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afterglowsainz · 5 months

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fortnight | julian alvarez

summary: you have to leave england in fifteen days for your dream job but then you met julian at a party

warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk

word count: 1,4k

a/n: this is my first attempt writing a one shot with low inspo so is not great but is kinda cute (also english is not my first language so there might be mistakes, sorry!)

the tortured athletes department series

you had managed to secure your dream job in barcelona fc and even though it was what you always wanted since you started your college path all those years ago, it also made you a bit sad that you were leaving england. chelsea has been your home for the past years, working with their male football club and making so many friends, including one enzo fernandez. he was probably your closest friend in the whole club since he was one of the very few that speak spanish so you both connected immediately. when you told him the news that you were moving he was incredibly proud of you and supportive, which made you feel grateful for having him as your friend.

“you know, we should celebrate that you got your dream job.” he said over lunch.

it was the first week of international break, where the guys would take a few weeks from playing in the european leagues and instead, they would be playing for their home countries.

“what do you suggest?” you asked. “hit a club with the guys?”

you and enzo were still in england since the argentina club was playing on chelsea for their first international match and you had to leave for barcelona in fifteen days.

“we could definitely do that.” he nodded with his signature smile. “i was also having some of the guys from the club over tonight, wanna come?”

“i thought most of them left already.” you frowned.

“from argentina.” he clarified. “most of them are here already so i was thinking of a chill reunion.” he smiled through his glass of water while you arch a brow.

“since when are your reunions chill?” you asked, skeptical. enzo just laughed. “is valentina gonna be there?” you smiled with anticipation. enzo’s girlfriend has lately become a very close friend of yours as well.

“yes, she’ll be there.” he rolled his eyes with a smile. he would joke saying that you were his friend first but it was valentina whom you had a stronger bond with.

“then of course i’ll go!” you said with enthusiasm, as if your mind wasn’t already set the moment he mentioned it.

if there was something about enzo, he knew how to party.

—

you knocked on enzo’s apartment door with a bottle of tequila on your hands that you knew for a fact was gonna be empty in an hour. he opened the door and greeted you with a smile, hugging you and inviting you to come in.

“everyone’s in the living room” the said while guiding you.

you arrived a bit later than he asked you to so you were convinced all of his friends were already there. you heard the noise of glasses clinking and voices laughing before you saw the group of people seated around the room. the apartment looked almost too small for the amount of people reunited at the same place. you recognized some of them from previous games, but you couldn’t place all of the guys. you assumed the women there were probably their girlfriends or wifes.

“y/n!” valentina jumped out of the couch were she was speaking to a gorgeous brunette to hug you.

“hey, you.” you smiled, hugging her back.

“guys this is y/n.” since everyone’s eyes were on you after valentina called your name, enzo introduced you. “she’s my friend.”

“hi.” you said, a slight shy smile on your face.

“come, sit down.” valentina guide you to the only place on the couch that was free, next to a guy about your age that you didn’t recognize. she sat down where she previously was and introduced you to the brunette girl and the guy next to her while everyone else went back to their conversations. “this is oriana and her boyfriend paulo.”

“nice to meet you.” you said, recognizing the guy from an italian club.

the three of them start making conversation with you, asking you questions about yourself and your job to get to know you a bit better. valentina told them about your friendship with her and enzo and your new job at barcelona.

“barcelona, that’s so cool!” oriana said with a spark on her eyes and she seemed genuinely happy for you.

“thank you!” you answered, equally excited. “it’s been my dream since forever.”

“when do you start?” paulo asked.

“oh i have to be there in two weeks.”

enzo interrupted your chat to ask you what you wanted to drink. you had to turn to your left to see him and finally locked eyes with the guy sitting at your side this whole time. he had chocolate eyes and was talking to the guy sitting next to him, but he was now looking at you. instead of answering enzo's question, you smiled at him.

“what are you drinking?” he lifted his beer.

“heineken.” he answered somewhat shy and you nodded. your cheeks blushed a little at the sound of his voice.

“is it good?” you asked stupidly, wanting to hear his voice again. he smiled.

“yeah, it’s good.” you imitate him and looked at enzo.

“a heineken i guess.”

“i though you wanted some of the tequila you brought?” he asked instead.

“oh!” valentina interjected. “i make some killer margaritas.” she looked at you with big pleading eyes. you chuckled and instead of answering her, you turned to the guy on your left again.

“should we try them?”

“oh for sure.” he said convinced. “i’ve tried them before, they’re great.”

“margaritas then.” you smiled at valentina and she went straight to the kitchen with enzo. you looked back at him, finding his eyes on you already. “what is your name?”

“julian.” he said, drinking the last bit of his beer. “you’re y/n, no?” you nodded. “how do you know enzo?”

you went on to explain the story of how you meet and then julian told you his. the conversation with him flowed easily, he was a bit shy at first but once he let loose he was really funny, you found yourself laughing at all of his jokes and fixing your hair more times than usual. and you really, really liked the sound of his voice. is this what having a crush feels like? you haven’t had one in so long you actually might’ve forgotten.

“margaritas for two.” the sound of valentina’s voice interrupted your talk as she handed you your drink.

“thank you.” you said taking a sip. it was rather strong, but just as good as both valentina and julian had promised. “this is very good.” you complimented and your friend smiled, satisfied.

in no time, the one margarita became two and then three and julian and you were definitely tipsy. not drunk enough to be embarrassing but definitely enough to lose all shame.

“you have a beautiful smile.” he said suddenly. you smiled unconsciously. “sorry if it’s too straightforward, i’ve wanted to say that since i saw you.” you shook your head.

“no, it’s fine, thank you.” you felt your cheeks blush a little and thanked enzo internally for keeping the lights dim on the apartment.

“can i confess something else now that i’m a little drunk?” you were a bit surprised to see what a couple of margaritas could do to get rid of his shyness, but you couldn’t complain.

“please.” you encouraged him.

“i hate that i just met you and now you’re leaving to spain.” he said. “i wish i met you sooner.” he took a sip from his third margarita and you did the same.

“you know, i still have two weeks here.” you gave him a knowing look and he returned it. “when are you free?”

“tomorrow.” he answered a bit too fast and you smiled the way he liked. he composed himself and clear his throat. “i mean, yeah, any time until the game, which is in four days.” you nodded while drinking again. “which you should come to, but the way.”

“enzo invited me to the game.“ you said because you forgot to tell him sooner.

“oh, then i guess i can see you the whole week.” this time you laughed and he smiled a little.

the feeling was a bit strange because you’ve know julian for about three hours now, but you felt like you’ve know him for years and you wanted to hang out with him as much as he wanted to hang out with you. he was interesting and smart and funny and, fortunately for you, incredibly handsome.

“deal.” you said, finishing your margarita.

#julian alvarez x reader #julian alvarez #julian alvarez one shot #manchester city x reader #julian alvarez fluff #julian alvarez x y/n #football #football one shot #julian alvarez x you #julian alvarez fanfic #fortnight #taylor swift #julian alvarez imagine #ja9 #ja19 #the tortured athletes department #julian alvarez gif

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commander----shepard · 10 months

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When he does THAT face........

*aaaaaaaaaah*

#Rafael Barba #David Alvarez #send help. thx!#Raúl Esparza #my screens #and why it's so...fascinating #also....they twins lol just imagine

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julianalvarez9 · 1 year

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yellow / julián álvarez

summary: your mood isn't the best when your sister, the one who almost dragged you into the etihad stadium to watch coldplay, bails in the last minute. although the show wasn't bad, the highlight of the night was someone else.

wc: 1.8k words

author's note: don't ask me how i wrote so much with the 17 sec video we got from emilia. i thought it was cute so here you go!! this is so self indulgent it's insane but I DON'T CARE kajskajsk

you plopped down ungracefully into the seat, annoyed. apart from checking that the seat was the one you were supposed to be seated at, you weren't even watching your surroundings, too engrossed in the conversation you were having with your sister.

[you] said: what do you mean you've upgraded your seat?

[you] said: what about me?

[ana] said: you don't even like coldplay!

yes, it was true: you were dragged to the etihad stadium to see the band solely because your sister, ana, who worked with the man city team had gotten ahold of some tickets, and as she didn't want to go on her own, she practically begged you to come with her. as the younger sister, you would do anything for her, so you complied. but now, with the news that she wouldn't be joining you, the idea of getting up from your seat and going home was too compelling to ignore.

[ana] said: you can't go back home, though. i came with you, remember?

you could have screamed out loud, god and the rest of the souls close to where you are forbid you, if it wasn't for the cute guy that sat beside you. you couldn’t prevent your thoughts from reminiscing about taylor swift’s lyric given the boyish look that he had, with the plain white shirt joined with a grayish jacket he was wearing. “is this seat taken?” he asked kindly, signaling to your right -where your sister should be-, and you shook your head.

[you] said: you’re lucky the cutest guy in the whole fucking stadium has just sit on your place

[you] said: otherwise i would have left already

[you] said: are you talking about rúben dias?

you huff out a laugh before locking your phone for good, and focusing on the man who was seated by your side. “my sister was supposed to be on your seat”, you clarify, waving a bit your phone in the air to explain what you were laughing about. he has a confused look on his face now, wiping away the cute smile he previously had on, and you rush to explain that he’s allowed to sit there. “but she’s clearly not, so you’re good to go”.

he’s a bit more shy this time, you notice, and his english comes a bit more rough. “i’m sorry, can you speak a bit… slower? i’m not from here, and-”. you stop him with your wavering hands, and you curse yourself out for, maybe, being too enthusiastic about it, but you were never one to avoid casual conversation. much less with a stranger this cute. “wait, where are you from?”.

“argentina” he says, and you widen your eyes in response. “argentina!” you repeat effusively, clapping your hands, and although some people turn around to see what the noise is about, you don’t really care. the sight of the boy in front of you, cheeks slightly rosy due to your enthusiasm was all you could focus on. “español, no? hablo un poquito” (spanish, right? i speak a tiny bit) you say, pinching your fingers together with a very small space between, emphasizing it’s a tiny amount, and he laughs. it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, and you have to direct your eyes elsewhere to avoid your cheeks from hurting due to how big you’re smiling.

soon enough, the concert starts, cutting short you conversation with the handsome guy at your right. you notice, by this point, that you never asked for his name, and in return, he doesn't know yours either, so you have to swallow the disappointment of never seeing him again after the two hours are up. were you being dramatic? yes. could you ask for his name now? again, yes. why weren’t you doing it, then?

your thoughts bring you back to the etihad after having wandered away when you hear the familiar song, and your gaze shifts onto the wristband you’re wearing, that is now tinted in yellow. “i know this one! conozco esta!” you almost scream into his ear so he can listen to you, and he smiles, nodding enthusiastically. the whole stadium lights up, and it's a beautiful sight to see, how everyone has their arms up to enjoy the music and, at the same time, be a part of the yellow sea that paints all-over the normally light blue stadium.

always having protested against those who oppose filming concerts, you take your phone out of your pocket and proceed to open the camera on instagram. it’s still the first verse, though, so you wait until the all-too-familiar “and it was all yellow” line hits to start filming. the soft yellow glow that shines through the etihad takes your breath away in the most beautiful way, and even if you’re trying to avoid screaming your lungs out to the lyrics to avoid ruining the video, the impulse to do so is just too much. you don't just film the stage where the band is, but also the whole sight of the stadium, and you pan to your right side just in time to catch the beautiful stranger singing the “you know i love you so” part with the most beautiful smile on his face.

you don’t even realize when you post the story but you do, fingers still tingly from the warmth that spread through your body at hearing the words. they weren’t even his own, but chris martin’s, but still, something about him made you believe love at first sight might be a thing.

all nice things must end, unfortunately, because soon enough the once awaited but now dreaded ending of the show has arrived. he’s about to tell you something, you realize, but your phone starts ringing and the screen screams your sister’s name. he nods, encouraging you to take the call, and you do so, not before mouthing “mi hermana” (my sister) as to which he nods again, understandingly.

you almost can’t understand her through the screams, barely a “best concert of my life!” and “they’re awesome!” being identified in the endless stream of unrecognizable words. its not long, though, until she finally tells you the information you didn’t want to hear. “i’m already in the car, where are you? thought you would’ve been seated and ready to go by now” she giggles, and you have to fake a laugh too, eyeing the beautiful man who was waiting for you at your side, while being on his phone to distract himself from spying onto your call. “yeah, well…” you try to explain, but it’s useless. “it’s late, y/n, i have work tomorrow!”. you sigh, defeated, and end the call after informing her that you would be with her in minutes.

he focuses on you now, after he sees you saving your phone into your front pocket, and his eyebrows furrow when he sees your deflated state, so different to what he had seen a couple of minutes hago. “i have to go,” you inform disappointingly, and he nods in understanding, even if you had said the sentence in english. “¿te puedo acompañar a tu auto? digo, no si te parece raro, solo-” (can i accompany to your car? i mean, not if you find it weird, just-). you find his ramble cute, although you don't quite grasp the words since he can speak so quickly in his mother tongue. still, the first part of the sentence has you nodding shyly, and you can’t thank enough these couple of minutes more that you gained by this.

you get there fast, unluckily, or at least faster than you would have made it on your own. he walks the stadium like he knows it, or has been here before somehow, and you realize you didn’t even ask him what had brought him to london, or what his job was.

your sister waves enthusiastically when you two make it safe and sound to your parking space, and your cheeks warm up a bit in embarrassment when he waves back. it feels like those rom-com movies, where the parent watches their kids by the window when they get home after the first date. “te veo pronto” (i’ll see you soon) he says confidently and you nod approvingly, although it doesn't come to mind right there that you, again, don��t really know his name, or got some social media profile of his, to keep in contact. when you realize this, he has already planted a shy kiss on your cheek and turned around, hands in his pockets, destiny unknown, at least to you.

“you’ve met julián!” is the first thing that comes out of ana, your sister’s mouth, after you get close enough to her to greet her with a hug. the tone is joyful and her eyes are glowing, but since the name doesn’t ring any bells for you, you furrow your brows in response. she looks at you strangely, but gets inside your car nonetheless, after you unlock it so you can both make your way home as quickly as possible. “álvarez?” she tries again, now with that person’s last name, you guess. still, no face attached to that name shows up in your mind, so you shake your head.

ana’s quick in getting the phone out of her bag. you can hear her typing furiously on her screen due to her long nails hitting the phone, but you tune her out, focusing on the road. the next time she talks, or rathers, signals for your attention, you're on a red light. it looks like she has a guy’s instagram open up, and you can read the “juliaanalvarez” on top, letting you know who the guy in the photo was.

you can’t quite grasp the fact that the beautiful stranger’s face from earlier was smiling widely at you from your sister’s phone, and much less, that he was wearing a man city kit on it, before the light turns green again, and you have to continue driving. “is he a part of the staff like you?” you ask, dumbfounded, and her palm hits her forehead like you had said the stupidest thing she has ever heard. “no, silly! he’s our second striker. haven’t you been watching our games?” she reprimands, and you smile awkwardly at her, which answers the question on his own. “oh, you so need to join me at the etihad next weekend!”.

the rest of the way is silent, given that you’re still trying to process the news. you still don't quite understand why he hasn't said anything about who he was, but realize that, maybe, he was more comfortable with remaining anonymous. your feet drive you mindlessly to your bed, and you’re laying on it when you take your phone off your pocket. you have many notifications on the lockscreen, given that you hadn't really paid attention to it since the show started, but the only one that catches your eye is from instagram.

juliaanalvarez requested to follow you.

#football imagine #football imagines #football x reader #football x you #julian alvarez imagine #julián álvarez imagine #julian alvarez fanfic #julian alvarez x reader #julian alvarez x you

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 1 year

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Part of It

Synopsis: Y/n has been the social media manager for the Argentina National Team for a few months now. She’s unofficially everyone’s favorite employee

young fem argentine reader x platonic argentina national football team

A/N: this fic will be regarding the entire team, but it will mainly feature: Alvarez, Fernandez, Molina, Garnacho, Messi, and De Paul, because those are the players I know the best.

more a/n: also please don’t be surprised if some of the info in this fic is false and the players are ooc, im not based in argentina so I could easily get a lot of these things wrong

. so

. for as long as you can remember, the only thing you’ve loved more than playing football is being behind a camera

. as a kid whenever you weren’t on the pitch itself, you were recording your teammates and friends, creating their own personal highlight reels

. and like every other kid in Argentina, you spent your entire childhood playing football

. but it wasn’t until you were a teenager when you started to discover your love for camera work

. it started when a teammate of yours asked you to record something for social media, initially as a joke

. but then the video got a couple hundred views, and you quickly began to love the feeling of creating something people can visually enjoy

. your teenage years were filled with football and videography

. then by the time your senior year came around, you knew you wanted to by apart of both scenes however you could in the future

. leading to your commitment to Cordoba National University with a major in communication and media studies

. you graduate in 2021, and spend a few weeks looking for jobs

. then you find Cordoba fc and their opening for a new social marketing manager

. you get hired within two weeks of applying as a social media manager

. because the Cordoba community is pretty small, you can spend a lot of time getting to know the players and the fans really well

. you learn a lot there, as it’s your first work experience for a professional football club

. you work there till the end of sepetmber/mid october, because through a few of your co-workers, you learn that Central Cordoba has an opening for social media manager

. which of course, you applied to and by the end of November, you’re part of the Central Cordoba staff

. it was a lot of fun; hanging out with players, befriending other staff, traveling with the team, and obviously, managing their social media

. you prove to be extremely efficient there, bringing in thousands of new fans

. which builds your reputation as an employee a lot

. and suddenly, you’re getting offers for different clubs around argentina

. only 1 stands out to you though

. Argentina’s national team offer

. because apparently, due to the world cup occurring at the end of the year, the communications directors wanted more publicity before the competition

. you obviously reply back, and a few weeks later you’re invited to their headquarters for an interview

. at first, you didn’t think you got the job because it took a while to hear back from the directors

. but then you wake up to yet another email waiting for you

. and you are officially argentina’s social media manager

. your first day is technically in april

. but you don’t meet any of the players until the end of that month

. you didn’t even know you were gonna meet the players that day so you were severely unprepared

. one moment you were making coffee with your co workers

. then lionel messi walks in beside rodrigo de paul

. they caught you by surprise

. both of them were really nice though

. you eventually learn that they all are

. your job mainly consists of filming the team together and managing the their social media accounts

. this is how you get to know each of the players

. you click with julian the most at first because of the age similarity

. he becomes your best friend within your first week

. any meetings that the both of you are included in are spent sitting on opposite sides of the room because you were told your friendship is “a disturbance to the work environment”

. you guys make it up by being attached to the hip before and after practices though

. a third of your camera roll is funny candid’s of julian

. you guys are bus seat partners and make fun out of annoying the other guys

. enzo is another close friend of yours

. you guys are always gossiping about something

. “did you hear about the new intern?”

. “apparently, somebody was found with somebody else in the break room after the meeting last week”

. “I swear he wasn’t even sick that one time, he was just at a party the night before”

. he tries to convince you to dye your hair like him

. and when you refuse, he lets you make up for it by helping him tone in

. you guys are always laughing together, no matter what the situation is

. you and molina have such a playful relationship

. you’re always making fun of him for no real reason

. he’s just trying to defend himself

. you do it for all of them, but his birthday photo dump is always the worst

. you two are always wandering around headquarters, looking for either someone to bother or something to entertain yourselves

. it always ends it great content though

. you have a soft spot for alejandro

. mostly because he has a crush on you and tries to play it off

. but you’ve known since the first few times of hanging out with him

. when you’re filming concent for the argentina pages, you’ll see alejandro trying to show off at least three times a video

. you find it hilarious

. the other guys tease him relentlessly for it

. you two are still good friends regardless

. he tries to be protective of you even though he’s literally four years younger than you

. again, you find it hilarious

. and he always gets shit from the other players

. leo is such a dad to you it’s funny

. he was so nice the first time you met him, and after that he unofficially adopted you as a daughter

. even though he’s only like 13 years older than you

. shows his care in small ways

. making sure you never get hit with a ball when you’re sitting in to a practice

. coming into your office when you’re both in headquarters to check on you

. making sure you’re safe when you’re traveling with the team

. whether it be just assigning another player to look after you or a whole ass bodyguard

. also protecting you from de paul

. because even though rodrigo acts as a bodyguard to both you and leo, he still likes to mess with you a lot

. he’s like an older brother to you

. super playful

. always teasing you

. agreesive type of love

. this is where messi comes in again

. insisting he puts you down and lets you do your job

. rodri also tries to convince you to get tattoos

. honestly that’s a whole team thing

. playful peer pressure is real there

. anyway

. you, julian, and enzo are such a trio

. getting up to the most random shit in other countries after games

. you guys were two seconds away from jumping into a canal in italy

. but then here comes leo

. scolding you guys like his children

. and sending you back to the hotel

. also, you have a jersey from almost every player on the team because before you got your own jersey, you always just picked someone random to wear on game days

. but then rodri started frowning when he saw you in julian’s jersey because apparently, you hadn’t worn his shirt in a few games

. and now you have a separate drawer just for jerseys

. oh and the world cup

. that was so fun for you

. traveling with the team to qatar

. hanging out in stadiums during practice, half upset because it felt like a million degrees

. but half in awe because holy shit you’re in qatar for the world cup

. you’re on the edge of your seat for every game

. the final almost killed you

. you were almost crying on the bench next to the other staff

. totally worth it though

. you started sobbing when montiel made the last penalty kick

. because you knew these guys, you knew how much they wanted it, how much they deserved it

. it was a mess of hugs and tears after that

. julian grins into your shoulder in a hug

. rodri tackled you

. enzo is basically jumping up and down with excitement

. you don’t think you’ll ever see alejandro that happy again

. you and molina are crying together

. and messi gives you the biggest hug

. it’s so fun celebrating with the team

. spraying champange with gonzalo

. singing along to music with paulo

. dancing around with lautaro

. and coming back to argentina after that

. seeing all the fans in buenos aires, looking around and seeing argentine pride everywhere

. surreal

. there’s definitely no feeling like it

. which is why you’re so sad when it’s time to go back to your clubs

. you came to an agreement with central cordoba to go back and work for them during the argentine league

. then coming back to the national team when it called

. so you can’t wait for next season

#reader insert #football imagine #football team x reader #platonic football team x reader #argentina national football team #argentina national team #argentina nt x reader #female reader #argentina nt fic #lionel messi #julian alvarez #enzo fernandez #alejandro garnacho #nahuel molina #rodrigo de paul #all platonic

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the-offside-rule · 8 months

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Baby prompts!

These Prompts are SOLELY for the footballers, not for the drivers and once a player is requested, the prompt will be crossed off and the player will not be used again

1) Attending a baby scan - Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona)

2) Learning how to wrap the baby in a blanket -Ben Chilwell (Chelsea FC)

3) Playing peek-a-boo while shopping - Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona)

4) Taking a pregnancy test - Ruben Dias (Manchester City)

5) Overthinking parenting - Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid)

6) Good-cop Bad-cop parenting - Trent Alexander Arnold (Liverpool)

7) Singing a lullaby to the baby to make it sleep - Eric Garcia (FCBarcelona)

8) One of the parents waking up to tend to the baby - Kylian Mbappe (Paris Saint Germain)

9) Baby clothes shopping after having baby - Anthony Gordon (Newcastle United)

10) The baby's first match - Mason Mount (Manchester United)

11) Wearing their dad/mom's jersey - João Felix (FCBarcelona)

12) Family vacation - Leah Williamson (Arsenal)

13) Pregnancy cravings - Dominik Szoboszlai (Liverpool)

14) The team giving a team onesie - Jack Grealish (Manchester City)

15) Post title win celebrations - Ferran Torres (FCBarcelona)

Also, if you have any baby Prompt ideas, send them along anyways x

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #jude bellingham x reader #pedri x reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #pablo gavi x reader #mason mount x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #ruben dias x reader #julian alvarez x reader

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hyperfixationrn · 2 years

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Liked by leomessi and 958,272 others

ynmessi un sueño 🤍

See Translation: a dream

username to be a part of that family

leomessi Mi hija. Mi vida!

Translation: My daughter. My life!

ynmessi ❤��

username i’m crying in every single club rn

username 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

antonelaroccuzzo 🫂🇦🇷🥰

Liked by ynmessi

username i remember when yn was so little at barca games pls i’m so emotional

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ynmessi

Liked by pablogavi and 673,437 others

yninstagram mi hogar, te amo <3

See Translation: my home, i love you

username the genes of their potential child

username i always forget they be dating

username never getting attached to anyone again (real) (i’m lying)

leomessi Cuidado por favor

See Translation: Careful please

username pedri rn 😰

ynmessi siempre tiene cuidado papa

See Translation: he is always careful

pedri claro

See Translation of course

julianalvarez 🙌

Liked by ynmessi

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#football imagine #fifa world cup #world cup #soccer imagine #julian alvarez #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x you #pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x reader

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house-md-imagines · 6 months

Note

can I PLEASE please have an alvie imagine this fandom has no love for hit house md character juan 'alvie' alvarez

that's so real anon i love alvie

#house md #house md imagine #malpractice md #hate crimes md #medical malpractice #juan alvarez #hamilton musical #undescribed

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httpsdana · 15 days

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Master List part 2

my first master list doesn't fit links anymore so here's a part 2!

part 1

Jamal Musiala

Lost In Translation

Wildest Dreams

Hey Husband

Protector

Oops?

Marc Guiu

Practice Makes Perfect

Marc Bernal

Jealousy and a Pout

A Question Of Timing

Sleepless Conversations

Pablo Gavi

Moonlit Ladder

The Bug Scare

Prank Gone Wrong

Pau Cubarsi

Breaking the Silence

Beautiful Boy

Hector Fort

Chasing What's Right

Too Much

Kenan Yildiz

Game on

Pretty Eyes

Xavi Simons

Party Rescue

Family Love

Missing Dessert

Dani Olmo

Night Drive

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charlesslut16 · 10 months

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-Gingerbread house competition-

summmary : you and carlos ahve a gingerbread competition...

PAIRING : carlos sainz x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope you like it even if it is short

december masterlist ; masterlist

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It was a brisk December morning, when you and carlos decided on making gingerbread houses but with a twist. Each one of you made one for themselves and you made a competition.

The one, that had made the best house, wouldn't have to do the laundry for two weeks.

Carlos Sainz, the renowned racing driver with an unwavering passion for speed, found his heart entwined with his girlfriend, you. Yours was a tale of love beyond the racetrack, filled with shared moments of joy and laughter.

Carlos and you shared a unique bond, one that blossomed not only through your love for each other but also through your shared love for unconventional adventures.

You were the couple that sought out fun in the simplest of things. And one chilly winter day, with snowflakes gently falling outside, the both of you decided to embark on a gingerbread house competition.

You gathered all the ingredients, giggling like children as flour-dusted their noses and icing sugarcoated your fingers. With bowls filled with colorful frosting and trays of gingerbread pieces, both of you set out to craft their masterpieces.

Laughter echoed through the kitchen as you both playfully smeared frosting on each other's cheeks and noses, leaving sweet marks of each other's affection and secretly hoping to disturb the other one.

As you built your gingerbread houses side by side, Carlos and you indulged in friendly banter, occasionally stealing kisses between decorating rooftops and lining candy cane fences.

Their competitive spirits soared, but their hearts were aligned in the joy of creating something together.

Carlos, known for his precision on the racetrack, meticulously placed gumdrops and sprinkles with the precision of a pit crew performing a lightning-fast pit stop.

Meanwhile, your artistic flair shone through as you crafted intricate patterns with colorful icing, your eyes sparkling with delight, as you loved decorating and overall everything with Christmas.

As the evening unfolded, your gingerbread houses stood proudly on the table, each a reflection of each other's personalities and the shared love between the both of you.

They admired their creations, but more importantly, they cherished the memories they had woven together throughout the day. Those memories would last forever, you were sure of it.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Carlos Sainz dipped his long finger in a dollop of frosting and, with a playful grin, gently smeared it across his girlfriend's cheek.

You retaliated in kind, and soon you found yourselves in a delightful frosting war, laughing uncontrollably as you chased each other around the kitchen, leaving sugary trails in your wake.

Amidst the chaos of frosting and laughter, Carlos gently pulled you close, wiping away the frosting from your cheek with a tender touch. It was like love at first sight again.

Their eyes locked, hearts racing not from the speed of a race car but from the intensity of their love. The love that you made sure of was protected in a bubble so no one could pop it.

At that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your gingerbread battle, you shared a sweet, frosting-covered kiss, sealing your love amidst the gingerbread-scented air.

You pulled away and looked in each other's eyes. No one could destroy this moment and if somebody had tried, you would make sure that they would regret it.

"I love you, mi hermosa."

"I love you."

This would have been the end of the day, but everyone knew that the evening would end in some more decorating, kissing, chasing and more love top share between them.

Their gingerbread houses may have been works of art, but it was the love they shared and the memories they created that remained the true masterpiece of their story.

Carlos and his girlfriend knew that their love, like the enduring sweetness of gingerbread, would stand the test of time, through playful frosting fights and every adventure that lay ahead on and off the racetrack.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos alvarez #christmas #masterlist

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tenaciousbouquetearthquake · 1 month

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Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?, pt1

I originally posted this on ao3, but I'm posting here just to see what happens and because I haven't been on tumblr in like three years since my last fandom got too toxic to stay in and I have no idea who's on here anymore/what people are into. Except Destial because apparently that's trending and I completely support that. XD

Read it on ao3 / Check out the story’s masterlist

You're a medic on the Maid Honor during the mission to rescue Appleyard. You and Anders *may* have developed a bit reputation in the short time you've been together. The guys are 100% done with accidentally walking in on the two of you. Contains some mild smut.

Every time Anders Lassen smiles, it does things to you. In fact, it does a lot of things to you, although whether it makes you go cold with fear or hot with excitement depends entirely on if he has a weapon in his hands and is covered in blood or not.

It’s better when he’s covered in Nazi blood and has a weapon in his hands. That’s when you know that Anders is doing well—he comes back from a mission with a nary a scratch, a quiver without any arrows left, a thoroughly used blade, and covered in a truly disturbing amount of blood…but he’ll be smiling, a particular smile meant only for you as he walks in your space on the boat and leans idly against the wall.

The sight of him is always a bit of a shock when you glance up from where you’ve been surveying your medical supplies. He’s too big for this space, always, and it’s not just his physical size. Anders Lassen is too big a personality, too strong a presence, for any room to contain. “I return to you victorious, min skat ,” Anders says in that low, soft voice of his, arms crossed in a way that showcases the well-developed muscles in his arms. He does it on purpose, knowing the way your eyes are drawn to them each time, a subtle form of preening meant just for you. “Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?”

Your eyes stray slowly from those muscular arms to the broad width of his shoulders, moving gradually toward his tanned face as one side of his lips quirk up into a hint of a smirk. You try not to notice it, and when that doesn’t work, you try not to let it affect you—even though it does. God , how it does. “Oh? Are you keeping count now?” You continue to pat your hands dry with the cloth you’re using, having just reassessed all the medical supplies you brought with you on the boat. “When did you have the time to do that? I thought this was a rescue mission, after all.”

His smirk grows a little bigger as he watches you, humming a low sound before he pushes off from the wall and takes a rather large, predatory step toward you. “Yes, but…that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, does it?” He takes another step, his smirk altering into the hint of a grin when he sees you twitch ever so slightly in response, as if you’re preparing to run. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Y/N?” Another step, his intense gaze focused entirely on you as you force yourself to stand still—although this is as much prey behavior as running away would be. “I only want to have a little fun with you.” Another step, and this time he’s so close that he does force you backward, pressing your body against the wall as Anders towers over you. If he wasn’t already predatory enough, he leans forward and rests his palms on either side of your face, his heavy arms pinning you in place as he invades your personal space. “Do you not like to have fun, min skat?”

It's hard to concentrate with him so close, even when he’s not looking his best, and Anders Lassen covered in blood after what was probably a massacre isn’t exactly your favorite look on him. You find yourself licking your lips softly, teeth scraping over the bottom lip, and force yourself to take a deep breath as you look up at him, trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds before you respond. “I like to have fun,” you reply, surprised that you’ve managed to keep your voice steady. “At appropriate times and in appropriate places.” You silently cringe when you say it, simultaneously aware that you’re the team medic and that Appleyard is going to require your attention, and Lassen’s body is so very, very close to your own.

Anders feigns being hurt, looking crestfallen at the rejection, still pressing into your space, and with each passing second you grow intensely more aware of other details—the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt, the faint beating of his pulse on his neck, the shallow cut above his eyebrow.

The sheer weight of his body in front of you, the heat of him. Heavy and oppressive and so fucking hot that your body instinctively clenches in response, every inch of your skin aware of his presence. He tilts his head forward, nearly resting it against your forehead as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath to breathe in the scent of you. Then those chocolate brown eyes open again and his gaze fixes on you, and it’s all you can do to remind yourself to breathe.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play with me, Y/N?” Anders says, his voice low enough that the words are meant only for you, and the sound of that voice just makes it all worse. “I even brought you a present.” His body presses against yours a little more now, letting you feel the hard lines of him against you. “A Nazi heart. I cut it out myself. I thought I might give it to you as a token of affection.”

“Yo—” you stumble over the words, pausing to clear your throat and breathe before you continue. Anders looks at you with a mixture of amusement and pure male satisfaction. “You brought me a Nazi heart?”

Anders hums for a moment, tilting his head as if in consideration. “Yes,” he says with a sigh and a small shake of his head. “But now that I’m here, I think I might give you mine instead.” He adjusts his weight above you as he moves one of his hands from beside your head, his bloody hand coming to cup your chin, tilting your head back for him as he leans in ever closer, his thumb tracing small circles near your mouth. “Ja, I like that idea much better.”

If Anders is the predator and you’re the prey, then Lord help you. You’re about to be devoured and not even care. In fact, you silently welcome it as he claims your lips with his own, chapped with the midday heat but delicious as hell as your lips part for him and his body presses fully against yours and you can feel yourself melt under the hard ridges of him, gentle but demanding and growing even more intense when he feels you respond. There are a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t have come on this mission—the violence, the danger, the lack of combat training.

The fact that every time you and Lassen come within ten feet of each other, you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other.

You don’t even notice when Anders moves his other hand and it comes to rest at your waist, or when it begins to hike up underneath your shirt, the heat of his palm trailing over your bare midriff as your body instinctively arches into his touch. You’re not even aware of how far this interaction between the two of you has gone until you faintly hear Freddy groaning from across the room, accompanied just as enthusiastically by Gus.

“Bloody hell, not again.” Freddy’s voice is all exasperation, as if he’s witnessed this scene far too often and isn’t in a hurry to see it again. “We leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re already trying to tear her clothes off. Can’t you at least wait until after the mission is over?”

Anders pulls back from you, just a little, and lets out a low growl at the interruption. You’d probably be amused, if you weren’t still feeling drunk on the kiss—and the feeling of Anders’s hands on you. “I was simply reporting back to the medic for a check-up,” Anders says with ease, the muscles in his arms visibly tensing as he forces himself to take a step back from you.

“Listen, Lassen,” Gus says, escorting in an injured Appleyard, who appears just as put off by this scene as the rest of them. “I understand that the two of you are—” Gus pauses, reaching up to scratch at his beard awkwardly as he glances between you and Anders and you move to adjust your clothes back to normal, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Well, the two of you. But given the circumstances—”

“What circumstances?” Anders asks innocently, as if he hadn’t just been caught feeling you up and firmly about to try and fuck you against the wall.

“You just cut a man’s heart out,” Freddy declares in response, gesturing toward Anders as he helps Appleyard further into the room. “You’re still covered in his blood!”

“Oh?” Anders glances down at himself and acts surprised before he shrugs and looks back at them. “It’s just a little dirt,” he says. “These Nazis, they don’t keep their camps very clean, do they?”

Gus lets out a heavy sigh as he and Freddy help Appleyard move past you and Anders towards one of the beds, although Freddy does shake his head at Anders. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, chap,” he tells Anders.

Anders takes the comment in stride. “Ja, I know,” he says. “Why do you think I came to the sick bay?”

At night is when you see the other side of him, the other smiles that make your blood run cold with a kind of fear that you didn’t even know you could experience. Nighttime at sea can be nearly pitch-black and it never stops being disorienting when you wake to a gently rocking boat and the sound of waves outside, but none of the usual sounds of life. There are no crickets chirping gently outside, no distant voices of people coming or going in the next apartment, or the sounds of war in the background.

No bombs dropping from overhead, the impact of it rocking the ground in a hard concussion that knocks your feet out from you and the air from your lungs. At home, you’d spend these hours crouched under a table, knees to your chest, listening to the building around you shake and feeling yourself go quietly numb in self-preservation until the onslaught was over. It would be minutes, sometimes hours, before you felt yourself slip from that mental retreat, the sounds of someone crying in the next apartment and the smell of smoke slowly bleeding into your consciousness. At sea, there are none of these things.

At sea, you’d think there wasn’t a war on at all.

But wars are not only made up of physical confrontations, and a family you loved desperately isn’t the only kind of casualty.

Anders isn’t in bed. It’s the first full thought that you have when you come fully awake, the blanket still tucked in neatly around you as you cradle his pillow to your chest, surrounded entirely by the scent of Anders Lassen—a mixture of soap, sweat, and something woodsy and distinctly him , as if part of him really was wild, a beast made man. You shove the pillow away and push yourself up in the bunk, looking around for him in the dark and not finding him. It’s disconcerting enough to wake up at sea, but to wake up without Lassen—that’s something else entirely. You’re unsettled as you shove the blankets aside and quietly tiptoe out of the bunk, finger combing your hair back from your face and feeling around for Anders’s spare coat. It takes a little effort to get past the other bunks without disturbing them, even as Freddy, who’s supposed to be on watch, snores loudly enough to wake them all.

You find Anders above deck, his form visible in the moonlight as he handles some of the spare rope, winding and unwinding it around his arm as if in ritual, the movements slow and precise. You can see the moment he realizes that you’re there, the subtle pause, the slight tilt of his head as if he can hear you. Then he keeps going, silently working the rope as you cross the deck to him, shaking his head the closer you get and clicking his tongue. “ Tsk, tsk, tsk . Shouldn’t you be sleeping, elskede? Safe in your bed.” He heaves a dramatic sigh as you come next to him, aware now of his bare chest in the moonlight, the subtle curves of his body as he glances at you. “It’s dangerous to be above deck, all alone, in the middle of the night.”

You pull his coat closed around you and stare at him for a long moment in feigned consideration, tiptoeing around him silently and feeling his gaze on you with every step you take. “Is it, though? It seems rather quiet up here to me. A bit boring, really.” You move around him in a slow circle, appearing as if the two of you have changed places and you’re now the predator while Anders is the prey. “Frankly, I think a little danger would be exciting.”

“You would like some danger?” Anders sounds intrigued as he watches you silently pace around him, your movements slow and relaxed. “You’re not happy with the peace and quiet?”

You shrug, glancing at him, giving him your best unconcerned look. “I like peace and quiet just fine,” you say, sounding bored, pacing softly around him. He doesn’t turn to follow you as you loop behind him, but you can tell from the tension in his shoulders and his back, and the way his head angles in your direction, that he’s aware of your every move. “It’s just that sometimes, when it gets too quiet, I have this irresistible urge to…” You deliberately let your words trail off as you pace behind him, coming out the other side and to the front of him again, still only faintly glancing at him.

You can hear the curiosity and interest as Anders gladly takes the bait, prompting you for more. “You get an urge to what?”

You sigh as if it can’t be helped, moving again, his gaze now firmly following you as you move. “I have this irresistible urge to find a tall, incredibly handsome Danish man and have my wicked ways with him.”

Anders has a small grin when he responds, his voice filled with humor. His gaze only leaves you in the brief moments when you cross behind him to come back out the other side. “So, you want to have your wicked ways with a tall, handsome Danish man.”

You hum in acknowledgement before adding, “Ravish him completely.” You slowly pace in front of him again, although now you decide to play with him a little, pulling the front of his coat open enough to show him a hint of your curves beneath your shirt, letting your hips sway enough to draw his gaze slowly downward.

“I never knew you were interested in such things.” There’s still humor in his voice, but now there’s something else, too—something dark and hungry. “Tell me, what exactly would you do to ravish this man?”

You’re moving to cross behind him again. You can see the muscles in his back and arms growing more taut and when you’re near enough to his side and his head is craning to follow your steps, you give in to the need to reach out and touch him, a gentle ghosting of your fingertips over his arm and trailing softly over his the tight muscles of his back. You hear his breath catch for a fraction of a second as your hand moves lower, skimming softly enough over that one spot where he’s particularly sensitive that it’s more the shifting of the air near his skin, more the anticipation of touch, than anything else. “I think,” you drawl, keeping your touch low on his body as you cross around his other side to the front again. “The first thing I would do is to make him sit for me.” You’re slower now as you move in front of him, your touch against his skin becoming a little more greedy as your hand skims against his waist, the first real skin on skin contact you’ve made. “I’d probably tie him to a chair, make sure that he’s completely helpless for me so that I can touch him however I want to.”

Anders’s lips twitch at the idea of him being completely helpless, but you can see the look in his eyes clearly enough, even in the dark above deck. Wolfish. Hungry. Alert. You drag an open palm over his stomach, letting your hand slip gently under the waistband of his trousers, feeling him clench at that first initial touch before his body relaxes into the touch. “And how,” Anders prompts when you don’t immediately continue, his voice heavy with lust, “would you want to touch him?”

You’re passing around him again, but you’ve been moving in smaller and smaller circles with each new pass, now so close to him that you let the sleeve of your coat brush his arm, your hand never leaving his body. He doesn’t turn his head to track your movements now, barely even moving at all, seemingly content to just let you touch him. You lick at lips that are suddenly dry, the air between the two of you so warm that the coat is suddenly hot, too hot . “First, I would run my hands over his body and feel every inch of him.” You can hear the change in your own voice at your arousal, your skin too sensitive as your nipples pebble against your shirt, heat pooling between your thighs. “I’d follow all the cords of his muscle,” you tell him, letting your palm follow the lines and cords of his body underneath it, feeling his body tense and hot as he forces himself to take slow, steady breaths. “And I'd find all the places where he’s sensitive,” you pause and deliberately ghost your fingers over that spot on his back, near his left hip, hearing his breath hitch as he stands deathly still for you, “and all the ways I can touch him to make him shiver.” Anders is still, so very still, as you move around him now. “And when I've decided that he’s ready…” You're around his front, circling around him again. “And he can't take me touching him anymore…” You pause behind him, leaning your body flush against his back so he can feel the shape of you through his coat, and standing on your toes to lean close to his neck. You let your nose brush against him before gently licking a hot stripe on his neck near his ear. “ I would use my mouth instead .”

Anders trembles–all six feet of him, the bear of a man, the Danish hammer, practically a modern day viking–fucking trembles at you whispering in his ear and the feel of your tongue on his skin, your breath hot. So fucking hot that you're burning up in the coat, that Anders’s body is a giant furnace, that the night air is like ice against your face but you're not aware of it because your body is on fire with need. You swallow against your own desire, your own need to stop teasing him and just let Anders take you right there, and instead press one kiss, then another, on his neck. You nuzzle there for a long moment before moving onto his shoulder and letting your teeth scrape over him in a small, sucking kiss. He’s so tense underneath you, so taut that you'd think he might snap, but god– god –how you want him to snap.

To lose all his control…to be the one to make him lose control. You could get drunk on that power alone.

You rest your body against his back, angled enough to his side that you can reach around him and slip a hand into the band of his trousers. Anders practically growls as your hand explores the vee of his chest, moving gently over his hip, teasing slowly toward his cock. He’s already hard when you touch him, the first hint of your fingers on his cock making him audibly pant as you tease near the base. “I would make him wait a very long time,” you say against his shoulder, letting the hot wet of your breath settle there, “before I open his trousers and touch his cock like this.” You stroke over the hard length of him, straining against the material of his pants, teasing your fingers over the tip as you feel his body practically vibrating against you. “But when I do…” You ease your hand around him, drawing it back up the shaft as you hear him bite back a moan. “I'd take him in my mouth…” Another long stroke upward. His back is straight against your chest and you'd swear you could feel his heart pounding as you touch him. “And I’d taste him as long as I want to…” You pause to let him feel your tongue against his skin again, tasting sweat and the salt of the sea air on him, drawing the moment out to let him imagine your tongue on his cock. “And I wouldn't let him cum until he begged me for it.”

You're about to continue the torture, to stroke your hand down the underside of his cock, teasing his balls softly before stroking downward, when you're surprised a hand gripping your wrist. You almost jump in surprise at the sudden contact, the break in the scene, the strength of his hand around your wrist as he keeps you in an unforgiving hold. You glance up at Anders to see his jaw hard and his nostrils flared as he swallows and tries to maintain his control. “It's not nice to tease, min skat.” His voice is a growl, eyes closed tightly. Seconds from breaking.

“You tease me all the time,” you reply, letting him feel you smirk against his shoulder. “My turn is long overdue. Don't you think?”

Anders doesn't let go of your hand and for a brief moment, you think that he's not going to let you continue, but when he doesn't move you away from him, either, you decide to try again. You move carefully to his front, meeting his dark gaze and holding it as you slowly put a hand to his chest and begin to push him back. Anders doesn't fight you, letting you direct his heavy body back slowly, one small step at a time, his hand never leaving your wrist and your hand never leaving his chest. It's like a dance, the two of you moving with a slow precision until the back of his legs meet a trunk of supplies and you stop pushing him. The two of you stand still, gazing at each other, as you wait to see what happens next, if Anders will let this little scene continue or not.

His thumb begins to move gently against your wrist, circling your pulse point. “No ropes, elskede,” Anders says, his voice barely audible. “No restraints.”

There’s silence between you two for what feels like an eternity, even though it must only be a few minutes. Waves rock the boat gently, a soft breeze caresses overheated skin. A look, an understanding, passes between you and Anders. Because restraints aren’t safe above the deck, when he’s meant to be keeping watch—to be keeping you safe.

Because you don’t know the whole story, but just as you have your demons, Anders has his, too.

You bite your bottom lip and shrug. “I don’t need to tie you up to have you at my mercy.”

A quirk of his lips, slipping into a smirk. You can see the way the humor and warmth reaches his eyes, even in the darkness. His grip on your wrist tightens imperceptibly, his thumb pausing on your pulse, on the very beating of your heart—a heart that belongs entirely to him. The water sounds like the blood rushing in your ears, quiet and deafening all at once. “Ja,” he agrees then. “That is true.”

Reluctantly, Anders lets go of your wrist.

Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his pants, but it’s only a temporary retreat. Anders doesn’t resist, not even a little, when you gently push him backwards and he sits down on the trunk, his back rigid as he gazes at you. He waits patiently, watching you with an intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat through your body where you’re standing in front of him, moving to undo his pants. You pull his cock free, watching his lips part as he exhales a moan at the touch of your hand and the cool night air. His body responds without any conscious thought as you grip him tightly and begin to move your hand up and down, stroking his cock with long, even motions that leave him nearly panting.

You’re about to get on your knees when Anders breaks the scene once more, taking hold of your shoulder, although his grip is less firm this time. “No.”

Your eyebrows go up as you pause, your body frozen. “No?” You half wonder what you’ve done wrong, if there’s some unknown line that you’ve somehow crossed, but Anders shakes his head with a small smile, something surprisingly soft and tender, given the circumstances.

“I want you.”

God. God above . Have there ever been three more beautiful words in the English language? Have there ever been three more perfect words, more exciting or fulfilling words, than those?

You don’t think so. How could anything else possibly compare to the sound of Anders Lassen saying that he wants you?

“I thought I was in charge.” Not that you’ll complain, not really. Being with Anders is being with Anders, no matter what form it takes.

Then Anders says something even more surprising, even more beautiful or enticing. “Please, Y/N. Let me have you.”

Please . Let me have you .

You’re too stunned to respond immediately, and just when you’re about to recover, just when you’re about to try and rewrite this little script you’d figured out in your head when you woke up without Anders in your bed and found him restlessly adjusting the ropes above deck, Anders continues being Anders…perfect, beautiful, strong, and knows how to play you like a fucking violin, Anders Lassen. “Have pity on a poor, weak Danish man like myself,” he says, mouth turning up into that smartass grin of his, the one you’re never certain if you want to kiss or slap off of him. “ Ravish me .”

You try, really fucking try , not to laugh at the ridiculousness of your own words. Of the whole scenario, really. Poor, weak Anders Lassen. Conquered by you . At your mercy. Being ravished on the deck of a boat with four other men on board, sleeping, while you travel to a Nazi infested destination on a mission to save England and…and…

Well. “I suppose,” you begin, drawing the words out, making a show of pretending to consider his request, “you did beg for mercy.” You watch as Anders nods enthusiastically.

“Ja, yes. Mercy.”

“And what kind of person would I be if I ignored such heartfelt pleas as those?” You move to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in only the big nightshirt you’d worn to bed earlier.

“Not a very good one,” Anders answers you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, just above the knees, but as with all things with Anders, nothing is ever static for very long. He’s feeling up the length of your thighs before you’re even positioned where you want to be, cupping the curves of your ass with his big palms and finding the edges of your panties. “Not a very good one at all.”

“And you do owe me for that little scene you made earlier.” You nearly jump when you feel Anders’s hands slipping under the sides of your panties and beginning to tug them down. “When you knew the others were coming and still pinned me to the wall.”

“ Oh .” It sounds like a moan when Anders makes the sound, letting your panties fall to the floor and gently nudging your legs apart. “Yes. That was very bad of me.” You gasp when you feel his big, warm hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt with a possessiveness that’s impossible to ignore. “I should’ve finished what I started instead of making you wait for me to take you.” He strokes over you softly, petting your folds in an easy move that leaves you leaning forward against him as he plays with your cunt. “I definitely deserve to be punished for that one.” He explores your slit for a long moment, burying a finger inside of you as your hands close tightly over his shoulders and you lean into his neck, his mouth at your ear now. “Would you like to punish me, Y/N?” He nips at the shell of your ear as he moves to stroke wet fingers over your clit and your mouth opens to moan but no sound comes out. “Would you like to make me finish what I started earlier and have me fuck you right here, for anyone to see?”

It’s a twist. Suddenly, Anders is in control again, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s touching you like that. Not when his voice is that deep and low in your ear. Not when he’s saying what he’s saying.

“ Should I make you scream so the others can hear us? ”

In the end, it’s easy— far too easy —for Anders to make you come undone. His finger on your clit, his voice in your ear, one hand slipping under your nightshirt and trailing up your chest, to the underside of your breast, skimming over a sensitive nipple, hot to the touch and too cold from the breeze. A complete sensory overload that’s unyielding and all-consuming.

“ You’re so wet for me, allerkæreste. ”

It’s harder and harder to concentrate. Too much—it’s just far too much. You’re sinking against Anders, as if you were two halves of one being, as if your body just realized that you’ve always belonged there and it never wants to be parted from him again. His hand cups your breast, squeezes, teasing the nipple. He plays with your clit, merciless in his touch. Your fingers dig into his shoulders.

Anders doesn’t fucking care.

He never does.

“ Do you know how badly I want you right now? ” His nose nuzzles against your face, his eyelashes tickling your cheek. Your body becomes liquid. “ Du betyder så meget for mig .”

You don’t scream when you cum. You barely make any noise at all. As much as Anders likes to tease you, he knows you’re not that comfortable with the others knowing—and hearing—so much of your private time together. But you do practically fall into his lap, your legs trembling and too unsteady to keep yourself upright. You do look up at Anders to see him gazing down at you with that smartass grin of his, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary, like he just said some ultimate truth that you’re not privy to because you don’t speak Danish and this little game that you started no longer belongs to you.

Which, to be completely fair, is true. Whatever Anders said, you’ll never know—you don’t speak Danish and he doesn’t give you the chance to ask before he’s nudging you onto his lap, opening your legs to straddle his waist. By the time he’s tugging at your nightshirt and you’re pulling it over your head to discard alongside the rest of your clothes, the question of whatever he said is so far from your mind that if you ever try to bring it up again, Anders will probably just feign ignorance.

And you may have started this game between you, but it belongs to Anders as his hands move over your now naked body, covered in goosebumps from the cool air and arousal. In fact, you have no chance whatsoever to recover the game as his big hands close around your hips and he helps you adjust on his lap, angling yourself into the right position above his cock so that inch by delicious inch, you can sink down onto him. In the haze of pleasure that quickly envelopes you, one thing is absolutely clear.

You belong to Anders Lassen, body and soul. Whatever becomes of you two on this ridiculous mission, in this impossible war, in a life that’s sure to be filled with heartbreak, Anders will always be your true north. Nothing will ever change that.

“ Fuck .” It’s a guttural moan of a word that’s so uncharacteristic for Anders that you can’t help but laugh, burying your face in his neck and stroking his chest with your hands. “Are you laughing at me?” Anders tries to sound threatening, but in the context of the moment, it drags another round of laughter from you as you shake your head. “You shouldn’t laugh at the Danish Hammer, you know. It’s not a wis—”

You can’t help yourself, cutting his words off with a kiss and holding onto his shoulders for dear life as you start to move against him, grinding your hips against his and sliding your body to fill yourself up with his cock again, and again, and again . It’s everything, that feeling of him inside of you. His hands on your hips as you rock against him. Your hands as you move to cup his face and stop the kiss so that you can look at him, just look at him as you take him there, on the deck, in the darkness.

You may not understand Danish, but you know that look. The one that’s reserved only for you, that says everything necessary without Anders having to utter a single word.

He can own the game. He can have whatever he wants. Anything—and you’ll gladly give it.

But a perfect moment, by definition, can only last for a moment. Eventually, it has to end. You feel your body clenching around him, your toes curling, and Anders can tell how close you are. When your movements start to slow, the rhythm of your bodies moving with each other starts to slip, his hands grip your hips more tightly and those bulky arms of his start to pick up the slack, pushing you effortlessly closer and closer to the edge. You’re vaguely aware of someone panting, of soft moans and whimpers that sound like you. Your forehead falls against Anders’s and your eyes drift closed, and just as the climax starts to hit you, just as your mouth is falling open with what would surely be an embarrassingly loud noise that would reach down into the cabin where the others are sleeping, Anders kisses you and drowns out the sound.

Although you doubt anything could’ve silenced the noise he makes when he cums inside you. The two of you are going to hear about this endlessly tomorrow.

Which is just fine with you, because tomorrow is not tonight, and tonight, you can wrap your arms around Anders’s neck and settle into his lap with his coat around you while the two of you keep watch. You’re leaning against his chest and half watching the night sky, trying not to feel the tug of sleep as you look back at him. There’s been something about Anders today, something that’s been bothering him. You could tell when he came back to the boat earlier.

You could see it when you came above deck.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” The question is greeted only by the night air and the crest of waves against the side of the boat. Anders stills when he hears it, but he doesn’t reply, choosing instead to close his coat around you more tightly and pull your body closer to his. He shakes his head and glances down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s time to sleep, min skat.” His lips quirk up into that smirk. God, how you love that smirk. “I know that you’re tired.”

You are tired. Your eyes are heavy. You were exhausted by the time you climbed into bed with Anders earlier and you fell into an easy sleep beside him within minutes, disturbed only by sensing that he was no longer beside you. Whatever energy you’d managed to recover is completely spent after what just happened.

“Did you really cut a man’s heart out?” The question is out before you can stop it, impossibly small against the great weight of the sea and the war and the heaviness you recognize in Anders’s shoulders, as if the entire world were resting there. The smirk disappears so quickly as Anders’s face darkens that you’d almost wonder if it had ever been there at all, if a man filled with the sort of torment and pain you see then could be capable of such a light expression.

It feels like hours before he finally responds, barely loud enough to be heard over the water. “Yes.”

You reach up and stroke your knuckles over his cheek, your thumb on his chin. “Why would you do that?”

There’s no answer, just a smile so grim that it chills you to the bone, a new sense of fear so deep in your soul that you can’t even put words to it. That you’re not ready to think about or acknowledge at all. Then the smile slips and Anders just looks tired, so fucking tired.

You fall asleep in his arms, listening to the sound of the waves, the creaking of wood as the boat rocks gently, the steady sound of Anders breathing. He doesn’t answer you. You don’t demand an answer.

Maybe some questions just don’t have any answers.

Sometime in the night, however, Anders does look down at you and whisper to your sleeping form. “ Du giver mig lyst til at være en bedre mand .” But even if you could hear it, you don’t speak Danish, and Anders isn’t ready to say the words in English.

He’s not sure if he ever will be.

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