#thank you for sending me this! I love requests!

[gloomwitchwrites]

i saw a tiktok of a heavily pregnant woman saying “maybe i dont give him butterflies anymore but i do give him high blood pressure” then they walk by their S/O with a latter and power tools. and i have been thinking about how the guys would react ever since

Oh, anon. This is so cute! I love this. I know the trend you're talking about, but I feel like I haven't seen it with pregnant women specifically, but I find it even more hilarious if it is. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, dad!141, pregnancy, married life, parenthood, domestic fluff

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Get off the ladder, cabbage.” John exhales, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

You’re standing just high enough on the ladder to rest your pregnant belly on the top rung. John stands directly behind you, both hands firmly planted on either side of you against the rail. It’s not to support the ladder but to catch you if you fall. A potentially likely possibility since you’re carrying extra weight in front of you. You could easily tip back enough to lose your balance.

“I’m fine, John,” you reply, continuing on as if he’s not worrying.

It’s maddening how relaxed you are, like the potential factor of danger is a completely foreign concept.

“Please,” he emphasizes. “Get off the ladder.���

“Why?” you ask. “I’m more than capable.”

“You are,” he agrees. “But you’re also pregnant.”

“So?”

“Cabbage,” warns John.

“Fine,” you exhale.

John keeps his hands on your hips the entire time. When you’re back on solid ground, some of that tension melts away, but his heart still thumps quickly.

You lightly cup his cheek, batting your eyelashes at him. “Were you worried about me, John?”

John places his hand on your belly. “Worried about all three of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle sits at the kitchen table, sorting through the mail. With a heavy sigh, he opens the energy bill, removing the paperwork, reading over the breakdown of energy usage for the month.

From his peripheral, Kyle notices movement. Glancing away from the itemized bill, Kyle’s gaze softens when you walk into the kitchen. You’re pregnant, close to your due date. Even waddling around, Kyle can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

He leans back in his chair, appreciating you for a few languid seconds, then his heart drops into his stomach.

“Damn it all. Put that down, love.”

Kyle shoots out of his chair, trying to calmly but quickly make it over to you.

“I’m fine,” you insist, attempting to walk by. “I can assemble it.”

“No.” Kyle’s tone is firm but gentle. “Give it here.”

His heart is pounding, anxiety spiking from not just the power drill you carry, but the cardboard box full of wood you’re attempting to guide down the hall.

“You sit here.” He points to the chair. “Sort the mail. I’ve got this.”

You slowly ease down into the chair, and Kyle breathes deep, trying to calm his nerves. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He hears your footsteps first, and then your voice as you curse under your breath.

Johnny lounges on the sofa, reclining against a fluffy pillow. At his feet are his two-year old twin daughters. On the television, a Bluey episode plays. The girls aren’t watching. They’re smashing their dolls together and running them over with the yellow toy excavator.

Sitting up, Johnny glances over the top of the couch

At first, he smiles. Then frowns. Then launches himself off the couch.

“Put it down,” commands Johnny. “Drop it.” He steps on a doll and winces, wobbling slightly.

You turn toward him, pregnant belly coming into view. You’re carrying a ladder, the large one, and you’re not supposed to be lifting anything over a certain weight.

“Down,” he repeats. “Put it down.”

You roll your eyes and turn away. Johnny makes it to you quickly, grabbing the ladder and placing it on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. “You’re bloody pregnant.”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m—I’m not yelling,” soothes Johnny, cupping your face in his hands. “But you gave me a right scare, yeah?” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll take care of it. Go sit with the girls.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is curled up on the sofa, a precious bundle in his lap. His two-year old daughter rests her head against his chest, gaze focused on the colorful pages.

“He started to look for some food,” reads Simon from The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “On Monday he ate through one apple.” His daughter traces the outline of the apple, and then runs her finger over the caterpillar. “But he was still hungry.”

As Simon turns the page, he hears your soft but determined footsteps. He briefly looks away from the book, his gaze falling on your belly, round and full of his child. Inwardly, he smiles, knowing that the family you’ve created together is about to grow by one.

“On Tuesday he ate through two pears,” continues Simon. “But he was still—”

His voice disappears, and his stomach flips, blood pressure spiking as he watches you turn the corner. You have a step stool tucked under your arm and a drill in your hand.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters, lifting his daughter out of his lap and placing her on the sofa. “Daddy will be back shortly, doll.”

He kisses the top of her head, and then takes off after you. With the added weight, your steps are slow, and it only takes Simon a few strides to walk past you and cut you off before you make it to the nursery.

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for the drill.

“Hanging a painting,” you reply like it’s no big deal.

Simon sighs. “Give it here.”

“I can do it,” you insist, turning away from his reaching hands.

Simon plucks the drill out of your hand and holds it out of reach. “Give me the step stool.” With a pout, you surrender it. “Gonna give me a bloody heart attack.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @glassgulls @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @hisuccubus @all-by-myself98

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving

[strwberri-milk]

Hi!! If you haven't done it yet, please do one where mc wakes up to the boys jerking off beside them in the middle of the night because they couldn't wait or they didn't wanna touch her without explicit permission (Xavier can be an exception. Man's freaky like that). Thanks 😘

Also please make them extra needy. Or whatever you want. Go wild 🫶🫰

hihi!! this is a very kind reminder to anybody wanting to send requsts to please limit them to three characters if you want them to be more detailed <3 this is a request where i could see there being more details but honestly i get bogged down and it takes me like, five to eight hours to do it bc my focus is nawt great [sob] also smut under the cut!

Zayne always comes home late and a lot of the time he misses you. He tries to be quiet and honestly, if he's going to jerk off to you he'll do it in the washroom to avoid waking you up. He'd be laying in bed next to you after a long day, trying to go to sleep.

The plush of your body and soft breaths are taunting him far past his restraint. He doesn't want to wake you though so he simply buries his face into your neck, taking a deep breath before getting up. He keeps the lights off and stifles his groans into his hand as his fist works over his cock furiously, cheeks flush as he imagines the sight of you on the bed with your legs spread.

You were woken up by a press of a body behind you disappearing, then your bladder decided to make itself known. You open the door, about to use the toiler when you hear Zayne's ragged breathing. He looks at you, eyes wide in the dark as you realise he's just cum all over his hand. Not one to waste an opportunity like this, you drop to your knees, licking his essence off slightly trembling fingers. You relish the sound of his soft groan as you slide him down your throat, helping alleviate his ache for you.

Xavier is always a little insatiable and you never mind indulging him. He knows he has permission to do whatever he wants with you and he likes to indulge every so often - tonight being one of those times. He pulls your body against his, grinding his hard cock against your ass as he peppers the back of your neck in kisses.

He doesn't know restraint when he's like this, groaning softly as he uses your body for his own pleasure. His eyes are closed as he drags your hips to rub against his hard length. You'd wake up to the sound of his heavy breathing against your ear as he groans your name. The second he feels you've begun to wake up a hand crawls up your chest, grabbing and groping at your chest as he continues to hump against you.

The warmth of his body paired with the faint glow of his fingers on your skin ends up soothing you to some sort of restful sleep. You can feel him pressed insistently between your thighs but you're also too groggy to really do anything about it. You just give him the freedom to do as he pleases, Xavier cumming in his boxers before he flips you over to slide inside of you, nowhere near sated enough with just that.

Rafayel's libido fluctuates and his irregular schedule doesn't do much to help it. He loves watching you sleep but watching you sleep when he's horny is a whole new struggle. He's got an uncanny ability to undress you with his eyes and he does it constantly, especially when you've got your lips slightly parted and you make the sweetest little sounds in your sleep. His mind can't help but pervert it a little, pressing the sweetest kiss to your cheek as his hand travels down south.

He adores you so it's no surprise he can easily cum just by looking at you and thinking about you, biting his lip as he does his best not to disturb your rest. His breathing catches as he spills all over his hand, bracing himself against the sheets as you barely stir, simply just turning over and getting more comfortable.

He gets himself cleaned up and comes back, pulling you against his chest and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, hoping that when you wake up you'll be rested enough for him to indulge in your body. For now he'll just cuddle you up, keeping you warm as he falls asleep with you.

Sylus prefers to do things with you when you're awake because he loves watching your reactions. However, that's not going to stop him from taking care of himself near you, but he likes to draw out the experience. He doesn't really focus on cumming - most just on how it feels to wrap his fist around his hard shaft. He watches every movement you make, enjoying the arousal in the pit of his stomach as he reaches out to hold your hand.

He'll pepper your face in soft kisses as he touches himself, imagining the faces you make when he ruins you and the sounds that slip past your lips whenever you grow desperate for him. His imagination is more than enough - or he thought it was.

Your eyes flutter open, hearing his soft moan of pleasure that immediately sends a jolt of need to your core. His need for you is apparent when he starts to kiss you desperately, hands roaming all over your body as he tells you to just lay back and relax. He's going to take care of you.

[moonstruckme]

*insert Bernie Sanders meme*

I am once again asking for Prince!Sirius, perhaps a tryst in the royal gardens? A stolen kiss while practicing a waltz? An eventful evening at the opera for the “engaged” couple? A midnight motorbike ride throughout the city, away from the palace guards? Sneaking out in the night to see each other?

Anything you’d like, of course, and only if you’d like to write it♥️I love you just as much either way, which is bunches and tons🥰

Thank you for your request!! I shall be using more than one of these haha :)

cw: migraine, arranged marriage

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 1.3k words

By the way Sirius talked about it and everything you’ve experienced since setting foot in the palace, you’d come to the easy assumption that the negotiations of your arranged marriage would take place behind closed doors you weren’t invited through. You never imagined you’d be involved. Though perhaps involved is a strong word for what you are now, sitting like an ornament at your grandmother’s side while her courtiers argue in civil tones with courtiers from Sirius’ kingdom.

The more you’re around Sirius’ parents, the more intimidated you are by both of them. Sirius can be intimidating too, all roguish charm and sharp-toothed grins, but his parents are different. They’re just…scary. You don’t think they’ve stopped glaring since they sat down. Every now and then, when negotiations don’t seem to be going their way, Sirius’ mother’s mouth will become pinched and small, as though she’s only just barely biting her tongue.

Evidently, marrying two heirs is more complicated than simply getting married. Sirius would have to abdicate to his younger brother, there are inheritances to be discussed, land ownership, things like dowries which you didn’t know still existed. It all faded away around the time your ears started ringing. There’s a harsh, zagging line across your vision now. The undersides of your thighs are slick with sweat. You have no hope of translating this bourgeoisie legal dialect.

Sirius is sitting on the other end of the table, but you’ve been able to feel his gaze all evening. At times he’s looked bored, others agitated, but for the most part when he looks at you his eyes are calm. Placid waters. A thick morning fog.

You don’t think either of you are meant to speak, but Sirius wouldn’t be Sirius if he didn’t break the rules.

“Well, this is tedious.” His mother’s gaze snaps to him, but the prince appears not to notice. He stretches, pushing back his chair. “I’m going to nod off if I don’t get some fresh air. Care to join me, Your Highness?”

For once, you don’t care enough to decode the looks your grandmother and her courtiers are sending you. “Sure,” you mumble. Nausea presses at the base of your throat as you stand shakily. “I mean, yes, thank you.”

Sirius escorts you from the room like a true gentleman. A hand on your back, opening and closing the door for you. He doesn’t even comment when you close your eyes and put your hand over them in an attempt to block out the light. Just keeps walking, guiding you around turns and through hallways. You don’t think to ask where you’re going until you step outside.

The difference is brightness is immediate. You drop your hand. It’s nighttime, the palace gardens dark but for small lanterns illuminating the paths in front of you. Those are bearable, at least.

Sirius waits until you’re seated on a bench to ask, in a more hesitant tone than you’ve heard from him yet, “What’s wrong?”

You nearly moan as you fold over your legs, putting your forehead to your knees. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

“Don’t do that. Please. I could see you sweating from across the table.”

Your nausea worsens. “Did everyone see?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure,” he admits. You appreciate that you don’t have to question whether Sirius is telling you the truth. He always does.

“Not very princess-like.”

“Fuck that.” Sirius’ hand lands between your shoulder blades, fingers splayed but unmoving. “What is it? Do you need a doctor?”

You let out a breath. It warms your knees. “No,” you mumble. “It’s a migraine. I’ve had them before, it’ll go away.” Not quickly, you don’t say. But eventually.

“Oh,” Sirius murmurs. Somewhere in the garden, not very close, there are crickets chirping. Faint. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“What can I do?”

You pause. Maybe it’s because you’re already feeling so wretched, but the simple care in his voice makes you want to weep. “Nothing really. It’s helping just to be out of there. Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says in a quiet voice. His thumb moves a couple times over a bump in your hunched-over spine, thoughtful. “The lights from the path aren’t helping, are they?”

“They’re better than the ones inside.”

“Can you move?”

You pick your head up, gathering your strength. Sirius’ eyes are unreadable in the dark. “We should probably go back in, right?”

He frowns. “No.”

“They’ll be upset if we’re gone for too long. I’ll be okay.”

“The longer we’re gone, the more they’ll speculate about an heir, and the more they’ll have to talk about.” He quirks a brow at you, eyes glinting. “Come on, gorgeous. It’s the right of betrothed couples to canoodle in gardens.”

You let him pull you up from the bench, trying to ignore how that makes you feel. How lately you’ve found yourself wishing the perceptions of you and Sirius’ relationship were closer to reality. You don’t want to be married, or to be a queen, or to have the pressure of producing heirs. But you wouldn’t mind canoodling in gardens. Only if it’s with Sirius, though.

He takes you off the path, into a grassy area walled in by trees and shrubbery. The only light comes from the stars in the sky. You’ve completely given yourself over to Sirius’ whims by this point, so you make no objection when he lies you down with your head in his lap, the dewy grass dampening your clothes.

“Tell me if this hurts more than it helps,” he says, positioning his hands on either side of your head. His fingers sink into your hair and begin to massage gently at your scalp.

Tears press at your eyes again. Not from pain. From relief, yes, but also a rush of aching tenderness. You don’t know that you’ve ever been treated with such care.

“It helps,” you manage.

“Yeah?” Sirius' voice is near a whisper.

“Yeah.”

“I have a hard time believing that when you’re not breathing, lovely.”

He’s teasing, a little bit, but his tone slips into sincerity again when you let out a long breath. “Good,” he says, thumbs making small circles at the base of your head. “Thank you.”

You don’t know how long you lie there. No one comes looking for you, or if they do you’re too far into the garden to hear them. The breeze cools the sweat lingering on your skin. Sirius is diligent in his ministrations, working his way from your ears to the crown of your head and from your forehead to your nape. It works. Your migraine doesn’t go away completely, but you feel better.

You open your eyes slowly. The stars wink above you with their cold light, but Sirius’ gaze is warm on yours.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” you murmur.

His lips quirk. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“We can’t stay here like this.”

“Why not?” he asks lightly. “I don’t mind. Most guys would give their left foot to sit here with you all night. I’d count myself lucky.”

Your chest aches. You’re not going to take him up on that, but a few more minutes won’t hurt.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Really, babe, I don’t mind.”

“No, not just…I mean, for everything.” Emotion makes the throbbing in your head worsen, but you keep your eyes open to hold his gaze. “For always being so nice. Just, thank you.”

Sirius must see the pain in your expression. His brows furrow just a little, and he brushes his thumb next to your eye, encouraging you to close them. You do.

You think you might feel his lips on your forehead. It’s too ghostlike a kiss for you to be sure, the tickle of his hair past your ear perhaps more wish than sensation. You pretend it’s real anyway.

[22ayla21]

Hi! First of all I wanted to say that I love your stories. And i have a request as well.

I know how you already wrote about the Amphoreus trio’s reaction to their wife getting flirted with. But how about the opposite, because these men would have fan clubs no doubt. I’d think that the women would know they’re off limite but still, they’re hot. So like imagine a woman just starts to flirt with them while their wife is right there. Would she be used to it by now and let her husband take care of it or just give the woman a death stare/ tell her to fuck off(✨politely✨)

Quiet jealousy

How would his wife react when other girls hit on him.

She never doubts her husband. Mydei is not one of those who cast glances at others, especially when he has her. She knows that he is indifferent to other people's attention and does not tolerate obsession.

If a fan is too persistent, Mydei's wife does not make scenes. She will simply look at her with such a look that the latter will immediately lose the desire to approach. Without words, but extremely eloquently.

She does not even take them seriously. Someone can sigh languidly, looking at her husband, but at the end of the day, it is she who falls asleep in his arms.

If someone dares to go too far and try to touch Mydei, his wife will literally make the rival realize with one phrase ("Are you really that stupid?") that it was a huge mistake.

She does not experience fierce jealousy, but if she sees someone looking too admiringly into her husband's eyes, she can demonstratively take his hand, cuddle up to him, or even give him a kiss, just to show that this is her man.

He does not like fanatical attention. If he sees that his wife is even a little offended by it, he will definitely say something, making it clear that only she is important to him. He can even deliberately lean over and whisper something intimate to her, causing embarrassment and laughter.

Yes, if she really gets tired of someone, then her look will say more than any words. If the fan still does not get the hint - well, let him try to meet a woman who is not afraid to put even Mydei in her place.

The wife knows very well that despite his outward attractiveness and cold aristocratic appearance, Anaxa shows no interest in his fans. He is too rational to waste time on such people, and she understands this. So, jealousy? No, thank you.

If someone crosses the line of what is permitted, starts flirting or, God forbid, touching her husband, she is no longer so calm. Steel appears in her gaze, and an icy warning in her smile.

If someone is too persistent, the wife will not make a scene. She will simply look at the fan in such a way that she will want to disappear. These are not hysterics, not scandals - this is a calm, murderous look, after which the man immediately loses the desire to test her patience.

She does not need to prove anything. She is already his wife, they already have a family. Sometimes it's even funny for her to watch how some try to get his attention, not realizing that it's useless.

But if someone goes too far. For example, if someone decides to question their relationship or says something like "Anaxa's wife? I don't think he's worthy of just one woman...", she will act very decisively. And perhaps Anaxa will have to intervene before his wife sends someone to the hospital.

It's not about insecurity, but about territoriality. She doesn't doubt her husband, but if someone sticks his nose into her family too persistently, he gets a silent but very eloquent warning: "Go to hell."

And Anaxa? He rarely even notices these women. But he likes to see how his wife calmly puts them in their place. Sometimes he even smirks when she gives him another murderous look.

Once he asked her if she was jealous. She just shrugged: "Who could have you but me?" It was not a question, but a fact. And Anaxa agreed with this fact.

Phainon is charming, of course, but his wife is confident in his devotion. She doesn't waste her nerves on jealousy and simply chuckles when someone sighs for her husband.

But if someone goes too far... Admiration is one thing, and outright pestering is another. If some fan starts to behave too persistently, his wife will give her an icy look and calmly but firmly make it clear: "Try again - you'll regret it."

In public, she smiles, remains polite, but as soon as the fan goes too far, her smile becomes predatory: "Oh, you love my husband? How sweet. But, unfortunately, he's mine." She likes to watch Phainon's reaction when someone hits on him. He can play the role of a sweet and polite person, but she knows how much he gets offended by excessive attention, especially when he's married and has three kids.

She can approach Phainon, take his hand or even hug him when someone is staring at him too brazenly. Her look at this moment speaks for itself: "He's mine. Envy him silently." Sometimes he deliberately flirts a little (within the bounds of decency) to see how his wife will react. And when she looks at him with the expression "Are you serious?", he only smirks.

She understands perfectly well that he has his own army of fans, but in the end he always comes home only to her. She is not one of those who are jealous without reason, but if someone dares to seriously try to take her husband away, then the fan will very quickly understand that she has no chance.

In general, she does not worry about his popularity, but if someone is too brazenly pestering - her look says more than any words: "Step aside, girl, while I'm kind."

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialist)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

series masterlist

Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, piv sex, kissing, Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her? 

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine. 

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why? 

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.  

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.  

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…” 

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.  

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.” 

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them my photo instead of yours. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”  

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”  

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.  

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.  

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.  

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.” 

As if I want it so much, you thought.  

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.  

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.  

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”  

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.  

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.  

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.  

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.  

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.  

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”  

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”  

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.  

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.  

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”  

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.  

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.  

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight. 

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.  

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff. 

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.  

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.  

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock. 

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice. 

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance. 

"Melanie, right?" 

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes. 

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there. 

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage. 

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?” 

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly. 

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life. 

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie. 

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?" 

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you." 

"Do something to make him hate you already!" 

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation. 

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working." 

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.” 

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.” 

“What? Seriously?” 

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.” 

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.” 

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!” 

Beep… Beep… Beep… 

She hung up. 

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that? 

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why? 

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything? 

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard? 

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in. 

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge. 

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart. 

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up. 

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.” 

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness. 

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened. 

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you? 

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face. 

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company? 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors. 

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door. 

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—” 

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head. 

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit. 

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten. 

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away. 

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?" 

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.” 

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?” 

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mercy No More 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, possible violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your misplaced kindness brings a dangerous man to your door.

Characters: Thomas Shelby

Note: a less popular character so I'll just post whenever.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"There's a man in the backyard."

The statement is matter-of-fact, not a hint of distress in your sister's tone as she informs you of the trespass. You wipe your forehead as you turn away from the porridge on the stove. You frown.

"A man... how? Who?" You wonder.

She shrugs, "he couldn't say."

You near her with a glower, "Anna, could you say less?"

"He's face down. He could be dead," she says. "Like old Chester."

"Is he old like Chester?" You go to the backdoor, slipping in a glob of mud. "Anna, your shoes."

"I was distracted. By the dead man."

You tilt your head wryly, "yes, you're brain does seem to be working madly to unravel the riddle."

You slip into your shoes, leaving the laces loose. You turn and go out into the yard. Sure enough, you see the man on the ground. He does look to be lifeless, though you can't be sure.

You glance back at Anna. She gives a coy grin, "I went and got water, I'm not dealing with him."

You sigh. Your father's already at the factory. It's only the two of you and it took enough arguing to get her to bring in a bucket of rain water.

The muck sucks on your soles. The man's face is smeared with mud and his hate rests next to his head. His limbs are askew in all directions. You hear him breathing as he blows bubbles into the slop.

"He's alive," you peek over your shoulder. You're talking to the door. Anna's back hiding behind the brick.

You cautiously bend and jab the man's shoulder, "sir, sir," you poke with each word, "hullo, you're sleeping in the dirt. Sir!"

You shake him. He doesn't stir. You reach across and grab his hat. A sharp pain sears in your thumb. You let the hat drop and look at the sliced pad of your finger. Rats.

Then the damp cold seeps through your stockings. The realisation trickles down your spine. Your eyes search out the sharp edge sewn into the hat. He's one of them.

You turn and march back to the door. You keep your injured hand aloft and let yourself in with other. You stomp into the kitchen and snatch up a cloth. You press it around your throbbing thumb.

"Sister, your shoes," Anna chides drolly.

You huff. She doesn't bother to ask if you're well. You hiss and grit your teeth.

"Get father's rye," you demand.

"Bit early, innit?" She snickers.

"Anna," you sneer.

She drags herself away from the table and takes out a dark bottle. She pulls free the cork and you grab it. You pour it over your thumb, shaking over the sink. You quickly cover the gash again.

"What's happened? He have a knife?" She asks.

"Anna," you face her, your heart top turns. "That man... has blades in his hat."

"Blades in his hat. Well, that's rather foolish." You stare at her and she blinks wide. "A blinder? Out here?"

You nod.

"What do we do?"

"Now it's we?" You challenge.

"It's not good, is it?"

You shrug.

"We could leave him there. Let him wake up."

"Yes, we could. But s'pose he wakes up and thinks we did leave him there. To drown in the mud," you tut. "But the alternative..."

"Wake him up?"

"He's not doing that," you clutch your hand.

"We can't carry him."

"We're going to have to," you say.

"And when he does come to, what then? He could hurt us."

"He might but I know where father keeps the pistol," you say.

"Do you know how to shoot it?"

"No."

"And wouldn't that be worse? To kill one of 'em?"

"Better than being killed," you look around. "Anna, I don't know any better than you."

"How..." she glances at the wall.

"You get one side, I'll get the other?" You suggest.

"How'd he even get there?"

"Now you're asking questions."

"Well, I thought he was a drunk or some'in."

"Oh, no doubt he is," you scoff. You wrap the cloth around your finger, securing it as best you can. You teethe your lip and dip your chin. "Right then."

You take the lead. Anna drags her feet. You go out into the yard. You near the man. He snores now.

You lift up his hat carefully and tuck it into your apron. You step around him as Anna reluctantly hovers some distance away.

"You get that arm." You point.

She whimpers but comes closer. You take his right arm and she flinches away as she reaches for his other. You grunt and grind your teeth as you try to lift him. Your sister whines, "he's too big."

"Anna, put some guff into it," you demand. "Christ be risen."

You manage to get him upright. Sort of. He hangs between you and your sister. You stagger to face him toward the house.

"I'm too weak."

"Stop, just move," you hike the man up as hold his hand over your shoulder, his arm draped around your neck. "Onward."

Your steps are teetering and uneven, lurching as the man threatens to bowl you both over. You haul him crookedly up the stairs, breathless, sweating, aching. His toes catch on the threshold and you all crash to the floor.

Your elbow pangs and your knee burns. You roll over and push the man's arm off you. Anna snivels as she crawls away from him.

"Now what?" She pulls a splinter from her hand.

"Well, he's inside," you get up, panting, and bend his legs enough to close the door. "Put a blanket over him."

"He's just gonna... lay there?"

"Better than the mud." You utter and step back, exhausted.

"What about when Da gets home?"

You give her a look, "let's pray he wakes up first."

🚬

You stir your porridge as the back of the man's head is visible just through the doorway. Anna won't sit still as she cradles her bowl and paces. Your thumb is pulsing with each bend.

The man's hat sits on the table. You did your best to wipe the mud off. You wiggle your foot, as restless as your sister but reluctant to show it.

You rinse your bowl and she gives you hers half-finished. You tisk. "Wasteful."

"Pardon me, my insides are splitting like twigs," she hisses.

You dump her bowl in the bin and wash away the oats. Anna tends to avoid things. She's always been that way. You can hardly blame her, there isn't very much worth facing in this world. Still, some things just must be done.

"Go on then, go to your room," you bid her. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Are you certain?" She asks.

"Not truly but no use you tittering around," you shoo her with your fingers.

She makes no fuss in doing just that. Your dread mounts as you're left alone. She wouldn't be much help as it were, but are you any more formidable? Especially with a man like that?

You carry on, tidying, going through your usual toil, anything to busy yourself until your father returns. You sit and wring out the clothes by hand over a bucket and toss them in the basket to go on the line. You focus on the work, made more difficult by your tender thumb. Your joints ache from the effort, your forearms and the cuffs of your sleeves soaked through.

"Eh, Polly," the gritty voice has you sat upright. "Bring me a cuppa."

You stare at the man. He's not moving still. Just the rise and fall of his breath. He groans.

"Polly, ain't I your favourite?" He rasps and laughs, wincing at the effort.

He sucks in a deep breath and drags a hand over the floor. He pushes himself up with one arm and his head bobbles. He looks around, his nose like a beak. He gets one foot flat, still hunched, then the other. He stands and staggers, catching himself on the wall. He grunts and turns his head. He sees you before the bucket of soapy water and linen.

"You're not Pol," he limps in. "You got any tea?"

You stare at him and drop the shirt in the tub. He's entirely too calm waking up in a strange house. You stand stiffly.

"Whisky?" He hobbles past you and opens the cupboard.

"Sir," you back up. "This isn't-- we don't got much." You cross your arms and keep the chair between you. "You were out in the mud. We only brought you in to dry off."

"We?" He takes out a tin of flour.

"Hm, um, yes, the neighbour helped me," you lie.

"Aye, they did? Ya have a good laugh then? Over my drunk arse?" He accuses as he shuts the cabinet.

"No, sir. It was only--"

He moves towards you and you stumble out of his path. He swipes up his hat and pulls it on.

"Well, give ya some advice," he points at you. "You and that nosy neighbour, keep your mouths shut, eh? Don't be cheeping around with the hens."

"Sir, no, we wouldn't--"

"Know ya wouldn't." He looks around with a sneer, "it's a shithole but I'm sure you don' wan' it it in ashes."

He trips on the leg of the chair. You react without thinking. You grab his arm and the other side of the chair. He sways but stays on his feet.

You swallow as he looks at you. You shudder. "You wanted tea?"

His lips thin. There's a glimmer of shame in his irises. He maneuvers to sit on the wooden seat. He sighs and rubs his hips.

"Ole bullet casing's acting up again," he snarls. "German rubbish."

You go to the stove and put the kettle on the burner. You light it and step away. He bends forward to hold his head.

"Like I said, not much round, but I've got some bones. I could make ya broth," you offer.

He shakes and grumbles. It's not a clear answer. You grab the pork bones and put them in a pot. Your only shield is to do those things you know how to.

You brew the tea and bring it to him. He sits up and watches you set it down. He scrapes the chair closer to the table. He squints at your hand.

"Cut yerself?" He wonders.

"It'll heal up," you assure him and hide your hand behind you. He scratches the side of his head below his hat.

"Razor's cut deep," he remarks.

"They do," you affirm.

"Sorry then," he reaches for the cup. "I'll just get meself straight and be off."

"Very well, sir," you agree and grab the basket of clothes. "I'll be hanging these."

He takes a cautious sip and drones again. He wipes the moisture from his blond mustache with the side of his finger.

You leave him and go out into the yard. You unfurl the garments and pin them in place with the pegs. The gloomy sky won't dry them quickly. You go down the line as you hear Mary hollering at her husband. You've never heard her speak without yelling.

You finish and leave the basket at the door. The man has his head on the table. You go to check the broth. It bubbles but smells good enough. He groans.

You serve him a bowl with a butt of bread. He sits up with a tremour. He doesn't say a word as he draws himself in to the table and dips the rye in the broth. He eats without a care to the dribble down his chin.

He gives a contented hum when he's done. He looks up and smiles. You follow his gaze past you. You turn to see Anna before she disappears behind the doorframe.

"Well, hello, birdie," he growls.

"All done, sir," you take the empty bowl.

He refocuses on you, "didn't mention another of ya."

"She's shy," you insist as you take the dish to the sink.

"Mmm, well," he clucks. "Shy ones are sweet."

"Sir," you approach him again.

"Eh, I know what I said," he stands with an effort that makes him croak. "Yer a good woman. Won't be no bother 'round here. I'll make sure of it."

You nod as he heads for the back door. You follow him and stand in the frame as he stiffly struts to the gate. You frown. There never was any bother before him.

[hotchnerwrites]

hi!! love your hotch fics so much. I have a request for a hotch fic with a bau reader, maybe someone who’s very extroverted with the team but shy around hotch and hotch notices. up to you where you want to take it!!

The Olive Branch

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: SFW, mutual crushes, minor misunderstanding

A/N: i JUMPED at this request, i have been wanting to write this for so long omfgggg!!!! i hope u like it!!! enjoy <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

PS. I've stopped adding the three starter pics to my fics (hopefully temporarily) bc tumblr is being uncooperative and won't minimise them. looks nasty with 3 images smh.

It was his job to read people. To break down micro-expressions, decode behavioural changes, and anticipate actions before they happen. In the field, these skills had saved the lives of victims and team members alike.

But somehow, when it came to you, Aaron Hotchner found himself at a complete loss.

It wasn’t something he had noticed consciously. At least, not at first. When you arrived on your first day of work, he had made some superficial observations that remained at the edge of your awareness— quick to befriend the team, understand their dynamics and find your niche. You were so vibrant and easy with the others. You went toe-to-toe with Morgan’s teasing and could even keep up with Reid’s incessant chatter.

But with Aaron? A clipped “Yes, sir” or an awkward “Of course, Agent Hotchner”. It was always stilted, and he got the feeling that you carefully measured your words when interacting with him.

It wasn’t outright hostility. You were his coworker at the end of the day. But it wasn’t comfortable either. And Hotch had spent far too long being avoided by people outside of work to mistake it for anything else.

You did not like him.

Aaron didn’t blame you for it. He knew his reputation as a Unit Chief— he was a hard-ass; he demanded a lot and could shut down jokes in the middle of a case. He barely even spoke about his life outside work. He had spent years convincing himself that maintaining this distance was necessary, that he couldn’t afford to be anyone’s friend, lest he put them in harm’s way.

But with you? Aaron couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of regret at the way things had turned out.

———

The idea wasn’t fully formed. Hell, it was barely a concept of an idea.

It had been a long day of paperwork, and as the others were heading out for the night, Hotch noticed you skulking around García’s desk, staring at something.

A pen. Not just any pen— it was an engraved fountain pen that Penelope’s stepfather had gifted her.

“Pretty,” you had mumbled to yourself, “I used to have one just like that.”

It was a simple enough thing, and Hotch didn’t waste time overthinking it. The next day, he picked up a similar pen— nothing overly expensive, just well-made and practical, personal but not intimate.

A peace offering.

It was Aaron’s attempt at making things right.

———

He left it on your desk before the day started with a short note.

Thought you might like this. - A.H.

He’d be lying if he wasn’t nervous. Still, he tried not to set his expectations too high. 

But then he watched you find the pen.

You froze, fingers dancing over the box as if afraid to touch it. Then, carefully, you picked it up, turning it over like it was made of glass.

Hotch didn’t know what he had expected. A thank you? A nod of acknowledgement? Less awkward interactions? That would have been enough. Instead, you smiled. A small, private thing. The kind you offered JJ in quiet moments or to Emily after a tough case. A real genuine smile.

And then— you sought him out.

“Sir,” you started, cornering him after a briefing. Your tone was muted as usual, but there was no note of avoidance in it anymore. Just something he couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. For the pen. You didn’t have to… but I really appreciate it.”

Aaron had opened his mouth to brush it off, to tell you it was nothing, but then you dropped your gaze, fingers fidgeting with the cap of the pen. He couldn’t quite put a finger on your body language… but it was slowly dawning on him. 

Aaron Hotchner was realising that he had read you incredibly wrong.

———

The realisation didn’t fully hit him until later that night.

He’d been reviewing annual evaluations, half a glass of bourbon abandoned at the edge of his desk. He’d been fighting sleep for over an hour now— it had been a long week.

Aaron’s mind kept circling back to you. To your smile when you’d picked the pen up.

You, who were always warm and open with the team but hesitant and distant from him. You, who had nevertheless accepted his gift with something more than gratitude. You, who lingered just a fraction of a second too long after thanking him, eyes nervously darting up to his before skittering away.

Hotch exhaled audibly, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t get the image of the way you had looked at him today out of his mind. You had really looked at him, a mixture of hesitance and nerves. The pen had been an underdeveloped idea for extending an olive branch, but you had smiled at it like it meant something.

As he stared off into space, paperwork long forgotten, the pieces slowly clicked into place with the kind of clarity that made him feel like an absolute idiot.

You weren’t shy around him because you disliked him.

In fact, therein lay the answer.

You were shy around him because you liked him.

It should’ve been so obvious. The very idea of it. It had danced around his face, and had it been anyone else, he would have seen it immediately. Yet, when it came to himself, apparently he was blind.

A profiler, indeed.

Aaron wasn’t sure what to do with this epiphany. Was he allowed to do anything? But also, did he really care that much about outdated FBI guidelines? He only knew one thing. For the first time in a long time, the idea of someone likinghim— not respecting, not tolerating, but actually liking him— made something warm and fuzzy settle in his chest.

Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Then he huffed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head at his ignorance.

Maybe he was getting old.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[spicyschemmenti]

FIRE DRILL FLIRTATION ➫ melissa schemmenti

pairing: melissa schemmenti x bimbo!teaching assistant!fem!reader

synopsis: during a routine fire drill, you stick a little too close to melissa, pressing against her and whispering sweet nothings that make her dangerously close to losing control

warnings: implied age gap, sexual tension, swearing, power dynamics?? work place setting, teasing, inappropriate behaviour

word count: 1.9k

author's note: omg, thanks for this request?? i loved writing it sm

based on this request: Melissa Schemmenti x Sassy Bimbo!Teaching Assistant!Fem reader mini series would be amazing! Kind of like your Alex Cabot ones but reader is more ditzy?

MASTERLIST ----- JOIN A TAGLIST

The blaring fire alarm echoed through the halls of Abbott, sending kids and teachers pouring out of classrooms like a chaotic wave. You were supposed to be helping herd the kids toward the exit, but honestly? You were a little too distracted making sure your skirt didn’t ride up as you walked.

It wasn’t your fault that the outfit was maybe a little inappropriate for school. A tight, bubblegum-pink mini skirt that hugged your curves and showed off just enough leg to be dangerous, paired with a lacy, low-cut white tank top that was definitely pushing the limits of dress code. The little cropped cardigan you threw over it was more for show than anything else, and your glossy lips and perfectly winged eyeliner? Total bimbo perfection.

You knew the moment you caught Melissa’s eye this morning that she’d noticed. Her lips had pursed, her gaze lingering on your chest for a split second longer than necessary before she’d muttered something under her breath about “these damn kids” and stalked off.

Now, in the middle of a crowded hallway during a fire drill, you saw your chance.

“Ms Schemmenti!” you called out, your voice just a little too sweet as you teetered on your heels, pretending to look helpless as the crowd jostled you.

Melissa was a few steps ahead, guiding her class toward the doors with that no-nonsense attitude that made your knees weak. Her maroon blouse hugged her curves in all the right places, and those tight black slacks? Yeah, they weren’t doing you any favors either. She looked good. And the way she commanded the room, her voice calm but firm as she directed everyone toward safety? Ugh.

You bit your lip, feeling that familiar heat swirl low in your belly.

Melissa’s head snapped around at the sound of your voice, her eyes narrowing as she spotted you lagging behind. “Oh, for…” She muttered something under her breath, probably a prayer, and marched toward you with purpose.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she said, her tone clipped but not unkind as she grabbed your wrist and pulled you close. “Stick with me. I don’t need you gettin’ lost in this mess.”

Ohhh, she had no idea what she’d just done.

You let out a little breathy sigh, pressing yourself against her side like you needed her to keep you safe. Your arm looped through hers, your body molding to her, and you didn’t miss the way her muscles tensed at the sudden contact.

“Thanks, Ms Schemmenti,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “It’s just… so crowded. And, like… I don’t wanna get trampled.”

Melissa’s jaw clenched. Jesus Christ, this girl’s gonna kill me.

She was trying—really trying—to focus on the kids and getting everyone outside safely, but it was damn near impossible when you were practically purring in her ear like that. And the way your body was pressed against her? Soft, warm, and so close. She could feel every curve, every subtle shift of your hips as you moved beside her.

Focus, Melissa. You’re at work. Surrounded by kids. This is not the time to be thinking about how good she smells.

But God help her, that sweet, floral perfume you wore was making her head swim.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low and gruff as she tried to maintain her composure, “you’re supposed to be helpin’ me keep the kids calm, not clingin’ to me like a lost puppy.”

But instead of letting go, you just… giggled. A soft, airy sound that went straight to her core.

“But Ms Schemmenti,” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear as the crowd pressed in closer, “you’re just… so strong.”

Melissa’s breath caught. Fuck.

Her grip on your waist tightened instinctively, her hand resting just a little lower than it probably should have been. You felt it immediately, of course. And instead of pulling away, you leaned into it, your body practically melting against her side.

“Oops,” you murmured, a mischievous sparkle dancing in your eyes as you looked up at her through your lashes. “Sorry. It’s just… kinda tight in here.”

Yeah, that’s not the only thing that’s tight right now, Melissa thought, her jaw tightening as she dragged her eyes away from the way your lips were so close to hers.

Her mind was racing. She was supposed to be focused. But all she could think about was how soft your skin felt against her, how your perfume was making her dizzy, and how your damn giggles were making her heart beat way too fast.

Meanwhile, you were having the time of your life.

You could feel the tension rolling off of her, the way her body was practically vibrating with restraint. And it was so much fun to push her buttons. Melissa Schemmenti was always so cool, so in control but right now? You had her completely flustered, and it was delicious.

“I like when you take charge,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the noise, but you knew she heard it.

Melissa’s eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous, her jaw clenched so tight you thought she might crack a tooth.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low enough that it sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

Your lips curled into a sly smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Me? I’m just followin’ directions…”

But you both knew that was a lie. And from the way her fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you just a little closer as the crowd started to thin

You weren’t the only one feeling the heat.

The cool air hit you like a wave as the crowd of kids and teachers spilled out into the parking lot. But even with the breeze brushing against your bare legs, the heat simmering between you and Melissa didn’t let up.

“Alright, everybody stay in your lines,” Melissa barked, her voice sharp as ever, but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. Like she was barely holding it together.

You could see it—the way her jaw clenched, the furrow in her brow, the slight flush creeping up her neck. She was frazzled. And it wasn’t from the fire drill.

It’s from you.

“Ms Schemmenti,” you purred, sidling up to her again even though there was zero reason for you to be that close. The kids were fine, standing in neat little lines with the other teachers. But here you were, all wide-eyed and innocent, pressing your body against her arm like you needed her to keep you safe.

Melissa didn’t move away. But she also didn’t look at you.

“Why’re you still glued to my side, sweetheart?” she muttered, her voice a little too gruff.

You tilted your head, blinking up at her with that sweet, ditzy expression that always made her weak in the knees. “I dunno… I just feel safer when I’m with you,” you murmured, leaning in just enough that your lips brushed the shell of her ear.

Safe? Oh, honey. If only you knew.

Melissa’s entire body went rigid, her jaw so tight you thought she might actually break something. Her mind was a mess. On one hand, she was supposed to be keeping things professional. You were her coworker, for God’s sake. A sweet, bubbly, barely qualified teaching assistant who had no idea what she was doing half the time.

But on the other hand?

You were driving her insane.

Melissa wasn’t blind. She’d noticed the way you looked at her—how your eyes lingered just a little too long when she bent over to pick something up, how your smile got a little brighter when she was around, how you always found a reason to touch her, even if it was just a light brush of your hand against hers.

And now? Pressed up against her like this, your body warm and soft and way too close?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… I’m gonna lose my damn mind.

“Sweetheart,” Melissa growled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You need to—”

“Relax,” you interrupted, your voice dripping with sugar as you tilted your head and looked up at her with that innocent, wide-eyed gaze that had gotten you out of trouble more times than you could count.

“But I like being close to you,” you murmured, your glossy lips curling into a playful pout. Your fingers brushed against her arm, trailing down her forearm so lightly it was almost innocent. Almost.

Melissa snapped.

“Jesus,” she muttered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd so fast you barely had time to process what was happening.

“Whoa!” you giggled, stumbling a little in your heels as she guided you toward the side of the building where the crowd couldn’t see. “Ms Schemmenti, what’s the rush?”

Her grip on your wrist loosened, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she turned to face you, her body just a little too close, her eyes dark and filled with something you hadn’t seen before.

“Do you enjoy testin’ my patience?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, making your breath catch in your throat.

You blinked up at her, all wide-eyed innocence, but the smirk tugging at the corners of your lips gave you away. “I dunno what you’re talking about, Miss Schemmenti…”

Melissa’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing as she scanned your face. God, you were trouble.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she muttered, her hand still holding your wrist, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You know exactly what you’re doin’.”

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your chest. She was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire.

“Maybe,” you murmured softly, your eyes flickering to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “But… is it working?”

Oh, you little—

Melissa’s resolve was hanging by a thread.

Her body was practically vibrating with tension, her mind screaming at her to step back, to walk away, to be professional. But the way you were looking at her? The way your lips were just close enough to kiss?

She was this close to giving in.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice husky and low as her hand finally dropped from your wrist. But instead of stepping back, her fingers brushed against your waist, her touch light but burning through the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Yeah, Ms Schemmenti?” you whispered, your voice dripping with sugar, but your eyes? Oh, your eyes were full of heat.

Melissa’s gaze flickered to your lips, her resolve cracking, her breath hitching...

“Melissa!”

The voice snapped through the tension like a bucket of cold water.

Melissa jerked back, her hand dropping away from you so fast it was like she’d been burned.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, her face flushing as she turned to see Barbara waving her over.

“Looks like the drill’s over,” Barbara called, giving Melissa a look that was way too knowing. “We’re headin’ back inside.”

Melissa nodded stiffly, her jaw clenched as she tried to regain her composure.

But you?

Oh, you were smirking.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later, huh?” you murmured softly, your voice dripping with mischief as you brushed past her, your body just grazing against hers as you sauntered back toward the building.

Melissa didn’t move.

She just stood there, her jaw clenched, her body still on fire, and her mind screaming one thing over and over again:

I am so fucked.

[cheol-e-kat]

Hi! New follower here! Im in love with your work! Could I please request Cheol x reader. Sexual frustration and ex sex please. Where ex's have been with other people but no one can get them off like their ex can. Thank you!!

haiiii not anon for once ^^ thanks for your follow ♡♡ and for participating in bingo - i hope you submit more asks

i know it's been a bit since you submitted this, but i hope you like it ^^

♡ kat

bingo squares: sexual frustration + ex sex

pairing: choi seungcheol / f!reader

summary: y/n is missing her ex, especially a certain part of her ex and all the things he can do with it, and decides to send him a text  

word count:  2.4k

genre: pwp, alternate universe, f2l, ex sex, low key make up sex

Rating: 18+, MDNI, explicit

warnings below cut

warnings: explicit language, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex, squirting, overstimulation 

y/n fell back against the cool sheets. 

she listened to the guy next to her breathing hard like he was on cloud nine after round 14 of pounding her pussy - it was round one and had been dull. 

“whew, that was fuckin’ amazin’, darlin’” he said giddily. 

she gave him her best customer service smile and reached for her phone. there was a text she desperately needed to send.

[y/n 04:23]

hiiii

she didn’t expect a response. ever probably. they had unquestionably broken up. she knew that. she definitely knew that.

but she had to try because the mediocre sex she had been having lately was just not it. 

she didn’t even look forward to sex anymore. it was dull, at best - she might as well be doing her taxes. 

instead, she was just wasting her time, placating men with her lack-luster, ‘oh, yes, b-a-b-y, that is just so good’…’yes, right there’…’u h u h’…’oh boy, howdy, just like that’- she was completely phoning it in. 

if they paid any attention, they would know she was speaking roughly like the worst pre-recorded robocall machine to ever be invented. but funnily, they never seemed to notice. so she just kept saying more and more unhinged things - she had to entertain herself somehow. 

she slid out of bed and grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. 

he stopped her for a moment, “hey, now, i thought you promised you would stay the night, make me breakfast and all that,” he said with a wink.

she stared blankly for a moment because when the fuck had she ever offered anyone that, much less texas pete over here.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that sugar, but i plum forgot, i’ve got this thing in the mornin’ and i just can’t miss it, ya’ know?” she shrugged.

for some reason, she had let a friend drag her to a country western club the night before, and she had been using her best southern accent all night. it was heinous. but again, she had to make her own fun. 

“well damn,” he sighed, “i was lookin’ forward to that.” he squeezed her hand gently. “you just seem like you know your way around a kitchen,” he smiled again. 

it wasn’t that he wasn’t cute - he was fine. totally okay - for anyone else on the planet.

she nodded and smiled, “sorry to let ‘cha down, but my boss is a real son of a bitch,” she smiled as she spoke and slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. 

she went to the bathroom, cleaned up, threw on her clothes, and made a quick getaway. 

she was in an uber when she saw the text.

[cheol 04:23]

u up? also why?????

she smiled - a genuine smile for once.

[y/n 04:46]

just going thru a drought T-T

she stared at her phone for a moment before flipping it face down in her palm. she didn’t want to watch the lack of response. they had been friends. they should have never fucked. they should have never dated. because now she couldn’t even complain to him when things sucked. 

she felt her phone buzz and almost threw it. she really was not expecting a response.

[cheol 04:51]

you still know my address, right?

she read the message over several times before answering.

[y/n 04:52]

yea

he was quick with his response, though.

[cheol 04:52]

just come over then - i want to hear the southern accent tho

she snorted and asked her driver if he could change the address.

seungcheol answered the door in his underwear, which was cute and made her wonder where he had tossed his pjs - she knew he slept in them. 

he leaned against the door, smiling, “seriously, i want to hear it,” he whispered. 

she rolled her eyes, “oh god, at least let me come in first,” she pleaded.

he grinned and shook his head, “got to give me something,” he smiled cutely, “you know ‘m worth it,” he watched her with a flirty gaze she knew too well.

she looked him over, “fine,” she sighed, “uhh, hey, good lookin’,” she laughed, “fuck that was terrible.”

he nodded, still smiling, “come on, one solid thing,” he asked, his voice daring her.

she sighed softly and reached out - she caught her finger in the waist of his underwear and snapped it against his skin.

“fuck, really? how old are you?” he kept it to a whisper. his neighbors would complain otherwise. they both knew that all too well.

she smiled, “awe, darlin’ did that hurt? i didn’t mean nothin’ by it, my hand just got away from me, and lord knows what it’ll do next,” she scrunched her nose and held back a laugh. he looked dumbfounded. 

but he finally moved out of the way and let her in. 

she dropped her bag by the door and followed him into the kitchen. he tossed her a bottle of water. 

“so, shua’s idea was less than perfect?” he leaned on the counter, watching her.

she rolled her eyes, “i mean,” she paused, “why do you even know for one?”

he grinned, “you were killing him with the accent - you know his LA-brain can’t handle when you whip that out.”

she smiled and shook her head, “right, so just voice messages or what went into the gc?”

she knew there were several she was no longer in, but she tried to get past the awkwardness of that. besides he shook his head - the gc was sacred. 

she groaned, “look, can i shower?”

“you texted me at this time to take a shower?”

she shrugged and pouted, “please,” she put her hands together, pleading fully. 

she didn’t like the idea of being all grimy from a bar or from where she had been, which neither of them addressed. because if seungcheol knew about the accent and the bar, then he knew about the mechanical bull ride - which was 12 out of 10 in her opinion - and he knew about the guy she went home with.

he followed her into his bedroom and left her to find her way to the bathroom. she stripped and took a long shower, thankful for the hot water and that he still had the soap she picked out. by the time she was out and had dried off, she noticed that there were clothes for her to change into. she hadn’t even realized that he had come in - not that she minded. it was sweet. 

she pulled on one of his shirts and some boxers - and she wandered into his bedroom. she knew she should probably sleep on the couch, but when seungcheol reached out for her, she couldn’t resist. 

she was happy to climb into his warm bed and snuggle against his side. 

she woke up slowly - she wasn’t exactly surprised by where she was - she knew what it felt like to wake up with him. it was more of a bittersweet feeling. she barely admitted to herself that she missed him as much as she did. 

she tried to pretend that none of it bothered her - like seeing him with other people - or how absolutely fucking bored to death she was without him. she wanted to hurry up and leave before lying there dredged up too many feelings. 

the problem was when she moved - he pulled her back down, kissing her softly. and it worked like a spell. she couldn’t break that kiss - that perfect kiss with seungcheol that she had been missing so badly. 

and when his strong hands pulled her back where he wanted her, lying on top of him, she couldn’t resist that either. she kissed him and ran her hands through his hair. she moaned softly and happily let her tongue slide against his, tasting him. she felt his hands firmly trace along her thighs and ass, squeezing her cheeks and spreading them before finally giving her a soft smack that only made her smile. 

she felt like she was in a daze by the time she was on her back, and he was undressing her, kissing all the places he liked most. she played with his hair, savoring the feeling of him. she groaned softly as he kissed and licked her nipples, sucking at one breast and then the other, as his hand slid down between their bodies and his fingers began to tease her pussy. 

he didn’t say any ridiculous things as he stroked her clit. he didn’t ask any weird questions as he slid his fingers inside her, knowing what she liked and how. he filled her pussy without her needing to explain a single thing to him. 

he kissed her softly as he worked her open - stretching her the way she had been dying to be stretched for weeks. he was three fingers deep in her without any awkward exchange about how ‘yes’ she liked that feeling - she liked the edge it brought her to. but it was also basically required for a guy with a dick like seungcheol’s. 

she had missed his dick. 

she pressed him back gently, interrupting the normalcy of it, “can i go down on you?” she whispered. 

he nodded, “yeah, but i was about to do that to you,” he said with a soft smile. 

she reached up, smoothing his bangs, “we could both do it?” she asked, shrugging, pouting just a bit. 

his smile widened, “you really do miss it then?”

she flushed, wondering who the actual fuck had told him that little juicy nugget of information. and also, not really caring, because yes - she had. 

she nodded. 

and they moved so she was lying across him, her pussy in his face, and she was staring directly at the cock that she measured all other cocks against. were they as long as his? were they as thick as his? did they just look like a thing that belonged deep in her throat because his always looked that way.

she was felt his fingers and tongue making quick work of her - his fingers roughly massaging that little spongy spot that did things to her, while his tongue worked her clit. 

she moaned as she licked and sucked the head of his dick - she used her hand to work his length, squeezing the base of his cock tightly and loosening her grip as her hand came closer to her mouth - she pulled off, spitting in her hand before going back to working him. 

she took him deeper in her mouth, letting the head of his dick hit the back of her throat, loving how the smooth, soft skin felt against her tongue. she wanted him to fuck her face and make her gag.

but it was early in the morning - she knew he just wanted to fuck. not f u c k.

she knew she was close to coming, but she wanted to taste him. she started to work quicker, moving her mouth and hand in unison, creating the illusion that she was taking him deeper than she was - she could feel the hard way he was gripping her ass now.

she could hear his soft groans, and the gentle, whispered, “yeah, baby, just like that - so fucking good,” even as he dove back into her, licking and sucking her until she came, until she was a dripping mess that he licked into even more. he finally pulled back, “fuck, i love how you come for me.” he leaned back in, kissing her opening and licking into her - his fingers working her clit again. 

she shivered from the overstimulation, but she kept working his cock, licking and sucking even faster, until she felt the sudden explosion of liquid heat in her mouth - she forced herself to take him deeper, wanting all his cum down her throat. she swallowed and gagged around him. she kept pumping him, until she was sure she had swallowed every last drop. 

when she landed on her back again, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her into the position he liked - her legs wide, one over his shoulder, his hands under her ass lifting it so he could thrust fully into her. she loved when he made her take all of his cock. 

“miss this, baby girl?” he asked - his voice was so low. 

she nodded, “missed it so much,” she whined, grabbing the sheets before he was even inside her - she knew how good it would feel. and with how long it had been, she was sure it would be like the first time - like he was splitting her apart. 

and was she ever right about that part - she bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming. he didn’t stop to say anything - he knew she loved it - knew she loved the way he stretched her every time - not just the first time. 

she was a whining, whimpering mess - she could feel tears pricking the edges of her eyes as he was really fucking into her - rolling his hips relentlessly. 

when he reached down and grabbed her chin, “crying for me?”

she nodded.

“that good?” he asked, breathless and grinning smugly.

she nodded, “so fucking good cheol - i’ve missed you so much,” she whined. 

she definitely hadn’t meant to say that, and even in her dick-addled mind, she hoped he took it as ‘i missed your dick.’

but she felt him pause, it was this one millisecond of him staring at her, having heard her perfectly, knowing exactly what she meant. 

she was shocked when he shifted their position, all so he could lean down and kiss her while still managing to fuck her brains out. sloppy, sweet kisses that almost distracted her from what his cock was doing. 

“missed you too,” he whispered as they pulled apart.

and he sat back up, picking up both her legs this time, putting them over his shoulders, so his dick somehow hit even deeper. 

she yelped from the impact of his dick hitting as deep as he possibly could, pounding her cervix - not to mention he had decided to stroke her clit too.

she knew the familiar sound of her pussy being that wet - the lewd sound it made every time he thrust inside her, every time his dick hit just right - she knew what she was on the precipice of - and then it happened - he pulled out just in time for her to pussy to gush as she came. and then he was thrusting back into her, fucking her like she needed him too. until she felt him come - felt him fill her full and fuck it deep inside her. 

lying next to him after, even if he told her to ‘fuck off’ - at least she had gotten one more great fuck from him. 

but when he pulled her close and curled around her, she had the feeling she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

a/n: i've never written anyone in a 69 before - kind of fun hehe anywayysssss bingo responses are still be responding to, so if you want to send in an ask, feel free - i'm just a bit slow since i finally picked a long fic to work on

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo request, here are the bingo choices - just send an ask:

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♡ bingo reqs master list

♡ seungcheol: knotting + marking || professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) || monster || spanking (neighbor seungcheol) || big dick + hate sex || forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) || voyeurism + punishment || coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (untitled alpha!!cheol pt. 1) ||

♡ mingyu: lingerie + praise kink || bed sharing + big dick || praise + worship kink || vehicle sex + oral fixation || drunk pda + no underwear || enemies to lovers + tentacles ||

♡ seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral ||

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[halsteadlover]

𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲

*Pics not time credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Reader x Charles Leclerc where he’s gets a remote control vibrator during his press conference and he’s trying not to to come or moan and he’s hiding it and when he’s done reader teases him and finally makes him cum really hard.

• Warnings: smut, oral sex (m. receiving), explicit language, dirty talk, use of sex toy.

• Word count: 2K.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+. I hope you like this one, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog ❤️ Thank you so much for your support xx

Charles knew from the moment he saw the mischievous smile plastered on your lips that something was wrong. He definitely didn’t believe that your sweet and innocent smile would lead to nothing but trouble.

At first, it had been the usual, your playful teasing while he got ready, brushing up against him, bending over while casually wearing very revealing shorts, whispering things you knew would drive him insane.

It didn’t take much to drive Charles crazy though, he had no self-control whatsoever when it came to you, even the mere flutter of your eyelashes was enough to have him at your mercy.

“What are you trying to do cherie?” He had murmured in your ear as he grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his body against yours.

You moaned as you felt his erection pressed against your ass and he hissed as you—not innocently at all—rubbed yourself against him.

“What’s the matter, baby, are you needy this morning? Is my princess horny?” He whispered, grinning against your skin as he began to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Mmmh yeah, I want you so much,” you replied, in that sultry voice that drove Charles crazy as he cupped his hands on your breast, making you sigh in pleasure. “But I wanted to give you something before you go.”

He was intrigued but reluctantly let you go. He watched you take a small black velvet box from the closet, and he didn’t miss the spark of mischief in your eyes.

“Wear these for me, baby.”

He knew it.

He should’ve known better. Should’ve known you were up to no good. But Charles Leclerc? He always loved a challenge, especially when it came from you, because he knew how it would end.

But now, sitting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the media room, he regretted indulging you, with every fiber of his being.

The vibrating boxers were a menace. An absolute menace.

He shifted in his seat, trying to keep his face neutral while the journalist droned on about tire degradation and race strategies. But he wasn’t listening to a single word, his attention was totally focused on that low, persistent buzz pressed right against his dick, just enough to make his skin prickle, his pulse race.

Charles cleared his throat away from the microphone, fingers twitching where they rested on the table. He threw a glance toward the back of the room and, of course, there you were. Leaning against the wall, looking like an evil but gorgeous goddess.

God, you were breathtaking, and Charles was so horny and frustrated he didn’t know if he wanted to fuck you first or punish you for the torture you were subjecting him to.

You weren’t even paying attention to the questions. No, your eyes were fixed on him, eating him completely. And when you lifted your phone—just slightly—his stomach twisted.

You wouldn’t.

The smirk on your lips said otherwise.

A sudden jolt of vibration surged through him, again, and Charles sucked in a sharp breath, barely disguising it as a cough.

Max, seated beside him, raised an eyebrow. “You good, mate?”

Charles forced a tight smile as he felt his face grew hotter. “Oui. Yes. Uhm… Just—eh, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine.

Not when you kept pushing the intensity higher, till the point he was afraid of busting a nut there in front of the whole world.

His thighs tensed under the table, and he pressed his heels into the floor, desperate to keep himself composed. His mind spun, not with racing lines or lap times, but with thoughts of your hands, your mouth, and the wicked gleam in your eye when you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

And right now? You definitely had him.

Another wave of pleasure rolled through him, a teasing pulse that had him gripping the mic a little too tightly. The moderator called his name, and it took everything in him to process the question.

“Uh… yes. The car… feels good. A strong package this weekend.”

Of all the words he could’ve chosen.

He glanced at you and saw how you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, and his jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes at you.

By the time the press conference ended—and it felt like an eternity—he was on his feet in seconds, slipping past the other drivers and heading straight to you, internally praying no one would notice the huge hard on in his pants.

The moment you were alone in the hotel room again, he backed you against the wall, his voice low and rough in your ear as his hands groped your ass. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

You giggled softly, fingers grazing the waistband of his jeans as your nose brushed his, without kissing him. “Actually, yes. But don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it baby, I know you loved it.”

You weren’t wrong. As much as you drove him crazy, he craved every second of it. But in that precise moment he craved you, he wanted you, every inch of you.

“Turn it off.”

“Hmm.” Your nails traced his hipbone, featherlight and taunting, making his skin shiver. “Make me.”

Without another word, he grabbed your throat and slammed his lips on yours, in a deep and pornographic kiss, so messy and passionate it made you literally moan into his mouth. His other hand was in your hair, having you completely at his mercy as he took the soul out of your body.

You returned his voracity, his desire with equal passion, making him almost lose the ground under his feet. His patience, already hanging by a thread, snapped the moment your hands started to wander again, this time caressing his hard dick over his pants.

“On your knees, chérie,” he ordered, voice thick with frustration and desire. “You made this mess. You fix it.”

Your smile was nothing short of victorious as you sank down in front of him, your eyes always fixed on his.

He looked at you with such an adoring expression, almost like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature on her knees for him.

It took every ounce of his strength not to come right there and now when your fingers started fumbling with his belt and the buttons of his jeans. The mere image of your face next to his dick was too much, especially when all he had done was imagine the feeling of your warm mouth around him all day.

When his fingers tangled in your hair, Charles thought you were worth all the trouble in the world. He let out a shaky breath, his entire body thrumming with anticipation. He was already so wounded up, so desperate for relief, that the slightest brush of your fingers against him sent a fresh wave of frustration coursing through him.

“Fais quelque chose, chérie…” His voice was rough, strained, filled with barely contained hunger. God, he wanted you so badly, so desperately he felt like he was dying.

You hummed in amusement, dragging your nails along his lower abdomen before finally tugging down his jeans and boxers in one slow, torturous motion. His dick sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip flushed and leaking from the relentless teasing you had subjected him to all day. The sight alone made your mouth water.

“Look at you,” you murmured, wrapping your fingers around him, relishing the way his breath hit the contact. “So worked up for me. Was the press conference hard for you, baby?”

Charles let out a low, almost pained groan. “I’m hating you so much now.”

Your laugh was pure mischief as you leaned forward, trailing your tongue along the underside of his length, slow and teasing, not giving him nearly enough. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, but you pulled back just in time, keeping control and making him curse under his breath.

He lets out another frustrated groan, his hand clenching around your hair. “Arrête tes conneries.”

But you only smiled up at him, your lips brushing over his sensitive tip. Your tongue drew imaginary circles around his tip, tasting and licking away him precum. You whispered, “Make me.”

That was all it took for Charles to snap.

His grip in your hair tightened, and with a deep, guttural moan, he guided you forward, urging you to fully take him into your mouth. The second your warm, wet heat enveloped him, his head slammed back against the wall with a curse.

“Merde… oh, putain, bébé…” His thighs trembled, and his fingers flexed against your scalp as he fought not to thrust too hard, too fast. He wanted to savor it, to punish you by making this last, but you were already setting a devastating pace, your tongue swirling, your lips tightening around him in a way that made him see stars.

Charles had always prided himself on his control. On the track, in his career, even in moments like this, he knew how to hold back, how to prolong the pleasure.

But you? You stripped him of that control effortlessly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his accent thick, voice rasping as his hips started to move, matching the rhythm of your mouth. “You take me so well, chérie. So perfect…”

You moaned around him in response, and the vibrations sent a shudder through his entire body. His abs tensed, his grip turned bruising, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not when your hands kept massaging his balls like he loved it.

Your eyes were fixed on his, on his face twisted with pleasure and the pure sight was an aphrodisiac. You loved seeing him like this, you loved having control over him, you loved driving him so crazy that he didn’t even know how to act anymore.

He threw his head back, the column of his throat so sexy you wanted to lick every inch of it, his jaw defined and clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. God, he was breathtaking.

“Baby,” he warned, his breath ragged as he looked at you again. His free hand rested on your cheek, his thumb drawing imaginary circles on your skin, smearing the mascara running down your face even more, a gesture so sweet and in total contrast to the filthy things you were doing. “Yes, fuck, oh yes… Don’t stop. I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to swallow every single drop.”

But you had no intention of stopping. If anything, you doubled down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking harder, letting your fingers stroke what your mouth couldn’t take.

And that was it, he was completely done for.

A deep, wrecked groan tore from Charles’ throat as his entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. He spilled into your mouth with a shuddering gasp, his muscles trembling as you took every last drop, not stopping until he was completely undone.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of his release still pulsed through him. Slowly, he looked down at you, and the sight nearly undid him all over again—your lips swollen, your eyes dark with satisfaction, your mascara smeared, your tongue darling out to collect the last traces of him.

Charles exhaled sharply, a breathless chuckle escaping him as he pulled you up to your feet. “You... Mon Dieu. You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grinned, draping your arms around his shoulders. “But you love it.”

His hands settled on your waist, tugging you flush against him, and despite the exhaustion still tingling in his limbs, he smirked.

“Oh, chérie, you have no idea how much,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with a promise before crashing his lips on yours. “And I’m going to love it so much more now that it’s your turn.”

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[tiramissyoucake]

I absolutely loved your viltrumite mark writings and I was wondering if you were thinking of making more because they are so good 😭💖

Hi hi, thank you! love Mark and I'm glad you guys like the Viltrumite marriage thing, here's a short one since I'm not sure how to write longer works

CW: forced marriage, fem reader, forced kissing (reader reciprocates so he doesnt get mad), tongue, I don't know what Viltrumites do besides conquer and be menaces to the multiverse ig lol

Your loneliest times were when Mark would have to leave Viltrum, it isn't because his presence was missed; you were locked in a vast empire confined to just the living quarters and bedroom with no access to anyone else but quiet servants who were threatened not to engage with you.

You had two options; sleep off the time or toy with whatever expensive gifts that were dropped off to the bedroom, you loathed his departure more than anything because that was when he'd be at his clingiest.

Your presence was required much to your dismay whenever he'd have to leave, he stood at the entrance. After he relays instructions to whoever he'd bring along he turns to you with the tone of a concerned husband. "Sweetheart," he breathed as he held your hand, a ring caging your finger. "I'll be gone for recon so it won't be as long as last month's invasion, it will be approximately 3 days."

3 days of peace, of silence. You nodded, you didn't exactly have anything to add. "Be safe." A dry request that he took as genuine concern from his wife, he smiled as his hand came up to kiss your knuckles. "You're cute when you worry, but you know nothing can touch me."

You prayed that ego would be his downfall.

Mark came closer. "Give me a kiss goodbye." His tone was sweet, but it was a demand for you to initiate affection, dark eyes filled with affection and possessiveness, like he waited for your validation. you restrained an angered look from flashing across your features as you cupped his cheek gently, leaning up to press your lips to his.

It was supposed to be a short peck, innocent and brief. His hands snaked around your body as he tilted his head to deepen it further, mouth slotting against yours melting as his moan was muffled by your lips, tongue seeking entrance to your lips.

Resisting him was always a headache, his hands against your back were unmoving unless it was to feel your flesh, you parted your lips as your eyebrows furrowed, squirming as he savored the taste of your lips, your tongue, your being. "Fuck- I don't wanna go.." he murmured between kisses, panting as his chest pressed to yours, his heart racing. "I'll be home soon, I promise- mmf, wait for me.."

His words sounded more like self-comfort than words to coax you to wait, your hands rested on his shoulders, Mark finally pulled away with a wet noise resounding from your lips, licking his own. "... You have no idea what you do to me, you vixen." You looked away, he wrote it off as you being shy, a grin on his face as he restrained the urge to cancel the mission and drag you back to the bedroom.

Begrudgingly, his hands slowly pulled away from your body. "I'm going now," he strained, his hand running through his black hair and adjusting it. "I'll send you more gifts in my absence."

You adjusted your disheveled clothes, face flushed as you breathed. "... I look forward to it, see you in 3 days."

He smiled, your obedience always drove him wild, those 3 days can't end soon enough.

[httpsdana]

Hello ♡

I was wondering if I could request boyfriend headcanon for Pau?

~ 🌷

Boyfriend Headcanon~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I still have requests for Jamal Pedri and Gavi headcanon hehehe. I'm probably writing them tomorrow.

❖ bf! Pau is a blushy baby. Pau blushes so easily. Like, if you call him “handsome” or “my boy,” his ears go pink instantly. You love teasing him just to see that reaction; a hand under his chin, a soft “you’re so pretty,” and he’s ducking his head with a shy little smile, mumbling, “Stop…” (but secretly he loves it).

❖ bf! Pau is a fan of gentle touches and always asking first. He’s incredibly respectful with physical affection. He’ll always ask, “Can I kiss you?” even months into the relationship.

❖ bf! Pau keeps every little gift you give him. The little letter you sent him when you were away visitng your parents? It’s folded neatly in his wallet. The bracelet you made him on a random Tuesday? He never takes it off.

❖ bf! Pau always whispers your name like it’s sacred. He says your name so tenderly. Like he savors it, so soft usually under his breath when you’re cuddled on the couch or falling asleep on his chest. Sometimes it’s just a whisper between kisses a gentle reminder of the love he has for you.

❖ bf! Pau gets nervous around your friends. Even though he’s so composed on the pitch, when he met your friends for the first time, he’s the shyest thing ever. He stood behind you a little, offering quiet smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. But he really tries, because he wants them to like him. He’ll even ask you afterward, “Did I do okay?”

❖ bf! Pau is secretly obsessed with you but plays it cool (he always fails). He’ll act chill in public, but one compliment from you and he’s absolutely melting. He tries to play it off like, “Yeah, I missed you too,” but the way his cheeks flush says otherwise.

❖ bf! Pau gets flustered when you wear his stuff. You in his hoodie? That’s it. Game over. He stares like you just walked out of a dream, then tries to act normal. But you catch him smiling into his water bottle or fiddling with his rings just to distract himself when he looks away from you.

❖ bf! Pau sends you song at night. He’ll randomly send you soft acoustic songs before bed with a simple “this reminded me of you.” He won’t explain more, just leaves you melting, while he lies in bed blushing and hoping you liked it.

❖ bf! Pau kisses your hands when words fail to express his adoration. Whenever he’s overwhelmed or struggling to say how much he loves you, he takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly. It’s his quiet way of saying “thank you for being here,” or “I love you so much. I don’t know what to do with it.”

❖ bf! Pau never shuts up about you to his family. You haven’t even met all of them yet, but they already know everything, “She loves strawberry ice cream,” “She’s studying so hard for her finals, I’m bringing her dinner,” “She gets cold easily, I need to bring her a scarf.” His mom tells you later, laughing, “He doesn’t stop talking about you, cariño.”

❖ bf! Pau has eyes that can never hide how deeply in love he is, and still falling even more. Even after months. You catch him looking at you with that soft smile like he’s still stunned by how lucky he is. He gets that dazed look whenever you’re laughing or talking excitedly about something you love. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches, so in awe, heart full.

❖ bf! Pau is the biggest gentleman. He was raised to be one, and he won't do anything less for you. Opening the door for you, paying for your dinner, helping you clasp your necklace. He believes it's the only way to treat any woman, especially you. The one he's deeply in love with.

❖ bf! Pau is the most loyal person you can meet. You see his loyalty for Barça? He's even more loyal to you. The way he sees his whole future with Barça is the same way he sees your relationship in the future. Forever and always.

❖ bf! Pau adores sleepovers with you. You always have something new planned for him when he comes and sleeps at your parents' house. It's either baking together, playing new card games, or having a movie marathon. He just loves spending time with you doing whatever, as long as he sees your smile and hears your laugh.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[butlervibesonly]

Ok,so hear me out: Austin being the biggest supporter(and not so stuble fangirl) of the reader who's a very succesfull book author. She's a childhood friends with Callum, and he knows about his not so subtle crush and introduces them, and when they reveal their relationship to the fans, he can't hide his admiration for he📚

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | Austin Butler

• Pairing: Austin Butler x writer! reader

• Warnings: like fluff and typos maybe !! The Twitter posts are FAKE and made by me for fic uses only!!

• Proofreader: my darling @eternal-love ! 🤍

• Note: THIS REQUEST?! I absolutely loved it and enjoyed writing this! Thank you!!

Whenever Austin finds free time to do something else besides working and acting — he is reading. And… well, no lies, all of us have some favorite author whom books we love deeply. Sometimes we maybe even love the author themselves. And Austin? Gosh, he adores Y/n L/n… Now very popular and New York times best selling author.

He has almost every book you have ever written, and he also starts to show off his “obsession” on socials. In not happened only once that he shared the new book you written or any other exciting new on his Instagram. And? You couldn’t be happier about it.

You know Austin because of your dear friend who you know since when the two of you were kids — Callum. When he started to work on Masters Of The Air, you heard nothing but talks about Austin. And not going to lie, you like that guy… quite a lot.

One day, when Austin eventually posted some other buzzing news of your work, Callum decided to make it real. To make his friends happy. And maybe… in love? Callum is sitting in his apartment, when he takes his phone and searches for Austin’s contact. With a grin he texts him;

“Dude, you know she’s my childhood friend, right?”

When Austin gets that message, he just scoffs and amuses it’s a joke. Until Callum sends him a picture of you and him together from earlier years. And that, my dears, begin Austin’s crises.

Callum just takes the opportunity and takes Austin to your book singing event. The bookstore is buzzing with excitement. A long line snakes around the shelves, filled with fans clutching their copies of the latest novel that you wrote. Austin is standing somewhere in the middle of the line, not even caring about people recognizing him, while gripping his book like it might fly away.

“Okay, Austin, you got this. Just say something normal. Compliment her writing. You like her after all… Don’t be weird. Don’t confess your undying love for her writing. And for the love of… everything, DO NOT FAINT!”

Callum is standing beside him is scrolling through his phone, utterly unimpressed by the chaos around him. He glances at Austin and smirks. “Are you… shaking?” Callum teases him, knowing Aus is a bit shy person.

“I’m. Not. Shaking.” Austin hisses, trying to calm down and don’t let everyone else around him how deeply he loves your writing. And you too. The line moves forward, and Austin takes a deep breath. He can see you now—his favorite author. You’re sitting behind a table, chatting with fans kindly as you sign books, looking effortlessly perfect. He swallows hard.

“She’s just a person, Austin! A person who wrote the greatest books ever. No big deal. Totally normal human interaction happening here. Is it…? Actor and author. Hah..”

Finally, it’s Austin’s turn to get his book signed by you. As soon as you lift your head and see him with Callum by your side, you smile warmly. “Hi! You must be Austin! Callum told me a lot about you!” you say, trying to keep your cool. You are talking to the guy who is literally breath taking, played Elvis Presley and Feyd Rautha and…

Austin nods with nervous smile and opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. He panics. Then, unfortunately, his brain decides that words need to happen—right now. “Your book changed my life-“

Callum faceplams himself, knowing this just had to happen. You blink, trying to recognize if he meant it in positive or negative way. “In a… good way I hope?” Austin lets out a slightly manic laugh. “YES. Yes! I mean, emotionally. I almost cried. A lot. It was beautiful. Not that I like pain or—”

Callum slaps his hand over Austin’s mouth and smiles at you. “What he means is, he’s a big fan.” Callum raises his eyebrows in a smirk. Austin just nods frantically behind Callum’s hand. At that you chuckle, signing the book Austin brought. “That’s sweet. I’m glad you liked it.” You sign the book in way you never did to anyone…

‘With love to Austin, Y/n L/n xx’

Austin finally gets his signed copy back and stumbles away in a daze. He doesn’t register Callum grabbing his shoulder until they’re a few steps away from the table. “I need to introduce you two together properly…”

As soon as Aus hears that, he turns to him, still processing. “What?” Then he sees as Callum takes out his phone, and suddenly gets a very, very bad feeling… or maybe good one, who knows.

No longer after Austin is standing in front of the café nearby the bookshop. All fans are gone, no more rush or excitement from the fact you were there or Austin is there. “This is just bad idea, Cal-“

“This? This is amazing idea.” Callum says with complete calmness, while Austin clutches his signed book as if it’s gonna grow legs and run away. “I… I am nervous and she will think I am weirdo or something…” Austin murmurs.

“She is going to love-“ As Callum says that, Austin’s eyes widen, absolutely not believing his words. “What?” Austin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Maybe I should just go—” Before he can escape, you start approaching them both. You are wearing jeans, with beige pair of jeans and white cardigan.

You smile when you see Callum. “Hey, you!” Callum gives you a one-armed hug. “Hey, book lover! Thanks for coming.” He gestures to Austin. “You remember this guy?” You look at Austin, seeing his shy smile.

“How couldn’t I? It’s Mr. Austin Butler himself.” you hand out your hand to offer him some proper introducing. Austin takes it and holds your hand – and it fits as if it was made for it. “Yeah, Austin, nice to meet you.” you smile warmly.

“Please is mine,” Austin smiles, staring at you, as if world around him fated. “Yeah, Austin’s basically your unofficial hype man. The guy won’t shut up about your books.” Callum chimes in with a smirk. To that Austin just nudges his arm and hisses his name.

“Oh! I noticed…” you chuckle, warmth spreading through your chest. In a while the tree of you go into the café, only some people sitting by tables, enjoying their coffee. “So… you like my books?” you ask while walking beside Austin, following Callum who searches for spot to sit.

Austin takes a breath and nods. “I mean, uh, yeah. I really admire your writing. It’s… brilliant. You have such a wonderful way with words, and the way you build characters and emotions, it just mesmerizing.” When he says that, you smile warmly. He is actually first person to ever talk about your books like this.

As soon as Callum finds perfect spot — table for two — he claps Austin on the back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two nerds to it.” Austin blinks. “Wait, what?” Callum grins, already backing toward the door. “You’re welcome.”

Austin watches in horror as Callum abandons him and disappears outside. He turns back to you, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “He was always like this…” you chuckle nervously. You are left in café with Austin Butler himself.

“You are left in café with Y/n L/n, Butler. Get yourself together.”

“So… wanna sit?” Austin nods to your question —probably a little too fast—but sits down. You two settle into a corner booth, his hands still tightly gripping his book. “So… aside from reading my books… do you read something else?” you ask, almost awkwardly but enough to break the embarrassing silence.

“Oh—uh, a lot, actually. I mean, obviously your books are my favorite, but I love anything with strong characters and emotional depth,” Austin says, smiling. “Sometimes even classics.” Your eyes sparkle with amusement. “Oh really? Me too! What are your u favorites?”

“Basically anything. I really liked Oliver Twist, Great Gatsby let’s say Harry Potter,” Austin smiles and leans forward, suddenly too excited to be nervous. You nod enthusiastically. “Same! I mean, I love there’s gotta be something about how the classics were written.”

Austin’s whole face lights up. “Exactly! That’s what makes your books so good. I think it’s pretty visible on your books, it’s just… the way you write and transform words into almost too good to be true sentences. It’s truly something!” With a wide smile you listen him talking about your books.

It’s evident he has read your books. Austin Butler has read your books. “Thank you! You’re seriously good for my ego.” you joke and Austin laughs. “No really, I admire your passion not only for books but for… everything. Callum told me a lot.”

“He did…?” you ask surprisedly. Austin’s cheeks turn a bit red. “Yeah, well. You are childhood friends after all…” he tries to save the situation, and hide the fact he asked about you countlessly.

“What about movies? Are you as obsessed with storytelling in film as you are in books?” Austin asks, trying not to fail completely. “Are you kidding! I love movies!” you smile widely. You like this conversation more than anything right now.

“I analyze everything—structure, dialogue, character arcs. It drives me crazy. And I also love your movies too.” Austin’s jaw drops. “Aw… thank you so much. I’m glad when people admire the passion I give into roles.”

“Oh you so do! I mean, c’mon… The Elvis performance? Feyd? Benny? Loved that.” you blush a bit and so does Austin. “Okay, another question I am curious about —favorite movie that destroyed you emotionally? But in good way?”

“I adore The Notebook.” Austin doesn’t even hesitate. “The fact Noah built Allie her dream house while she was completely clueless? And the ending? Oh man…”

“You gotta be my twin or something! I absolutely love The Notebook!” you smile widely. It’s not always when you meet someone with same passions as you do. And Austin being the one? It’s like a dream. “You’re joking.” Austin stares. You shake your head, smiling. “Nope. The romance, and the conclusion? Nicholas Sparks is brilliant.”

Austin places a dramatic hand over his heart. “I think this is the greatest day of my life.” You snort happily. “You're exaggerating!”

“Nope, just passionate for person who is like me,” Austin corrects, then immediately regrets it. “Oh god, that sounded weird.” You just grin, loving the way he talks. “Nah, I like it. Passionate people make the best conversations.”

Austin feels his brain short-circuit. He quickly takes a sip of water to stop himself from saying something even more embarrassing.

The two of you talk for what feels like hours, your conversation flowing effortlessly from books to movies to random things that make you both happy—favorite rainy day activities, dream travel destinations, the best comfort foods. Eventually, you lean back in your chair, stirring the ice in your iced latte. “You know, I was kind of nervous about this.”

Austin blinks confusedly. “Wait… You- you were nervous?” You nod with shy smile. “Look, you are Austin Butler, I am me. I thought this will be filled with fans buzzing over us, or that I will sound like pathetic fan… I am your big fan tho. But this? I enjoy our time.”

Austin tries not to combust on the spot. “Well, I guess Callum does have good ideas sometimes.” You laugh and shake your head in amusement. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll never let us live it down.” Austin laughs, and for the first time all day, he feels completely at ease.

During the next months you and Austin became inseparable. You visited each other, spent a lot of time together, and texted each other. Now you are at the café where Callum introduced you both. The café is quiet tonight, it’s quiet Wednesday evening, the hum of espresso machines and soft jazz music filling the space. The usual crowd has dwindled, leaving just a few late-night readers and students buried in their laptops.

Austin and you are in usual booth by the window, two half-empty coffee cups between them. “Okay, controversial take— Mr. Darcy is most romantic man ever written.” Austin nearly drops his coffee. “Excuse me?” You smirk, leaning back in your chair. “I said what I said!” Austin mocks offense, playfully grin on his lips. “I feel personally attacked.”

“Oh, why? I mean can you blame me?” you laugh, loving the playful banter between you. Austin groans. “C’mon, L/n... I thought I was the most romantic man ever written.” If you know Austin enough already you would even say he is flirting.

You raise an eyebrow, and chuckle. “Well… That is high statement, you know?” Austin just scoffs and takes a sip from his coffee. “I am just messing around.. You really like that book, don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah. I just think it’s cool when a story can take a character you hate at first and make you root for them by the end. It’s good writing.” you confess with a smile. Austin could listen to your talking about books and writing all the time and you could listen to him talking about acting.

You two make a good pair without even realizing it… Austin takes a slow sip of his coffee, trying to hide the stupid grin creeping onto his face. This was supposed to be just another night at the café. But somehow, it feels like something is changing.

It all happens so slowly that Austin doesn’t even realize it at first. The lingering touches. The way your calls stretch late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up first. The way you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie when you walk together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And then there are the looks. Austin catches himself watching you when you’re animatedly talking about your books. You catch him staring when you’re focused on writing, biting your lip in concentration. It’s happening. And you’re both so in trouble.

One night Austin invited you on some movie event where Callum is as well. Austin and you are sitting beside each other, a little closer than just friends do, but not quite anything more. You eventually get up to use the restroom and Callum takes the opportunity to talk to Austin. “Alright. You two need to just make out already.”

Austin almost chokes on his drink. “Callum, for Gosh sake!” he sets his drink down, cheeks red. “Look, I saw this coming from miles away.” He points at Austin. “You’ve been obsessed with her books forever.” Then Callum points at you leaving to restroom. “And she gets this look when you talk about them or anything else!”

Austin feels his cheeks burning with blood. He feels like a 15 year old boy being teased about his high school sweetheart, but deeply in his heart, he realizes that Callum is right. “If you don’t start dating tonight, I am not talking to you anymore!”

It may sound like a threat, but Austin takes his words really seriously and the same night he confesses his love for you, and by all surprises so do you. After months and months of sneaking glances at each other and absolutely loving the way you both are together, you’re finally dating.

You were nominated for The Inkspire Awards as best author of the year and you attended with Austin by your side where the two of you confirmed your relationship. It was so beautiful to address Austin as your boyfriend and biggest supporter.

Austin is now at interview due to his new project — The studio lights shine bright as Austin settles into the plush chair opposite the host. The crowd cheers as his name is announced, and he flashes a smile, waving before the applause dies down.

“Austin, welcome! You’ve been having an incredible year— new movies, award nominations, and, of course, a certain romance that has everyone talking!” the host grins warmly. Austin smiles widely as hint of you is being mentioned

“I knew you’d bring this up.” he chuckles and sits more comfortably in the chair. “Well, how could I not? You and the incredibly talented Y/n L/n. She is one of the most celebrated authors lately! You two make a powerful couple now!” host grins excitedly. Austin rubs the back of his neck, trying and failing to play it cool. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“You’ve been a fan of her work for years, right?” Austin brightens instantly. “Oh, way before we even Austin rubs the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to play it cool. “I mean… yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”

“You’ve been a fan of her work for years, right?” Austin’s smile brightens instantly. “Oh, way before we even met. I was obsessed! Like, full-on, day-one fanboy. Her books are brilliant. The way she builds worlds, her character arcs, the emotional depth—just, everything. It’s unreal.”

The audience goes ‘awww’. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone this excited talking about their partner’s work.” the host teases. Austin laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t help it. I’m still in awe. Every time I see her writing, I have this moment of like, ‘Wow, that’s my girlfriend. She’s creating stories that people will love forever.’ And I am lucky to love her forever.”

More awws come from the crowd and Austin pretends not to blush. “And I need to ask, how did the two of you actually got together?” the host asks, leaning forward to Austin. Austin groans, already knowing where this is headed. “Oh god, Callum is never going to let me live this down.”

The host and audience laughs at the mention of Callum. “So it’s true? Your mutual friend Callum Turner set you up?” Austin hides his face into his hands and laughs. Austin leans forward, grinning. “Okay, picture this—I’m at a book signing, being a total nervous wreck because I finally get to meet my favorite author. Callum, being absolutely obsessed with the fact of setting us together, just throws me into an introduction like, ‘Hey, this is Austin, he’s obsessed with you. Anyway, bye!’.”

The audience bursts into laughter “That’s… incredible.” the host laughs. Austin grins, being actually grateful to Callum. “Yeah, I wanted to die on the spot. But somehow, she didn’t run away. We started talking about books, movies, all these things we both love… and we just clicked.”

Austin takes a breath and smiles warmly. “I remember the first time I picked up one of her books. I was totally immersed. It wasn’t just the way she writes, though her prose is stunning. It is the stories she creates. Flawed, real, raw. Characters who made mistakes, who learned, who changed. And I just…man, I fell in love with the way she sees the world. The way she turns thoughts into words, words into stories that feel alive…”

The host smiles softly, loving his truthful and love full words. “So, yeah. I was a fan of her long before I met her. But now? Now I get to see the person behind the words, and she’s… Gosh, she’s everything. She’s my favorite story. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop reading thank to her."

[emeraldserenade]

Coming Home ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you come home to your bed and your boyfriend waiting for you.

tw: fem!reader, none?, barely edited

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This being based on me just getting home after my three day long trip to Kansas? What? That's crazy talk. However, if it was, the only difference here is that I drove and didn't have Joaquín to come home to. Anyway, I'm back! And I am working my way through requests so have this one while I continue to work on them.

➽──────────────❥

Trips for work were, sadly, a bit part of your job. Upper management seemed to love to send you to random places to aid in a conference or a meeting where you are treated as nothing more than an overpaid secretary.

You loved your job, but you loved your bed and your Joaquín more. You had been gone for only three days, yet you craved your bed and being next to Joaquín. You were watching the sky pass on the private plane your employers had you and the others on, your music played through your headphones as you ignored everyone else.

It was closer to 1:20am when you landed. You rushed off the plane, barely saying goodbye to your coworkers, and rushed to the car that was waiting for you. They knew your address and took off as soon as you were in the seat, you were barely buckled but were by the time you pulled on the main road.

"Thank you!" You called as you jumped out the backseat and to the trunk so you could grab your bags. You waved to the driver as you made it to the door, you punched in the code and rushed inside. Your movements slowed as you reached closer to the bedroom, you didn't want to wake Joaquín. You missed him but you didn't want to make him get up just because you were home.

You gently placed your bag down next to the dresser, you would unpack in the morning when the sun was up. You slowly undressed, your shoes having been kicked off at the front door. "Angel?" Joaquín's tired voice floated through the air and you relaxed. You spun to face him, in nothing but one of his shirts that hung just under the swell of your ass.

"Hey, baby," you walked over, plugging your phone in as you reached your bed.

"You're home," Joaquín sighed and pulled you to him as you got in bed. You were surrounded by the sheets, the pillows, the blanket, and him and you finally fully relaxed.

"I am, and I'm so happy to be," you pressed a kiss to his bare chest, one that he reciprocated with a kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You two fell into a comfortable silence as both of your breathing evened out and you fell asleep. Content and happy with the fact that you were home and in Joaquín's arms again.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[22ayla21]

Hehehe, thanks for always do my request, but I want to became anon just for this time, because I always send 1 or two request to you (after you done with my request) (I meant, I really like your writing about the trio husband and then I start to have someone Idea coming to my brain and I want to request it to you 😞👉👈)

For your trio crysos heir husband :3

This time I want to request : about their wife avoiding the husband, because they made her walk limping, so the wife sulk and start to avoiding her husband,when the husband talk to her she start to reply with short talk, when the husband is clingy towards her she start to distance herself from them, I hope the husband will try to make her stop avoiding them.

The child know their father is doing something that make their mother feel like that, maybe the child start to interrogate the husband.

An attempt at reconciliation

After that little revenge, his wife was offended by him, and he is trying to make amends.

His wife is not just offended, she has declared an unspoken war on silence. When he speaks to her, she either nods briefly or answers in monosyllables, so that even the cool evening wind seems warm and welcoming in comparison.

Usually she is the first to cling to him, but now, as soon as he touches her, she moves away with an imperturbable look. He would prefer that she get angry, yell, hit, but this icy ignoring is real torture.

The older children, noticing the coldness of their mother, immediately understand that their father has done something. They arrange a real interrogation, surrounding him with sly looks:

- "Have you done something to her?"

- "Have you offended mother?"

Breakfast in bed, gifts, even rare moments when he gives in to her in arguments - all useless. She holds the line, as if it were a fortress, and is not going to capitulate.

He deliberately hints at her ignoring him in front of the children:

- "Children, can anyone explain to me why your mother suddenly forgot how to talk to me?"

But his wife just silently takes her tea and leaves. The children look at him with suspicion again.

In the end, Mydei understands that the only way to regain her favor is to honestly admit his mistake. And he does this, not out of pride, but because he cannot stand her coldness. Of course, she does not give in right away, but after a sincere apology, the ignoring begins to crack. And when in the evening he carefully kisses her hand, she no longer pulls away. Maybe tomorrow morning she will smile at him again.

The wife is in total ignoring mode. She doesn’t get angry openly, doesn’t make scenes, but… her silence is much worse. She answers in monosyllables, avoids eye contact, and if he tries to touch her, she moves away as if he simply doesn’t exist.

Anaxa quickly realizes that he’s in trouble. He’s not one to be afraid of difficulties, but being ignored by the woman he loves? It’s a disaster.

Attempts to make amends. At first, he’s careful: he brings her favorite tea, gives her more rest, does some of her chores for her. When that doesn’t work, he moves on to more obvious signs of attention: he leaves her flowers, notes of apology, is even ready to take on her responsibilities for the whole day… but nothing helps.

The wife remains adamant. If he clings to her, she gently but firmly leaves. If he does something good, she simply accepts it without emotion. Anaxagoras didn’t exist. He was a ghost in their house.

The children notice their parents' strange behavior. They quickly realize that something is wrong with their mother and that their father is being too accommodating. The interrogation begins. They surround their father, arms crossed, and one of them asks:

— Dad, what have you done?

Anaxa, being an adult, smart, and formidable man... feels cornered. He tries to brush it off: "This is between me and your mother..." But the children don't let up: "But this is mom! We love her! If you hurt her, we need to know!" The youngest child hits his weak spot. He tugs his father's sleeve and asks sadly:

— You won't hurt mom again, will you?

Critical damage to Anaxa's pride. Now he's serious about apologizing. Not just with words, but to prove that he realized his mistake.

He does something unexpected. Perhaps he will organize a special evening just for her, openly admit his guilt, and even be ready to humbly wait for her to forgive him. The children watch the process as if it were the most exciting performance. And when, finally, mom starts smiling at dad again, they sigh with relief. But they will not forget this. And the next time, when dad again decides to "take revenge" on mom... he must be prepared for a new interrogation.

The wife literally ignores him, answers briefly, without emotion, pretends that he does not exist. Phainon feels as if he was thrown out of the family. If he tries to hug or even just touch her, she deftly dodges. Even if their hands accidentally touch, she immediately pulls hers away.

The children quickly notice the strange behavior of their parents. Mom is stern and silent, and dad follows her with a guilty face. Of course, they are interested.

- "Dad, what did you do?"

- "Did you offend mom?!"

- "Did you apologize?"

- "Do you even understand how dangerous it is to anger mom?"

Phainon tries to make amends. He starts making breakfast for her, compliments her, brings her favorite sweets... But in response - only a cold look or a light "Thank you" without a hint of emotion.

He gives in... almost. At some point, he will literally fall to his knees in front of her, begging for forgiveness, if only she would talk to him normally again. The wife secretly enjoys his torment. Although she continues to ignore him, deep down she knows perfectly well that he is suffering, and this amuses her slightly.

The children find this incredibly funny.

- "Hahaha, dad, mom punished you!"

- "Now you know what happens when you make mom angry!"

Finally, Phainon uses his last weapon. He does something incredibly romantic - he throws a dinner, dedicates a passionate monologue to her, perhaps even falls to one knee in front of her, admitting his guilt.

Of course, the wife gives in. Although she has been holding the line for a long time, her heart is not made of stone. In the end, she still forgives her husband, but on one condition - he must remember this lesson for a long time!

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Relationships have many phases, and now it's time for a new one.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, my dears.

A/N: This chapter by far has been a favorite to write, I really hope you guys love it!

Requests are OPEN

Chapter 10

Chapter 11- Surprise

Jiyong looks over the sparkling diamonds in the jewelry store.

“What about this one?” Seunghyun asks pointing to one.

“Too small,” he says as he barely glances at it.

“Jiyong it’s 8 carats,” Seunghyun deadpans.

“Hyung, why are you freaking out about this?” Seunghyun puts his hand on his best friend’s shoulder causing Jiyong to look at him.

“It’s got to be perfect,” his hair is slightly frazzled and the stress is evident on his face.

“It will be, you know her, quit thinking about what’s going to impress her and think about what she’d be happy with.”

“It all seems like it isn’t enough, nothing says, ‘I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you’,” he sighs and puts his face in his hands.

“Ji, you’re thinking too hard. You know her,” he reassures his friend. Jiyong is completely at a loss. He’s been looking at rings for months, he started slowly looking when he found out you were pregnant but given the tragedy that followed that, it wasn’t exactly the best time to propose. It’s been a year now since it happened and he’s ready and silently praying you are too.

“What about this?” Jiyong waves Seunghyun over to a ring that’s exactly your style, cut, and size you’d love.

“I think she’d love it,” he says in support.

“It’s her, ya know? It’s perfect.” He sighs as he waves the jewler over asking to see it outside the case. He holds it delicately, watching the way the diamonds catch the light.

“I’ll take it.” He looks at the man who has a polite smile on his face. Jiyong quickly pulls out his black card and purchases the beautiful piece of jewelry.

“Take this home, and keep it somewhere safe. I can’t risk her finding it.” He hands the bag to Seunghyun who was more than happy to give his buddy a helping hand.

-

He arrives home and you’re working on a painting.

“Oppa?” you call out from the room. Silence.

“Ji,” you yell out louder.

“Miss me?” He appears in the door way with a smirk and you set down your brushes before embracing him.

“How was your day at the studio?” He shrugs with a coy smile.

“Pretty normal, did some recording, mixing and all that.” He looks at you with love filled eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggle softly as you shift your weight under his gaze.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” he says before cupping your cheeks and giving you a sweet kiss.

“I have a surprise for you,” he winks.

“Oh?” you lift your brow in suspicion.

“I booked you an appointment to get a manicure and pedicure in the morning,” he smiles and you grin at him.

“Thank you Oppa but you didn’t have to do that." He tuts in response.

“Let me spoil you, Jagiya, the appointment is at 9 am,” he informs you and you both leave the studio to get washed up for dinner.

-

The next morning you’re at your nail appointment and you get a text from Jiyong as the pedicure begins.

I’m packing your bags, when I pick you up we’re going straight to the airport, anything special I should pack?

You look at the text confused.

Where are we going?

You wait a moment and see his little typing bubble.

Don’t ask questions, just let me know.

You can’t think of what he’d be doing, I mean why the sudden extravagance lately? It was out of the ordinary for this, but this just didn’t quite seem like him. Especially when he won’t tell you anything.

Just my phone charger and a bathing suit if there’s water at this mystery location. As well as any other clothes.

You send out the text as your mind races wondering what in the world your boyfriend has planned.

-

As you board the plane you can’t help but fidget nervously.

“Where are we going?” you whine slightly, the anticipation bugging you.

“Nae sarang,” he begins with an amused smile, “patience,” he wags his finger. His own anxiety is beginning to get to him. What if its wrong? What if everything falls apart or something screws up? Or worse, what if you flat out say no?

You huff as you sit against the airplane seat.

“How long is the flight?”

“Couple hours,” he answers simply. The plane takes off and you watch out the window, still curious as to what the heck is going on.

“How long will we be gone?”

“A couple days,” his answers are short, ominous almost.

“What are you up to, Ji,” you ask realizing he’s got something planned. Of course he does, he always does. A couple hours into the flight the two of you are holding hands. It’s been silent, the two of you comfortably enjoying each other’s company.

“Can I ask you something?” He looks over at you with brows raised.

“Always.”

“Why me,” you ask him quietly.

“What do you mean,” there’s a slight chuckle to his voice but he’s all too serious too.

“Why’d you pick me?” His heart raced at your question.

“Because I love you,” he answers but you shake your head.

“I know, but why?” He sighed as he turned his body to yours. He was trying to not give away his speech he had planned.

“Aein, do you know the fullness you add to my life? Do you not understand that I would go to war for you anytime anywhere? That I’d choose you over and over and over again in a million different lives. And yes, I’d still love you if you were a worm,” he winks and you giggle at the last part.

“But why?” you ask again, not to drag it out of him, but you simply wanted to understand why he stayed by your side the last two years.

“Because you’re you. And you’re worth it. You always have been and you always will be. There’s nothing more to it. I’m not just in love with your body," he pauses for a moment to really gaze into your eyes, to gaze into your soul, "baby I’m in love with your soul, the way you see the world, the way you laugh and your generous kind heart. I’m in love with the way you see things in ways most others don’t, the way you get excited over the smallest things and how you talk a little too fast when you get excited about something you want to share with others. The way you walk, the way you talk, it’s a breath of fresh air every. Single. Day.” Your face flushes and tears are beginning to prick your eyes at his heartfelt words. He smiles as one escapes and rolls down your cheek.

“I love you,” you smile as he wipes the tear off your cheek.

“I love you more,” he says.

-

After you get off the plane you’re taken to a boat dock, taking a boat to your room. You feel the heat of the sun and humidity in the air and when you see the overwater bungalows come into view you realize exactly where you are, Bora Bora.

“Jiyong, you didn’t!” You turn to him and he all ready has a huge smile plastered across his face.

“Surprise,” he says with raised brows and an amused look on his face. You throw your arms around his neck and his go around your waist. You breathe in the salty air realizing the two of you are getting a much-needed relaxing vacation.

-

As you two get settled in the bungalow you can’t help but feel the relaxation take hold. You guys have couple massages, meals that neither of you have to cook and it’s not take out, and time alone, without the world. Lately it seemed like unless you were in the comfort of you own home, and sometimes not even then, did you get any privacy. Ever since news broke about your relationship and your miscarriage, it’s like the media went into a frenzy, constantly wanting to know every little detail of your lives.

That night you’re standing on the balcony of the bungalow, the bedroom behind you lit with warm yellow lighting against the wooden features of the room, just breathing, taking in the solace of being alone; of being happy and stress free. Jiyong watches you smiling to himself, happy that he can be the one to give you a break from the suffocating life of being in the public eye. He knew it got to you, even though you didn’t complain, not once did you complain since the two of you decided to go all in. But it got to him, and he’d been in the industry since he was a little kid, so he knew it took a toll on you.

He quietly walks up behind you, pulling you into his chest, resting his head on your shoulder looking out at the blue water as the lights outside light up the night sky.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you mention as you close you eyes, leaning against him. The sea breeze pulls goosebumps up on your skin but you don’t care. You’re in a place of solace.

“Are you happy?” He mumbles in your ear and you hum in response with a relaxed and content smile on your face.

“How could I not be? I’m on a private beach, with the man of my dreams, and we get time alone together. I’m in paradise, Jagiya.” You affirm. He smiles and kisses your temple as he holds you there. His heart beat is at a steady pace. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out he see’s a text from Seunghyun. He steps away for a moment to read it.

We just got in, we’ll be at the beach tomorrow to set up everything. Keep her busy. We got the photographer.

Jiyong’s heart beat suddenly quickens at the thought of tomorrow night.

Sounds good, you have the ring, right?

It takes only a minute to get a response.

Shit, I knew I forgot something!

Jiyong’s breath gets caught in his throat and his anxiety sky rockets when another text comes in

I’m kidding hyung, I have it. Quit freaking out, it’s going to be fine.

Jiyong breathes a sigh of relief as you walk back inside.

“You ok, baby?” you notice the pale look on his face.

“I’m good,” he smiles before sending a text back to Seunghuyn.

Fuck off that’s not funny.

-

The next day Jiyong has you going all over the place, there’s snorkeling, a glass bottom boat tour, and of course a shopping spree in town where he buys you a new outfit for tonight. It’s a simple white dress with sandals to match.

“I don’t need any more clothes,” you giggle as you walk up to the counter. He wants you to wear it out since you’re going straight to dinner.

“Just trust me, Jagi.” You sigh at his satisfied smirk.

“You look beautiful,” he says as he swipes his card and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” you smile satisfied. You expect to be going to a restaurant but when you hop on a boat you’re once again confused as to where you’re going. Jiyong helps you on and the ride is silent, but Jiyong’s heartbeat is in his ears. He’s almost shaking with the anxiety, both good and bad. When you get to your destination you see a small square table set up with two chairs, surrounded by 4 tiki torches, and rose petals around the table and chairs. There’s champagne in a bucket and plates ready for your dinner.

You get off the boat and walk over to the romantic dinner. Jiyong quickly gauges your reaction as he takes in the awe-struck look on your face. A single tear rolls down your cheek as the magic of the moment really seeps in. He smiles to himself as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours walking you to the table.

“Ji, it’s beautiful,” you gasp as you look at the intricate but intimately detailed space.

“Thank you,” you hug him before you sit down and he takes a moment to lock in this memory, one of the last before your lives are hopefully forever changed. The sun is close to setting, still giving off enough light to see. The two of you eat, looking out at the view of the ocean before you and basking in the romantic feeling in the air.

After dinner Jiyong suggests a walk down the beach. You walk hand in hand, feeling the sand sink between your toes and the water slowly cascade over them as the tide comes in. You’re walking for a few minutes before Jiyong turns to you blocking you from going forward. You can see the anxiety on his face.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” you trail off.

“Are you sure? If you don’t tell me now,” he bites his bottom lip. Part of you thinks he’s playing some silly joke.

“Kwon Jiyong you are the love of my life,” you say finally before stepping close to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, your foreheads a little damp from sweat are pressed together, “And nothing in the world is going to change that.” He sighs in relief before kissing you one last time, committing it to memory for better or worse. You follow his lead and kiss him back with the same passion before he reluctantly pulls away.

“You wanna go back to the bungalow, let me show how much I really love you?” you smirk at the idea of what you’d do to him.

“There’s plenty of time for that. Come on,” he takes your hand again and leads you forward. He has you stop when you’re about to round the corner and wait for just a moment as he goes out ahead of you.

 Suddenly, the other three members of Big Bang are walking around the corner and your gasp.

“What the hell,” you ask yourself.

“Hey, y/n, you look beautiful,” Taeyang says as he comes up and gives you a hug. You hug each of them and they can see you trying to piece everything together in your head.

“Jiyong didn’t mention anything about work,” you say as you look at them and they all exchange knowing glances.

Before anyone can say anything else, Seunghyun gets a text on his phone.

“Go,” he motions you forward around the corner where you see the unexpected scene.

Jiyong is watching you for just behind the bushes letting you have a moment to really soak in all the glory of the display before coming to stand in front of you. He notices the tears dripping off your cheek and his own start to prick his eyes.

“Baby,” you whisper out as you search his eyes and he reaches into his pocket and gets down on one knee.

“Y/n,” he begins and takes a deep breath. You sniffle slightly as you look at him with a quiet giggle of nerves and excitement.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I love you more than life itself, you’re the reason I get out of bed every single morning. The reason I want to keep breathing. We’ve been through hell and back, and we’ve fallen together and fallen apart only to come back together. You’re the light of my life, the muse to my art, the person I want to wake up to every single morning for the rest of my life. I want you to be my forever. I love you so much Babygirl.  

Will you marry me?”

You giggle with more tears streaming as you take in the moment for just a second.

“Yes,” you say and relief flood Jiyong’s face.

“Oh thank God,” he says as get up and puts the beautiful ring on your finger.

“I love you so much,” he says as he embraces you, picking you up and spinning you around. You let out a squeal and you hear cheering and clapping coming from behind you.

“Oh my god,” you laugh as you remember the three boys behind you.

“That’s why they're, and you had me get my nails, and the dress,” you trail off as the pieces finally fall together.

“I told you I wanted to treat you.” You hug him one last time.

“So, were you surprised?”

“Absolutely.” You smile as the two of you walk off, your arm around his torso as his goes around your shoulder. There's a brief celebration with the guys with some champagne.

That night the two of you are tangled in the sheets, but this time, it’s different. Your bodies seem to fit together in a brand-new way, one that’s more intimate than it ever had been, more vulnerable than ever before. The room filled with sounds of passion and love making, your hands interlocked together as ecstasy takes over both of you.

Your bodies are cuddled up to one another, both of your chests rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” He says as he kisses your forehead.

“I’ll be Mrs. Kwon Y/n,” you giggle as you look up at your now fiancé with a very excited and intensely happy grin.

“God that sounds so good,” he gives you another kiss on the lips, rolling on top of you as you shriek, your whole world feeling complete and happy.

Tags:@loveesiren @pinkpunkdynamite @mashtatosworld @lariem-blog2 @multifanxtvshows @natalicss @kjydrgnnnn

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