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absurdthirst · 4 months

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A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

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finalgirllx · 9 days

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mattheo riddle | coffee shop drabble just some fluff with mattheo outside of his typical setting. been in my drafts for a while but the 500 mg of caffeine i’ve had today inspired me to finish it. 1.1k words | f!reader

After spending most of your morning strolling through densely populated city streets, you and your boyfriend Mattheo longed for a short break. You found yourselves entering an equally busy coffee shop; despite all of the action, you sighed in relief as the inside brought a coziness that the foggy spring weather had not granted. Your moment of peace was swiftly interrupted when the comforting air was punctured by a spiteful “Fucking London," muttered by Mattheo.

"Hey, remember what I said, to speak respectfully of muggle life,” you firmly reminded him, prompting Mattheo to roll his eyes.

"I'm just commenting on their ridiculous practices. Imagine living without a few charms to speed up their queues or possessing knowledge of hexes for unruly patrons. Some of these raggedy muggle men clearly have a death wish, eyeing you up," Mattheo explained, his voice heating up slightly as an air of jealousy spiked through him, earning a swift hush from you.

"Enough of that. Firstly, pay no mind to the muggle men; we're not leaving this cafe with an assault charge. And you can't simply overlook every aspect of their world, Matty," you told him. "We're gonna have to stop here sometimes. And let's not forget, you've already strayed from your 'hardened Slytherin principles' by being involved with a half-blood," you added, arching a stern brow. A faint blush tinged Mattheo's cheeks with the reminder of your blood status. He knew he had messed up slightly. "Feeling less judgmental now, are we?" you questioned with a pleased smirk before gesturing towards the lengthy queue of customers. "Come on, go get in line."

Mattheo shot you one last sour glance before standing up, planting a guilty kiss on your forehead, and apologetically joining the queue.

As the aroma of coffee grounds filled your senses and the chatter turned to white noise, you observed Mattheo as he waited. He was constantly fidgeting with his fingers and casting wary glances around, his discomfort for something so foreign to him obvious. It was jarring seeing Mattheo in a new context. Because of your relationship, sometimes you were oblivious to the fact that others found him a bit terrifying.

For one thing, Mattheo constantly exuded a dark allure. His deep brown eyes seemed to penetrate whatever they landed on. His tousled dark curls, erring on the longer end, failed to conceal most of the scars on his face. The most prominent one that lined the bridge of his nose left him looking jaded, with bystanders unaware of how often you placed kisses over it. Despite not being exceptionally tall, his muscular frame hinted at his physical strength. And then there were his scarred hands, roughened up by his often excessive fights, some appearing as if they could have happened as recently as the day prior (and to be fair, you're not sure what he had been up to the times you weren't with him). Even his all-black outfit served to highlight the rest. The subtle paces the muggles strayed away from him in the queue confirmed your suspicions that Mattheo stood out for reasons beyond magic.

Of course, you adored him. To you, he was simply your handsome boyfriend, with scars and poor choices of wording and all.

After a few moments of growing boredom, you made the decision to move from your saved table to join Mattheo in line. Lost in his thoughts (probably something like asking himself how he ended up here), it took you nudging his side for him to notice. He looked at you, the pointed glare he had been directing at everything else softening, but the tenderness was short-lived as he soon became mischievous.

"A tad antsy, are we?" he teased arrogantly, "Have you forgiven me yet?"

"You did offend me back there, so I'm keeping you on a tight leash for the rest of the day." You snuck a hand around his upper arm, emphasizing your point. He smirked and took the excuse to wrap his hand around your waist in a sweet but possessive hold.

"So, what is the lady ordering?" Mattheo asked with a light squeeze to your side.

"I think I'll go for the iced latte," you remarked while perusing the menu. Mattheo snorted, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.

"Don't tell me you also judge others for their coffee," you cautioned, letting him know he was getting on your last nerve.

"Oh please, black coffee being the better drink is just factual."

"Enough of that," you snapped. "You're pushing it today. And I'm not sure how much I trust you, with your entire diet consisting of coffee and cigarettes. Which, speaking of, is a habit we need to break you out of," you continued with your irritated lecture.

"Hey, I'm not on my deathbed," he cut off your tangent, feigning offense with a defiant scoff.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the front of the line, and Mattheo watched as you placed your order. He offered to pay, a gentlemanly gesture that was most likely to make up for the half-blood comment, to which you accepted. After solving a slight delay caused by confusion over muggle versus wizarding money (Mattheo handing the polite employee galleons, to everyone's surprise), your drinks were finally being prepared.

"It serves you right," you remarked. “Keep insulting your lady, and you'll be paying forever."

"Don't worry; I planned on doing that anyway."

You picked up your drinks and Mattheo pulled off the lid to blow on his to cool it down, prompting you to giggle at his actions.

"How's that scorching black coffee for you?" you asked teasingly, looking a bit too pleased at the sight. He pouted slightly before upping the attitude, warning you to watch your tongue.

Once again, without a clue about his surroundings, Mattheo attempted to cool his drink with a freezing charm. You quickly stopped to remind him that fingertips don't typically summon ice in the muggle world. He gave you a scornful look but complied, waiting patiently instead for his prized black coffee.

Waiting a few more minutes before heading out to brave the lousy weather, you couldn't resist checking out your boyfriend again. You had to admit that Mattheo's intimidating look, paired with a drink in hand, was especially attractive. Everything about him just worked for you, and you pulled some corny comment about him looking hotter than the drink, eliciting a groan from him to hide his amusement.

Now fastened with liquid energy to get you through the rest of the day, you left the cafe side by side, the bickering never ceasing.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys

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inbloomwriting · 9 months

Text

a calm surrender II Roy Kent

Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.

Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you"

Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half

She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.

Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.

And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.

He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.

No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.

It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.

It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.

The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.

The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”

There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).

“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”

“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”

She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.

“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”

“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”

That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.

“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”

Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.

“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”

She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”

He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.

He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.

“Jesus. Let me just — “

Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.

“I really appreciate it, Roy.”

And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.

Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.

“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”

“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.

He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”

A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.

“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”

“I didn’t look sketchy.”

“You looked a little sketchy.”

Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.

“You look beautiful.”

The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.

“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”

In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”

She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin. He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.

“You’re a strange woman”

“Strange or smart?”

Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.

“Bit of both.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.

And — Elton John?

“Oh, I love that song!”

A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.

“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “

“No, fuck off!”

Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.

Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so. She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.

“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”

Roy scoffs “Figures.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her. With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.

He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.

“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”

“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”

He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.

“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“

She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “

“I have a 6-year-old niece.”

Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.

Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”

“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”

He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”

He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.

Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.

A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.

“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”

He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.

Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.

I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway

The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”

It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.

Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.

It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.

Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.

Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.

“Roy?”

“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.

The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.

There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.

“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”

“Don’t let Sam hear.”

“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”

Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.

“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”

Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Came to get my jacket back.”

Absolute dumbass.

“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”

She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.

“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”

This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.

“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”

“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."

“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”

Roy just scoffs in response.

Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.

“You want a top-up?”

“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”

He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.

“Did you walk here?”

“Mmh.”

“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”

Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”

The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.

“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”

“Fuck no”

Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”

“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”

She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”

The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.

“That’s fine.”

“He snores, just thought you should know.”

“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”

Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.

She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.

“Hey Roy,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”

The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Roy.”

He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.

It looks good on you & I like your laugh

He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.

Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.

Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.

“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.

“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”

Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.

“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”

He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.

“And can you feel the love tonight How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?

“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.

This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.

“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”

“No, god no.”

“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”

When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.

“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”

“It looks good on you.”

It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.

“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”

That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.

“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”

“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.

Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.

“Roy Kent, you won today.”

Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —

A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.

“Fucks sake.”

In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “

“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.

Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.

“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”

“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”

Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.

He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.

Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out

Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.

And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.

Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.

But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.

If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?

"Roy?"

“Jesus, fuck!”

There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.

He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.

But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.

— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”

Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.

“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”

He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.

“I work here.”

“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”

“I try.”

Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.

“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”

“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”

She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”

“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”

“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”

Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.

“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”

We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.

It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.

“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”

“Football is all I have.”

“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”

She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”

She is. He adores it.

“Oh, but you like it — right?”

“What?”

“You do — like it? Like me?”

It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.

“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”

He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.

Almost.

That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.

“Ah shit, I gotta go.”

“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”

“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”

He’s not convinced.

“What about the storm?”

“I think the rain stopped, listen.”

Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.

“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”

“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”

His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.

You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?

This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.

The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”

“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”

I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.

“Get out, (Y/N).”

She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.

Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.

“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”

He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.

Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.

“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”

It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.

A green light guiding him to safe shores.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”

Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow

Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.

Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.

It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Royoooo.”

Oh. Oh!

A smirk pulls at his lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”

“Right.”

"So, yeah."

“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”

“It’s handsome, innit?”

“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”

Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.

“Where are you?”

“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”

“Go on and cancel that Uber.”

“Then how am I going to get home?”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”

And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.

“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”

“Who could’ve guessed.”

She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”

“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”

She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”

She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.

“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”

He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.

“Do I need to show you to believe me?”

She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”

She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.

“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Mh.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.

I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway

“Roy?”

Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.

“Why is there a small child looking at me?”

“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”

“She’s so pretty.”

She has a point.

10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.

“Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy.”

Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.

Sometimes life is fucking sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”

(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.

“Remember what you said?”

“Do you?”

“You promised me something, Roy.”

Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.

It’s only right to keep this one too.

“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”

The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.

Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.

Only —

“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”

There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.

Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.

It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.

“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The eggs are burning.”

“Fuck!”

“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”

Irritating! Both of them.

They’re his whole entire heart.

I love you & I love you

“I love you.”

It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, what?”

She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.

“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”

Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.

“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Can’t hurt to say it again.

“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”

Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.

How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x f!reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #inbloomwriting

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oncomingnight · 9 months

Text

Yandere! Barbie Girl ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

poc reader ᧔𐓪᧓˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten the chance to watch the most recent Barbie movie but I will be seeing Oppenheimer tonight :) very excited. This post was inspired by Margot Robbie as the original Barbie but I didn't make the setting of this piece the Barbie movie, keep that in mind :)! Please feel free to talk to me and request works in my ask box, I love speaking with all of you.

She was absolutely beautiful, always making sure she was properly groomed. $79 glittery pink glass on her plump lips, french tip acrylic nails, gorgeous locs of honey blonde hair falling down her back.

Barbara was a self-made woman. She earned a diploma in international business before becoming the chief executive officer of her own company. Thanks to not only her job but knowledge, she earns enough to set you both for life. Because of the morals her father raised her with, she knows how to treat a wornan, and takes full advantage of this to take care of you.

She is the personification of the quote Dolly Parton made about being an entrepreneur. "You know, I look like a woman but I think like a man And in this world of business, that has helped me a lot. Because by the time they think that I don't know what's goin' on, I then got my money, and gone."

Barbara spends her hard-earned money mindfully. She' donate to her choice of charities, gift inventory to soup kitchens, give away basic needs to shelters, she particularly enjoys fostering animals with you.

Another thing she enjoys using her money for is to show you the beauties of the world. Flying to Istanbul to taste the delicious flavors of a Turkish breakfast, taking you shopping in New York, London, Paris, Dubai and having a hot springs spa day with you.

You're outrageously spoiled and doted on by her. It's HER job to show you exactly how thankful she is for you, it fills her with undetainable rage to think about someone else trying to make you happy and take you away from her. Of course, you'd never leave her for anybody else, she just can't help but overthink.

Because of her severely accomplished corporation, she's expected to attend specific events. Does she have the money to hire a top tier tearn to help ready the two of you? Yes, but she can help you herself. She will zip your dress up. She will apply makeup to your soft and beautifully crafted face, she will be the one to kneel and apply the shoes she carefully selected to your feet.

She will be the one to take your hand in her perfectly manicured one in front of all the cameras.

Soon, your hand will have a ring with a pink sapphire settled on one of your fingers. She'll make sure the proposal goes absolutely perfectly.

She takes you on the loveliest dates and some of them are stay-in nights. She'll take out your matching silk pajamas out of her walk-in closet, place bunches of pillows and plushies onto her couch, prepare your favorite snacks + beverages and get your most favored movie/shows onto the TV.

Every time the two of you go for a day out, you find at least one of her arms wrapped around your waist. Barbara will hug you from the back while settling her face onto your shoulder, either standing in silence or talking to you mindlessly.

"whatcha doin' :)?" "I had a plan for what we could do tonight." "While I was at work today, I was thinking about where we could go for our honeymoon."

She'd admit (without shame) that she's a clingy wife. You could be preparing dough for some baked goods and she'll be hugging you tightly from behind, being shoulder to shoulder with you, holding your hand no matter what you're doing, asking to bathe and shower with you (in a sweet way) so she can help wash you but she just enjoys being near you.

Obviously.

She goes all out during Christmas, anniversaries, holidays, etc. On the morning of your birthday, she'll wake you up with dozens of kisses on your face, presents wrapped in pastel colored paper, your favorite foods that she cooked herself, homemade baked treats she learned to make from her parents, she'll also quickly mention that she booked a cabin and how your flight is set for that exact day.

Better hurry and get ready, babe! :)

Christmas is her absolute favorite holiday as it is for millions of people but no one celebrates like her. The whole house is decked out in decoration, inside and out. A white tree accompanied with ornaments, each painted with individually unique designs by the two of you. She doesn't set out some of the more special presents under the tree because she wants to keep you guessing in the best way. Each present meant for you will have a tag on them that has writing about how much she adores you.

Winter is the best season to cuddle with the one you love. She takes that to her advantage as well! Barbara will set you down onto her pink satin couch that has multiple blankets on it to cuddle in front of the fireplace with you, old timey Christmas music on the record player.

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this, it was supposed to come out earlier today but Tumblr was being a bit difficult so I had to make some changes but , hopefully, it still pleased some of you. I'll post some more tomorrow and I will let you know how I liked the Oppenheimer movie :).

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yelena-bellova · 9 months

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Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Hold You Close

Plot: A night out with the Greyhounds, a short-lived stint as head coach and a massive data leak bring on a full week for Y/n.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: language, alcohol, sexual undertones (nude leak), slut-shaming

A/N: What do you get when you write a football fic with very little knowledge of football? This.

To be honest, this chapter feels more like filler and felt very awkward to write. But even if it’s a tiny step, every chapter moves the story along a little bit. Very much a Keeley and Jamie chapter, so enjoy!

——————

Winning suited Richmond.

A four-game win streak had brightened the halls of Nelson Road Stadium. The whole city was in the best mood it had been since the start of the season. Total Football, though it had taken time, was leading them to victory week after week.

After their fourth straight win, the Greyhounds proclaimed a club night. After months of declining, Y/n finally accepted their invitation to join. Going clubbing was…more than a little out of her comfort zone, but the boys weren’t going to take no for an answer. And truthfully, she wanted to celebrate their good fortune just as much as they did.

Sat in the VIP section of a London nightclub, the Greyhounds shouted to one another over the thumping bass. Colin and Y/n were sat in a corner, Colin entertaining her with a story from training the other day. When their glasses were emptied, they headed to the bar to get a refill.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n gestured to Colin’s bottle, “Gimme.”

Colin handed over his vodka, Y/n poured a bit into her empty glass and threw it back.

She grimaced, letting out a groan.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Colin replied.

“No, it is,” Y/n screwed her eyes shut, “It really is.”

Y/n wasn’t buzzed, but she was certainly more relaxed than usual. It felt good to be out, to be amongst people she liked, to laugh. It made all the lingering anxiety in her head fall hush.

Colin was laughing at her alcohol tolerance just as a man who didn’t belong to their party came up to the bar. He stood beside Y/n and flashed an easy smile.

“You weren’t saving this space, were you?”

“No,” Y/n’s voice was strained, coughing from the vodka, “Go for it.”

The man flagged down the bartender, “Something strong, please. But,” he pointed to Y/n, “Not whatever she had.”

Feeling like she could see properly again, Y/n chuckled. “Smart choice.”

“I’m Paul,” the now-named stranger held out his hand.

She shook it, “Y/n.”

Colin stayed silent beside Y/n, smiling and sipping his drink.

“Are you here with friends?” Paul asked in a thick Irish accent.

“Uh, sort of,” Y/n glanced back the corner of the room the Greyhounds occupied, “After-hours work thing.”

“Ah,” Paul nodded and thankfully didn’t follow her gaze, “Don’t know how many people want to spend a Saturday night with their co-workers.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to give as little information as possible. “Bit of an unconventional workplace.”

“Okay, well, now you’ve got to tell me what you do,” Paul said plainly.

“Ha,” Y/n smiled, “If I do, I’ll never get rid of you. Trust me.”

“No, no,” Paul held up both hands, “You tell me, I get my drink, and then I leave with a useless fact about a stranger whose name I’ve already forgotten.”

Y/n laughed again. This particular club didn’t strike her as somewhere you’d meet a genuinely nice guy. It was a surprise, and if nothing else, it was pleasant conversation.

“You’re…” Paul decided to start guessing, “Personal assistant to some 5-star chef.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t have so many takeaway menus in my kitchen drawers,” Y/n replied, visions of Christmas dinner two months before flashing through her head.

“Ah,” Paul winced, strike one, “You’re…a dancer and you’re out with your company.”

Y/n scoffed, “I’m flattered, but no.”

Paul pressed a finger to his lips, twisting fully to face Y/n. It was the most polite way of checking someone out she’d seen.

He pointed towards her, “You’re-“

“There you are,” Jamie exclaimed, sliding up to Y/n, “Babe, I was looking for ya.”

Y/n’s mouth hung open, ready to reply to Paul but struck speechless by the interruption.

“Told ya, waiter could’ve brought us refills,” Jamie slid an arm around Y/n’s shoulders and tugged her into his side. “Didn’t have to do it yourself,” he finally took his eyes off Y/n and turned to Paul, “Good night, eh, lad?”

With nothing more than two sentences, Jamie had sent a clear message to Paul that his presence was not required, needed or wanted in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded in defeat, “Good night. Hope the same for you,” he gave Y/n a thin smile, “Cheers.”

Y/n awkwardly held up a hand, waving him goodbye, before turning to Jamie. “And what was that?”

“Me savin’ ya,” he answered as if it were obvious. His eyes followed Paul across the room till he was satisfied by the distance. “These places are lousy with creeps.”

“But he wasn’t,” Y/n argued, though it wasn’t really an argument. She hadn’t felt one way or the other about Paul. “He was just nice.”

“I can vouch,” Colin made his presence known again, “Saw the whole thing.”

Details mattered very little to Jamie. The truth of it was, he wasn’t even sure why he had stopped the conversation. The moment he’d glanced over at Colin and Y/n’s spot on the couch and seen it was empty, he went on high alert. Colin could fuck off wherever he wanted, but not knowing where Y/n was unsettled him.

And seeing some guy, creep or no creep, chatting Y/n up and making her laugh felt wrong. Very wrong. So wrong.

“‘Course he was nice,” Jamie replied, “The good ones are always nice at first. That’s how they get ya.”

Y/n watched Jamie mansplain men to her, something she thought was impossible to do. Neither of them really realized his arm was still around her, effectively proclaiming to the club that she was off-limits.

“Well, congratulations,” Y/n took the glass Colin handed her, annoyed yet unable to stop from smirking, “You protected me from harmless small talk with the first person I’ve spoken to outside of work since I started with you clowns.”

Jamie could sense the sarcasm, he didn’t particularly care. The threat had been neutralized. He shrugged, “You’re welcome.”

—————————

A few days later, Y/n was sat at her breakfast table. She watched the busy street below out her window. There was a peace to the hustle and bustle of Richmond that differed from the rest of London. Everyone had a destination, but no one was really in a hurry to get there. It was one of the things that she liked most about living in the middle of it all.

A ‘ding’ from her phone redirected her attention. A Google and Twitter alert. There was a good chance it was pap photos coming out from the club’s night out. A bit late, but still possible.

Y/n held her breath as she reached for her phone. There weren’t a lot of flattering angles to have captured them at by the end of the evening. She tapped the screen to see it was…Keeley…who was trending.

“What…” Y/n mumbled, dropping her fork and typing in her passcode to search further.

Not pap photos. Worse. So much worse.

“What…” she breathed.

There’d been a massive leak of private photos and videos, mostly from celebrities. Among them was Keeley. A racy video of the former model from a few years ago was spreading like wildfire across the digital landscape.

“Oh my gosh,” Y/n whispered as she scrolled various reactions and unfortunate screenshots. She threw her phone down when clips began to fill her feed. The whole country was watching it. Talking about it. Laughing at it.

Y/n scarfed down the rest of her eggs, grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

—————————

Keeley nearly didn’t answer the door. When the insistent banging didn’t stop, she caved and peeled herself off her bedroom floor. She peeked out the window to see one of the only people she felt like speaking to at the moment.

“I just saw,” Y/n blurted out as soon as Keeley opened the door, “I’m so sorry.”

Keeley exhaled, putting her hands over her face, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know what the fuck-“

“Hey, hey,” Y/n placed her hands on Keeley’s shoulders and guided her inside, “C’mon.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Keeley continued, barely registering that she was moving and that Y/n had shut the front door, “My family’s gonna see it. The team. Our clients!”

“I know,” Y/n replied, sitting them both down on the couch, “But the clients don’t matter right now.”

They did, terribly so, but Y/n wasn’t going to bring that up.

Raking her hands through her hair, Keeley stumbled for words. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

Y/n rubbed a hand over her boss’s arm, “I’m so sorry, Keeley.”

There was no way to fix any part of the awful situation, but Y/n, just by being there, made Keeley feel 1% better. It was better to hurt with someone than to do it alone. Jack had just left and the last thing Keeley wanted to be at the moment was by herself.

“You came all the way here because you saw?” Keeley asked, struck by the sentiment.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged, “Yeah.”

Since Amsterdam, Keeley had seen Y/n’s walls come down, or weaken at least. She hadn’t pushed too hard on the matter, she rather enjoyed the new Y/n. But this, this was entirely out of character.

Keeley threw her arms around her neck, grateful and in need of a hug.

A few months ago, Y/n would have shimmied out as soon as she could. But this wasn’t then, and she tightly wrapped her arms around Keeley, doing what little she could to comfort her.

“This is fucked up,” Y/n sighed.

“So fucked up,” Keeley whimpered, stuck somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Y/n pulled back, still holding on, “We’re gonna get you through this. I promise.”

Keeley took a shaky breath, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/n smiled, “C’mon, KJPR. Dealing with shitty headlines is our superpower.”

Keeley managed a laugh before digging back into Y/n, the two of them locked in a heavyhearted embrace.

—————————

“No, Miss Jones has no comment on the data leak,” Y/n repeated into her phone, shutting down the fifth reporter of the morning, “Have a lovely day.”

Hanging up, she let her forehead hit her desk. It had been a full day since Keeley’s video hit the internet and she could only pray people lost interest and moved on soon. She had made Keeley promise not to answer any calls, instead forwarding the reporters to her. Most of them were men, but all of them were intrusive.

“A dick pic leaks on the internet,” she grumbled and dragged herself out of her chair, “And fuck all, but armies mobilize for a naked woman.”

Y/n grabbed her notebook and left her office, jogging down the staircase to go about her day as normally as she could.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted called, exiting his office just as she entered the hallway. A vaguely familiar child was walking beside him.

“Hey,” Y/n half-smiled.

��Haven’t gotten a chance to introduce you,” Ted put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “This is my son, Henry. Henry, this is Y/n.”

Henry smiled up at Y/n, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/n realized she’d seen him in a picture on Ted’s desk, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hey, listen,” Ted pointed towards the stairs, “I gotta talk to Rebecca, won’t be more than a half hour or so. Would you mind watchin’ Henry?”

“Uh…” Y/n sputtered, “I mean, sure, yeah, but don’t you have training?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ted quickly said, his mind was clearly somewhere else. He felt around his pockets and pulled out a small box. “Yeah, you know what? Y’all are gonna start training for me.”

While Henry’s face lit up, Y/n’s electrified with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Ted grinned, looking to his son, “There you go. You can go back home, tell all your friends you got to coach a football team. How ‘bout that?”

“Yeah,” Henry said with great enthusiasm.

“Uh, Ted,” Y/n waved a hand, “While Henry,” she smiled for his sake, “May be really good at coaching, I’m definitely not qualified.”

Ted waved a supportively dismissive hand back, “Ain’t nothin’ to it. Get ‘em started on warmups, I’ll be down before they really get goin’,” he handed Y/n the box, “Got this for Roy, but he ain’t gonna use it. You go on.”

With Henry looking up at her like she held the key to his happiness, Y/n didn’t have much of a choice.

“Alright,” she exhaled, feigning excitement, “Let’s go coach a football team.”

“Thanks,” Ted kneeled down to Henry, “Listen to what Y/n says, yeah?”

“Will do, Mr. Magoo,” Henry gave his dad a thumbs up.

Y/n’s eyes widened at the phrasing, there were two of them.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped her hands together as Ted left them on their own, “Let me go set this back in my office and we’ll head out, yeah?”

“Okay,” Henry nodded, following Y/n up the stairs, “So what do you do here?”

Y/n sighed, “Well, I help run the social media accounts. I help the boys with their interviews. Y’know how you see football or baseball players on commercials? I help those happen.”

“Wow,” Henry said as they got to Y/n’s office, “That sounds cool.”

Y/n slid her notebook onto her desk, and faced Henry, “Yeah, it kind of is.” Anywhere else, even she would admit her job was boring, but Richmond had changed that. “Let’s see what your dad gave me.”

Opening the tiny box revealed a plastic yellow whistle. Y/n chuckled, Roy definitely wouldn’t be using this.

“So why’d you come to England?” Henry continued to ask questions, “If you’re American.”

Omitting key details, Y/n slid the whistle around her neck. “I came over for school and loved it so much I just never left.”

“Do you ever miss America?” Henry stayed next to Y/n as they descended the stairs.

That was trickier to disguise. If Y/n was honest, she didn’t miss her home country. It was hard to miss the place all her worst memories had occurred. England had been a refuge before becoming her true home.

“Sometimes,” Y/n replied, guiding Henry down the hall, “I have a little sister who still lives there. I miss her all the time…” she smiled, “And Arby’s.”

Henry agreed just as they reached the doors that would take them outside.

“Alright,” Y/n pressed her hands to the door, “Now these guys are the best in the whole country, in my opinion, so we can’t go easy on them.”

“Got it,” Henry nodded.

“We’re gonna have to work them really hard,” Y/n added.

“I agree.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, “You ready?”

Henry grinned, “Ready.”

Theatrically, Y/n threw the doors open and they marched down the tunnel.

The boys were stretching and conversing and had yet to notice their coaches were missing. Y/n and Henry headed over to the dugout, Y/n thanking her morning self for deciding on wearing sneakers.

“Do you have a favorite player?” She asked.

“Jamie Tartt,” Henry answered without hesitation, “The first time I visited, he signed my shirt.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered with warmth, “That was nice of him.”

“On my soccer team back home, I’m #9,” Henry continued, “Just like him.”

Y/n’s eyes scanned the group of Greyhounds, finding #9 laughing about something with Isaac. There were probably hundreds, thousands of kids who looked up to Jamie Tartt, but Henry’s admiration was something special.

“Well,” Y/n crossed her arms, “We’ll make sure Jamie has plenty to do.”

Clapping her hands to get the Greyhounds’ attention, Y/n and Henry stepped onto the pitch. “Alright, boys, here’s the deal. Coach has appointed me and Henry here,” she put her hands on Henry’s shoulders, “As your new coaches for the next thirty minutes.”

The team was understandably confused but amused once they saw Henry’s bright eyes. Training was to double as babysitting.

“Now, you’re dealing with one of America’s next top footballers,” Y/n jiggled Henry playfully, “And a woman whose life you all have made incredibly colorful, particularly last weekend…” she gave a thick grin. After their celebration at the club, many of the Greyhounds had needed to be poured into cabs. The task fell to the most sober of them, and Y/n had taken little joy in wrangling them into the backseats. “No one’s going easy on anyone today.”

The boys ‘oohed’ and laughed amongst themselves.

“Alright,” she shouted, “One lap,” Y/n gave a sharp blow on the whistle, “Let’s go!”

All credit to them, the team obeyed orders and set off around the edge of the pitch.

As he passed by, Jamie stopped to give Henry a fist bump.

“How ya been, lad?”

“Good,” Henry grinned, his spirits had lifted even higher the moment Jamie walked in his direction.

“Good,” Jamie stood to his full height to face Y/n, smirking, “Don’t get enough of this with Roy?”

With mere inches between their faces, Y/n blew the whistle smugly, “Fallin’ behind there, Tartt.”

Jamie set off with a smile and ran to catch up to his teammates. Y/n being on the pitch was a surprising, but welcome start to his day.

The boys were about halfway around the pitch when Y/n and Henry started forming their game plan.

“What should we have them do next?”

Henry thought a moment, “What about knee kicks? That’s my favorite exercise.”

“I like it,” Y/n walked across the grass to retrieve one of the balls, “But you better be ready to show them how it’s done.”

Henry’s entire face lit up, the glow radiating onto Y/n’s knowing she’d made it happen. She was going to make sure he went home with the best stories.

The Greyhounds came around the bend, well and warmed up.

“What next, Coach Y/n?” Dani asked enthusiastically.

“Now,” Y/n set the ball on the grass and kicked it to Henry, “You’re in the hands of Coach Lasso.”

Y/n stepped to the side to give Henry the spotlight. The boys all cheered him on as he came to join them, holding the ball under his arm.

“We’re gonna do a knee kick contest,” he said proudly, “We’ll see who can go the longest, and,” Henry scanned the group, “Jamie’ll go first.”

Jamie pressed his fingers to his puffed out chest, stepping forward, “I’m honored.”

Henry tossed him the ball, Jamie easily caught it. Y/n popped the whistle back in her mouth and it shrieked.

“Begin!”

Jamie bounced the ball from knee to knee, the team forming a ring around him to watch. They started cheering each time Jamie’s body made contact, Henry the loudest of them all. He kept it going about thirty seconds before losing it.

Y/n spared him a clap, purposefully holding back, “Not bad.”

Jamie frowned at her, the tips of his lips still curling up.

“Who’s next, Henry?” Y/n asked.

“Sam,” he answered.

Jamie launched the ball at his teammate, Sam caught it and they switched spots.

He lasted the same amount of time as Jamie, Isaac lasted twenty five seconds, Dani lasted forty, Colin lasted twenty eight.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped as Bumbercatch finished his turn, “I think it’s time you boys learned from a true professional.”

Henry stepped up, taking Y/n’s smile as his cue, and caught the ball from Bumbercatch. The boys chanted his name, surrounding him in gleeful anticipation.

Henry began to kick, feeding off the support of the Greyhounds. Y/n stepped back a few feet and pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures for Ted.

Out of all the Premier League teams filled with cocky young men earning million dollar paychecks, Y/n couldn’t imagine there were many who would behave like the Greyhounds. They were jumping up and down, cheering and counting for Henry as he bounced the ball. It was all so genuine, and they didn’t even realize the extent of what they were doing. They were giving Henry memories he’d cherish forever.

Eventually, Henry kicked the ball for Sam to catch and the boys went wild. Jamie leaped into the air and started victoriously running with Henry, the rest of them following.

Y/n hit the whistle, “Well, I think we can all agree Henry’s the winner.”

The team agreed quite vocally.

“You haven’t gone yet,” Henry called.

“Oh,” Y/n shook her head, “I-“

“No, no, no,” Colin pointed to Y/n, “Boyo’s right. Everyone’s gotta give it a go.”

“That’s right,” Jamie clasped his hands together, “Fair’s fair, Coach.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping onto the pitch to supportive hoots and hollers. Sam threw her the ball and she got into position, taking a deep breath. She’d never touched a football in her life.

Dropping the ball, she clumsily passed from one knee to the other. Henry and the Greyhounds cheered her on as they had each other. She lasted about ten seconds before she felt herself losing it and kicked it across the field. It didn’t make it to the goal, but even Y/n was impressed by how far it travelled.

The Greyhounds went wild, making a massive deal of her minimal accomplishment. A few of them punched her in the arm or high fived her.

“Alright,” Y/n laughed it off, “Henry, what’s next?”

“Corner kicks,” he said decisively, “Last one to grab the ball’s a rotten egg. Go!”

Henry took off before he’d finished speaking, the Greyhounds following. They spent the next ten minutes practicing corner kicks, once again, Henry and the boys insisting that Y/n took part. Pulling closer to the net than the pros, she was able to score a goal, resulting in wild cheers. Dani picked her up and spun her around and Jamie slung an arm around her neck the seconds she was back on the ground. When Henry scored, the Greyhounds lifted him up on their shoulders and ran him around the field.

When Ted gathered himself and headed back out to the pitch, he stopped short at the sight before him. His son, having the time of his life, surrounded by the team. And Y/n, facilitating it all, but enjoying every bit of it herself.

Ted smiled, deciding to watch as long as he could until someone spotted him.

—————————

Later in the day, Y/n drove to the KJPR offices. She hadn’t heard anything from Keeley and wanted to stay as close as she could to help in whatever way she could.

Y/n knocked at Keeley’s door and entered, “Hi.”

Keeley was sat at her desk, pouring over something on her laptop. Most likely, it had nothing to do with business. “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Looking at Twitter isn’t going to help anything,” Y/n sighed, entering the room.

Keeley didn’t look up from her screen, “It’s Facebook.”

Y/n scoffed, “That definitely won’t help anything.”

Keeley tore her eyes away, closing out the browser and turning to Y/n. “How bad’s it been?”

“Oh, Daily Mail were eager to talk,” Y/n fell into the chair opposite her boss, “Didn’t think that was the best avenue to go.”

Barely breathing a chuckle, Keeley ran her hands through her hair.

“I’m not letting anyone get close to you,” Y/n reassured, “And the good news is, the press’ll move on within a few days.”

Keeley glanced up with doubtful eyes.

Y/n regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, “Albeit, they’ll run with this all week. But still,” she reached over and held out her hand, “We’re gonna get through this.”

Keeley exhaled and took Y/n’s hand, squeezing like she was her lifeline.

A knock hit the door and they turned to see Barbara. Keeley did her best to appear as if all was well.

“Is now a good time, Ms. Jones?” Barbara asked, sparing Y/n a polite smile.

“Yes, of course,” Keeley answered perkily, “Yeah.”

Barbara came to stand beside Y/n’s chair, holding a single sheet of paper. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

Keeley looked like she was on the verge of tears, “Thank you, Barbara.”

“Um,” Barbara turned to Y/n, “Does someone have the press-“

Y/n held up a hand, “Got it covered.”

“Good,” she nodded, turning back to Keeley and handing her the sheet, “Jack asked me to give you this.”

“What is it?” Keeley asked.

“It’s a statement,” Barbara replied.

Keeley scanned the text before reading it aloud, “”Allow me to first offer my sincerest apologies,” her brows popped up, “”I deeply regret that video that some of you have seen online. I’m beyond embarrassed, and I never should have made this video in the first place.”

Y/n’s lips parted, even Barbara averted her gaze.

“‘I hope you can forgive me while I learn and grow,’” Keeley finished, looking up to Barbara confusedly.

“Jack thought you could post it across your socials,” Barbara said, “But maybe not Facebook, ‘cause that’s just for grandparents and racists now, isn’t it?”

In her despair, Keeley managed to give a gentle smile and Barbara didn’t miss it as her cue to excuse herself.

Y/n sat still at the desk, her mind flooding with rage. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that the “statement” had been written by a man. How could private property leak and somehow it could be turned around to be the victim’s fault? Worse, how could Jack be alright with it?

“Do you think,” Keeley stared at the letter, “I should put it out?”

In answering, Y/n wasn’t just giving business advice, she was wading into Jack and Keeley’s relationship, something that was entirely off limits. Clubbing with the boys was one thing, relationship talk was way too personal.

“I…” Y/n struggled, “I really don’t think it’s-“

“Please,” Keeley’s eyes snapped up to Y/n, “Don’t do that. I need your honest opinion,” she took a breath, “Do you think this is the right thing to do?”

Y/n had never seen Keeley be so firm, nor had anyone ever called her out on her hesitation. It was a snap back to the reality of the situation.

“Absolutely not,” she answered, speaking with total confidence, “This isn’t a statement, it’s shaming. You dare to do what most of these corporate fuckers do with their mistresses with someone you love, someones steals it from you, and it’s somehow your fault?” Y/n grimaced with rage, “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re the one who got screwed over, you’re the one who’s owed an apology. It is not the other way around.”

Y/n paused, trying to collect herself. “Keeley…please don’t put this out. For all women who have ever had something like this happen, just…please.”

Keeley nodded, as if it only confirmed what she was already thinking.

“Look, you and Jack are…you and Jack and you need to talk about this, but,” Y/n sighed, taking Keeley’s hand once more, “Don’t do it.”

The two of them sat in silence, Keeley eventually folding up the paper and rising from her seat.

“Is Rebecca in today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, “Probably expecting you.”

Keeley nodded as she grabbed her purse, “Tea?”

Y/n frowned as she gathered her purse, “I can’t. Ted’s got a presser.”

The women exited the office together, riding the elevator down without a single word spoken. When they reached the parking lot, they went their separate ways.

“Keeley,” Y/n called once she’d reached her car, “Do I need to…talk to Roy or anything? Make sure he doesn’t speak to the press?”

“No,” Keeley paused her keys in their slot. It was an uncomfortable topic, but PR didn’t care about comfort. “Not, uh…no, not Roy.”

Y/n waited to see if there was more to the answer. At least she was spared a deeply awkward conversation with Roy. The extent of their relationship was a mutual love of yelling at Jamie. She just prayed whichever ex of Keeley’s the video was meant for kept their mouth shut.

“Okay,” she decided not to push, “Hey,” she drew Keeley’s attention one last time, trying to keep her smile, “We’ve got this.”

Keeley gave a watery one back. If she didn’t have Jack’s support, she knew she had someone’s. “Yeah.”

—————————

It wasn’t often that there was so much work it warranted coming in on a Saturday. But a resort chain wanted Dani to do an endorsement for them and the only time their PR department could speak was the weekend. Plus, damage control for Keeley had taken up the lions share of Y/n’s week.

She was sat at her desk, returning an email and waiting for the phone to ring. It was kind of nice having the place to herself, but strange for Nelson Road to be completely silent. Usually from her office, Y/n could hear the sound of the boys conversing loudly down the stairs or Ted’s whistle on the pitch.

Her cell dinged, louder because of the quiet. Y/n picked it up to see it was a text from Jamie.

What you up to?

Y/n snapped a quick picture of her desk and fired it off.

Waiting for the call proved to be tedious as the man she was supposed to speak to was late. She began to scroll social media, her phone having alerted her to the fact that Ted was trending. She found that he and Beard had taken Henry to a West Ham match. A photo of the three of them was flooding the football community.

Where she might have resented Ted months ago, or anguished over the clean up she’d have to do, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. There was a story to be told and she was sure she’d hear it on Monday. It also didn’t escape her that Beard had made a point of coming in full AFC Richmond attire.

“Damn right,” she said to herself.

Knock knock.

“Fucking hell,” Y/n exclaimed, her chair rolling back a few inches.

Jamie grinned, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Y/n held her hand to her chest, “My heart needed to be reset.”

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jamie asked, shoving into the office.

“Dani’s got a deal with a resort,” she answered, rolling back to her desk, “This was the only day they could talk.”

Jamie nodded, wandering around the room. For all the time they spent together, he never had much of a reason to be in Y/n’s office.

Y/n got a good look at Jamie’s outfit, “And…what are we wearing?”

Jamie turned on his heel, looking down at himself. He saw nothing controversial about the vest, hoodie and joggers combo. “Fashion,” he answered, gesturing down his body.

“Right,” Y/n replied as she checked her inbox. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to his particular taste in clothing. “Where’ve you been today?”

“Eh, stopped by Keeley’s,” he answered, coming to sit down across the desk, “See how she was doin’.”

“Oh,” Y/n replied, glancing back at her computer before two loose pieces in her mind connected and stilled her. Why did Jamie have any reason to check in on Keeley if not…?

“How, uh,” Y/n stuttered, “How’s she doing?” She hadn’t spoken to Keeley yet, unsure as to how she’d handled the conversation with Jack.

Jamie shrugged, “She’s alright. I, eh…” he scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, she’s okay.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal. “Good.”

By now, Jamie was a pro at reading her expressions. If not the intricacies, the general vibe. He pointed a finger, “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Y/n asked.

“That face,” Jamie moved a little closer in his chair, “Everything’s fine but it’s not, you make that face.”

Y/n attempted to shrug it off, wanting to shrug out of the entire situation. “Jamie, I’m fine. I’m glad Keeley’s okay, glad you went to check on her.”

Jamie watched carefully, trying to decode the layers of what she was saying and, more importantly, not saying. He retracted his finger into his fist when he guessed.

“Oh.”

Y/n’s eyes darted up from her laptop screen and back down.

“How’d you not know that?”

“Know what?”

A single laugh and Jamie smiled, “You’re a lot of things, but you ain’t dumb.”

Y/n grimaced, wishing she could disappear into thin air. Moments like these made her miss her boundaries. Isolated as they kept her, they had merit.

“I didn’t know you two…” she awkwardly pursed her lips and stared down at her keyboard.

“All that research,” Jamie smiled at her awkwardness, “Didn’t look into that bit?”

“It’s not my job to know who’s sleeping with who,” Y/n replied quickly, hating how she’d phrased that.

Jamie hummed, “Kinda is.”

Public relations did involve handling all types of headlines. Personal and otherwise.

“Well, you didn’t tell me either,” Y/n retorted.

“I thought you knew,” Jamie enunciated with a laugh.

Y/n couldn’t place what changed, but knowing that her boss and the person who was effectively her closest friend had dated made her feel…uneasy. Knowing such an intimate video had been made for someone she knew, she felt like she’d seen some side of Keeley and Jamie not meant for her to ever know about.

“Right,” Y/n spread her hands over her desk, “Are there any more relationships, past, present or potential, in this club that I need to know about?”

Jamie thought a moment, deciding to exclude any and all locker room talk he’d been present for regarding Y/n. It had started the second she’d walked through the door, dying down and picking back up every once in a while.

“You’re safe,” Jamie replied, finding her discomfort cute.

Any further conversation was blissfully halted as Y/n’s desk phone rang. Finally. She moved to pick it up but was met with Jamie’s hand fending her off.

“Jamie, what-“

Jamie shushed her, nudging her hand away. He lifted the phone off its base and flopped back into his chair.

“Ms. Y/l/n’s office,” he greeted, his Mancunian accent disappearing to turn posh and nasally, “How may I help you?”

Y/n covered her mouth to silence her snort. She waved for the phone with her free hand.

“And she knows why you’re calling?” Jamie continued, sliding away from Y/n’s grasp. “Hold, please.”

He covered the microphone with his palm and smiled. Y/n’s annoyance was a poor mask over her joy.

“It’s for you,” he whispered.

Y/n shook her head and yanked the phone out of his grip. “Hey, Oscar,” she greeted, “Glad we could finally touch base.”

Jamie fell back in his seat, content to wait and watch her take the call. He was happy to stay and bother her as long as he could.

And Y/n would let him, without hesitation.

———————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

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mustachrryluvr · 11 months

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omg imagine being in subspace and you’re just so incoherent and harry is just holding you and telling you how good you are for him and he notices how you’re trying to suck on his thumb and he just sticks it in your mouth and is like “is that what you wanted princess? you’re so good for me” like holy shit 🥺🥵#Concept

I saw some other accounts get this request, but, since I got it too, here’s my take on it!!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut, female subspace

Harry comes home unexpectedly and is insatiable.

— — — —

It usually took a lot for you to get into subspace, but Harry got you there so fast tonight that you’re not exactly sure how or when it happened.

Harry has been on tour lately, but you had some responsibilities to tend to back home that kept you from traveling with him for the beginning of the last leg of Love on Tour. You had just flown into London today as Harry had a show coming up in a couple of days in Coventry that you would be traveling to. You had hoped to be able to spend a travel day with him as he had planned to stop by London before the show, but he had gotten stuck in Germany for an extra day and would have to go straight to Coventry the day of the show.

It was only about a two hour drive from London to Coventry, but you hated travelling alone. It would just be you and the driver Harry had hired for you, which technically meant you wouldn’t be alone, but you preferred it be Harry with you. But you decided you would worry about that when the time came and just spend your evening catching up on some shows you were behind on.

You had stayed in Harry’s London home many times, but this was the first time you stayed there alone. The two of you had been dating for 2 years, so it wasn’t weird that he let you be in his space alone, but it still just felt weird to be there without him. So, you made sure you had things around you that made you think of him.

The first thing you did when you got to his house was ravage his closet for a sweatshirt that smelled like him. Then, you took a blanket and pillow from his bed and brought them down to the couch to cuddle up with while you ordered Chinese takeout from the takeaway shop the two of you always order from.

As long as you felt his presence around you in some form, you were okay.

While cleaning up the kitchen and putting your leftovers in the fridge, you swore you heard a door close. You paused for a minute, but didn’t hear anything else so you assumed the noise just came from the tv playing in the living room.

However, when you back to the living room, there he was.

“Harry?!” you said, jumping back a little, not expecting to see anyone standing in the room.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you continued as you walked up to him.

Before you even made it halfway to him, he raced forward, grabbing you, and pressed his lips to yours.

As he’s pushing you backwards towards the couch, you try to mumble against his lips to ask him what he’s doing here but it's no use. “Harr-mmmmmm”, is all you get out as he pushed his mouth deeper into you. You feel the backs of your legs hit the edge of the couch and have no choice but to sit as he lowers you down. He continues to push into you until you are laying with him on top of you with him still devouring you.

Harry gets comfortable laying on top of you between your legs as you accept his deep kisses and wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him push his hips roughly into yours as he slightly lifts his lips off of yours. One hand is placed on your waist while he moves the other up to hold your jaw. You look at him in awe as he finally says his first words of the night.

“I missed you so much, pretty girl,” he rubs his nose against yours as he continues with his hips still rutting into you. “You’re gonna do whatever I tell you to tonight, okay? Be a prefect, good girl for me. Can’t go another minute without you.”

You’re completely immersed in the moment at this rate, and you subconsciously decide to ask him why he’s here later. Because right now all that matters is him.

You give him a small smile and nod at his words. “Mmmmm, already wet and excited for me, aren’t you lovie?” he asks, pleased with your reaction to his words.

“Always for you,” you get out before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours.

You’re not sure what has made him so insatiable in this moment. Yes, it’s been a while since the two of you have been intimate since it's been a while since you’ve seen each other, but this feverish desire to have you right now isn’t something you’ve seen from him before. Not that you’re complaining.

Harry and you were no strangers to playing around with dom/sub dynamics, and it is obvious that Harry wants to delve deep into that world tonight as he is rutting his hips into you so aggressively at this rate that you are already being stimulated enough that you could come if he kept it up. It was only when he was in his dominant headspace that he acted rough with you. You both enjoyed it a lot, but you also were very aware of your intimate moments and didn’t want them all to be rough and dominated by one person, so you often played with different types of dynamics all the time.

But, to be honest, “Dom Harry” was your favorite version. So, if he wanted you to be his “perfect, good girl” tonight, you best bet that’s exactly what he is going to get.

Being what Harry needed in that moment was all that mattered to you.

He had come on so strong and dominant right away that it pushed you into your subby headspace quickly. You weren’t near subspace yet, but you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended the night there as your need to please Harry and Harry only was already so strong.

Without another word, Harry quickly stripped you of your sweats and underwear before doing the same to himself.

His cock sprung up to his lower stomach, the tip an angry, fiery red as he growled at the relief he must’ve felt. You mewled and brought your eyebrows together in concern at the sight as all you wanted to do was help him rid himself of the pain he was probably feeling.

He could read your thoughts all over your face. “Aw, don’t worry about me baby. This sweet, little cunt is gonna make me feel so much better, isn’t it?” he says while stroking himself with his attention on your soaked core.

You moaned at his words. His filthy language always making your chest feel full in the best, most erotic way possible. “Please Harry, use me. I just want you to feel good…please, H,” you whine out to him in the most delicious way that almost has him losing all his composure right then and there.

Without another word, Harry leans forward over you, wraps your legs around his waist, lines himself up with you, and slams himself as deep as he possibly can into you. You both let out near pornographic moans. You at the painfully, pleasurable intrusion, and him at the sudden warmth and tightness that surrounded him.

He could’ve come right then and there, but he fought the urge by immediately pulling out and slamming right back into you.

You could barely even get any moans out as he kept his quick pace. You could only emit tiny whimpers before he was already pushing another one out of you. You had no control over your body in this moment and just decided to give it all up to him.

“Pretty girl just gonna let me use her like a rag doll, huh? Taking me so good that you can’t even control yourself,” he pauses to groan as you involuntarily clench around him in response to his words. “God-Fuck, baby. Cunt made just for me, I swear. I don’t know if I can ever go without.”

It was right then when he decided to switch his pace from fast and rough to slow and deep that you could feel it. You could feel yourself falling under, falling into your subspace. All you could feel was him. All you could hear was him. All you could see was him. You were absolutely consumed by him.

It usually took a lot for you to fall into subspace, but this time you fell quick, and hard.

You gasped airly and looked at him with big eyes and furrowed brows when he thrusted into you especially deep, hitting all your spots.

“Yeah, baby? Right there, huh? Gah..so good for me…” he sighed out that last part as he leaned further into you, enclosing his whole body around yours. Isolating you from being able to look at anything but his face.

“Harr…” you gasped out as you reached your arms around his back and clawed at his back, roughly grabbing at his shirt he was still wearing.

He felt you tighten around him as he watched your jaw drop and eyes clench shut all while he felt your fingers cling to him as if he would disappear. He knew then that you were about to come (which was for the best because he really couldn’t hold out much longer).

“Such a good girl for me, come on baby, let go. Be my good girl and let go.. y-yes that's it, pretty,” he moaned out as you let go, your mouth open in a silent moan as your whole body seized and convulsed under him in immense pleasure.

Harry followed and released into you soon after as your release completely sent him over the edge.

As each of you came down from your equally strong highs, you relaxed into the couch as Harry placed all his weight on you with his face resting in the crook of your neck. It made you feel safe when he did that.

After a minute of catching your breaths, Harry was the first to speak out. “Did so well for me, pretty girl.”

He paused for a moment, expecting to get a response from you, at least a blissed out hum. However, when he got nothing in response, he immediately was worried.

“Lovie?” Harry lifted his head and brought one hand up to gently smooth over your jaw. He finds you looking at him in completely awe and adoration. Eyes slightly glossy as you look deep into his eyes.

“Oh, princess. You’re deep, aren’t you?” He shifts his body weight onto his free hand placed next to his head so he can pull his weight off of you, but you immediately freak out that he’s gonna leave you. With a sad and worried look on your face, you flatten your hands on his back and hurriedly speak out, “No, no, stay. Please.”

“Sweetheart, shhhhh,” he quietly responds as he lowers himself back down on to you. It’s now that he realizes just how deep you are. Absolutely beyond floaty. He wraps himself back around you, but still keeps one and on your jaw as his thumb slightly caresses your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, okay? Harry’s staying right here with you.” You sigh out at his words, closing your eyes again as you revel in the feeling of his body on yours and nuzzle your head into his hand that rests on your face.

Harry hadn’t even noticed you getting floaty and hadn’t expected it since it usually takes a lot to get you there. He wasn’t complaining though, because he felt so much happiness knowing that you trusted him so much to allow yourself to get into this headspace with him. He knew that being in subspace was a vulnerable thing and doesn’t just happen with any partner, so he was elated to know that he felt safe with him.

He just laid there for a moment, looking at you with adoration. Letting himself feel the pride coursing through him. Proud of you and your willingness to be vulnerable with him. “You did so good for me today, princess. Thank you for trusting me.”

After he spoke, he took a moment and realized he was slightly worried about you, though, as you were quieter than you usually were when you were in subspace, but just tossed it up to the fact that you got very deep very quickly and your system wasn’t used to that.

As he admired you for a moment, he noticed you nuzzle deeper into the hand he had been caressing your cheek with. For a moment you seemed to get frustrated and let out a small whine as he moved his hand along with your movements.

“What is it baby? Hmm, what do you need from me? I’ll give you anything,” he says as he moves his thumb that had been on your cheek to your bottom lip.

When he placed his thumb on your lip, you immediately opened your mouth with a gasp, your eyes going wide almost begging him with your eyes.

“Oh, lovie,” Harry chuckled, catching on to what you wanted, and allowed his thumb to slip behind your lips as you hummed and gently began to suck on his finger. “Is that what you wanted princess? You’re so good to me.”

Harry laid with you for a while as you continued to suck on his thumb. If that was what was going to bring you comfort in this moment, then he would let you do it forever. You had never needed this type of comfort before, but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. Aftercare was very important to the both of you, and this is just what it looked like for you today.

You must’ve dozed off a bit, because the next thing you knew, Harry was gently taking you into the bathroom where he already had a bath ready for you.

“Hi, lovie,” he softly said to you when he saw your eyes open up. They were brighter and less glossy now, telling him that you had come back to him.

“Hi,” you softly replied with a small, content smile on your face.

Neither of you spoke again as he undressed you and himself before placing you in the warm bath. He got in right behind you and pulled you into his chest where you immediately relaxed.

“You’re back with me now, right, baby?” he asked has his hands rubbed up and down your arms trying to keep you grounded with his touch after coming down from your floaty state.

“Yeah, Harr. Felt so safe with you, had to let go,” you responded quietly as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his touch.

“That’s okay. I always want you to feel that safe with me.”

You sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry picked up your loofa and some soap to begin cleaning you up. As he started, you spoke up, “Why are you home anyway? I thought I was meeting you in Coventry?” You turned a little to look at him, confusion written on your features.

He chuckled as he continued to clean you off, “Was supposed to stay in Munich an extra day for a meeting, but it was cancelled. Thought I’d just come home and surprise you.”

“Surprise me and fucking devour me is what you did goddamn. Bout gave me whiplash with how quickly you came at me”

Harry loudly chuckled at that, “Oh, shut it. I know you absolutely bloody loved it.”

You giggled before you responded, “Mmmm, yeah, I definitely did. Love you, bub.”

“Love you, baby.”

You two sat in silence throughout the rest of your bath before you retired to bed. It wasn’t long before you were tangled together, sleeping the night away.

— — — —

That was something… lol haven’t written smut in a HOT minute so I'm so sorry if it’s eh…also didn’t proofread so there are probs grammatical errors but whateverrrrr

Thank you for this request!! Feel free to send others! Please check my masterlist to see who I write for and my other works!

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ineffably-smote · 3 months

Text

Macbeth, David Tennant - A very subjective, spoiler and emotion filled review

Just walking out of seing Macbeth at the Donmar and I have Feelings. Unsurprisingly, I primarily went to see it because David Tennant was in it. I love the play, big fan of Shakespeare but the trip to London was most certainly motivated by a very specific actor. Hence the highly subjective review. Fortunately, I also happen to quite like Macbeth. We studied it at school, and it holds a special place in my heart (back then, Hamlet was my favourite Shakespeare play but honestly, after tonight, I’m not so sure anymore. Anyway, I digress). It was my first time actually seeing an actor I’m a fan of in real life, so obviously the entire time my brain was just going oh my god that’s David Tennant oh my god that’s David Tennant like I actually could not comprehend it. The man I’ve spent hours staring at on a little screen is suddenly real, and right there. So yeah, that took me a hot second.

(Excuse the piss poor image quality, I took this with shaky hands without looking or bothering to focus the cam)

The Staging

Still starstruck and a bit dazed, one thing really really stood out to me: the staging. It was so, so good. I knew it was going to be minimal from the pictures I had seen, and it was, but it was also so insanely real. There were barely any decorations, and half the cast and the musicians were hidden behind a glass screen doing background noises and gestures. From where I was sitting I could not see them much, but could definitely hear them which added to the overall atmosphere. The stage was also really tiny, and the play benefitted incredibly from it. All the action was happening in one tight space that had been put to use incredibly well, particularly the banquet scene but I’ll come back to that because it deserves its own paragraph.

The way they chose to do the soliloquies was so fitting - all the actors start to move in slow motion - everyone else slowing down and just the characters speaking moving was so good, it made sense.

The Headphones

I’m a bit mixed about the headphones. They were amazing for the vibes, we could hear whispers and they really heightened some of the emotional speeches in the play - because when someone is struggling with guilt and trauma it makes sense for them to be mumbling rather than yelling. So that was really great. However, especially in the scenes where the actors where yelling/ loud I preferred to take them off a bit cause it felt more real that way. I’m so used to hearing actors voice on recordings, it does hit different when you can hear them for real. But, as I said, personal preference and that’s what’s nice, you can take them on and off as much as you want.

Famous Speeches

There were three speeches I was quite interested to see how they were going to be adapted - scorpions and dagger for Macbeth, and out damned spot for Lady Macbeth. These are classic, everyone knows the words, the plot but they managed to make it feel real in a new and touching way. I think here the headphones were quite helpful because they allowed the actors to actually whisper parts of those lines. They were so subtle, so embedded in the text they felt so natural which imbued them with all their power. I saw in a review Cush Jumbo’s out damned spot speech be described as “haunting”, and I wholeheartedly agree.

The Macbeths

I didn’t like Macbeth, the character, very much when I first learnt about him. His actions didn’t make sense to me, I couldn’t quite comprehend in my 21st century little brain how he went from I’m super loyal to the King to I will freely murder children for shits and giggles. But now, now I understand. It makes sense, it’s believable. And that’s a mix of the acting choices and teh overall setting. Like the opening scene, instead of presenting Macbeth as a glorious hero, he is presented to us as a traumatised hero. He spends the first few minutes washing the blood of his clothes, haunted by noises from the battlefield. And that sets the themes quite nicely, not ambition, as Tennant specified in an interview, but guilt and trauma. There are so many ways to interpret Shakespeare, that’s the beauty of it, and I think this version of Macbeth just resonated more with me (maybe because ambition I don’t quite understand but guilt I am intimately familiar with? Or maybe because it was David Tennant? I don’t know, probably a bit of both). Tennant delivers a convincing Macbeth. Yes, you can see his ambitions play out, but also his fears, his guilt, and that makes him into a complex three dimensional character that you want to understand.

And I absolutely loved this version of Lady Macbeth. Not just a powerful woman who bullies her husband into become an evil murderer (because again, here we can see traces of that in Macbeth from the start), but an ambition woman in love, with her husband, with power, and not quite healed from the trauma of loosing her child. Again another review said she is more of an enabler than a manipulator and I quite liked that description.

My Favourite Scenes

God the banquet scene. The one with the ghost of Banquo. An absolute masterpiece. I did not expect that scene to hit that hard. It was raw, it was powerful and even if Tennant was facing away from where I was sitting, even without seeing his face I could feel the emotion, the whole audience could. In a video essay on Tennant, @davidtennantgenderenvy highlighted how in almost every role he played, there is it is the classic Tennant breakdown moment, and breakdown moment it was. Not with tears, not as expressive as he sometime is but just enough for a King trying to hold it together but fear and guilt breaking through. I was absolutely overwhelmed and it was beautiful. The set up for the scene was amazing too - there were ceilidh, celebrations, I adored the contrast between these fast pasted scenes and guilt ridden whispers of the couple. And the way everyone sat down around the stage and suddenly it looked like a banquet table ? Just perfect.

Another really cool moment, less on the emotional side but more on the visuals was when Macbeth goes to get the second prophecy from the witches. Almost the whole cast is there, running around, moving, almost dancing and it gives the whole thing a mystical atmosphere. There’s smoke, Macbeth falls, is carried up high Jesus style, cowers, rises, it’s so busy and insane all the while there are whispers and whispers in the headphones - it manages perfectly to feel like a mystical moment.

Descent Into Madness & other cool things

For Macbeth, having the kid running around scene after scene, haunting him, and then scene where he kills him - GOD it’s powerful. Lady Macbeth’s descent into madness was so well characterised, I also loved the glass on the background that locked away some of the cast. Just wild. The actor that played Malcom actor was also really cool, and Macduff and Ross, big fan of all of them.

Overall I am overwhelmed with emotions. Tennant is truly one of my favourite actors - from Good Omens to Staged, Jessica Jones, even Harry Potter but also Mad to be Normal, Nativty, There She Goes, Around the World in 80 days, Doctor Who (god I’ve started a list, never start lists cause you’ll forget people) and so, so many more, I was truly beside myself with excitement and expectations for tonight. And it did not disappoint. I do not want to leave the theatre and I pray they release a recording of this because I want it imprinted on my soul.

(Side note: I don’t know how to use tumblr very well, for some reason whenever I try to reply to ppl it posts from my other blog? Anyway @raquel-and-sergio is in fact me)

#david tennant #Macbeth #donmar macbeth #review #sort of #more like therapeutic ranting for me #because i love this Scottish man so much #and i dont want this moment to be over yet #or ever for that matter #good omens #tenth doctor #fourteenth doctor

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

Text

Spencer's Choice

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, reuniting long lost love, heartbreak, impossible choice to make

Summary: Breaking up with Spencer is the hardest thing you've ever had to do. You left and returned years later, only to run into him again. Feelings return that you thought were gone. Spencer has a choice to make: you or his family.

Square Filled: goodbye letter (2021) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Ah, back in your hometown. You miss the way the sunshine feels on your skin even when the wind blowing is almost at freezing temperatures. You miss the way the cars sound as they’re rushing down the road as a reminder that people need to leave earlier when it comes to this town. You miss the small-town feeling of everyone being so close-knit that you can check up on your neighbors and see how they’re doing every day.

You miss home.

You haven’t been back in the United States in a little over a year, and back in this town for much longer. Ever since you left after you graduated, you really haven’t looked back. It killed you to do so but you were on a mission to better people’s lives with your degree and experience. You’re a very skilled architect who has been involved in many unique projects all over the world. It’s been one big adventure that you love having. You’ve met genuinely good people, tried amazing and unique food, delved into different cultures, and got to experience what others only dream about.

Now you’re just glad to be back in your hometown, relax, and spend the money you’ve been saving for years.

You walk down the familiar road next to the park you used to go to after school every day with your friends. There is something brown in the middle of the sidewalk but upon closer examination, you see it’s a child’s teddy bear. You pick it up in hopes there is a name or a number you can call, but the only thing you can find is an address. Weird. Most people don’t put their addresses on kids’ toys but who are you to judge?

With a quick Google search, you find the address is only two blocks from where you’re at. This is your chance to be a good samaritan and return the bear to a child who is probably missing it. You find the house easily and walk up the porch steps. You knock on the door and wait only ten seconds before it opens. A young girl about the age of seven is standing there with sad eyes.

“Hi, does he belong to you?” you ask and produce the bear.

Her eyes light up happily when she sees the toy.

“Thank you so much!” she squeals and grabs it from you.

“Marissa, what did I tell you about answering the door without your mother or me?” you hear her dad say.

You look up and lock eyes with the only person you’ve ever been in love with: Spencer Reid. You two were high school sweethearts back then, and it was clear to everyone at that school that you two were going to end up together for life. You were in love with him so much and wished you could have stayed, but it broke your heart to break up with him.

You have always wanted to be an architect even when you were younger. Your parents got you Legos that you could build houses from, and you’d build all sorts of different houses with different rooms for everything a person could need. When you got to your junior year, you applied to different colleges for architecture which also included colleges outside of the United States. Never in a million years did you think you’d ever get into those colleges but your mother encouraged you to apply.

Four months before graduation, you got an amazing offer to study at UCL in London with the opportunity to be an intern side by side with one of the most famous architects at that time. What an amazing opportunity, your mother told you. Yes, it was but there was one thing holding you back: Spencer.

It started one of the biggest arguments between you two. It lasted for months leading up to graduation. He obviously didn’t want you to go since you’d be in a different country, but he didn’t want to be the only reason why you’d stay. You wanted to go because this would be an amazing opportunity for you, but you didn't want to go because you didn’t want to leave him.

It took months to come to a decision but Spencer convinced you to go. Long-distance relationships never work out for anyone, and you didn't want to put Spencer through the pain of not seeing you every day or being with you. Breaking up with him was and still is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’ve had a few flings over the years that never meant anything because none of them were him. It took a really long time to stop crying over him. Now, seeing him right in front of you is bringing all those fights, that love, and every conversation you’ve ever had with him back. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest, and you step back to ground yourself.

Marissa looks up to see her dad looking at you with the same look you’re giving him.

“You don’t look at Mommy like that,” she observes.

“Why don’t you go inside and play? I’ll be right there,” Spencer says distractedly.

Marissa looks at you and goes inside to play with her teddy bear. Spencer steps outside and closes the front door for some privacy.

“I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now.”

This isn’t a good idea. You’re going to start crying because the truth is, and you’ve tried so hard to bury it, you’re still in love with him. If you don’t get out of here quickly, the patch over your heart is going to tear and you’re going to start bleeding all over again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t be here right now. I have to go.”

You turn around and walk down the porch steps, but Spencer jumps toward you.

“Wait.” You turn to face him and he sighs in frustration. “I have to get Marissa to the doctor. How long are you in town for?”

“As long as I want. I’m in between projects right now.”

Maybe the reason why you told him this is for the false hope that you two can resume right where you left off.

“Please don’t leave. Please meet with me for coffee tomorrow morning. You remember Jack’s Cafe, right?” How could you not? It’s the place where you and Spencer had your first date and first kiss. “My number hasn’t changed if you still have it.”

“I do,” you whisper.

He never changed it in hopes that you’d call it. You got home after parting ways with him and cried yourself to sleep. Seeing him again after all these years is reverting your mind back to high school graduation. You’re not much better the next day. When you wake up, you decide you’re not going to meet Spencer and just leave. However, when you look at past messages between the two of you on your phone, he deserves this meeting. You deserve to catch up with him.

You rush into the coffee shop knowing you’re late. Spencer is sitting at the table you two used to sit in every single time you went here.

“I thought you weren't going to show,” he says when you sit across from him.

“Honestly, I almost didn’t.”

Spencer slides a coffee over to you and you catch it to prevent it from falling. Just based on the smell alone, you know he still remembers your coffee order.

“How have you been? Any interesting projects you’ve been on?”

You don’t know if the small talk is good or not. It’s to distract you from the real issue but you welcome the distraction.

“Yeah, I’ve done some work in third-world countries with nonprofit organizations. We’ve built homes for people, homeless shelters, and enclosures for animals who are suffering and endangered.”

“That’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.”

“What about you?”

“I pursued my career in the FBI. I have been a profiler for many years. I’m retired now and get to teach others before they go into the academy.”

“Retired? You’re still so young. What happened?” you ask and sip your coffee.

“I went to prison for a couple of months for a crime I didn’t do. It messed with me mentally so I decided to take a different approach. I’m still involved with the FBI just as a teacher.”

Once you two get into the groove of talking, it’s like no time has passed. You’re laughing and having a good time with him as if you didn’t break his heart all those years ago. You’re falling in love with him all over again.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Just like that, you’re back to how you were feeling before. The laughter dies off and you pick at the ends of your sweater.

“No. I haven’t had a steady relationship since--” You stop yourself from saying it out loud. He understands what you’re trying to say. He reaches over and grabs your hand. As soon as he makes contact with your skin, you quickly pull away from him. “You have a family.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You look happy.”

“Yeah, I am.”

His words tell you one thing but his tone tells you something completely different. There is a longing in his eyes that suggests he would drop everything in his life if it meant he got to be with you.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“Y/N…”

“I shouldn’t have come here. You have a wife and daughter now.” You drop your voice to a whisper. “I’m too late.”

You’re already out the door before Spencer can process your words. Not only was coming to this coffee date a bad idea, but coming back to your hometown where Spencer also lives was an even worse idea. The projects waiting for your involvement will have to come a little earlier than planned.

You hate doing this to Spencer but you write a letter explaining how you feel about him and this whole situation. Once you’re done, you head to his house hoping he isn’t going to be there. You walk up the steps and notice something in the window next to the door. Spencer is sitting on the couch next to his wife and she’s comforting her. About the botched date? About you? About something else?

Damn it. Why did she have to be gorgeous?

You stick the note in the door and swiftly turn to leave. Spencer sniffles and looks up to see your long hair flowing in the wind. At first, he thought he was seeing things but then his brain caught up to the rest of him. By the time he walks out there, you’re already gone. Your note sways to the ground so he picks it up and starts reading it.

Spencer,

I am so sorry for the way we left things all those years ago. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and hurting you was never my intention. I love you with all my heart and wish things had ended differently between us. You have a family now that I never wanted to disturb. I kind of thought by coming back here, I’d be reminded of what’s really important. Seeing you after all these years did just that. I don’t want to hurt you now, but I’m leaving. I’ll be accepting other projects that need me, and you can continue to be with your family. I wish you the very best.

Y/N

Spencer can’t let you go this easily without letting you know how he feels. He tells his wife he’s going over to Derek’s house but ends up going to the biggest airport in the state. It’s the airport that has the most flights coming and going so you have to be here. He doesn’t know which flight you’re going to get on so he buys a ticket for one of them and hope for the best.

He rushes through the entire airport in search of you, wishing you hadn’t gotten on one of the airplanes yet. He’s sweaty and disheveled but determined to find you before you board. He runs around the corner and scans the many gates with people boarding their planes. There at the far end of the building is you. You’re in line to get on the plane.

“Y/N!” Spencer yells.

You don’t hear him and move up in the line. Spencer breaks out in a run in hopes of getting to you in time. You hand the attendant your ticket so she can check you in. She doesn’t question the dried tears on your cheeks as she does. Once finished, you grab your ticket and walk onto the bridge.

“Y/N! Wait!”

Spencer runs past everyone and tries to get onto the bridge but the two attendants posted there prevent him from going in.

“Sir, you need to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Please, I just have to talk to her.”

“Sir, I can’t let you on there without a proper ticket.”

“Y/N!!!” Spencer screams to get your attention, hoping you’re not too far away. He waits agonizingly for you to show up. He’s about to yell again when you come around the corner with tears in your eyes. “Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“Spencer,” you gasp. You leave the bridge and take him off to the side. People stare but go about their business to give you two some privacy. “What are you doing here?”

“Please don’t leave.”

“But your family--”

“Please don’t leave. I can’t bear to watch you walk away again. I let you go once. I can’t--refuse--to let you walk away again.”

Spencer grabs your face and kisses you like he should have done all those years ago. You get lost in the way he’s making you feel so you kiss him back. It feels so good to feel his lips on yours again. He feels like home. The image of him and his wife pops up in your head, and you pull away from him with tears streaming down your face.

“What about your wife? Your daughter?”

“I don’t know but please don’t leave. I love you.”

He’s only here because of the feelings you drudged up. He was happy before you came back into his life.

“I can’t do this right now. I have to get on the plane.”

“Please don’t get on that plane,” he begs.

“Miss? Are you getting on? We’re taking the last call,” the attendant asks.

“Spencer, I have to get on the plane. They’re waiting for me.” You step away from him even though it kills you to. “You have a family now. Maybe if I never left before, things might have been different. I can’t do that to them.”

You hand your ticket to the attendant even though she allows you to go through. Spencer watches you get on the plane, and the attendant shuts and locks the door behind you. Spencer has a very important choice to make:

Does he go back to his family and pretend this never happened or follow you? Stay with what’s comfortable or follow the one woman who has always made him feel alive? Her or you?

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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ukrfeminism · 2 months

Text

A social worker turned interior designer is tackling furniture poverty by transforming the homes of social housing tenants through her charity.

Emily Wheeler, founder of Furnishing Futures, says the need for her charity is not just cosmetic design - domestic abuse survivors are often driven back to their perpetrators after being given empty social housing with no beds for their children.

When families escaping domestic violence are rehoused by their local council, properties are often stripped of all white goods, furniture, and flooring for health and safety reasons.

Having left their old homes suddenly without any of their belongings, families often end up in a flat or house with nowhere to cook or store food and no beds to sleep in, Emily Wheeler, founder of the charity Furnishing Futures, tells Sky News.

"There are no curtains at the windows, there's no oven, no fridge, no washing machine," she says. "Children are expected to sleep on concrete floors with no beds or bedding.

"Mothers may have experienced economic abuse or coercion and might not have access to their money and find themselves having to start again.

"So you can understand why some women think 'this is actually no better for my children than going back to my previous situation'."

Emily has been a frontline social worker in east London for more than 20 years. During a career break, during which she had her two children, she retrained as an interior designer.

When she returned to social work in 2014, she says austerity meant council budgets were being cut and previously available grants for social housing tenants were no longer funded.

"I've always seen furniture poverty throughout my career, but it had got worse," she says.

"I was meeting families living in these conditions without furniture and without access to support.

"When you look at the amount of stuff councils have to spend money on just to keep people safe, furniture isn't the priority."

Moved into empty flat two days after giving birth

Laura, not her real name, moved between different emergency accommodations while she was pregnant with her first child after being abused by her ex-partner.

She says she was offered a council flat two days after giving birth.

"When I first moved in it was all dirty, there was no furniture, no carpet, no cooker, fridge, or washing machine.

"I had to take out an emergency loan from Universal Credit to get away from my partner, so I didn't have any money left when my baby was born. The first couple of nights I could only eat takeaway food because there was nothing to cook with.

"It had concrete floors. I'd get up in the middle of the night to make my baby a bottle and it would be freezing, so I had to put blankets all over the floor."

Chief executive of the National Housing Federation Kate Henderson says: "In social housing, carpets have historically been removed as standard practice for practical reasons, to ensure hygiene between lets and to prevent any possible contamination.

"In some cases, housing associations provide new flooring as standard when a home is re-let, or in other cases they may provide decorating vouchers to new tenants, which can be used for flooring of their choice."

According to a 2021 study by the campaign group End Furniture Poverty, only 1% of social housing properties are furnished.

Councils under 'no legal obligation'

The Housing Act 1985 states that a local authority "may fit out, furnish and supply a house provided by them with all requisite furniture, fittings and conveniences".

But Emily says this means there is no legal obligation to do so.

"Councils are fulfilling their duty by providing housing, so in the eyes of the law they're not doing anything wrong.

"But having an empty shell of concrete is not a home - just because you're not on the streets."

Having seen the problem on a wider scale when she began chairing multi-agency child protection conferences, she decided to combine her skills as a designer and social worker - and create a charity to help bridge the gap.

Furnishing Futures was set up in 2019. Emily and her team refloor, paint, and furnish empty properties given to trauma and domestic abuse survivors by councils.

She uses her industry connections, which include Soho House, DFS, Dunelm, and others, to source donated furniture, and fundraises for the rest.

She believes it is the only charity of its kind in the UK.

So far they have furnished more than 80 homes across east London, and a pilot scheme with Waltham Forest council and housing association Peabody will see another three completed there.

But with thousands of families on social housing waiting lists in each of the capital's 32 boroughs alone, she wants to expand nationally.

"The hardest thing about my job is having to say no to people because we don't have the capacity," she says.

"Every day we get inquiries from women, midwives, health visitors, other local authorities, domestic abuse agencies - but we're just a small team and the demand is huge."

The charity has a 4,000-square-foot warehouse, a team of five full-time staff, and a group of regular volunteers who help with flooring, painting, and assembling furniture.

As situations are often urgent, work is usually done in just one day.

Empty homes are form of 'revictimisation'

Jen Cirone, director of services at Solace Women's Aid, one of the charity's partners, says being housed in an empty home and having to start again is a form of "revictimisation".

But she says of the charity: "It's not only the practicalities of having a beautiful space to live in but also demonstrates that others care.

"Together, Furnishing Futures is able to complete the road to recovery that work with Solace has put them on."

Hannah, not her real name, is another of Emily's clients.

She was homeless after leaving her ex-partner and given emergency accommodation a day before she was due to give birth to her first child.

"I felt extremely stressed and vulnerable," she says. "As a victim of domestic violence and heavily pregnant, I already felt alone and unsupported.

"This empty space didn't feel like 'home' and it certainly wasn't suitable for baby."

As a type one diabetic she also had nowhere to store her insulin injections, she adds.

"I ended up staying in hospital for some time due to an emergency C-section and during that time Emily turned my empty, scary space into a home for me and my child."

Emily says that although COVID and the cost-of-living crisis have opened the conversation about poverty and how it affects domestic abuse survivors, the situation is "worse than ever".

"We're not just talking about poverty now, we're talking about destitution," she says.

"People need safe and comfortable homes. You won't be able to recover from trauma, rebuild your life, and be a productive part of society if you don't have your basic needs met."

A Department for Levelling Up, Housing and Communities spokesperson said: "Domestic abuse survivors deserve a safe home and we are grateful to Furnishing Futures for the work they do to help these families rebuild their lives.

"We expect social housing providers to play their part and provide homes that are of a decent quality, if tenants are unhappy, we encourage them to speak to their landlords.

"Our Social Housing Regulation Act is also driving up standards and strengthened the role of the Ombudsman so that it is easier for tenants to raise complaints."

#Articles #MVAWG #community #resources #Finance

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spicyclover · 1 year

Note

An you do one for lando Norris where you tell him it’s ok to fuck with out a condom for the first time and letting him cum in you

On your lips, half volt.

Context: In the paddock after being frustrated for quite some time.

Summary: From your skin to my skin, I keep the scent I still know, from your body, by heart, the drawing On the bare wire of that night, I stand Ready for all my love, it’s so good!

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: smut +18

You didn’t wait very long for him. He returned to hospitality soon after finishing the three interviews he was supposed to do, his eyes set on you. He approached you and flopped onto the couch of his driver's room, setting his head on your lap.

You ran your hand through his messy curly hair, which was getting pretty long. He shut his eyes and relaxed, letting you play with his hair. He always loves having your hands on his head. He often gets headaches, and your fingers' warmth always makes him feel better.

On time, he even calls you a witch after you miraculously cured him of his headache by massaging him gently for several minutes. Obviously, you laugh, knowing very well that you didn't do anything but help him relax, which was what he actually needed.

Distracted, you started braiding a small chunk of it, and he grumbled a little when he understood what you were doing. You laughed at him and set your hand on his jaw, tracing over it with your fingertips. You lock eyes with each other. Sometimes you still fail to realize that this human loves you truly, deeply and intensely.

You still remember the first time you did it. You’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, and you both had very strong feelings about each other.

You start caressing him while reaching down for his sex. You feel his growing excitement and his limb getting hard through his suit, which, let’s be honest, doesn’t leave much room for imagination.

For the past few weeks, you haven’t had much time to spend with each other. And it must be said that you are in need; lack of him, of his kisses, of his skin against yours, of his penis in your entrance, of his faint growls of excitement. You can’t take it anymore. You need him now.

You touch his limb, and you feel his breath intensifying to the rhythm of your touch. His lips find their place in your neck, which he does not hesitate to mark as his own. You let out small sounds of pleasure between your lips that are glued to his ear.

You stoke him, losing no time. You know you don't have much time to get what you need, what you want.

"Babe," he whispers, trying to slow you down.

"Don't!" You take his suit and undo it. Making sure that he is left only with his fireproof shirt and his boxer. "I need you, Lan. I need you inside me!"

"Oh"

"Oh? What oh?" You ask stopping a minute to look at him.

"I don't have anything with me."

"What?"

"I don't have any condoms. Everything is at the hotel." He explains, quite embarrassed.

"Okay, and?" You kiss again, not waiting for the answer. Rubbing your bare skin against his.

"Well..." He sighs, putting his mouth away from you.

"Lando, you have two choices; you either fuck me right here and now hard and bare, or I go back to London, and you won't touch me for the next six months to know what it's like to be in need."

You give him the ultimatum, and you don't have to wait too long before Lando pushes himself in you. You heard the sigh of pleasure when his bare member encountered your intimate cunt for the first time. It's strange for you too. To feel him so close to you. Like they're nothing else after this. You can't be more naked than this.

It feels amazing. You're riding him, but it's Lando who gives the rhythm. With your hands on his chest, you try to keep yourself on top. His hands are on your hips, bruising them.

"I'm not going to last long," he says, out of breath.

You pull out of him and get up. You look at him, and he knows what to do. You enjoy quickies some times, and now it's the time. Fuck from being is the thing that turns you on and makes you come the most.

Lando pushes your legs apart and takes hold of your hips. Pushing himself again inside you. You feel him different, more animal, and you love it. You can't help yourself to whimpers his name, making his ego up. You are against the wall, holding on the best you can.

Now, you don't care if people can hear or not. You're having the time of your life after waiting for two weeks. You feel his hand touching your clit, doing circles, making your brain fuzzier. One hand on the wall, the other on one of Lando's arms. Lando is the full support of this session. You can't barely stay standing; how he makes you feel so good.

You bite your lips, trying to quiet yourself down. Lando accelerated candor by feeling his orgasm come. His hand stimulates your clitoris to the maximum and his penis sucks you from end to end by touching each of his thrusts on your G-spot. He feels that your vagina retracts and sucks it in.

"Lan... Land... Lando." Trying to phrase your sentence. "I want you to cum... to cum inside... inside me."

"What? He asks, out of breath."

"I want you to cum inside me!"

You feel your words have a radical change in his attitude, and he doesn’t waste time. His outbursts are a little more irrational, and you’re both on end. Your orgasm is there. Overwhelming you and him at the same time. You can’t help but shout his name and how good he does you.

He covers your mouth with his hand. He bends you more, and you hold on as best you can. He pushes you one last time. His seed is released in you, and you moan between his fingers. He finally breeds you, really breed you. Still in you, he pushes you back to the couch, and he drops himself in. His hand always keeps you close to him.

"Wow... That's the sexiest thing we have ever done." He exclaims as he giggles.

"I think that from now on, you will always cum in me. You were exceptional, and it’s been so fucking long since I wanted you like this."

"Tonight, am fucking you out! You won't be able to walk tomorrow, baby," he mumbles, trying to catch he's breath.

"Fuck! Cum in me every time if it means you take me so well."

#lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fluff #smut #fluff

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charlesf1leclerc · 9 months

Note

Ho first of all i love your stories😅❤️

And second i wanted to request an ollie bearman x reader. Just something like an rainy day with ollie just something really fluffy

Ly❤️

Summary- a short blurb if a rainy day with your boyfriend Ollie.

It was meant to be the summer break, which many sun, tans , days at the beach , swimming , pool parties. But no not today, Mother Nature had different plans for today. It was currently pouring rain, grey clouds and strong cold winds. So you and Ollie had no other choice then to spend today inside because no way are you going outside in that weather. You both were not very good with the cold.

“Well what should we do baby?, because don’t get me wrong staring out the window wishing for the sun to show is fun but we can’t do it all day” Ollie spoke as he came up to hug you from behind as you stared out the window.

“ Yeah… I know it’s just London is always cold why can’t god give us warmth for once” I laughed turning around in his arm.

“ here’s an idea how about a movie day, you pick I’ll make some hot chocolate lots of sweets?”

“ I guess that could work” I agreed

“ ok go get some blankets and get yourself set up in the couch, pick a movie too I’ll be back” he spoke as he walked out of the room into the kitchen.

I had gathered all the blankets from the living room and the bedroom and had laid them out on the couch. And picked a movie out and left it on pause on the tv as you waited for Ollie. “Ok we have two hot chocolates, lots of whipped cream and a few marshmallows, chocolate chip cookies and popcorn “ he grinned ear to ear as he placed everything on the coffee table and he was clearly proud of his selections. He then got under the blankets as you reached forward to press play on the movie and the soft sounds of the film began to fill the room.

“ mm this is really good baby” I spoke taking a sip of the homemade hot chocolate.

“ thanks only the best for you”

You leaned further into him cuddling up to him as he lay his arm over your shoulder allowing you to cuddle further in

“ in my opinion this day couldn’t be any better” he spoke before kissing the top of your head.

————————————————————————

Hope you all enjoyed even though it’s short pls continue to keep sending in your request for my KUWTL series and my other drivers tysm xx

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

come back…be here

DATE: JANUARY 11, 2023

summary: tom has to film a movie in london while you have to stay and work in new york. the distance drains you both, craving to be closer than a phone call. once the challenges subside, you’re in his arms and everything feels like home again.

request: yes!! read this for more information!

song: Come Back… Be Here- taylorrr / Car’s Outside- james arthur

words: 4.1k

warnings: heavy on angst!!, fluff, SMUT (m-receiving [oral], f- receiving [fingering], unprotected sex [two positions], dirty talk, praise kink), little language, and pining. (dramatic lol)

note: i used a quote from cherry because it’s one of my favorite lines with tom and i think it would be perfect here. this is very dramatic, but i don’t care :D #angsty

—

NEW YORK

The sun peeks out from the curtains, alerting your body to wake up. The rays cause your weary eyes to squint as you push yourself up from the bed. You breathe softly in the silence of your own presence. Tilting your head, you gaze at the emptiness that lies in bed next to you. You frown when you feel a pang of pining form in your chest. Ruefully, you untuck yourself from the covers, feeling colder than you did yesterday. And the day before that. And the week before last. It felt like the longest two weeks of your life and you still had two more to go.

Tom had gone filming in London for a movie he was extremely excited about. You knew he had no choice: it was going to happen eventually. But that didn’t make the goodbyes any easier. And it felt harder this time.

This wasn’t your first rodeo being a famous actor’s girlfriend; Tom’s left to film a variety of movies while you were together. The longest he’s ever been gone for was two weeks without a break, and that was a struggle.

It was a tradition for you two to call each other every night, even if you were exhausted from a long day and he was tired from filming. You imagined the way his lips spoke I love you when you talked on a normal phone call, but it would never amount to him physically whispering softly in your ear.

You wanted to go with him, you really did. You’ve been to London countless times to be with his family, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal. However, you were battling for a higher position at work and your absence for a sudden vacation wouldn’t make you look too good.

Tom had convinced you to stay, knowing how important your job is to you. In reality, you didn’t need a job if you were going to spend the rest of your life with a Hollywood actor, but you both knew that wouldn’t stop your independence from flourishing. You loved being with Tom because he encouraged you to not only be better, but to be great, and to be you. His faith in you has gotten you through some of the toughest moments of your life. Tom could say the same for you. He admired your hard work and independence so much that it motivated him. You were the brightest light in his life that saved him from any harmful darkness.

You didn’t have a doubt in your mind that you loved each other. You only fell harder every day.

As you sourly complete your morning routine in empty silence, you get dressed in your work clothes before heading out the door. Work helped distract the depressing yearning in your chest as you competed for the promotion. The days felt slower the more that passed, the desire to stay focused leaving your mind with the lack of motivation. You didn’t rely on Tom’s ability to encourage you, but God, did it help. His presence alone was graceful and endearing. He could convince you to run a marathon at midnight if he simply gave you those adorable puppy eyes that make you fold every time.

Every night, you leave work at the same time, rarely staying late. Every night, you do your nightly routine after a quick shower. Sometimes, you added a good cry because you just needed to cry. But every night for the past two weeks, you lie in bed with heavy-weight eyelids as you wait for a phone call.

—

LONDON

For most of his scenes, Tom got to wear a watch. It was hard for him not to avert his eyes to the time as he waited for the film to wrap up for the day. If he didn’t get to wear a watch, he would ponder at the sun’s angles to determine how long it would be until nightfall. When the sun would dip just below the hills, he knew he was a day closer to being home to you.

He packed the small carry-on he brought to set and quickly left with short goodbyes to the crew and his cast mates. Tom was staying at his parents’ house, since it was close to where the movie was being shot. He tried not to be loud when he trudged through the dark hallways of the house, feet padding the sleek, wooden floors.

His body collapses on the creaky bed, drained from constantly missing you. Yes, his job was physically and mentally demanding; some roles took him months to prepare for, like Cherry. But he swears your absence makes his heart beat slower, like he’s deliberately dying without being with you. It was killing him to be hundreds of miles away from you for so long without a break.

Tom’s muscles and brain scream at him to close his eyes just for a moment to rest, but he refuses. He hasn’t gotten any decent sleep since he’s left your side, and he hopes it doesn’t affect his acting. He silently showers, cleaning the work of today off of him. Painfully, he continues to resist the urge to consume himself in his duvet, eyes fluttering and nearly rolling backwards. The electronic vibration in his hand jolts an ounce of energy in his muscles, allowing him to answer before he passes clean out.

—

NEW YORK

“Hey,” You breathe out weakly, eyes sorrowful. You attempt a smile, but it’s too weary. Your face feels too heavy to make such a joyful expression.

“Hey, baby,” Tom croaks with his cheek squished against a pillow. His voice was gravelly and shushed, his eyes mostly closed, even as your face was present in front of him. All he needs is your voice, the perfect lullaby that can send him straight to sleep.

“I miss you,” Lip quivering as you sigh the words. Your teeth clench as you hold back the sudden urge to cry. You take the rest of any energy you had left to maintain your emotions, so Tom doesn’t worry too much. You both know how badly you miss one another, but Tom doesn’t need to know that you’ve been crying alone. “a lot.”

He would drop everything and fly home just to wipe away your tears.

“I miss you so goddamn much, baby,” His hand rubs over his weary eyes, trying to focus on you instead of the nauseated need to sleep. “Wish I could hold you.”

“Wish I could touch you,” Breathing unevenly, you bite your lip to contain the crying inside of you.

“Just a little longer, darling,” He sighs as a large yawn arises in his throat.

“You’re so tired, baby. You need to rest,” You almost break at his fatigued and fragile state, body demanding sleep. It was almost eight o’clock in New York, meaning it was almost one A.M. in London. He most likely wrapped up in the evening, so he must have stayed up until you were off of work to talk. Tom’s done that every night since he’s left, and your heart aches even more.

“Not yet. Just a little longer, love,” He repeats similarly, another yawn summoning from him as his head nudges deeper into his pillow like a sleepy child. He imagined the pillow to be your lap or your chest, so his body would give in to the rejected feeling of the fabric.

Although you were miles away, the silence was comfortable enough because he knew you were there, just not completely.

“Goodnight, Tom,” You whispered into the microphone, wishing you could caress the soft, damp curls on his forehead until he drifted peacefully to dreamland. But watching him fall into a much needed sleep over FaceTime was the best you could get right now. “I love you. So much.”

“Goodnight, m’angel,” Tom mumbles groggily and quietly. “I love you too.”

Soft snores wheezed from his thin lips, making your lips curl up the slightest as you admire him. Your heart was pained to see him so exhausted. It saddened you so much that a tear finally slipped from your eye and onto your pillowcase, leaving a familiar stain in the fabric. With one last look at him through your now glossy eyes, you sniffle quietly and end the call.

A few more silent tears fall from your cheeks as you turn off your bedside lamp. You replay his words in your head like your favorite song to help you slowly coast to an empty sleep.

Your heart chases the hundreds of miles separating you, yearning for your boyfriend to come back and be here.

—

TWO WEEKS LATER, NEW YORK

Your head nearly falls on your laptop from exhaustion. Your eyes would start to roll to the back of your head if you didn’t shake your body awake. You rub your eyes as you glance at the time. According to Tom, his flight should have landed by now and he should be on his way home. Finally.

However, this was the worst day for him to come back because you had to stay late at work preparing last-minute charts and emails. Usually, all of that could wait for the following day because working on an empty tank never did you any good. But since the promotion announcement would be soon, you had to be two steps ahead of your competitors. Plus, you had tomorrow off, so you had to get double the work done today.

Once you finish your current assignment, you delicately close the laptop and shut off your monitor. Flicking off the lights in your office, you drop your phone in your bag without glancing at it.

Weariness blurred your vision, and it felt unsafe to drive in such a tired state. The only thing keeping you awake was that Tom would be there not long after you, and you would finally get to sleep in his arms. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would leap into his arms like the movies, but Lord knows you could barely walk.

You unlock the front door to a dull house; quiet, cold, and dark. You slip off your shoes and trudge up the small set of stairs into your bedroom. You repeat the same routine as you would if you were alone, but this time you knew he would be coming home.

When you’re comfortable in your pajamas, you poorly make the bed, so it looks more appealing than the hot-mess you’ve been laying in for the past month. Once you’re settled, you peer at the clock on your bedside table, wondering why he hasn’t made it home yet.

Grabbing your phone for the first time since this morning, you turn it on and crinkle your eyebrows at Tom’s newest messages.

T: Lovie my flight got delayed.

T: Hey baby. Can’t wait to see you. Getting on now.

T: Halfway home baby. Text me when you’re home x

You frown at the words, sighing heavily when looking at the time stamps. His last text was from the early evening. You huff, upset at yourself for being too hypnotized in your work to pay attention to your boyfriend coming home. Based on his texts, he should be home in an hour at best. You place your phone to your chest and close your eyes as you slide down your headboard until your head lays flat on the pillow. You fight the urge for as long as you can, but sleep holds you captive until you're consumed in it.

—

NEW YORK

Tom pushes through the door rolling his two suitcases and carrying his backpack on his shoulders. His limbs ache as he tramps up the stairs, the weight of his exhaustion yanking him toward the floor. Your car was in the driveway, so he’s sure that you were home even if the house is quiet. The bedroom door is cracked, so he trudged inside and plopped his baggage on the floor. He finally glances at your figure, motionless and allayed as your quiet breathing fills the emptiness.

He stalks over to your side, gazing at the sleeping beauty with a sigh. Tom’s rough hands delicately whisk your hair from your face before he places a tender kiss to your forehead. Your breathing falters and your eyelashes flutter, but you stay sound asleep. Tom gets ready for bed before slipping in right beside you.

Tom wraps a secure arm around your waist and subtly tugs you closer, bodies already warmer from the proximity. An inch of a smile manages to crawl up his lips even as tired as he is. His weight sinks further into the mattress as fatigue overtakes him.

A few hours later, you awake in the middle of the night with a muscular arm snug around your waist. Your heart jumps in excitement and you attempt to turn around, but realize that he’s probably asleep for the first time in a while. It’s hard to relax, while you try to rest knowing that Tom is finally home again.

You were in his arms and that’s all that mattered.

—

HOME

The sun shines brightly behind the curtains, but more graceful than it had been the past month. The sound of birds joyfully chirping and a small breeze alarm you peacefully to awaken. Your brain and body are quick to notice the heavy arm encompassing you, feeling its weight with every breath you take. You smile, but hold it back, saving all of your exuberance for Tom. You shift around anxiously excited, gazing lovingly at his adorable face; mouth slightly opened, crinkled eyes, and his cute nose. He was here, he was really here.

Without resisting, you kiss his cheek. And then his jaw. And then his neck. And then his bare shoulder as you remove his arm from you. And then his naked chest, sending little shockwaves of electricity through his body. You wanted to love him all over because of how estatic you were, and how much you missed him.

Tom inhales sharply, sensing your actions and wakes up blissfully. Eyes fluttering, he peers down at the top of your head kissing and caressing down his torso.

“Love,” He croaks groggily, voice crackly and warm like a burning fireplace. His hand pets your hair, smoothing it gently as you look up toward him. You don’t say a word, only a huge grin before you plant your lips onto his.

Both of your hearts overflow with much needed attention and love as your lips move in flawless sync. Slowly and passionately, your mouths mold together like missing pieces of a puzzle finally connecting. Your body collapses on his as your hands intertwine with his brown curls, elbows on either side of his head. His strong hands remain locked on your jaw, thumbs massaging the apple of your cheeks. For a breath, you painfully pull yourself back as you both gasp for air. Forehead to forehead, you listen to the panting and hearts beating.

“You’re back,” You smile shyly, happiness sparkling in your irises like a cartoon.

“I am, darling. Did you miss me?” He jokes, knowing you missed each other so crazily you couldn’t act normal. You two were so connected, being apart meant missing the other half of you. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes before kissing him greedily again.

“So much. I missed you so much,” You lead the kiss down to his jaw, sucking softly as he smiles. “Let me show you how much.”

His smile curls higher as you crawl down his body. Your sweet kisses leave invisible tattoos on his skin, making him sigh from how much he missed this. From how much he missed you. You twiddle with the waistband of his boxers until he persists you continue, so you do.

Now completely naked, his morning glory stands hard with an ounce of pre-cum at the tip. You rub the juices around his tip, causing him to hiss. Saliva runs down the length of his cock as your hand wraps around him. You stroke up and down deliberately, Tom’s breathing heaving as you gradually pick up your pace.

Your mouth hovers over the head before you lower yourself on to it. He moans hoarsely, throat raspy with lust. Your tongue glides along his prominent veins, exploring every inch that could fit in your mouth until his slit tickled the back of your throat. Your hand strokes consistently as your head continues to bob for his pleasure. Your panties dampen at his guttural noises, a rough hand delicately lacing in your hair. He resists the urge to push you lower as he holds onto you.

“Fuck, Y/N. Missed that mouth. Missed—fuck— you,” He grunts when you gag subtly, his abs tensing. Your nails scratch his muscular thighs, making his legs contract as his high approaches him. Although he’s so close, he halts your movements, so he doesn’t explode in your mouth. “Don’t want to come yet.” He grumbles weakly.

Your mouth pops off of him as drool dribbles down your chin. Your hand continues to lightly stroke him as he wipes it away. He crashes his lips to yours before flipping you over, never breaking the kiss.

“Now, can I show you how much I missed my girl? My sweet girl,” He trails down your neck, sucking love bites under your ear. You whimper in response to his words, hands creeping up his bare back for grip.

Once your shirt and panties are discarded, Tom’s fingers dance around your hips playfully as you widen your legs welcomingly. Arousal glistens in the sunlight like magic, lust consuming his eyes at the sight of your soaking slit. Knuckles brushing your clit, he rubs gently, eliciting a needy moan from you. Knowing how much time you two have been apart, he doesn’t waste time slipping a finger easily into you. You gasp, clenching around him instantly.

“So wet for me. Guess you really did miss me,” He grins, adding another finger into your tight cunt as your eyes squeeze shut. One hand rests on your knee as he pecks your stomach, thrusting and curling his thick fingers in you. His thumb circulates your aching clit, relieving some of the consistent throbbing with the rough texture. “Love your cunt. Always so tight for me.”

“God, Tom,” You wheeze at his vulgar words with such a loving tone, clit pulsating despite his constant pressure on it. His voice with his choice of words always got you off because he always knew what to say.

“Love your legs. Love your breasts,” His free hand makes its way up your body until his fingers are twisting the hard bud. You inhale sharply at the sensation, back beginning to arch. He leaves your breasts neglected and caresses your lust-filled face. “Love your lips,” He pecks them softly. “Love your eyes. Let me see them.”

You open your eyes as his fingers plunge deeper into you causing a trembling moan to fall out. His chestnut eyes admire your expression as you wither gracefully away from his longed touch. Clenching desperately around him, your core contracts and you bite your lip as the sensation grows on you.

“I-I don’t want to come yet, either,” You whine, strangled by overwhelming pleasure. Tom obeys and slowly removes his fingers from you. You feel empty, but you know you won’t for long once his cock is deep inside of you.

Tom pumps himself a few times, tip rosy and neglected, before teasingly spreading your shiny arousal around your folds. Your hands intertwine around his neck as he slides his length inside.

Shuddering moans and stillness are found in you both, too overwhelmed by the moment. Tom forces himself to move as your pussy contracts around his member dangerously tight. His thrusts are steady and deep, so deep, there wasn’t a part inside he wasn’t hitting. Every inch of you felt full after being so empty for so long.

A sweet, little cry releases from you as his pace picks up, his cock becoming consumed by your velvety walls.

“You’re so tight, lovie,” He achingly groans. With your constant mewls in the air and cunt squeezing him heavenly, he steadies at a pace that is perfect for you both.

Your thumb caresses his face lovingly as your legs wrap around him to push him deeper. Your eyes connect as passion, lust, and love flow inbetween you. In this moment, you feel your souls let go of any past pain or suffering and allow themselves to give in to each other. At this moment, you feel more entwined with Tom than ever before. For a moment, you forget about everything else in the whole world besides the two halves of the same soul fusing together again.

You pull your eyes away subconsciously as your stomach contracts and cunt flutters around his cock. Back arching and nails digging into his shoulders, you pant and whine at his depth while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re so deep,” You moan as your body becomes tense and your orgasm builds quickly. Tom wants this to last. He never wants to have to leave you ever again.

“I know. Taking me so well, pretty girl,” Raspy and gravelly, his voice sends you over the edge. You silently scream, your stomach arching to his chest as you soar up high, just to crash hard. His lips trail along your neck as you wind down, body trembling in unbelievable pleasure.

Tom hasn’t come yet and you secretly love riding him, and you know that’s one of his favorites. You bite your lip at the thought.

“Can I ride you?” You whisper, fingers dancing in his curly locks. He groans at your sweet, dirty words before flipping you over again with ease. His body lays flat on the bed while you rock slowly on his cock. Tom’s abs visibly contract from the intensity and satisfaction of this position. You feel slick around his cock at his chiseled figure, so you run a curious hand over his torso. “Your muscles are so… I love them.”

“I love that you love them, baby,” A strained whine releases from his throat as the tip of his cock twitches inside of you. “What else do you love?” His fingers fondle with the supple skin on your hips.

Tom joked a lot about his body, but in reality, he loved it when you’d praised his muscles, hands, legs, face— it made him feral to see you fawn over him.

“I-I love your arms. So strong, always protecting me,” You pant heavily, thighs burning deliciously at the tedious action of swaying back and forth. You roll your hips, eliciting a sharp noise from Tom as his grip on you tightens. “Love your hands. So big and rough.”

You continue a list of your favorite physical parts about him as he groans and moans from your compliments. His grasp on you is dangerous, his length ticking as he tries to hold off.

“D’want me to come in you? So you can be full of me?”

“Yes, yes. Want to be full of you forever,” You mewl, clenching around him as another mind-blowing orgasm hits you. At your request, Tom chokes a moan before his cum spurts into you furiously, muscles spasming and aching. Euphoric stars haze over your visions, blissed-out for your minds.

You collapse gently onto his body as you rest your head in the cradle of his neck. Unsteady breaths and racing hearts echo throughout the morning aroma of sex. The explosive beats of his heart fill your ears as your fingers trace feather-like on his pale skin. His hand smooths fondly over your frizzy hair and along your back over and over until you feel sleepy again.

“I missed you, Tom,” You whisper in the delicate, comfortable silence.

“I missed you, angel,” Tom hums as your body moves to the rise and fall of his breathing. Your eyes flutter majestically closed, sleepy like the beauty you are. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

Reopening your eyes, you plant an arm on his chest and lay your chin on your hand. Pity floats in your eyes, remembering how tired he was on each phone call. He stares down at you through your lashes as the back of his head rests on his own hand.

“I couldn’t sleep either. It was torture,” You half joke, but were also serious because it definitely felt like some type of torture. “I know you just got back, but I’m kind of sleepy now.”

“Then let’s sleep. For the first real time in a month,” Tom brushes some stray hairs away from your eyes, so he could see the remarkable canvas of your orbs. You smile softly in affirmation, lifting yourself up to kiss his lips. It’s not long, but it’s tender and says I love you in a million different ways.

You slide off of his body and bask in his warmth as his arms wrap snugly around you. Back to his chest, you feel protected, safe, and comfortable for the first time in a month. Your hearts find the perfect beat for you both until they’re in beautiful sync.

As the sun rises higher into the late morning, Tom and you fall deeply asleep within the comfort of each other. He was finally home again, which means so were you.

—

i feel like i’m actually not bad at writing angst? the key is to make it very dramatic… i think.

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland one-shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fan fics #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

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