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dustofthedailylife · 9 months

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It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

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Pairing: Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Diluc x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The Christmas season is rolling around and you spend those days with the one you love most. How are you spending it?

Tags: Fluff, comfort, kissing, teasing, consumption of (reasonable amounts of) alcohol

A/N: this is my secret santa gift for @jellalism for the @2023gisecretsanta event! (Hi, it me again :3). Once again I hope you have a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season. Sending you many hugs and I hope these fics make your holiday season a little brighter! <3

WRIOTHESLEY

It was a cold day in Fontaine and Christmas wasn’t far off. Just a little over a week and you’d be able to spend your first holiday together with Wriothesley. You already bought all the Christmas presents and had your bags packed to spend Christmas over at his place.

The presents still sat neatly packaged below the beautifully decorated Christmas tree in your living room. But they wouldn’t stay there for much longer as you had agreed to come over today and stay until Christmas. So the presents needed to be relocated as well.

You were beyond ecstatic to finally see him again. Especially since he even took some time off work as well to spend it with you.

Loaded with your bags and gifts you enthusiastically knocked on his door and it was soon opened by the man himself. He was wearing a cozy hoodie and sweatpants and looked like he had just woken up from a nap. At least judging by the pillow imprint on his cheek.

Cute, you thought.

“Hi, sleepy head. Enjoying your time off?” You greeted him teasingly, pressing a quick peck to his lips before squeezing inside past him.

You quickly kicked off your shoes and impatiently waddled behind him, following him into the living room. You were curious to see how Wriothesley had decorated his home for the holidays, so when his back left your field of view and you could finally see the room you saw…

Nothing.

Not even a single Christmas light could be found in his house. There was no Christmas tree, no Christmas cookies on the coffee table, no cozy candles, no ornaments or stockings, no nothing.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”, Wriothesley asked, gently taking your face in between his big warm hands.

“Uuuh…”

Your initial smile faltered pretty much immediately after you had taken in the utterly unfestive atmosphere and he seemed to have immediately noticed it, too.

“Is something wrong?” He inquired with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Where is the Christmas decoration?” You asked baffled. “You know Christmas is only a couple of days away, right?”

Now it was his turn to usher an awkward ‘uuuh’. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, scanning the room, before apologetically looking back at you with an expression that said ‘Sorry, it slipped my mind’.

“Well, uhm.. To be frank, I’m rarely ever here over the holidays so I don’t really… own any Christmas decorations.” He explained with a shrug and donned an embarrassed smile and scratched the back of his head. “Neither have I ever celebrated Christmas properly since I usually just work.”

“No no. This absolutely won’t do.” You lifted your finger up to his face in playful protest. “Go put on some clothes, we’re going shopping. We’re absolutely not celebrating Christmas before every nook and cranny in this house is looking festive and is covered in glitter.” You announced with determination, already marching towards the main entrance again to put your shoes back on.

“Right now?” He inquired in surprise.

“Right now.” You quickly confirmed. “And I pick the decorations – you pay.” You declared, putting your hands on your hips while glaring at him reprimandingly.

“Hey, wait a second! I never agreed to that.” He protested weakly, crossing his arms over his chest. But his smirk betrayed his real thoughts – he was enjoying this playful banter as much as you were.

“Well, too bad. You don’t get a say in this. Now come on, shopping time.”

Not even half an hour later and wrapped in your warm winter clothes, you found yourselves walking along the streets of Fontaine. It had already gone dark and a couple of snowflakes danced in the yellow light of the street lanterns. The shops by the road were all decorated with an abundance of Christmas lights and the air carried the fragrant smell of cinnamon and mulled wine.

You looked up to Wriothesley, who was walking hand in hand with you, while window shopping. When he noticed your glance his lips curled into a loving smile that was barely visible behind the gigantic red scarf that he had wrapped around his neck. His cheeks and nose were reddened by the cold and the snowflakes that got caught in his hair only emphasized how adorable he looked.

You dragged him into some stores that you knew sold various knick-knacks and decorations and bought what felt like an entire month’s salary worth of Christmas decorations. Although, despite all that, he somehow still managed to leave more money at his trusted tea store on the way back home.

Back at his house you quickly unpacked everything that you bought and got to work. While Wriothesley put up the Christmas tree you made sure not a single curtain rod, windowsill, and table was without any Christmas lights or candles. As soon as that was done you helped him put the red and gold glass ornaments on the tree.

All that was missing now was the big golden star tree topper that you attempted to hand to him, so that he could put it up on the tree himself. But before you had any chance to do so, he had already snuck both of his muscular arms around your waist and hoisted you up so you could stick it on yourself.

Once back on steady ground you looked around and marveled at your finished work. Everything was enveloped by a cozy light from all the Christmas lights and it looked even better than you had imagined. This would definitely do!

“I think we got everything.” You announced cheerfully, leaning your head against his broad chest and glancing at the tree to your left.

“Hmm.” Wriothesley hummed contemplatively, his chest vibrating against your ear as he did. “I think one thing is still missing.”

“Huh? What did we miss?” You lifted your head with a questioningly raised brow.

He fumbled around behind his back with a mischievous smirk plastered across his face. You knew that expression all too well by now – he was up to something.

You watched as he pulled out a little green twig with a red ribbon. You were barely even able to identify it as a mistletoe before he had already lifted it up into the air and held it over both of your heads. His free hand quickly found comfort around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Within the blink of an eye, his lips sealed yours with a passionate kiss, knocking the breath right out of you. You leaned into him with a giggle and felt him smile into the kiss in return.

In an attempt to be even closer to him than you already were, your hand found comfort in his soft raven-colored hair. Reciprocating the sentiment, he snaked the arm he had held up over you around your midriff as well, hugging you impossibly tighter.

While leaning his forehead against yours and softly rubbing the tip of your noses together, he looked deep into your eyes with the same sly smirk he had donned earlier, before proudly declaring: “Now we’ve got everything.”

ALHAITHAM

With packed suitcases, you and Alhaitham crossed the bridge to your hometown Mondstadt. It was snowing heavily and the cold, biting wind was gnawing away at every sliver of exposed skin. It felt like icy needles were pricking at your face.

It was peacefully quiet and all that could be heard was the crunch of the thick snow below your boots. You watched how the snowflakes danced in the wind and how they got caught in the ashen hair and lashes of Alhaitham, who was walking by your side.

Looking at him in this kind of weather was almost comical. He was used to the humid and hot temperatures of the rainforest and had never really experienced the bitter cold of winter. He was treading carefully, trying his hardest not to slip on the frozen ground. His head was almost entirely hidden underneath the big wool scarf he had wrapped around his head as if he had tried to mummify himself with it. His nose and cheeks were reddened from the cold and you could faintly make out the chatter of his teeth.

It would almost be adorable if he didn’t have the expression of someone who was about to murder the next person who spoke to him.

You bit your tongue to hold back a teasing comment about how he couldn’t handle the cold and instead opted to hold onto his hand that was rather stiffly dangling by his side. He glanced at you over the mountain of a scarf he had wrapped around his neck and immediately saw his expression ease up a little. His brows relaxed became less furrowed and the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.

“We’re almost there.” You reassured, which was only met with a slightly grumpy-sounding hum of acknowledgment.

Not long after you arrived at the Tavern. You picked up your room keys and quickly shuffled upstairs to settle down.

Alhaitham quickly kicked off his boots once he sat on the bed and hissed in pain. His toes were borderline glowing in red and blue hues and he wasn’t wearing any socks either. Needless to say, he was wearing his usual boots with the hole at the top. Clearly, everyone could see that they weren’t fit for conditions like these whatsoever.

“You know, these boots are kind of impractical for this weather.” You remarked snarkily. And if looks could kill you would’ve dropped dead on the spot right now.

“Don’t look at me like that!” You shot back before he could usher a word of protest. “You agreed to spend the holidays in Mondstadt after all.”

“And you didn’t think to inform me about all that before we departed?”

“Well, I thought a smart man like you would know that when I said there would be snow in Mondstadt you would naturally conclude that ‘frozen water equals cold’” You remarked in the same snarky tone.

You both looked at each other for a couple of seconds in an intense staring battle. The frown prominent on Alhaitham’s face as he desperately tried to warm his feet with his warm hands. Although eventually, your pokerfaces started showing cracks. The twinkle that started to show in both of your eyes, a twitch of the corner of his mouth, a giggle that was stuck at the back of your throat that you tried to swallow. All of them were telltale signs that your playful argument was about to end in a fit of chuckles, like so often.

And as if on call, you both started laughing out loud at the same moment.

Alhaitham pulled you closer by your hands and you sat down on his lap, facing in his direction. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and slung your arms around him, which he mirrored.

“You’re stupid.” You exclaimed, pressing a quick peck on the exposed skin on his neck.

“Oh, am I now?” He retorted smugly, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I’m not the one who wore boots with gaping holes in them when there are five inches of snow outsi–” Before you were able to finish the sentence, he quickly began loosely wrapping his thick scarf around your face, effectively shutting you up.

“Rude.” You giggled, muffled by the thick fabric. “Now–” You began, once you had pulled his scarf off your face again. “How about we take a hot bath and then go and visit the Christmas market?”

You could see his eyes wander towards the window. He skeptically eyed the thick snowflakes that were still falling from the sky. Anyone would be able to tell that he really didn’t want to go outside anymore, at least not in this weather.

“I know it’s freezing, but – if we go out, we can go buy you a pair of warm boots and I also know just the thing to fight the cold.” You intercepted before he could usher any words of protest. And after a brief moment of hesitation, he agreed with a loving smile.

After a steaming hot bath, you both found yourself back outside again. Not long after Alhaitham also waded through the thick snow with his newly acquired cozy and warm leather boots and some additional heat-insulating wool socks. He already looked a lot more comfortable than he had when you arrived here.

You walked in the direction of the Christmas market that was being held at the feet of the statue of the Anemo Archon, in front of the cathedral.

Hand in hand you climbed the stairs up to the plaza. You could already make out the Christmas spices that wafted through the air before you could even see the first booth. And with every step you took your excitement got bigger and bigger. Your heart was thumping loudly inside of your chest and you felt an excited prickle in the pit of your stomach. The last time you were at a Christmas market was ages ago, so you were practically bursting with excitement.

Once you arrived at the top of the stairs, you headed straight for the stand of the Dawn Winery, dragging Alhaitham along with you excitedly. You could already make out the prominent scent of mulled wine and several other hot beverages. No matter how cold the winter was, a cup of mulled wine was always the best thing to warm one up from the inside out.

You bought two mugs of steaming hot spiced dandelion wine and handed one to Alhaitham. He skeptically took a sip, unsure about whether or not hot wine would taste as good as the stuff he was so used to. But when his eyes widened and a surprised hum escaped him you could only chuckle. You had expected this reaction.

“You didn’t lie, this really helps against the cold.” He remarked after taking a couple more sips from his mug.

“See! I told you so. And as you know, I’m always right.” You teased, to which he just rolled his eyes and huffed amusedly. “Don’t you dare say anything now, Haitham.”

He stepped closer to you, embracing you in a tight hug and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else–”, he paused dramatically, not intending to finish his sentence any time soon.

“Or else, what?” You asked, perking your eyebrows.

But Alhaitham had already ventured off to look at the market stalls with a smirk plastered on his lips. He just knew which buttons he needed to press to tease you. And clearly, you wouldn't be getting an answer out of him either.

“Dork.” You huffed, hurrying after him, interlocking your arm with his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked around the plaza with your warm mugs in hand.

DILUC

Christmas time was always the busiest time of the year for the Winery and the Tavern. Diluc was basically shipping out orders all day when he wasn’t at the Angel’s Share. During these times you always made sure to help him alleviate some of the stress by taking some work off his hands.

Today you filled in for someone at the Christmas Market stand of the Dawn Winery who fell ill. Your job was to man the booth for the mulled wine and punches and serve them to customers.

It was the last weekend before Christmas and therefore the Christmas Market was packed to the brim. You barely got any time to take a break and only noticed that it was time to close up shop as soon as Diluc stood before you.

He helped you serve the last remaining customers and clean up the booth before you both started making your way back home to the Winery.

It had already gone dark outside now and the Christmas lights on the windowsills of the houses by the streets wrapped the environment into a warm light.

Diluc’s hand that was intertwined with yours was comfortably warm like it always was. You could feel it even through your thick gloves.

Both were a stark contrast to the thick snow that crunched below your boots and the cold icy air that pricked at your skin. Every exhale created a little cloud of icy mist in front of your face.

Diluc squeezed your hand a little tighter all of a sudden and nudged his head towards the left, motioning you to follow along.

“Come with me.” He urged, an excited smile playing around his lips.

He led you out of the side gate of Mondstadt, near the Angel’s Share, and headed straight for the frozen lake. He let go of your hand and right in the next moment he was already slithering across the ice with a huge smile plastered on his face

“What are you doing?” You inquired curiously, eyeing him from head to toe as he looked at you expectantly. He stretched one hand out while putting the other behind his back, making him look unbelievably elegant.

“Join me!”

The way he had slithered across the ice had looked so graceful and almost easy. But you had the inkling it wouldn’t end up being as easy as he made it look.

The way the snowflakes peacefully danced around you both in the yellow light of the nearby lantern made this scene almost feel dreamlike.

There was a comfortable silence in the air right now. As if the Gods had draped a white blanket over the world that muffled everything but the most important sounds. Only yours and Diluc’s steady breathing could be heard, as well as the rustling of the snow-covered trees by the shore and the soft pitter-patter of the falling snowflakes.

You stepped closer to the frozen surface of the lake and carefully put one foot on it to test the waters – or more accurately: the ice. And as expected it was extremely slippery and you almost fell the second you tried standing on it.

Diluc had come closer again and wrapped both his hands around your waist to steady you on the ice. He took hold of your hands and carefully pulled you along with him for a few meters.

It looked like he was floating over the ice while you looked like a newborn foal that was trying to stand up for the first time in its life. Your knees were shaking and you tried your hardest to not lose your balance. But despite that the mere presence of Diluc made you feel safe.

“Why are you so good at this?” You inquired curiously, almost losing your balance once more.

“I used to do this every winter as a child. Whenever my father caught me he scolded me for what felt like hours because I could hurt myself. Although that never deterred me from doing it again every winter.” He explained amusedly as his ruby-red eyes began shimmering in the dim light of the lantern.

“Well then, is there some special technique to it? Because I feel like I’m going to fall on my butt the minute you let go of me.”

“I’ll simply not let go of you then.” He retorted with a smirk and you could feel how his grip on your waist tightened. “In all seriousness though, don’t bend your knees inward so much. Keep them straight and your soles flat on the ice. Then only bend your upper body forward a little bit.”

“Roger that.” You replied and did as he explained. And much to your surprise, you stance on the ice immediately felt a lot more safe. Your knees stopped shaking and you were able to stand somewhat comfortably now.

“Yes, just like that!”

“It works!” You exclaimed.

“Now, try moving your feet, while keeping this stance.” He instructed while slowly letting go of you, leaving you some room to move once he was sure you could stand on your own.

He demonstrated the movement to you and you followed him by mirroring them.

Not long after you were still insecurely but steadily moving across the ice.

“Look, I’m doing it!” You yelled excitedly, looking back at Diluc who was watching you with the utmost adoration in his eyes.

“Indeed you are.” He answered proudly as he joined you again, slithering behind you and putting his hands on your waist once more. He carefully pushed you along with him.

You twirled around on the ice with a giggle and it felt like you were two figure skaters in perfect unison, showcasing their breathtaking performance. Although you were sure it looked much more amateurish than it felt. No less, because you weren't actually wearing any ice skates. But at that moment, it didn't matter.

Both of you basked in each other's presence and it felt like you let your inner child run free. The endorphin rush was indescribable. You felt practically invulnerable.

You soon felt comfortable enough to do pirouettes on the ice all by yourself. You had found the right balance to move across the ice and could even move faster than you did before.

You let go of Diluc’s hand and started circling across the surface of the frozen lake. Faster and faster you slithered across the ice.

The problem came about when you wished to come to a halt again. You never asked Diluc how you were able to stop again once you had built some momentum.

And before you had the chance to ask him you slithered and fell face first into one of the big puffy snowbanks that had piled up at the shore.

Snow immediately covered you, got stuck in your hair, fell on your face, seeped into every crevice of your clothes, and made contact with your skin. The icy sensation felt like needles pricking at your skin.

You heard Diluc yell your name muffledly and could make out hurried slithers that came in the direction of where you had fallen. He worriedly pulled you up to your feet again by your hands, patting the snow off your clothes and hair softly.

“Are you alright? I'm so sorry I should've paid more attention. Did you hurt yourself?” He was fussing over you as if you had just fallen down a cliff instead of a bed of soft, albeit cold, snow.

You giggled at his worried expression and slung your arms around his neck, looking intensely at his beautiful eyes.

“I'm alright. Don't worry about me. Although maybe I'm a bit cold now – some snow crept its way into my clothes, I fear.” You pouted with a giggle.

He wordlessly took your hands in his and removed the gloves from your fingers, intertwining his warm ones with yours. You made out a faint flare from the vision on his hip before you felt warmth seep into every fiber of your body, warming you up from the inside out.

“Be careful or you'll melt me.” You teased with a wide smirk.

At that, he brought his face closer to yours, with an equally wide smile, before ushering: “Only your heart” against your lips, before passionately catching them into a deep kiss.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#gixrsecretsanta2023 #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #astronetwrk #wriothesley x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin comfort #genshin brainrot #genshin scenarios #🍁彡 gi #🍁 dust writes

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scar-crossedlvrs · 1 year

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Older Leon you say? 🫣🫣🫣🫣

How about RE6 Leon coming to get you after your lectures ends, just imagine him leaning on his bike with his arms crossed, and when you call out to him he has the biggest smile while calling you baby. 😩😩😩😩 Leon then takes reader out on a date on his bike (assignments? Nahh those can wait, a date with that sexy old man is more important.)

Leon S. Kennedy -

imagine being able to title things. couldn’t. be me.

This was too sweet, I’m too soft for this man. Anyway, while this was intended for an age gap i 100% believe it doesn't have to be because you can go to school at any point in your life <3, sincerely a college student in her l8 twenties. I'm also super aware that finals season is pretty much over for everyone, but like?? it made sense in my head to focus on it?

cw for implied age gap. gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

You couldn’t help but struggle to pay attention to the exam in front of you. Everything was too loud, the clock ticking on the wall, the sound of fellow students scribbling answers on their own exams, the loud breathing of the person sitting next to you. All of it kept you from actually focusing on the questions in front of you.

But what bothered you more than the noise, was the radio silence of your phone. It had been quiet all morning. He was supposed to be coming home today, and apparently he hadn’t even the mind to send you a good luck text.

Rude.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you forced yourself to pay attention to the task at hand. You had to at least try and pass this final. Scolding him would have to come after, while you were studying for the second and final test of the day. Before too long, you’re scribbling answers down with only a slight tinge of uncertainty.

You finish just in time, turning in your exam and escaping the stuffy lecture hall in a hurry. You didn’t stop until you stepped out the main doors of the building and into the bright midday sun.

You notice the bike first, parked on the curb. The sleek black Ducati that you’d recognize anywhere. A smile curls at your lips as you spot the owner, his back facing you with arms crossed and head hanging low. Despite that, you’d recognize those leather clad shoulders anywhere.

“Leon.”

Your voice rings out across campus and you can see the man shift from his spot against the bike. Head snaps up, his tired eyes turning to see you jogging towards him. You can see the smile tugging at his lips as he pushes off the bike, moving around it to meet you as you approach.

“There you are, baby. Sorry I lost my phone at work.”

So he hadn’t forgotten

Arms wrap around your waist as you reach up to kiss him, the annoyance from earlier slipping your mind as you press your lips to his.

“You know, you’re giving off creepy old man vibes, right.” you tease softly, “Hovering around a college campus like this.”

“There’s nothing creepy about just wanting to see you.” he shrugged casually, letting go of you to reach for the helmet on the back of his bike and holding it out to you, indicating that he wanted you to leave with him. Eying it hesitantly you shake your head.

“Lee I’ve got an exam in two hours.”

“So?” His words are punctuated by silence as he urges the helmet into your hands.

“So I need to study, and from the looks of it you need to sleep.” you finally say, trying to push the helmet back towards him.

“I can sleep later, let me help you study over some lunch.”

You pause for a moment before your hands close around the motorcycle helmet. “Fine, but if I’m late you’re paying for the class next semester when I have to take it again.”

Triumphant, he doesn’t say anything more as he mounts the bike. You slip the helmet over your head, settling behind him with your arms wrapped snugly around his waist as you pulled yourself close to his back.

Some nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you weren’t going to be doing a lot of studying.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #tea writes things

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amirasainz · 4 months

Note

Obsessed with your fics! Could you please do she’s sick and the drivers and wags fuss over her and acting like she’s gonna die when it’s just a cold?

Hi guys. Sorry for not posting anything for such a long time. I was so busy with school and travelling and didn't really have the motivation to write anything. Hope you all enjoy reading this and you can always send me some requests. -XoXo

______________________________________________

Flu-Season

Amira’s bout of the common flu had her feeling utterly miserable. Like any sick princess, she knew there was only one thing to do: call her brother.

Carlos wasted no time whisking her off to the doctor’s office. His nervous energy filled the waiting room, and if it weren’t for Rebecca holding Amira’s hand, she might have fainted from the dizzying pace of her older brother’s pacing.

The doctor’s diagnosis—common flu—elicited tears from Rebecca and a dramatic faint from Carlos. Back home at the Sainz-Donalds residence, Amira found herself cocooned in warmth. Five blankets enveloped her, a cute sea otter stuffed animal nestled beside her, and the couple—Carlos and Rebecca—lying on either side of her.

After an hour of sleep, Amira stirred to the gentle touch of someone stroking her hair. Opening her eyes, she met Carmen’s friendly gaze. “Hey, darling. How are you feeling?” Carmen whispered. “Why are we whispering?” Amira croaked. “We don’t want to wake the others,” Carmen replied.

Taking in her surroundings, Amira’s heart swelled. Kika and Rebecca laid at the foot of the bed, Kelly held her tightly from behind, and Leo and Roscoe each guarded near her head.

Emotions overwhelmed her, and tears welled up. “No, don’t cry, honey,” soothed Kelly, who had woken up as Amira shifted. Both Carmen and Kelly gently lulled the crying girl back to sleep. As Amira drifted off again, Carmen whispered to Kelly, “She truly is our brave girl.”

Meanwhile, in the living room:

“Gentlemen, pay very careful attention,” Carlos began. “Today, we’re gathered here to ensure that MY sister recovers faster than any Formula 1 car.”

Seated before him were Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre, Max, and George—each looking like picture-perfect soldiers. Carlos assumed the role of sergeant, addressing them with authority. A whiteboard displayed a timetable with different names and times.

“Max, you and Kelly will take Amira for a walk around 3 p.m. Charles and Lewis, dinner duty in 40 minutes. The rest of us will clean the bedroom. Carmen and Becca will assist with her shower, whil—”

“I can help her shower,” Lando interrupted. The room fell silent; all eyes turned to Lando, his hand raised. Carlos approached him, predator-like. “Lando Norris. Listen carefully, because I’ll say this only once. You’ll never come near my sister again if you keep talking like that. Do you hear me?” His final words were a whispered threat. Carlos waited for Lando’s nod of understanding.

“As I said before, Carmen and Rebecca…”

#baby!sainz!sister #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x kelly piquet x reader #george russel x carmen mundt x reader #pierre gasly x kika gomez x reader #amira sainz

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604to647 · 5 months

Text

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

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#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #bridgerton au #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 11 months

Text

HAPPY!

green flag traits of "red flag" men inspired by @aesterblaster’s cute kaiser snippet <3 gender neutral reader

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BAROU SHOUEI!

constantly takes care of you!

Barou isn’t exactly well-known for being an agreeable man, but everyone in the Blue Lock program knows how strict he is with maintaining not only himself but the environment around him. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he cares for you deeply and does what he can to make sure you’re eating your meals properly and making sure your living quarters are taken care of. Even if you invite him over to your place for a casual date, Barou refuses to sit still until all of your laundry is taken care of and he’s cooked up a nice snack for you. You love joking about how he’s essentially like a husband to you, although Barou will simply grumble at you to take better care of yourself, even if the thought does make him blush a little. He doesn’t mind cleaning up after you, especially if it means making you feel more comfortable, but he’ll still give you an earful when he catches you eating cookies on your bed.

“What would you even do without me?” Barou grumbles, scrubbing at the dishes in your sink with a renewed fury. “I swear, I leave for a few weeks to deal with a season, and I come back to you living as if your parents never taught you any manners.”

“I had a handful of dirty dishes in the sink. A handful,” you reply, waiting for your boyfriend to wrap up your chores and join you on the couch. “That I didn’t bother to do because I was getting ready in the morning. And you can leave them where they are, Sho. You don’t have to do my work for me.”

Barou frowns, but he doesn’t let go of the dishes. You always make it very clear that he’s not obligated to do any of your dirty work for you, but despite all the chastising he might do, Barou always insists on doing it anyway. You know it’s his way of showing his love for you—lots of heartfelt acts of service to lift even a little bit of the burden off of your shoulders. Even if you tease him for being a softie that would do anything at your beck and call, you’re awfully grateful to have a boyfriend that doesn’t mind picking up after you every now and then.

He places the last dish onto the drying rack and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and you reach towards him as he makes his way to you and sits down on the couch. He takes you into his arms, and you cuddle up against his side, grinning up at him like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thanks for doing my dishes for me. Again.” You sneak a kiss onto his cheek as he hums slightly, his face as austere as ever. He’s secretly enjoying this charade though: you can feel the way his hands tighten against your body and the way he melts ever-so-slightly towards the warmth of your body.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, knowing all too well that you have gotten too used to his pampering and that he would do it again in a heartbeat. “I’m not your maid.”

“Nope, you aren’t.” You pinch his cheek. “You’re something even better! You’re my boyfriend!”

ITOSHI SAE!

horrendously loyal to you!

Sae quite literally knows nothing about the world outside of his life with soccer, so when he first fell for you, he felt less like the soccer prodigy the world had its eyes on and more like a horribly inadequate boyfriend fumbling around to impress you. You’ve been nothing but understanding, but he feels bad that he has nothing but his utter devotion to offer you. You have no issues with it, and Sae finds more and more creative ways to remind you that he really has no one but you. He never says it directly to your face that he’d rather die than have you leave him, but it’s in the way he refuses to let go of your hand when you’re together or how he sends pictures of any and all wedding boutiques he runs across with a not-so-subtle text saying how it's perfect for the two of you. Sae knows it’s way too early to even entertain the thought of marriage, but how can he not, when he’s convinced that you’re his soulmate?

Sae’s grown to enjoy the quiet things in life. He’s never been too big of a fan of the loudness that came with his successful career. Frankly speaking, he could always do without the invasive interviews, the blinding flashes of paparazzi, the frenzy-mongering journalists twisting his words and actions for more clicks on their content.

Instead he’s found joy in you. There’s the way you make him laugh, your dumb jokes managing to wrench a giggle out of him. It’s the way you urge him to try out the new dessert menu out on a cafe date together, or how you beg him to pleeeeeeease buy a matching set of keychains with his big boy soccer player salary. Sae still has it hanging from his practice bag, and when Aiku found out about it, the captain teased him so badly that the entire team had to hold him back from yanking Aiku’s facial hair out.

Today is nothing special yet it’s Sae’s entire world. You’re fresh out of the shower, skin still a bit moist from the water, and you’re absentmindedly scrolling on your phone next to Sae in bed. Your attention isn’t even on him, distracted by whatever video you’re watching, yet Sae’s heart swells with so much affection that it’s almost suffocating. He wants to tell you he loves you until his voice gives out, but he knows being too brazen will scare you away. Knowing how to act like a normal boy his age has never been his strong suit, so until the day he can arrives, he settles for squeezing your shoulder and craning his neck to see what you’re watching.

“Look, Sae!” You hold up the phone, revealing two cats cuddling on your screen. “It’s literally us! You’re the grumpy looking cat right here!”

He scoffs, but his stomach does a backflip when you giggle, saving the video to your camera roll. Sae knows he doesn’t deserve you, not when you deserve someone much softer and kinder and more gentlemanly rather than the awkward boy he is. But it’s these moments that remind you how much you love him too, and inadequacy be damned, Sae will fight tooth and nail to cherish these shared moments with you.

OLIVER AIKU!

keeps the charm in your relationship!

There’s no denying that Oliver does have a flirtatious streak, and it took a lot of trying on his part to prove his loyalty to you. But as much as you hate to admit it, Oliver is also the kind of boyfriend that knows how to keep the flame in your relationship alive. Underneath the playboy casanova act is a hopeless romantic that loves sweeping you away and showering you with the kind of affection that would leave anyone swooning in their place. He’s the sort of boyfriend that’ll randomly pull you in for a dance while you’re making dinner together in the kitchen or try to serenade you outside your window horribly, only to end up pissing off your neighbors. Even the slow moments are just as entertaining, and Oliver knows how to keep you on your toes. A relationship with him is fun, first and foremost, and he’ll do whatever he can to keep you smiling.

It’s been one of those kinds of days. The ones where everything seems to go against you. Your clothes don’t look good, you keep tripping over your own feet, and nothing at work or school seems to work out for you. You’re down in the dumps and frankly ready to just curl up in bed to rot away for the rest of the day, so finally being able to go back home sounds like the trumpets at the gates of Heaven.

You practically slam your front door open and hurl your bag onto the couch, letting out a loud groan before nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor. You can hear a pair of soft footsteps pad out towards where you are, and you don’t need to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend.

“Woah there, sugar,” his deep voice sounds from above you, “Everything alright? No beautiful smile for me today?”

You shake your head, stifling another groan. “It’s been a long day, Oli. I’d smile at you if I had anything to smile about.”

“You’ve got me to smile for,” Oliver murmurs. It earns him a long glare from you, and he shoots an apologetic smile in surrender. You let your head sink back onto the floor, but Oliver pads over to where his car keys are, grabbing his jacket before heading back to you.

“How about we go for a quick run then? I’ll get you a few treats: McDonald’s, some candy and drinks, all my treat,” he offers. Your ears perk up at the offer, and Oliver grins, seeing you twitch. “I’ll even let you have aux this time so you can play whatever ear-rotting songs you want to listen to. “

“Even CBAT?”

He rolls his eyes when you peel your face off of the floor, looking at him with such sparkling eyes that he wouldn’t have guessed that this was the same person that came home with a storm cloud above their head. “...Fine. Even CBAT, if that’s what’ll cheer my angel up. Quit moping and get back on your feet. I’m not carrying you all the way to the car.”

“Boo,” you pretend to pout, but you eventually pick yourself up. Oliver offers you a hand for you to cling to, and before you know it, your mood is lifted and you’re driving off with your boyfriend off into the sunset.

MICHAEL KAISER!

makes it so clear that he’s obsessed with you!

If there is one word to describe how Kaiser is with you, it’s smitten. It’s hard to believe at first: the New Generation 11 striker, head over heels with a nobody like you? You think you’re dreaming when he first asks you out, but despite your constant doubts, Kaiser follows after you like a puppy that doesn’t know how to do anything better. While he would love to parade you around and make sure everybody knows who his heart belongs to, he takes it easy and lets you call the shots as to how extreme he can be. He’s the first thing you wake up to, always sending you a good morning call, and he’s the one fighting with you for the bill whenever you want something (spoiler alert: he always wins). It’s even in the way he holds your hand like it’s a lifeline; Kaiser’s fallen, and he’s fallen hard. He might be standoffish and selfish, but when it comes to you, he’ll do anything to make sure his feelings are known.

Kaiser crosses his arms, his pointed blue eyes leering down at you. His lips pull into a small frown, and he sighs deeply as if something’s troubling him. “You have honestly got to stop doing that.”

You blink, confused. “Stop doing what? I’m not doing anything.”

You really aren’t. You’re on your way back from the kitchen, having fixed yourself a snack. It’s one of those so-called ‘lazy days,’ where you haven’t bothered changing out of your pajamas or even washing your face for that matter. A horribly unglamorous side to show to your world-famous soccer star boyfriend, but if he had an issue with you being lazy, he should have left you a long time ago.

Kaiser’s cheeks tint into a shade of pink, and he grits his teeth. “Just… all of this! It’s bad for my heart!”

You raise an eyebrow. There’s crust all over your eyes, probably some crumbs around your mouth, and you can’t even start to talk about how disheveled you are. And yet, here you are, with Kaiser about to melt into a puddle of goo despite how awful you must look, and you have to admit, it’s quite the sight.

“Awwww, Mihya,” you tease, raising your voice to a mocking sing-song pitch. “Do you think I’m pretty? Gee, you could have just said so.”

Kaiser flushes an even deeper shade of red, burying his face into his hands. “D-Don’t phrase it like that! All I’m saying is that it’s bad for my heart to see you so casually like this! It feels so domestic, and then my stupid brain starts imagining things like living together, and- and- waking up together, and someday even getting married…”

Marriage? This certainly isn’t the first time it’s come up, and you doubt that it’ll be the last. Not that you mind though. If Kaiser’s in this much of a frenzy seeing you doing nothing, you’re going to take that as proof of how absolutely down horrendous this man is. You simply sidle up to him like the minx you are, poking at his cheeks until he’s yelping and trying to run away from you.

You chase him through the hallways, only catching him when you tackle him to the bed. His eyes are blown wide open, and his face is a brilliant shade of tomato crimson. You lean forward, grinning from ear-to-ear like a cat that’s caught its prey.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. Where’s my insufferable boyfriend now?” You coo. “Pucker up, loverboy, because I’m going in for a kiss!”

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #barou shouei #itoshi sae #oliver aiku #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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leclsrc · 2 years

Note

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.”

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table.

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…”

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page.

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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foreingersgod · 5 months

Note

Hi, I just read the Caitlin Clark x tennis reader. Would you possibly do a Caitlin Clark x volleyball reader, where the reader is more femme. Something along the lines of maybe reader plays for Texas vb and wins the championship.. sorry for the poor wording. Keep up ur amazing work!!

-anon

i would love too! again, i apologize for any inaccuracies in how i wrote the volleyball aspect of this, i’ve never played before so bare with me ! <3

Championship . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin supports you during your big win

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you had been working your ass off this season. it was your senior year at the college you attended and your last year playing volleyball with your team, you were very overwhelmed to say the least. there were so many nights spent on the court late at night, trying to perfect every move and every technique. you desperately wanted to take your team to the championship and win this title for them.

so you pushed yourself to your limits, still trying to maintain your grades and personal life. caitlin, your girlfriend, was incredibly understanding of course. she knew what it was like to want to win so bad, so bad that it felt like you were going to lose your mind. but she kept you grounded. you had always been there for her with basketball, and she wanted to show you that same appreciation for your dreams.

she attended every single game, often making the trip with you for away games. she’d bring flowers for you on occasion for your big wins, and she’d tend to bruises on your knees from diving and scrapes on your arms. she was so incredibly good to you.

you were lucky to have someone who understood the stress of the game and how it felt to struggle with wanting to win and not let down your team.

your hard work had paid off this season, though. thanks to your team, your coach, your family and friends, and especially caitlin. you led your team to victory and you were now heading to the final game in the champions ship. of course, your training remained intensive up until the game, stretching you thin.

the night before your game, caitlin made sure to treat you to a small night in to help you relax. she set up a movie and dinner, tended to your aching shoulders, completely shifting all of her attention to you. when you had woke up the next morning to get ready for the big day, she had even helped you get ready to help keep your mind at ease.

“you know i can braid my own hair, right?” you were finishing up your makeup, putting on some mascara and the lip gloss cait had gotten you for your anniversary a while back. caitlin had walked into the bathroom, offering to do your hair for you so you didn’t have to worry about it.

“yea i know, but i want to do it for you this time” she smiled at you through the mirror “like my way of sending you good luck, then you’ll know i’m always with you even on the court”

“that’s so sweet, cait” you turned around, pecking her on the cheek “just don’t do it too tight, please”

so there she stood, towering over behind you, twisting the 3 strands of your hair into a braid. her tongue sticking out slightly as she stayed focused on getting it perfect, just how you liked it. when she was finished, she proudly showed it off to you. you thanked her again before changing into your uniform and grabbing your bag.

once you arrived to the court for the championship, you and caitlin walked down to the locker room so she could give you a quick pep talk and a final kiss goodbye. “you’re going to absolutely kill it, babe, good luck!”

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

after ages of waiting in the locker room; getting warmed up, strategizing with your team, talking with your coach, it was finally time to head onto the court. you could hear the entire audience cheering as the announcers called on each one of your teammates, the anticipation for the game sat thick in the air.

the game started off well, everyone was quick on their feet, prepared for the opponent’s next move. you were probably having one of the best games in your career and you could just about feel that trophy in your hands. you had managed to hold a lead for the majority of the game, but within the last few minutes it tied, all boiling down to one last play.

you held your breathe as your teammate served the ball, watching as it sailed over the net. you stood ready, feet planted, heart racing, and determined more than you had ever been. the ball bounced back and forth over the net before eventually hurdling your way. your muscles tensed, eyes glued to the ball. you leapt, body a blur of motion, hand connecting with the ball in a perfect spike. Time seemed to halt as the ball soared over the net, bypassing the outstretched arms of the opposing team. the crowd erupted into cheers as you all watched the ball land on their court. you had scored the final point.

your team immediately surrounded you, lifting you up and cheering your name. there were so many tears and so many hugs as you all cherished the win of your last game together.

once the excitement died down with your team, you noticed caitlin on the side, making her way over to you. you smiled so big your cheeks hurt, running over to her as fast as you could. caitlin scooped you up into her arms, spinning you around from how fast you ran into her. your head buried itself into the side of her neck as you cried tears of joy, her arms squeezing you tight.

“i’m so fucking proud of you baby” she whispered in your ear, praising you gently and setting you back down on your feet “the best fucking player out there, hands down”

“thanks, cait” you beamed, pulling her back into another hug. “i can’t believe it”

“i can! you’ve been working your ass off for four years to get to this point! you deserve it more than anyone, YN” she said, watching how you bounced with excitement.

you and caitlin celebrated a little bit more on the court before you had to spilt to go talk to your friends and family, she waited patiently for you, observing how happy you looked taking pictures with the trophy and talking to your friends. it was such a rewarding sight to see, she was the most proud a girlfriend could be.

even when you had both arrived home, still buzzing with the post-win high. she showered you with praise and attention, making sure you knew how happy she was for you.

cait made you feel so special, no matter how sad the loss or how big the win. you were so privileged to have her at your side, supporting you through such an amazing collegiate career.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb x reader #wcbb #iowa wbb

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ickie · 5 months

Note

could you write something about charles getting home from a race late at night and reader trying to stay up for him🫶🫶🫶

♡ ickie writes: blurbs !

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: being without charles for two weeks was hard, but it seemed like waiting for him to get home was harder. \ word count: 0.5k warnings: none !notes: hey friends :) send requests here for blrubs/more short form stuff like this ! i have some longfrom fics in the works <3 want to be added to my taglist ? fill out this form !

your eyes felt heavy, eyes trained on the screen ahead of you barely taking in any of the plot of the episode of criminal minds that was playing in the background. it was almost 2 in the morning, and your body had wanted to go to bed hours ago... but you had promised charles you'd be awake for him when he got back. the two of you haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks, and it felt like two weeks from hell.

you weren't usually someone who was clingy, especially with charles. you had gotten used to his constant travels during the f1 season, usually making due with figuring out times to facetime, to call, to just chat, and normally that worked for you... not this time though, you felt the weeks dragging, your bed feeling empty and cold, an you couldn't even get yourself to drown in work.

as you began to nod off, finally allowing the sweet abyss of sleep take over you when you heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door which immediately had you waking up as you felt your heart rate speed up.

"mon ange..?" charles questioned as he opened the door while you basically sprinted up from your seat on the couch.

"charlie! i missed you, oh my god.." your arms wrapped around him before he could even put down his luggage, squeezing him like he was a soldier returning from war, which for some reason it felt like.

"i missed you too." he hummed, his arms wrapping around you as he discarded his luggage to the floor, he had other matters at hand.

the two of you stood in the doorway for a few moments, just taking eachother in, happy to be in eachothers arms again. "did you miss me?" charles questioned, clearly already knowing the answer.

"yes, obviously... it felt like you were gone for ages." you mumbled into his chest, finally pulling away to look at him. "i really did miss you." the words come out of you with a sigh, taking in his features.

he leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your lips while one of his hands moved to cradle your face. "i missed you too," he reassured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, nose, and then another to your lips. the kiss began to get heated before you pulled away once again, cheeks flushed.

"i'm tired, char... can we go to bed and finish this in the morning? and we can talk about the race, too... i know you wanted to talk to me about that." you hummed before pulling him by his hand towards your shared bedroom, charles murming a response of agreement behind you.

it was nice to have your bed not feel empty again. it was nice to fall asleep with your boyfriend's arms around your body. it was nice to be able to fall asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

you slept like a baby that night.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #answered .#anonymous #ickie writes: blurbs !

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angelliicc · 23 days

Text

signal

“i send you a sign, send you a signal

but it doesn't work at all”

a/n: hey guys im back again. enjoy because this is based off of a real life story to me :)

warnings: none

masterlist

| your team jumped for joy, forming a circle. “WE’RE GOING TO CHAMPIONSHIPS!!” you all exclaimed. the playoffs were a very close game, your team winning by a point yesterday. tears of joy filled the gym when you all realized you were going to the finals game.

“wanna watch the next game to see who we’re playing tomorrow?” coach asked.

“sure.” your team replied. you climbed up the bleachers sitting in the middle. you sat next to your friend, just as about it was tip off. you had no idea which schools they were. they were just yellow vs. black to you. the first half was quite boring, so you scrolled on your phone. halftime ended and it was the start of the 3rd quarter.

black was in possession of the ball until a girl from the yellow team stole it and made a wide open layup. woah. you thought to yourself. shes good. really good.

you couldnt take her eyes off of her. the way she played, her defense, her handles, her height, everything. you were admiring her from afar. you can finally see the back of her jersey. 14, williams.

you received a pamphlet of all the schools and players who were eligible to playoffs. you grabbed yours and flipped the pages quickly, looking for a williams.

“#14, ellie williams, point guard.” ellie huh? you thought to yourself.

the game eventually ended, with ellie and her school winning. meaning you were playing her tomorrow evening.

“im so scared, nervous, and excited.” you tell dina at school.

“im sure you guys will be fine! you have an undefeated season!” dina replied.

“i have a feeling we might lose. they’re really good and tall.” you said

“im sure everything will be fine, good luck tonight tho!” dina spoke

“thanks, i need it.” you joked back.

school ended at 3, the game was at 7. you had to get ready quickly since the play you were playing at wasn’t close. you brought your gym bag and water bottle and jumped into the car.

you were the first one there, with tons of emotions flowing through your body. you had a mental breakdown yesterday since you didn’t play to your expectations, which resulted into your mom scolding you. you wanted to make sure you played your best today.

more and more people arrived, parents, athletes, coaches, anyone. the gym was divided, half being in pink to support you and the others being in yellow to support your opponents.

tip off was in 5 minutes, you weren’t a starter, but you understood. your emotions were trying to get the best of you, but you tried to stop it. your coach gave you and your teammates some advice and where everyone should go, then the buzzer rang.

“on the court lets go!” the ref shouted. you sat down on the bench, watch the ball fly up in the air, then one of your teammates swinging it to your team.

“is ellie starting?” you thought to yourself. you didn’t see her on the court, but found her on the bench, watching eagerly just like you were.

2nd quarter had arrived, 15-24. you were losing. “you, go.” the co-coach told you. you got up, making sure your shoes had grip and ran on the court. you saw ellie was also playing. a foul got called against your team, so an opponent got 2 free throws. you were waiting on the 1st one.

“what are you doing? get ready!” coach scolded. when the opposing team got the rebound, coach called a timeout.

“you, take a charge on #14 if you can. shes too tall and drives fast.” coach ordered

“but who will the foul get called against?” you questioned.

“she will, shes in foul trouble.”

but before he can even explain more, reg blew the whistle, ordering everyone to get on the court. her team now had the ball. you tried your best to take a charge, but chickened out. coach subed you out. that was the only time you played.

it was a close game, but the other team started to give out towards the 4th quarter. your team took advantage of that. less than a minute left. shot clock. 52-48. your team had possession of the ball. there was 6 seconds left. ball up in the air, and it was a good. a 3 pointer made with 6 seconds left.

your team were champions. an undefeated record, the first in your schools history. you and your team gather outside to do an “undefeated” chant. all of a sudden, you see ellie in tears. you walk up to her, trying your best to comfort her. “hey, good game out there. you played good.” you said, attempting to cheer her up. all she could do was nod.

a few days later, you couldn’t stop thinking about ellie. “why can’t i get her out of my head?” you asked yourself. its like she owned your mind, and she was the only thing in it. you had no choice but to find her online, somehow.

you figured out the schools name, and decided to check the following list on it on instagram, when you see her username with a profile picture that looks exactly like her. “oh shit, its ellie. should i follow?” you ask yourself “you know what. fuck it.”

you pressed that blue follow button. next moment, your phone buzzed. she followed you back. it was like you were on cloud 9.

you went through her stories, seeing that she plays volleyball. you decided to dm her saying who you were, and that you played against her.

r: “hey, are you one of the players from the championship game?”

e: “yes, are you one of our opponents?”

r: “yup, i just wanted to say like your really fucking good i saw your semi-final game on sunday you killed it.”

e: “thank you so much omg you are rlly good too. i saw you guys play at the finals game. you are rlly good.”

r: “thank you, how long have you been playing?”

e: “7 years, wbu?”

r: “technically 2, i player when i was younger and i play now. i played volleyball for the first time this year, it was interesting.”

e: “vb is amazing. why, what happened?”

you then told her the unnecessary drama that happened at that time. it was definitely an experience.

r: “i wanna join club vb but its so expensive”

e: “fr like thousands of dollars to hit a ball over a net?”

r: “there’s a club near my city, but they want $6k”

e: “jesus, for hitting balls?”

r: “exactly! i can do it for free at my house”

you both then continued to talk about club volleyball, until you mentioned her volleyball videos. god she was amazing, you can see her going pro one day. she complimented you for your kind gesture. you both talked about how you can go against each other in the future again.

the next couple of days, you were contemplating weather or not to try out for club vb, so you texted ellie about it.

r: “hey ellie, i kinda wanna try out for volleyball. do you have any tips or what to expect?”

e: “theres gonna be passing, hitting, and serving. just keep practicing those.”

the conversation continued until it was getting late, and you both stopped responding to each other.

over the summer, you kept throwing hints to her how you liked her. you were head over heels for her, but you didn’t know if she liked you. you went complete stalker mode, looking at her reposts. you put songs on your story that reminded you of her. you replied to her stories and her notes, but she just didn’t get it.

over time, you made it to her close friends list. you felt like you won the lottery. you told dina and jesse about this crush, but they weren’t supportive.

“you can do better.” jesse commented

“first of all, what the fuck? and second, shes cute and a good baller.” you replied.

“i don’t think she likes you, sorry.” dina said. “shes friendzoning you. you’re the one always texting her first, replying to her, etc. i think you need to stop.”

“and what if i don’t?” you questioned.

“you’re gonna get your hopes up, all for nothing. don’t let her break your heart.” jesse added.

from then on, the signals you sent her died down. you didn’t text her as often as you did. you replied to her stories only rarely. you were forced to fall out of love.

i give you a glance and keep throwing hints

but you don’t understand

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader

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probably-writing-x · 2 years

Text

Blushing Boy

Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary: There were few things that made Drew Starkey lose his confidence, in fact, perhaps only one could truly ever do it; you. He didn’t know how, or why, but you just seemed to have that goddamn effect on him.

Warnings: Nothing besties, just fluffy as heck

Author’s Note: Thank you so so much for the love on my other post, I just had to post this one too !! Please please send in any requests you have my angels <3

Not my gif

You were just about nearing the end of press for Outer Banks Season 3, and all bases had been covered - you’d done interviews to see how well you knew your cast mates, ones looking at scenes from the show, and, of course, the puppy interview. Today was your last day, though all of you were split up in different places, on different projects, and so the last day of interviews would be done over zoom. This was your first experience working on the show, having come in to play Rafe’s love interest as the start of the season. Thankfully, the fans had fallen in love with you, and especially with your storyline with Drew. So much so, in fact, that they’d started to ship you two as actors as well, adoring every moment that they saw you spend together. The two of you were just friends, but you can’t say you didn’t find it amusing whenever theories were made. And, being honest, some of the edits did make you two look cute.

That was your side of things, anyway. Drew had fallen for you at the same rate that Rafe had fallen for your character. He wanted to see you every morning you started work, waiting to catch sight of you on set. He wanted to film all of his scenes with you, watching in awe whenever you acted. He was mesmerised whenever he saw you at events, amazed by you from the red carpets to the earliest of mornings. Drew felt like a schoolboy around you, stumbling over his words, blushing at prolonged eye contact, ears pricking up at the sound of your name. And it only got worse the more he saw of you.

“Okay, thank you guys all for joining me today,” The interviewer begins, smiling widely into the screen, “We’ve got Madelyn, Chase, Madison, Rudy, Jonathon, Carlacia, Drew and (Y/N), the cast of season three of Outer Banks, now streaming on Netflix. How are you guys doing?”

“I’m good,” Madelyn smiles.

“I’m tired, I flew back from Paris today and I’m so jetlagged,” Madison laughs.

“Okay, we’ll start off with a question for Chase, how has it been with the new additions to the cast this season - with Carlacia and (Y/N). How does that fit in with the dynamic of you guys working together?”

Chase leans closer to his microphone and speaks, “You know I think we got really lucky again to work with another great group of people, we all get on so well and these two just fit in perfectly with that, and it makes it so easy to go to work when you’re with such a good bunch.”

“Amazing, and (Y/N), what was your experience like being on set?”

You shift in your seat, glancing at all of the faces on screen, “Like Chase said, it was just ideal getting to work with everyone, it’s like being on one long holiday all working together, you’re out in the sun everyday, you’re on the water, you’re doing stunts, it was just such a great experience. And I was so lucky to get to share the screen with Drew, he makes it so easy to come into work everyday and, I mean, it’s not exactly hard to pretend to fall in love with him.”

You glance at him on the screen and the way his eyes seem so transfixed as you speak, like he holds onto every syllable one at a time. He’s wearing a purple t-shirt that brings out his eyes and his hair is messy in that sort of perfect way it always was.

“And Drew, what was it like to be working with (Y/N) so closely?”

“Yeah, I mean,” He coughs over his words, “It was great, (Y/N) is just perfect to work with, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. She’s so talented, and kind and supportive as an actress and she just made me want to get up every day and come into work.”

You’re sure your cheeks heat with the vulnerability of what he has said. His are bright red too, and you’re relieved for a moment to share the same feeling even across the screen.

A few more questions are asked, Rudy explains about how many injuries he managed to pick up on set and Jonathon tells an embarrassing story about you and Madelyn from the wrap party. And then attention falls back to you and Drew.

“So, whilst I’ve got you guys here, I have to ask Drew and (Y/N) about the rumours that have been going around about you two, can you tell me anything the fans will want to hear?”

You laugh, slightly allowing yourself a bit more time before you figure out what to say, “You know, these things are inevitable when you play a couple on a show. But I think we take it as a compliment if anything, at least it was convincing enough for people to believe us, you know? Right Drew?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew chuckles dryly, “I’m just glad they know that we don’t hate each other.”

“Are you blushing Starkey?!” Rudy exclaims, coming closer to the screen.

Drew laughs and looks away, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth, “Shut it Pankow.”

Everyone laughs but it’s as if you can feel all eyes on the two of you, and in that moment, all you want it for him to be there with you to share the attention. For him to be close enough that your hand could brush his, your eyes could focus solely on Drew’s, your laugh in rhythm with his. And, in that moment, perhaps for the first time, you realise that maybe those edits had realised something before you had.

“Okay, well it’s been great speaking to you guys, thank you so much for joining me,” The interviewer finishes up, closing off before telling you that you’re all done and you can log off from the call.

You shut your laptop and pull out your phone to see notifications already bursting through. They’re all from the groupchat you had with the other girls.

Oh my god did you see his face?

Are you kidding me rn??? That boy is in love with you

I’ll never forgive you if you don’t date Starkey fr

You laugh, fingers hovering over the buttons as you try to figure out a response. You wanted to tell them that they were being stupid, that there was no reason for them to think like that. But you can’t bring yourself to lie to them.

You swipe away from that chat, scrolling the short way down to where Drew’s chat with you was. The last thing he’d sent you was a fan made video of the two of you, a video from set where he had you on his shoulders in the pool and both of you fell under.

When you go to text him, he’s already typing.

And this time, you’re the one that’s blushing.

1K notes · View notes

acidburnsthings · 5 months

Text

FEAR FOR NOBODY//FA14\\ part two

pairing: fernando alonso x soldier/military!reader

description: When the Circuit of the Americas joined the list of races for the 2012 season, no one expected it to be such a monumental day for a certain Spaniard...

faceclaim: Olivia Cooke; various pinterest girls

2021 user y/username has gone public

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 5,467 others

y/username back in austin <3

y/bro/user aaaahhh, i can't wait for you guys to come to huston, i miss the three of you so muuch

y/username since when are you this whiny?? y/bro/user omg, you're sooo annoying

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fernandoalo_official

liked by kimimatiasraikonen, y/username and 978,451 others

fernandoalo_official feels good to be back

lewishamilton welcome back, mate!

sebastianvettel welcome back to the grid, nando!

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 15,467 others

y/username No.4 <3

y/bro/user congrats idiots, tell little theo i miss him!!

y/bff/username congrats!! can't wait to third wheel again!!

y/username gurl, you have your own husband y/bff/username yeaaah, but i preffer third-wheeling my parents (jk baby i love ya)

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2022

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 16,512 others

y/username the boys like it when they go vroom (but it seems theo preferred running around)

y/bro/user little man had more fun than you, it seems

user1 honestly, her life seems to be so much fun

user2 how fun can it be when you're a part of the military??? user1 well, i'm just going off of her insta

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bff/username and 17,512 others

y/username tbt -> our prep for the 2012 USA Grand Prix can't belive it's been 10 years

officer_friend1 girlie I remember the way you looked at that one driver, can't remember his name tho

officer_friend2 👀 officer_friend3 👀 y/bff/username 👀 y/username ya'll... nvm

y/bff/username still remember my moms excitement when she saw you, she almost cried

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2023

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 17,512 others

y/username green has always been my color 💚

y/bro/user rb is better

y/bff/username agreed y/username both of you are wrong, aston martin is the best

user3 uhmmm, why is this random lady popping up on my feed??

user4 omg same, but hey, she's an aston martin fan so she's welcome to stay on my feed user5 not only a fan, but it seems nando is liking her post

user6 that second pic is sooo cute

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 19,572 others

y/username on break and he still drives like there is no speed limit, but he bought me coffee and cake so i forgive him for the heart attack <3

y/bff/username a BMW? disgraceful... tsk tsk

y/username its your car.... y/bff/username shhhhh...

user7 why is she on my feed and why is nando in the likes???

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2024

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 190,572 others

y/username i am apparently married to a war criminal???

fernandoalo_official te amo mi hermosa reina <3

y/username i love you too, criminal <3 fernandoalo_official please don't, love y/username ok, i won't <3

user8 MARRIED??!! YOU'RE HIS WIFE??!! i think i might pass out

user9 this was honestly so unexpected, tf is happening??

user10 is everybody just ignoring the FACT THAT THEY HAVE A KID TOGETHER???

user11 i was just about to say, but honestly, they're cute together, the three of them

astonmartinf1 thank you for providing new pictures of fernando, one of them WILL be our new contact photo, also welcome!

y/username you're very welcome, will provide more if needed astonmartinf1 i'll DM you a number for you to send them to us fernandoalo_official NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

user12 not y/n and aston martin admin teaming up to embarrass nando LOL

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fernandoalo_official