer's day. The air conditioning was on, relieving the stress that extreme heat brings. You were just on your respective phones, watching videos and showing each other funny things.

“Hey…” He began, approaching you on the bed. “Do you want me to go out and buy some popsicles?” You asked, knowing that the answer would be yes. “Yes, please!” You smiled.

He got up and started to put on more decent clothes - he was only in his underwear - so that he could go out and buy them. There was an ice cream shop near your apartment, so he wouldn't be long. “I love you, I'll be right back,” he said and gave you a kiss. “I love you!”

Paul is always so sweet and loving to you. Always showing you how incredible it is to have you as his partner.

Your thoughts fly to all the times he told you he loved you, all the happy times and… the sex. Ah… the sex. That thought took you to other places and before you could complete the thought, he was there, smiling with his cheeks red from the sun. And what was once cute… was extremely hot, delicious… Your man.

“What flavor do you want? I brought a bunch…” He said, placing them in front of you so you could choose. As much as the urge to pull him and start a make-out session right now was big, but the heat was even bigger. You pulled out a strawberry one and settled back on the pillow.

“Baby… It's really hot out there…” He commented, as he took off his clothes again, leaving on his white boxers, which made everything more attractive. “Take that shirt off too…” He said, unpretentiously. You took off the T-shirt you were wearing - an old one of his, much bigger than you. But underneath it, you were wearing nothing but lace panties. You felt his gaze latch onto your breasts right away.

You tried to keep looking at tiktoks on your cell phone, but you could feel his gaze on you. His lips were red from the popsicle, just like yours.

“As I said… It's really hot… Don't you want to cool off?” He asked, feigning innocence. “What do you mean? The air conditioning is already on.” You laughed, not really understanding. “No… Like this… Let me try… Excuse me, ma'am.” He said in a funny way and before you could laugh, his lips were on your breast. His mouth was cold from the ice cream, and goosebumps flew across your skin at the same moment. He sucked and let go, making a noise like a popsicle. “I love doing that, you know?” he said, laughing, and it was so sexy it was hard to explain. Before you could answer, he grabbed the other one and did the same. By then, your panties were gone and the popsicles were melted and forgotten in a glass on the side table.

He stood up slightly to remove his underwear so that you could see your favorite popsicle popping out.

And just as he did, you grabbed his member and sucked from start to finish, making a noise each time you pulled away. He held your hair in a ponytail, bringing you close.

“Baby…” he moaned. “Can I fuck you?” He moaned even more. “Please, let me fuck your pussy…” With those words, it didn't take much. You lay on the bed and waited for him to come, but he didn't.

“Whaaaat?” you moaned, half laughing and half whimpering.

“Come here…” He pointed to the armchair in your room, facing a mirror. “I want you to see me fucking you. Lift your ass up for me.” You could hardly believe what you were hearing and, before you could do as he asked, you turned around and kissed him passionately. “You know I love you, right?” you said. “Of course I know. And I love you too, hottie. Now, get on all fours for me.” He slapped your ass, which was sure to leave a big mark afterwards.

You positioned yourself in the armchair, comfortably, and after saying you were ready, you were filled by him. That cock you love so much. Your eyes closed and a scream came from your throat. He pulled your hair hard, making you raise your head “Look in the mirror.” And there it was. Your man fucking you the way you wanted, the way you liked. The muscles in his legs were evident as he held her waist tightly and slapped your ass.

This is heaven. Heaven comes fast with him. “Baby, I'm coming!” You screamed and he held you tighter and increased his movements. “Yes… Come on my cock… Let me feel you, come…” His words were enough, you came and felt your body go electric.

“Can I finish in bed?” He asked and you readily agreed. It was amazing to see him finish like that.

He quickly picked you up and put you on the bed, got on top and penetrated you gently, making you let out a moan. He liked to maintain eye contact when he came, so that's why he asked you to get on the bed, and, as he said, it didn't take long for him to remove the condom and look at you with puppy eyes. “Can I come on your tits?” You laughed and pulled him back in for another intense kiss. “You can do anything. I'm yours.”

Then you pulled on his cock a few times until he moaned loudly and came on your tits, just like he wanted.

“Fuck you baby…” He said, falling onto your side.

You caressed each other for a while in silence, until you heard the famous phrase: “Can I take a picture?” “Of my tits?” “Yes… With my cum… Wow… I really am an artist in everything I do.” “Shut up!” You laughed. “But yes, you can. As I said… I'm yours.” “Don't make me fuck you again…” He said, getting up and going over to his camera and shooting a few times until he got the perfect shot.

“I love you, you know?” he said, smiling. “You're so delicious.”

“Oh, really? Thank you.” You laughed. “You're the love of my life. I love you and I love your cock.

[chrisevansonly]

Max wanting to spoil you with jewelry but you do not allow him too

Max’s Princess

max verstappen x female reader

summary: max loves to spoil you…the problem? he has to do it secretly

warnings: none very sweet maxie

a/n: these are so fun, idk why i’m so much better at blurbs rn but i’m working on some longer fics i promise 🥰

No.

The one word Max loathed coming from your lips as the two of you went anywhere near shopping malls, designer stores and jewellers around Monaco. It didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t get you to cave, you’d always been more independent with money and financials, and Max well…

Let’s just say he wanted you to have the princess treatment…always.

So he had to find a creative way to spoil you like he’s always wanted, and that came in the form of being secretive and letting you come home to designer boxes and bags, leaving no room for argument or disagreement.

“Max?!”

Ah yes, there it was, the yell of shock that always came from you when Max did anything remotely close to shopping for you. He guessed you had found the bags from Dior, Van Cleef, Cartier, APM Monaco and Gucci, all placed neatly on the dining room table.

“Hello my love…”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me, what in the world is this!!”

Max smiled, coming over to take your purse from you, setting it down before his hands went to rest on your shoulders.

“This is just a little something for you”

“A little something?! This is thousands of dollars!”

Max couldn’t help but laugh as if that meant anything to him, as soon as you were about to open your mouth, he stopped you by pressing a kiss to your lips.

He wasn’t in the mood to hear anything else from you.

“I love you, so much and you work so at work everyday, for me…keeping this house looking as beautiful as it does and for supporting me during my racing seasons, and even when i leave for training.”

He paused to hold your face gently in his hands

“You deserve the world, and even if I have to give you it in secret, and can’t yet spoil you the way I want, i’ll keep doing it because you deserve every ounce of this”

You’ll admit it was a sweet gesture and the things he’d gotten you whether it be clothes, handbags, jewelry and that time he bought you you’re dream car were gifts you’d been so thankful for. At the end of the day, Max giving his heart to you was the greatest gift of all.

“Thank you Max…I love everything you give me…but I love you more”

Kissing him once more you were quick to pull him into a hug, relaxing into his hold. Even if Max had to keep spoiling you in secret, he knew deep down you loved every second of it. Just as he loved having the chance to love you like he did, and that was something that would never change.

You were his princess, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[brokenmenswhore]

blades | aemond targaryen

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond’s dagger has always been a point of adoration for you

warnings: knife play (MDNI 18+), smut this is filthy!!, slight blood play

a/n: prepared this prompt for kinktober and liked it too much, oops. also!! i’m saying the dagger hilt is leather because i’m pretty sure that’s what they were made of then, but i do wanna say DO NOT BUY LEATHER!! SHOP CRUELTY FREE!! this blog is vegan :)

────── ☾ ──────

He was known throughout the realm to be skilled with a blade. While his brother just used sheer force, Aemond was known for strategic, calculated maneuvers.

You loved to sit and watch him duel with members of the King’s Guard, ensuring his skills remained sharp, though they weren’t much competition after a while.

You watched how he bobbed and weaved, counteracting each and every oncoming strike, blocking sword with sword. What you admired most, however, was his dagger. It was a small thing, at least compared to his sword, but it seemed so personal, so intimate. It was quick enough in his hand that his opponents wouldn’t see it coming until it was pressed against their neck, prompting them to admit defeat.

You always wondered how he got so good at it. Perhaps he wanted to be better prepared to defend himself, a move of pure safety, or maybe he truly loved a fight. Perhaps, you thought, a blade had been the very thing that wounded him to begin with, and he needed to feel a certain sense of control over it. No matter the reason, you couldn’t complain. You loved watching him and his dagger.

You had mentioned this admiration to Aemond before, but you never had the guts to express how much. Aemond would never think to bring the blade anywhere near your body; he would not allow anything near you that may harm you in any way.

So you caught him off guard. Shortly after a sparring session, Aemond retreated back to his chambers to change, and you followed suit, catching him just before he began to undress.

“Y/N, to what do I owe this surprise?” Aemond questioned, glasses in hand, offering you one as he took a sip of his own.

You stepped forward and accepted the cup, taking a sip of its contents before reaching past him to place the cup down on the table next to him. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Aemond chuckled at this. “You just wanted to say hi?”

Your fingers began tracing patterns on his clothes, beginning on his chest, and moving lower and lower. “Mhm.”

“That is all?”

Your eyes trailed up his body, meeting his eye as you attempted to distract him from your next move.

“I mean, maybe not all-“ you trailed off, risking it all by reaching for his dagger and pulling it out of the sheath, holding it close to his throat, but not touching.

Aemond slowly placed his cup down, both hands slowly moving upward to wrap around the wrist you had toward his throat.

You saw the movement coming and stepped backward, out of his reach.

“Y/N, give me the dagger.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout. “Why should I do that?”

“Well, why do you want the dagger?” Aemond questioned.

You ignored him, placing both knees on the bed so you were kneeling on the mattress. You began to trail the dagger up your torso, through the seams of your clothes. “What if I just cut this off right now?”

Aemond sighed and approached you. “Y/N, that’s a serious blade, it could hurt you. Please put it down.”

“It’s a serious blade,” you mocked.

“I’m not playing games, Y/N, please.”

You locked eyes with him, stopping your demonstrations. “What if I am? What if I want to play games?”

Aemond glared at you, a long look exchanged between you both before he lept onto the bed, grabbing the dagger and pushing you down until you were laying flat on the mattress, the dagger to your throat.

“This is what happens when you play games with dangerous toys,” he spoke.

You pushed your head upward so your throat pressed into the side of the blade. “I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be, especially when I have this.”

You scoffed. “You won’t do anything. You won’t even pretend like you will.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side. He noticed your endgame, and while he was worried about accidentally hurting you, who was he to deny you what you want?

He began to press the blade down. “Lie back down or this is gonna hurt.”

You enthusiastically dropped your head back onto the pillow, his blade still dangerously close to your throat.

“Undress.”

You looked up at him confused.

“I can’t sit up,” you reminded him.

“You wanted the danger, you got it,” he retorted, “now do it.”

You tried with all your might to slip your dress over your head without pushing your neck further into the blade. After several minutes of struggle, you successfully undressed yourself with no neck wounds sustained.

“Good girl,” Aemond spoke, undoing his breeches and lining up his cock at your entrance.

You pouted at him. He usually prepares you for him, and while you were already aroused, his cock was large enough that you still needed it.

“What, can’t handle me yet?” he tsked.

You nodded your head no. Aemond removed the blade from your throat, twisting it in his hand so that he was carefully holding the metal, gesturing the hilt toward you.

“What do you want me to do with this?” you asked, grasping the hilt in your hand.

“You said you needed a warm-up.”

Your eyes widened in both astonishment and arousal. You never, in a million years, thought he would allow you to do something like this.

His eye remained locked on you as you moved the dagger lower until it reached your aching hole.

“Ah ah ah,” Aemond warned, “not yet, bug.” He took the dagger back for a brief moment, holding the hilt up to your lips. “Spit.”

You attempted to lube up the dagger as much as possible, spitting on it. You then moved the dagger lower, rubbing it between your folds to catch the wetness, eliciting a whine from the back of your throat. Aemond’s eye still never left yours.

You slowly began to push the hilt of the dagger in, whines and whimpers involuntarily spilling from your lips.

Aemond couldn’t help it, his eye broke contact with yours and watched as you pushed the entire hilt of the dagger inside of yourself, stopping it for a brief second before slowly pushing it in and out.

Aemond’s cock began to twitch at the sight.

“Feel better?” he asked, patronizingly.

“Mhm,” you moaned.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “then it’s my turn.”

He swatted your hand away from where it was holding the dagger in you, pulling it out viciously and bringing it back up to your throat.

“Taste it.”

You wrapped your lips around the soaked leather, tasting your juices on every braid and wrap. Aemond watched intently before pulling the hilt out of your mouth and moving the blade back to your throat.

He lined himself up and pushed his entire length into you in almost one shot, causing you to moan out loud. He set a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, causing your body to rock back and forth, throat dangerously close to the sharp metal.

The presence of the dagger only added to your arousal more, the danger of getting hurt present, but you trusted Aemond enough to know you wouldn’t sustain a serious injury, as long as he was paying attention.

Aemond dipped his head onto your shoulder, fucking you hard and fast. The hand that wasn’t holding a blade to your throat moved to hold himself up further, staring into your eyes as he watched you squirm and whine for him.

He hit a particularly good spot, and you arched your back, your neck pushing up when you moved back down, a slight stinging sensation hitting your throat. Aemond watched as the ever-so-tiny amount of blood dripped from the small slice. He leaned in and licked the blood up with his tongue, causing tears to spill out onto your cheeks from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Aem- Aemond- I-“

You couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as your high crashed over you, breathing erratic and a final moan of his name escaping your lips. Aemond’s high followed, his seed spilling into you as he snapped his hips a final few times.

He threw the dagger onto the floor as he rolled next to you, eager to get it out of the danger zones of your body.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, inspecting the small cut on your neck.

“A little,” you admitted, “but that was the point.”

[meelusinee]

A YULE PROPOSAL | J.P X READER

word count \ 1.1k | fluff and stuff | slash / james potter x reader

in which james asks you out to the Yule Ball author's note at the end!

A YULE PROPOSAL | JAMES POTTER X READER

James Potter was many things.

He was a cheerful kind of person. Always upbeat, always uplifting no matter what. He was popular, almost anyone wanting to be with him or be him. A bit of a jock, though caring nonetheless. Loving to a fault, fault line nonexistent in his mind.

Though one thing that anyone could tell when looking at him was that he was in love with you. 

You were always being spoiled by him. He’d get you expensive gifts, or take you on expensive trips. Small cafe dates, shopping for clothes and jewelry, or making any small gift was a specialty of his. He adored spoiling you, in any sense of the word.

And now it was Yule season coming up. He was nervous to ask you, even though he knew you'd say yes. You two were dating, after all.

So, he had to come up with a plan.

“Are you serious James?” Remus asked, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion and desperation. “You don’t actually expect us to do this, do you?”

“Yup!” he smiled brightly at Remus. “You’re gonna do it with me, right Pads?”

“Course I am!” he chuckled brightly, standing up and patting James on the back proudly. “Anything to spend my mom’s money on useless stuff.”

“It’s not useless!” he gasped offendedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius said, patting James on the head as best as he could. It wasn’t much, but it was an honest effort. “Whatever you say, Prongs.”

“Course it’s what I say,” he grumbled before sighing, looking at Remus and Peter. “Please?”

“10 Galleons.” Remus said sternly, holding his palm out. “I want payment or I’m not doing it. 20 and I’ll give you the best damn performance.”

“30 and I get to dress you up.” Sirius smirked, hands on his hips.

“50.” he said, voice as deadpanned as he could make it. James knew he would do it for free, that was what Remus was like. But this seemed too funny to interrupt, if he was being honest.

“Deal.” Sirius said with a wide smirk on his face, fiddling with his pockets before putting the 50 Galleons in his hand. “Pete? 50 Galleons?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked.

“Nope.” Sirius said with a smile.

Peter sighed softly, shaking his head. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Sirius said excitedly, him and James jumping up and down.

“Okay, I have a game.” he said, pulling out a large piece of rolled paper to lay against the Common Room’s coffee table.

There was a large amount of rain hitting your window, your eyes focused on the paper that you were studying. It was nearing the end of the exams, not just Yule season.

Speaking of Yule season, you were quite excited. James hadn’t asked you to go to the ball. You knew that it was probably just stress though, so you weren’t too mad about it.

He had exams just like you, not to mention leading the Quidditch team and tolerating his friends’ pranks. Most times, you weren’t sure how he did it.

All in all, he had a lot of responsibilities.

Which is why you didn’t mind if he didn’t ask you to go to the ball. You decided to take a break from studying, looking outside of the window. Your eyes squinted to look at the different trees and forms of nature outside, the breeze running through your room.

“M’lady!” 

Your eyes squinted a bit harder as you heard someone calling, looking down at the ground. There stood Peter, one of James' friends. 

You stuck your head out of the window confusedly, looking down at him. “Pete?”

“M’lady!” he smiled brightly, though a bit awkwardly.

You chuckled at that, though you weren’t sure why he was standing in the cold like that. “Why are you just standing outside?”

“I am awaiting the Majesty.” he said, voice echoing through the night. 

“The what?” you smiled awkwardly.

Then came the sound of neighing, though you could tell it wasn’t from an actual horse. You frowned, making your way downstairs and towards the door he was standing in front of.

“What on Earth,” you muttered confusedly.

There stood James with Remus and Sirius behind him, all three of them riding the fake pony sticks you’d buy as a child at a muggle store. 

“We are here on behalf of Your Majesty, James Potter.” Sirius called out, dismounting himself from the fake horse. “He has requested your presence at the annual Yule Ball hosted in the Great Hall.”

“That rhymed,” Peter said with a small smile, chuckling softly. Sirius laughed loudly at that, with Remus stealing the paper from his hand.

“M’lady,” he said. “Sir James Potter, son of Fleamont Potter and first of his name, formally invites you, Y/N L/N, to the Yule Ball. Filled with fond fellowship and fellow acquaintances at the end of this month.”

James was standing behind Remus with a hopeful grin, the smile that you had come to love more than anything after years together.

“What is your response, Madame?” Remus said. His voice was incredibly deadpan, unlike Sirius and Peter’s laughter in the background. No doubt that he had practiced this.

“Yes,” you chuckled softly, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out what was going on. In all honesty, you felt like you were in a fever dream.

“Yes!”’James cheered excitedly, jumping up and down and running around the field. Sirius followed after him in his dog form, barking excitedly as James cheered excitedly.

You chuckled quietly as you watched him run around, smiling as Peter came closer and crowned you with a paper crown.

“Thank you, Knight Pete.” you chuckled.

James eventually calmed down after a couple of minutes, walking up to you out of breath. “Hi love,”

“Hi James,” you laughed as you saw him try to catch his breath, moving the hair out of his face as best as you could. “Did you have fun?”

“I did!” he smiled gleefully, looking at you. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did.” you smiled softly.

He nodded, pulling you into a hug. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear, squeezing your body in his arms. “I really wanted you to have a good proposal. It did take me some time to think of it though.”

You smiled softly, hugging him back before you heard Sirius groaning.

“Lovebirds!” he groaned, making a ‘bleh’ sound. 

“Oh hush!” James called out, throwing a ball of paper at him before turning over to you. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Later.” you promised, kissing his lips.

He smiled brightly at that, mounting his fake sticky horse and running off. Remus said a rather fancy farewell to you, climbing on the back of Sirius’ horse and running off. Peter was last, following them all to wherever they came from.

God, you loved James.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thanks for everything yawl are doing, it's really so amazing just how supportive all of you guys are! it's really shocking sometimes, to be honest wit you. thank you all so much, and hopefully you enjoyed!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a happy new year lovelies!

[cameronspecial]

I Want To Be Your Boyfriend

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never thought that he could fall for a Pogue, but the Goddess in front of him might change his mind.

A/N: This is a prequel to I Want To Be With You and requested by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

When he first saw her, he thought she was the most beautiful Kook he had ever seen. The lavender silk Prada shirt she is wearing crops just above her belly button. It reveals a delicious sliver of her stomach that he just wants to rest his hands on. The recognizable double G of her creamed colour belt displays the girl’s financial status. But as Rafe’s eyes trail down to her pants, confusion crosses his features. The black jeans she wears are distraught with holes in a fashionable manner, yet, he doesn’t recognize the brand and the material looks too cheap to be a brand name. Her shoes also don’t match the top half of her outfit as the white Sketchers look so worn out that it had to be done because she can’t afford new ones and not because of aesthetics. 

Sarah and the rest of the Pogues joining his Goddess help put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. His sister is known for her love of sharing her clothes with her Pogue friends, so the Goddess in front of him must be a Pogue. Unlike Sarah, Rafe would never associate himself with Pogues unless they were working for him. Yet, the concern she shows for JJ over a bleeding cut on his forehead from falling down makes Rafe realize he doesn’t care that she lives on the wrong side of the island. She lets out the most amazing laugh he has ever heard and he has to be the one that makes her smile. He makes his way over to talk to her, but Kiara stops him in his tracks. 

“Don’t even think about it. She is too good for you,” she warns him away. He tries to sidestep her, “Come on, Kiara. Let me talk to her.” The girl shakes his head and turns him away. He doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the goddess, so he walks away in defeat. Throughout the night, he tries to talk to her and is intercepted by the other Pogues. 

——

For weeks he has been trying to talk to her, but every time a Pogue is there to stop him. At least he learnt her name. Y/N Y/L/N, the name of a goddess. He is sent by his dad to pick up something to eat at The Wreck and this is when he sees her next. She is whipping down a table on the far side of the room, which makes him switch course toward her. JJ spots Rafe’s new direction and runs into his path with a smirk. “I’m sorry, man. I can’t let you near her.” “You can’t tell me what to do, Pogue,” Rafe spits out, standing up straight so the small height distance looks a little bigger. JJ wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand to try to hide his chuckle, “When it comes to her, I can. Now, as the French say, arrivederci.” Rafe is going to argue more, but the call of his name for his order pulls him away from the blonde.

——

It felt like fate when he got to the coffee shop to see her hunched over a notebook by herself. He looks around the store to check that she really is alone and no other pogue is in sight. He grins at this new revelation, sliding himself across from her in the booth. “I’ve been trying to introduce myself for weeks. I’m Rafe,” he sticks his hand out for her to shake. She brings her hand to his and he notices that although they are calloused, they are still supple, “I know your name silly. And I know you know that you have been trying. My friends don’t keep things from me.” 

“Right, so you’ve just been making me chase after you on purpose.” 

“You know, Rafe, you are the one with the name that means counsel of the wolf in Old Norse. I’m starting to see that it is a pretty accurate name.”

“You are just as smart as I thought you were because I have no idea what you mean.”

She finds his honesty cute, “I’m saying that wolves are predators and you have been chasing after me like a pray for weeks.” He likes that she isn’t condescending when she explains the joke to him. “Ahh, I totally understood that. Please, keep blessing me with your wisdom.” 

——

Rafe has been talking and texting Y/N for a month now and he is finally convinced they are not going to be caught hanging out together by the other Pogues. This means he is finally going to ask her to go steady with him because he is assured they can go on a date without being caught. She stares at her TV show while his head is resting on her thigh near her stomach. He is between her legs and his focus is on his phone. “Y/N,” he catches her attention. “I want to be your boyfriend.” His tone is practically begging her to say yes. She looks down at him with a soft smile and her fingers lace through his hair. “Rafey, I would love for you to be my boyfriend. But I don’t think there is going to be much of a difference in our relationship,” she confides, twirling his hair between her fingers.

“Why not?” 

“I don’t think you can get any more clingy than this, Rafey.”

“True, but there is something I can start craving more than your touch, Baby”

He lifts his head off her thigh and brings himself to hover over Y/N. He gives her a peck before moving in to deepen the kiss. His hands find the buttons of her shirt as he begins kissing his way down her neck. Forget about her laughter, her moans are the most amazing thing he has ever heard.