#i hope at some point the team and i can finally do it

[magics-neptunes-things]

Williamson Holding

Hi guys!

Sooo this is a request from @holly-wallis and honestly it's massive. Like more than 14K words. It took me forever to do it, that's why I haven't post as much as before those last days/weeks.

I really hope that you will enjoy it. I proofread it two times but it's so big that I might have forgot some faults.

TW : Angst, Jealousy, Break up, One-side love, Game lost, mention of Covid. Reader is Leah Williamson's sister.

Gif credit for Caitlin’s one at @teenwolf-theoriginals

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You were an accident. Not really wanted at first, you were born 354 days after Leah, the 18 March 1998. Your parents weren’t ready to have a second child so early after the birth of their first daughter, but you never felt anything but love from them. People joke sometimes that they used the same recipe for Leah and for you. It’s true that you look a lot like her physically and for the character you have definitively some similar points too. You both are determined, loyal, funny, and very close of your family. But the person you are the closest is definitively Leah.

3 years after you, your brother Jacob is born. You like to joke about it and saying that they finally weren’t to traumatize by you more than that. Jacob is your brother, and you love him very much, but your relationship is different from the one with Leah. You like having time with him, but with him being away in Australia now, it’s a little bit harder.

Oh, and like Leah and your mother you’re an Arsenal fan, obviously.

You started football together, but you played the goalkeeper, letting Leah practicing striking and dribbling. You weren’t bad to be honest, but they was to many competition to be a goalkeeper and you decided during your teenager period to go for study instead of football.

You were great in it honestly; Leah sometimes asked you to do her homework when she came back too late from training. You’ll do it with pleasure, happy to help your big sister who paid you generously in candy. Or dried mango, your great passion.

On day after Leah turned 17, she made her big debut with Arsenal senior team. You were so proud of her, cheering her from the stand with all your family. It was very different of what it is now, but you already knew that she would make something amazing in football. And how much were you right.

It was at this period that Leah and you talked about a company that you could make together. Leah was studying accounting in case of her career wasn’t successful and you were very interested in marketing, publicity and human relations.

The Williamson Holding Corporation was founded in summer 2016, when you finished your tuition. You learned several languages (French, Spanish and Mandarin) during your free time and thanks to Leah and your parent’s financial help, you were able to start this adventure. Your company always were able to have a good profit every year. You were able to repay your parents already and Leah always refused, so you made her a founder, just like you.

Through the years, your company get a sponsorship with Arsenal and in particular Arsenal Women, obviously. Along the years, you managed to travel a lot to make your company known in other countries and find other financials, but you always managed to come back to see Leah play. You never missed one of her games, as crazy at it sound.

February 2020 – When you properly met Caitlin for the first time.

“Y/N! Sorry, can I borrow my sister for one second?”

Leah doesn’t wait for the answer to your interlocutor and takes your arm to drag you somewhere else. You let her though, secretly happy to have to finish this uninterested discussion with that weird man. You note mentally to be sure not to invite him to the next gala.

“Where’s the dead body?” you ask your sister who rolls her eyes.

“Don’t joke about it, we’ll get catch by Covid otherwise.”

You roll your eyes yourself, but don’t say anything. You just wait to your sister to stop at some time, for what she almost kidnapped you. You end up right in front of Caitlin Foord, the new signing for Arsenal. You already saw her to the games, you smirked when you caught her looking at you two time before realizing that you weren’t Leah, the first time she saw you. To her point, you were wearing Leah’s jersey.

“Cait, my sister. Sis, this is Caitlin.” Leah introduces you, before leaving you both to catch someone else.

“Uh, hello?” Caitlin mumbles with surprise, apparently not advertise that Leah were going to introduce you both.

“Hi” you giggle. “Nice to be properly introduced to you. Please excuse my sister, she isn’t the one who studied human relations.”

Your giggles and your joke help Caitlin to relax and you’re happy to see her smiling too.

“I can see that” Caitlin answers with her Australian accent.

You had a small talk with her about Australia, a country where you never been for now. You really looked to it though, and not only to have the opportunity to make your company bigger. Jacob and you always talked about going there for holidays. And after talking to Caitlin, you will definitively go to the east part of the country.

You were joined by Katie McCabe and the three of you started talking for a long time after that. Caitlin asked you several questions about your company and seems surprised to learn the amount of work you are putting in it.

“She’s a natural” Katie smirks “Everyone comes eat in her hand, she can make people do whatever she wants.”

You smirk back, raising an eyebrow while crossing your arms on your chest at the same time.

“Not everything with everyone.”

Katie doesn’t have the time to answer anyway, because Leah is back with her Williamson’s frown.

“No flirting with my teammates Y/N!”

“I wasn’t! I wouldn’t have any problem with Irish mafia.” you answer, thinking about Katie’s girlfriend.

You raise both of your hands to prove your innocence. Katie and you aren’t really flirting, it was more for fun and for joking with each other. Katie laughs while Leah hums for any answer and changed the subject just after that, training you, Katie and Caitlin in the discussion.

The night went great, and you are happy to be able to have some time with Leah’s teammates who are also your friends, especially the ones who are in the team since a long time. You get along pretty well with Caitlin too, who would accept really quickly to at least make a photoshoot and a sponsoring for your company. Unfortunately there is suddenly the lockdown and you weren’t able to do it before that.

October 2020 – The shooting

“Hi Y/N!”

You smile to the employee who greats you when you enter the building where the photoshoot for Caitlin was attending. Being at every single one is something you do every time, so your employees aren’t surprised to see you coming. You great them back, asking around if everything is fine with everyone. It seems to be, so you go to find Caitlin.

The Australian girl is just coming out of the room where she changed her clothes and find herself right in front of you.

“Oh hi! I didn’t know you will come.”

“I like to be here for this kind of things” you answer with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine thank you” she smiles back.

“Y/N are you ok if we start?” the photographer asks.

“Of course. I’m going to sit here.”

You look at your phone on the way, answering a message from one of your managers before sitting on a chair some meters away from the different cameras. Caitlin doesn’t seem to be at ease at first, but soon she finds her way. You have a perfect and entirely trust in your team, but you have already red too much time how people can make other bad with their comportment, and you clearly don’t want that in your company. That’s why you don’t have a lot of employees too. That and the fact that you love have the control on everything.

After several shots, the photographer decides to make a break and you come over to see what the pictures look like. They are great to be honest.

“I really love this one” you smile, pointing one of the pictures.

Caitlin’s blue eyes are really showing in it. You haven’t realized how blue they are since now to be honest. You then raise your gaze on the girl, just to cross the same blue.

“I think this is my favorite too.”

You hum, before congratulating the photographer for her job. It’s the first time she does it for you, but you will certainly ask her to work for you again. She’s young, like you, and you like the idea to help young people to start in their life. Provided they deserve it, of course.

They take other pictures after that, and you choose five of them to post on the social media.

“Do you want to go to eat something?” you ask Caitlin when everything is finished.

You don’t always have the time to do it with everyone, but when you can, you do it. Like you said before, almost every girl in Arsenal is your friend. You know some of them more, like Jen Beattie, Katie McCabe, or Lia Wälti who are the closest to Leah to be honest. But you like all of them. You didn’t have the time to meet Steph Catley for now though. It probably will be coming soon.

Caitlin accepted your offer, and you take her to one of your favorite restaurants.

“I didn’t expect to eat at Nando’s to be honest” Caitlin smiles after you sat at your table.

“Oh” you answer, looking up from the menu you know by heart. “We can go somewhere else if you want, I thought – “

“No, it’s perfect here. I like it. I used to go there with my Mum and my sister a lot back in Australia.”

You smile softly, relaxing a little bit. People seems to forget sometimes that you are still a young woman who can enjoy eating burger or fries with her fingers.

“How are you settling in London?” you ask after the waiter came to take your command.

“Good, actually. The rain is something else, but the girls are great.”

“I heard you especially like the Swiss part” you smirk.

You laugh when Caitlin blushes. Leah told you about Lia and Caitlin relationship several weeks ago, when they start to date officially. You don’t have to tell Caitlin how you know it though; the girl understands it really quickly.

“Leah talks too much” she smiles nevertheless. “What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

“Not for now” you shake your head, adding when you see Caitlin’s questioning look. “I mean I had some dates slash fling with someone but it’s hard to be in a relationship while working so much. Girls seems to have a hard time understanding I will pass my family and my job before something else. I can understand though, so it’s better for me to be single for now.”

“I didn’t know you were into girls too. You really are Leah’s copy.”

“Maybe” you smile.

Your sister is your favorite person ever. You will never be upset to be compared to her. In your eyes, she’s the most amazing person in the world.

“I am lucky to be able to see her so much. I won’t be able to deal with it as good as you do.”

“It’s very hard sometimes. Because of the lockdown and all I wasn’t able to go back to Australia. I haven’t seen them for almost a year now…”

You wince at the sadness suddenly present in Caitlin’s eyes, regretting to have point this. You are interrupted by the waiter and your meal coming for you, but you excuse yourself anyway.

“I’m sorry to bring it up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know, don’t worry” Caitlin smiles softly. “I will see them soon now.”

You look into Caitlin’s eyes for some more seconds to be sure that she’s saying the truth, before nodding slowly. She seems to be honest, and you are really relieved. Starting a friendship like this would have been the worst way. You finally smile back and report your attention on your plate just after Caitlin did.

The following of the conversation is a little easier, talking about Arsenal helps a lot. You talk to Caitlin about all the little things she maybe didn’t know for now and learn a lot of things about her and her past. She talked to you about her childhood and the financial difficulties her mother had, raising two children as a single mom. That makes you realize one more time how lucky you are to be where you are now. This kind of stories remember you about it and it’s never enough in your opinion.

October 2021 – The surprise

Unlike Caitlin was hopping, she wasn’t able to see her family as much as she wanted. She went in Switzerland with Lia though and told you that it was a very great time. You thought about her sometimes, remembering the trouble her eyes did to you, but you erased this kind of thoughts very quickly. Caitlin was in a happy relationship and there is no way you even look at a no-single lady.

You managed to build a friendship with her though and you sometimes went out with her, Lia, and Leah. You had a great time every time and you decided that it was perfect for you like this.

Caitlin opened herself to you about missing her family, but the tickets to come in London from Australia were expensive and you know that she doesn’t mean it like that, but you don’t think twice before contacting Caitlin’s sister and offering to them the tickets. They refuse at first, but you managed to find the good words. And, not for the situation being strange, you included Lia in the surprise.

After all, Caitlin was your friend and Lia was her girlfriend.

The Swiss woman went to the airport to take Jamie and her mother back to Caitlin home. Leah asked the team to put some interview or media things for Caitlin at the right time, to let you and her decorate Caitlin’s house with the most too much decoration ever. There is a banner writing “Surprise” on it, yellow and green balloons, an Australian flag, and you even managed to find a kangaroo balloon who is floating around the living room.

“That’s so kitsch. I love it” Leah smirks.

You giggle while looking around. You have to admit that you made a great job together. Two seconds after, Lia and the two Foord were coming inside the house. After some greetings and hugs, they looked at the decoration and approve it too.

“So, I guess this is our time to leave.” Leah says while looking at you.

You nod and prepare yourself to take your things to leave. It was without counting on Caitlin’s mother opinion.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Simone asks with her Australian accent. “You helped to do that; you’re definitively staying.”

“But – “ you start.

“No but.”

You see Jamie, Caitlin’s sister, rolling her eyes at her mother antics, but you don’t have time to say something else because Lia comes, running from the entrance where she was looking outside.

“She’s here! Hide!”

After a moment of panic, Jamie and Simone hide behind the couch while Leah and you went to the kitchen. Two seconds later, the door is open.

“Lia? You’re home?” Caitlin asks.

“In the living room, Love.”

You hear the characteristic sound of keys dropping on a wood furniture and Caitlin walking to the living room. You can’t help but peek in the room, Leah doing exactly the same thing a second after, her head above yours.

“Surprise!”

Caitlin probably had a heart attack, but you can’t help but smile seeing her face. Lia is doing the same thing while Jamie and Simone went to hug the shocked girl. You smirk seeing Leah getting emotional, what’s coast you a slap on the head. You send her the Williamson’s glare, but she doesn’t seem to be impress by at for a single second. Which probably make sense.

After some tears and explications, Leah proposed to serve the Champagne she choose to celebrate the reunion. Your sister and you try to escape one more time to let the Foord in family, but Simone doesn’t let you one more time.

It’s a little bit later that you find yourself alone with Caitlin, while you were looking for something alcohol free to drink.

“Lia told me what you did. I don’t have the words to thank you enough.”

Of course, Lia isn’t the kind of girl to take credits for something she hasn’t done. You smile and shrug at Caitlin.

“You don’t have to. I was happy to do that for you.”

Caitlin bites her lip and looks in your eyes.

“You know, when I mention that the tickets were expensive…”

“I know you weren’t saying it for me to do that, Cait. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Ok.”

You smile again and were ready to go back to the living room, but Caitlin surprises you by giving you a hug. You weren’t expecting it to be honest, but it’s still pleasant. You hug her back, tightening her briefly against you.

“Thank you” she mumbles.

“You’re welcome.”

Spring 2022 – The Breakup

“Caitlin and Lia broke up”

“What?”

You stop your movement, your chopsticks between your mouth and your plate. You were having dinner with Leah in her house, like every Monday when you are in London. Leah snorts when the noodles fall back in your plate, making some sauce splash your shirt, but that’s not what you are concentrating on.

“What do you mean they broke up?”

Leah shrug et finish her chicken before answering you.

“It happened this weekend, Lia called me Sunday evening.”

“What happened?”

You were shocked. Lia and Caitlin seem to get along very well the last time you saw them.

“Nothing much. Lia said they just went apart and that her relationship was more comfortable than passionate now.”

“So, they’re ok?”

“I don’t really know for Caitlin. But Lia was still very upset about it. They are still friends and care for each other obviously, but they aren’t a couple anymore.”

You frown only, not really sure what to do about this information. Lia was a good friend of yours and you kind of have avoided Caitlin since you make her family come to England. You realized that day that you were too impacted with her happiness to be only a friend. In your mind, she was with Lia and this relationship would be like forever. It was to protect yourself too, falling for someone who isn’t single isn’t really your thing.

“Did you have news from Caitlin?”

“No” you answer, eating again. “I mean I saw her at the last games but that’s all.”

“Mh.”

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“‘k.”

Several hours later, you were on your bed, your phone in your hand and the conversation with Caitlin opened. It wasn’t used since your birthday, Caitlin sent you a message to wish you happy birthday, but nothing since that.

Writing to her isn’t a good idea, even if she’s single now, she still in a middle of a breakup. But you still can be a good friend to her, right? You just have to put your feelings away.

From You Hi Caitlin, I heard about your breakup by Leah. I just wanted to tell that if you need someone to talk or something, don’t hesitate to call or write me, ok? I hope you’re ok. Take care of you.

You feel stupid to send her something like that after reading it again. It’s kind of cliché and you hate it. But surprisingly, Caitlin answers you relatively quickly.

From Caitlin Hello, thanks for your message. I will do and I hope you are ok too.

You bite your lips, not really happy about the answer. But in another way, what could you have expected? You didn’t really talk since last year and you were avoiding her like the plague. It’s only your fault.

After that day, you keep checking more frequently with Caitlin, asking her if she needs anything and how she is feeling. From what she answers, she was around a lot with Jordan and Katie. Your sister broke up some weeks ago with Jordan after longs years together, so that’s maybe the explanation of why Leah stays a little away of Caitlin.

You start to talk a lot and when Caitlin starts to be the first to write you can’t help but feel a strange something in your stomach. You also went to eat or drink something, your friendship slowly beginning to start again. You have to admit that you missed her. But she never said or show you anything to make you think that she missed you the way you do.

You think it’s better to have her in your life as a friend than not to have her, though.

Autumn 2022 – The New Season

You never missed a single match from Leah’s team since she plays for Arsenal, so there was no way that you will miss this one too. It’s the first game of the new season and you just came back from your holidays. You went some days with Leah in Ibiza before flying to Dubai with a friend.

You just have time to go home, take a shower and put your Arsenal jersey before coming to the stadium.

“Here she is!” Leah says happily when she sees you.

She hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in months and not ten days. But you hug her back, kissing her cheek before she releases you.

“Someone got a tan” she smirks, taking a step back to have a better look at you.

Unlike Leah, you have the ability to tan. Leah just gets red when she exposed herself without protection. You roll your eyes but don’t respond anything, your attention being catch by a certain Australian striker coming in your direction, five steps away from Leah now.

“And you’re not with your girlfriend?” Leah asks, a teasing smirk always on her face.

“Girlfriend?”

By now Caitlin is just next to Leah and was able to hear your sister. You roll your eyes at her antics before answering.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s a friend.”

You frown when Leah snorts and left saying something like “yeah sure”. You watch her leave several seconds before turning to Caitlin.

“She’s not my girlfriend” you say again.

You don’t know why you feel the need to assure that to Caitlin, she probably doesn’t give a single shit about it. In fact, she smiles at you and pass an arm around you to salute you. You didn’t talk a lot a lot during those ten days, the different timetables were insane.

“It’s good to see you” she says before letting you go.

“Good to see you too. How is the comeback from Australia?”

“Still a little jet lag, but I’m fine.”

You smile at her and take the time to really look at her. You don’t do it a lot, scared to fall for her again. I mean, harder. Because now that you have thought about it a little more, you remembered that Leah always told you not to even flirt with one of her teammate. Falling in love with one of them would be worse than everything. You know that she will react very badly to you in a relationship with one of them. You are scared to lose her; Leah will probably never forgive you if she learns that you are in love with Caitlin.

“You look good” you smile sincerely at her.

“Thanks”

You both hear someone calling her on the back, the drills are going to begin, and she has to go.

“Hey, are you still in London tomorrow?” she asks suddenly.

“Yes, why?”

“There is a new place near mine, and they are making brunch who look stunning. Do you want to come?”

“Sure” you smile. “Text me the address and the time.”

After a nod and a smile, she’s gone where she’s needed. The game went great, they got an easy win. And you try to stay impartial when Caitlin got carded.

Christmas 2022 – The New Delivery service

You were at your parent’s house with all your family, without counting Jacob who stayed in Australia this year. Your mother was sad but thanks to a long video call during the moment when you all opened your presents, she seems a little less sad about it. You eat way too much, drink maybe a little too much too. That’s why your mother more or less forbade you to take your car to go home.

Leah stayed too and you are both chilling in one of your parents’ couch with a hot tea. Some Christmas movie is on TV, but you are in a food coma and can’t really focus on it to be honest. You are cuddling against Leah who is playing with your hair.

“Have you heard from Caitlin those days?” your sister asks suddenly.

“We said Merry Christmas to each other this morning, but I guess she’s sleeping now given the time. Why you ask?”

The friendly relationship you have with Caitlin is known by a lot of your friends and family now. And despite all your efforts, you are now deeply in love with her. Seeing her at least both a week don’t help, but you can’t help yourself. When you’re not asking, Caitlin proposes you something and you can’t say no to her.

She told you during autumn that she doesn’t feel very well in her life sometimes, so you made the statement to keep an eye on her.

“She asks to have a mental break. I’m not sure when or if she will come back from Australia. She will miss the first trainings for sure.”

“She didn’t say anything to me” you frown.

She doesn’t have to, to be fair. You are just friends, you’re not her best friend or her sister. She doesn’t owe you anything. But you are still worried.

Later, in your room, you are thinking about a way to send her a message. You don’t want to accuse her of anything or make her feel more pressure. You don’t want to take a place you don’t have too, you sometimes wonder if she’s not having something with Jordan, which would be a little strange maybe. But once again, she doesn’t owe you anything.

From You Hey, I’m sorry if you feel that it’s not my place to ask. But Leah told me that you needed a mental break, so I was wondering if you were ok?

You wait some minutes before thinking again and realizing the stupidity of your message.

From You Forget my question, it was stupid. You asked for a mental break, of course you’re not ok Can you forget those messages please?

You stop there not to look even more strange. You cringe when you throw your phone somewhere on your bed before deciding to go take a long and hot shower. You roll your eyes when your father menace you to make you pay their hot water bill but don’t say anything other than a “Sorry Dad”.

You smile when you hear Leah laughing from her room, before going back to your childhood bedroom. You have a double bed since you are eighteen so you can lay down crosswise it in your towel and look at the ceiling how you want. You soon start to think about how weird your messages to Caitlin were, so you take your phone again.

Just to see that you have two missed calls from Caitlin.

You call her back without waiting a single second, putting your headphone while you wait for her to answer. You realize that it was a FaceTime call only when she answers you with a black screen.

“Hello” she says in a sad voice.

You may be only imagining that because you learned about her need of a mental break only two hours ago.

“Hi. Sorry I missed your calls.”

“Don’t worry. Were you in the shower?”

“How do you know?” you frown.

“You literally are in a towel?”

You lower your eyes on your body and facepalm mentally. If you had one pound every time you humiliate yourself in front of her, you would have been way richer by now.

“Oh shit. Can you wait for a second?”

She hums and you put your phone on the bed to put a shirt and some panties, mentally insulting yourself. You take the time to take a big breath before going back in your bed and taking your phone in your hand.

“Are you still in bed?” you ask, curious about the black screen.

“No, I’m still in my room though. I just… I don’t know. It was stupid to me to call you in FaceTime.”

“Don’t worry. How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired. Like mentally tired. Being at home made me realize that I don’t have a lot keeping me at London right now.”

That hurt. But you don’t say anything, planting your nails deep into the skin of your palms.

“What are you talking about? You have friends here; the girls of the team love you. And the fans too.”

“The fans aren’t really happy of me right now, I’m not able to score a lot and making my job right. I keep disappointing everyone.”

“You have the right to feel a little uneasy, that doesn’t take away from you what you achieved those last months, you know.”

Caitlin doesn’t answer, but you hear her sight a little bit. You don’t know if it’s something to hide some tears and you feel your heart break a little imagining that. You let several seconds pass before talking again.

“What can make you feel better right now?”

“For real? One of the brunches we eat.”

You smile hearing that. The place next to her house became one of your favorite spots to eat together. You really love it too, maybe because you share a lot of secrets and laughs here.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing.”

You are lying. An idea had already pop in your head and you feel your brain running while you’re planning something in your head. Caitlin knows you enough to realize that you are up to something. You hear some shuffling, and you imagine that Caitlin just sits on her bed.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing” you answer, smiling.

“Y/N. Don’t you dare do something stupid.”

You did. The morning after the call, you went to the restaurant, took Caitlin usual command, and jump in the jet who belongs to your company. You don’t usually use it for long trip like this, but you wanted to be in Australia as soon as possible.

You feel a little bit stupid with your suitcase and the bag where Caitlin’s food is. You ask for it to be wrap carefully and explain that you want to take it on a trip, without mentioning it was a very long trip. Thanks to the fridge, you are sure that you won’t poison Caitlin.

You told to Leah that you have an urgent meeting somewhere in Australia with a possible investor that you can’t ignore. She’s a little bit gutted not to be able to pass New Year with you, but you promised to bring her some Lamington to eat with her tea. In fact, you’re not really lying, you do have someone who is interested by your company in Australia. You just aren’t really obliged to travel here to talk to him.

You swallow with difficulty when you are in front of Caitlin’s porch, hopping that you won’t have to face her mother or her sister. You didn’t mention to Caitlin that you were coming, so if she wants you to go away, you just will. You still have some things to do in Australia, you weren’t totally lying to Leah. You just hide the fact that your priority was to see Caitlin.

You take a big breath before knocking on the door. This is a bad idea. Maybe the worst idea you never had. Why are you so good in your job and so stupid when it concerns the girl you are in love with?

But you don’t have the possibility to stress even more, because soon the door is opening. Caitlin looks at you like you are a hallucination or something.

“Um. I have a delivery for miss Foord?”

You let your suitcase in the car you rent, so you just have the bag with the food in your hand. You lift it to show it to her and it doesn’t take her more than a second to recognize the logo.

“Y/N, what the hell?” she mumbles, taking it in her hand.

“I… Uh. Well, I have stuff to do in Australia for the company and I thought that because I’m on this part of the globe, it could be great to please you.”

You’re lying. And very bad. Caitlin is looking at you like you are crazy, and you can’t blame her, you made a 24 hours journey to take her some breakfast and see her. She’s not supposed to know the truth, but you feel like she has some suspicions. You feel yourself blush and offer her a small smile.

“I better go. Enjoy your food and see you later.”

Maybe you’ll go let yourself die in the middle of the Australian’s desert. With a little luck, some snake or scorpions are going to come to bite you and you will die in atrocious suffering.

“No, wait!”

She grabs your arm with her hand, and you turn in her direction. She’s looking at you with a strange gaze, that you don’t know from her.

“Do you want to drink something? We don’t have Earl Grey, but I still can make you a tea if you want to.”

“Ok” you smile softly.

Caitlin doesn’t let your arm go and took you inside. It’s very quiet and after several seconds you ask her if her mother or sister are here. She answers no, her sister is now leaving with her fiancé and her mother is working today. You nod, secretly relieved to know that you won’t have to face Simone for now. You’re pretty sure that she understood when you saw her the last time the real feelings you have for her daughter.

“Where are you staying?” Caitlin asks while you look at her making you a cup of tea.

“At Park Hyatt”

“In Sydney?”

You hum and she frowns while giving you the cup of tea. It’s fuming and because you are drinking a lot of tea, she knows that you like it with sugar and milk.

“And you wanted to go back in Sydney just after giving me the brunch?”

“Brunch that you aren’t eating, by the way.”

Realizing it, Caitlin takes the bag one more time before taking out the different packages. She still looking at you discreetly, but you busy yourself by drinking your tea.

New Year 2022-2023 – The New Beginning

Caitlin proposes to you to stay at her home and not to go to your hotel, but you refused. You don’t want to bother Caitlin or her mother. That doesn’t mean you don’t see Caitlin; in fact, you see her every day for several hours.

She even invited you to come to the party her friends are making for the New Year. You accepted, after asking her several times if she’s sure that you won’t be a burden. The third time you ask, she threatened to knock you out with her vegemite pot, so you stopped.

And when you’re not with Caitlin, you work. You don’t have the possibility to see your brother who is on the other side of Australia. You almost lost consciousness when you learned that it takes 41 hours by car to get to Perth. So, you promise Jacob that you will see him before going back to England. Still with your jet.

You call Leah and your mother every day, but you are still focused on your goal to make Caitlin comes back to London with you. She seems a little down to be honest, but she seems to be better day after day. It gives you hope.

“Would you like to stay her to sleep tonight?” Caitlin asks on the 31th December while you were sitting next to her on the couch.

“Oh… I don’t know, I still have my hotel room.”

“Come on, it’s like 2 hours from here. And if you drink, I would rather that you stay here. My Mother will sleep in one of her friend’s houses anyway.”

“Yeah, ok” you mumble. “Wouldn’t let you all alone I case you’ll be scared.”

You can see Caitlin’s smile from the corner of your eyes. You hate the pleasant feeling with the fact that she seems to care about you. One thing is sure, this trip doesn’t help you about how in love you are with this girl.

You never talked so much with Caitlin before now, and you never were so close of her. Like right now, you are watching TV and Caitlin’s legs are on yours. You put your hand on the knees of the Australian like it’s nothing, mechanically drawing shapes on it. Sometimes she put her head on your shoulder, and you have to concentrate yourself to stay cool about it.

You grab something to eat before going to take a shower and prepare for the party. You know that they would have been pictures of the night so you tell Leah that Caitlin invites you to pass the night with her and her friends, you know your sister would have been worried to learn that you are alone tonight. Or sad. And you don’t want any of it.

To be honest, you haven’t taken an outfit for the party, you thought that you would be alone in your hotel room. So, you have to shop in Sydney to find the right one. You were getting ready in Jamie’s old bedroom and were looking at yourself with skepticism when Caitlin comes to knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yep” you simply answer.

She enters the room, and you want to cry. You always had something for her with her hair down and with the outfit she chooses, she’s just breathtaking.

“You look stunning” you say, without thinking about the consequences.

You are surprised to see her blush and hide your smirk by finishing to style your hair.

“Can we take a picture for my sister?” you ask to the Australian woman.

She nods and you briefly hesitate between a selfie or a mirror picture. You choose the second one, posing with a smile and the V-form with your fingers while Caitlin is sticking out her tongue.

You send the picture to Leah with Caitlin looking above your shoulder. The proximity makes your heartbeat faster, but you try to keep it cool one again.

“Are you ready to go?”

You follow Caitlin outside and in the Uber you command to go to her friend’s house. Knowing you both will be drinking, it’s safer this way. You already met some of Caitlin’s friends during your stay and they all are very friendly. But tonight, they will be more of them. The house is pretty crowded already when you arrived, and you are relieved to feel Caitlin grabs your arm.

“Stay next to me, yeah?”

You thank the World for Caitlin being a little shy at first and making her able to understand that you might not feeling ok surrounded by a lot of stranger people. You take the excuse to cross the house to slip your hand in hers. Her hand is soft and warm, and you miss the feeling when you have to let her go.

Caitlin introduces you to some of her friend’s you haven’t met for now. And if you notice the interested and non-subtle look of one of them, you act like you don’t realize it at first. But then, she starts to talk to you so much that you almost don’t have the possibility to pass time with Caitlin.

At some point, you even lose sight of her. And you don’t like the idea, what if someone get close to her? In the way you dream of it? You don’t know if you would support it to be honest, not after being so close of her.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Julia tells you, taking you away of your thoughts.

She takes you on the part of the house being dedicated for the dancefloor and you follow her without saying anything. You look around to see if you can see Caitlin, but it seems like she’s not here. You distract yourself by dancing with Julia who is a pretty good dancer to be honest.

At some point, she comes closer to you to be able to be heard through the loud music. Her hand is on your hips and her mouth right next to your ear.

“It’s a shame that you live so far away. I really would like to know you better.”

You sigh internally, wondering how someone can flirt with you with such facilities when you can’t even make a hint for Caitlin to understand how much you care for her. You don’t have time to answer anything, because there is suddenly someone taking your arm and you recognize the softness of those hand before turning around.

“Mind if I take her back?” Caitlin asks.

Julia raises both of her hand in sign of surrender with a smile. She says something like “Talk to you later” but you don’t really listen to her, your eyes being plunged in Caitlin’s one.

She looks upset, but her voice is calm when she speaks to you.

“I’m going outside. Would you come with me?”

“Sure” you smile softly.

She hadn’t let go of your arm, but you pass your other around it to be sure not being separated from her during your journey to the door. You feel pathetic but you’ll do anything to be able to be close from her. Everyone seems to be here by now and the house is very crowded. With the music, the laughs, and the discussions, going outside is finally a good idea.

There is no one in the garden and the fresh air makes you shiver. But you prefer to be concentrated on Caitlin who has a wrinkle between her eyebrows from frowning. She sits on a low wall, and you follow her to stand next to her, looking at the moon to forget how much you want to touch her.

“Are you ok?” you ask after several minutes of silence.

“I am” she only answer, looking at the horizon.

It seems to you that she is not, but you don’t say anything else. You thought that she asked you to come with her to talk or something, but it seems like you were wrong. Caitlin doesn’t stay silence for long though, turning suddenly in your direction.

“No, in fact I’m not.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to figure out things, and I can’t. And I really need to do it now because otherwise I think I’m really going to become crazy.”

She seems angry and desperate at the same time. She’s talking with her arms, a thing that she usually doesn’t. Hopping to help her to relax a little, you come near her, putting your hand on her knee.

“You can tell me everything, you know that right?”

She sighs, passing a hand on her face. You have the feeling to understand what she think, and that it’s the fact that she doesn’t know where to begin.

“I just… You came here from your appointment but you brought me food just because I mentioned the day before.”

“Yes” you confirm quietly.

It’s maybe better for you not to precise that you went to your appointment because you came here. This feels maybe a little creepy.

“And you told me that you start writing me and talking to me more because you heard by Leah that I was struggling after my breakup with Lia.”

“Yes” you say again.

“Why did we stop talking by the way? It looks like suddenly we grow apart?”

You shrug only, not knowing what to answer to her. You obviously take care not to cross her eyes when you answer.

“Why did you come back anyway? After my breakup?”

“Because I care for you” you answer, looking at her carefully.

“I think I need to know how much you care about me” she says slowly, and you are happy to be in the dark because your cheeks are bright red. “Please, Y/N. Because sometimes I feel like you like me as a friend and sometimes, I feel like there is more than that. But when I tell myself that, you kind of back off and everything is strange and blur again. Just like tonight, I thought that we would pass the night together, but you kept dancing with Julia and I understand because she’s fun and beautiful. But I hated to see you with her, and everything is… blur. And I really need to understand.”

It's your turn to stay silence, because where the hell could you start. You are not closed to answer to her questions, but you are scared because what you have seems so fragile to you.

“Are you interested in me more than a friend?” she finally asks.

Well, maybe you should have talk before because this question is very difficult to answer. Not because you don’t know the answer but because it can change anything. You swallow your saliva with difficulty before answering. You can’t lie to her.

“Yes. I am.” you mumble.

You hear Caitlin taking a big breath before expiring and you just can’t look at her. You hear the people inside getting excited and you wonder if it’s because it will soon be midnight.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Caitlin asks quietly.

“Because I care about you! At first you were in a relationship, and you seemed so happy in it and why in the world would I be between someone and their happiness? Then you broke up with Lia and you seemed so sad and so lost, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you in any way.”

You were talking fast, and loud, the feelings of all of it taking over the rest. You were struggling too, so much, but it was easier anyway to keep all of those feelings inside.

“And now? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh and shrug. You just admitted that you were basically in love with her since day one, what can be worse than that anyway?

“Because I prefer to have you in my life as a friend than to take the risk to lose you.”

There is a moment of silence and just before Caitlin start to talk again, you hear the other people starting to count the seconds before midnight and the New Year.

“You are an idiot.”

10… 9… 8…

You hear Caitlin talk and even if the words could have been harsh, you have the feeling that she is smiling. You just have to look at her to see that she actually is, not her big toothy smile, but the small one. Her smirk.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re an idiot, Y/N Williamson.”

7…6…5…

Caitlin jumps from the small wall she was sitting on to come closer to you. You are frozen, you just watch her move to be right in front of you. You can smell her perfume, see how much her eyes are blue. She looks at your eyes too, before that her eyes drop on your lips.

4…3…2…

She cups your jaw with her hand, so tenderly that you just want to melt only with that gesture. Your heart almost went out of your body when you realize that she’s leaning to you, still letting you the possibility to back off if you want to.

You don’t want to.

1…0

Just when your lips met, the firework of the city irrupts in the sky, being a pretty good metaphor of what you’re feeling inside right at this moment. You are finally kissing the girl you are in love with and she’s kissing you back. She even put her hand in your back to press you against her while her other hand left your jaw to be on your neck.

When the air became an issue, you press your forehead against hers, without being able to suppress the big smile on your face. When you open your eyes, you see that she’s looking at you, offering a shy smile.

“Do you want to go home? To talk about all of this?”

“Talking?” you smile softly.

“Well, maybe kissing too, a little bit.”

16 August 2023 – The World Cup

You shouldn’t feel that way. It’s the semi-finale of the Women World Cup in Australia and your national team, England just won it place for the finale against Spain. You distractedly prevent your sister from jumping from excitement, so as not to make her knee injury worse. You would probably have been happier about the results if Leah were on the pitch, to be honest.

You are looking at your girlfriend’s silhouette, sitting on the floor. You can’t express how much you would like to go on the pitch and hug her tightly. You know how much this game meant for Caitlin and the rest of her team. Seeing her away from you from only several meters when you weren’t able to see her from almost two months is hard too.

You chose to hide your relationship with Caitlin to anyone around you, except Caitlin’s mother who definitively can read way to easily into people. So, you weren’t able to explain to your sister why you felt so moody those past days, the distance between you and Caitlin being hard to deal with. You can’t explain how much you missed her. Even if you call each other every day, it wasn’t the same.

You were busy helping Leah with her injury though, taking her to every single of her appointment, letting Lia Wälti doing it when you weren’t able to. Since Caitlin left, you went to live to Leah’s. And when your big sister told you that she was coming to Australia to the match, you came too. You even were able to see your brother this time.

After the game, Leah took you to the locker room to meet her teammates and you hug the ones playing to Arsenal. And Alessia Russo, who is coming for the new season too. You were talking to Mary Earps when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Excusing yourself, you get out the locker room to answer when you see Caitlin’s ID on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Are you still in the stadium?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“I just went back to my hotel room. Everyone is so sad, I can’t look at them right now.”

You pout, hearing that said sadness in Caitlin’s voice too. You can easily imagine her on her bed, still her Matilda’s jogging.

“I’m so sorry Babe” you whisper in your phone, looking around you to be sure that no one is around. “You played great and I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks” she mumbles before adding “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, so so much. When are you going back to London?”

“Two days after the game against Sweden. They still want to make a celebration about all of it in Sydney. Are you still staying to watch the finale?”

“Yes, Leah got us tickets. I’m going back the day after though; would you like to go back with me instead?”

She hums only and you’re not sure that she really understands what you ask her. You are not angry or hurt anyway, you know that she has to deal with the lost and the sadness of it. You just want to make her feel better.

One hour later, you were waiting for her to answer to you in front of her door. You managed to sneak inside the hotel and left Leah with Keira and Georgia. You are not sure that she realized you were missing, so happy to be able to pass time with some of her closest friends.

You knock again when you realized that no one is answering, not too hard. You don’t want to attract anybody’s attention. You were tense, scared to be seen by someone. Thanks God, Caitlin finally opens her door and looks at you like she’s seeing a ghost.

“Are you alone?” you whisper.

“Yes, but…”

Just like her mother would say, no but. You entered the room and immediately pass your arms around her neck to kiss her. Caitlin needs several seconds to realize what is happening before kissing you back.

“What are you doing here?” she asks gently when you release each other.

“I missed you. And you are sad and being just dozens of meters away from you without being able to talk to you killed me.”

Caitlin smile sadly, taking your hand to make you sit on her bed. Unlike you were thinking, she changed her clothes and is wearing a short with a hoodie. It feels very soft when you take her against you to hug her. You close your eyes, letting yourself invade by her sent.

“I was looking at you every time I was able to. You are hot in a jersey, but yellow would have suits you better than white.”

She pulls gently on the white t-shirt you’re wearing, a number eight with Williamson on the back, of course. You smile softly, kissing her temple. She snuggles closer to you, passing on of her leg on your own.

“Have you eaten something?” you ask.

“Nah. I’m not really hungry for now.”

“What about a bath?”

“I already took a shower.”

“Ok, I’m asking the question again. What about a bath with me?” you ask after a sigh.

You feel her smirk against you, and she sit on the bed to be able to look at you.

“You mean I’ll have the possibility to get you away from this horrible jersey and having you naked against me by the same move? I’ll be crazy to say no.”

You roll your eyes and throw a cushion at her before getting up from the bed. You then go to the bathroom to start running the water, waiting patiently to find the right temperature. You check your phone just to be sure that Leah isn’t looking for you when the tube is getting filled, and then you go back to Caitlin in the room.

“It’s ready when you are Babe.”

You give her both hands to help her to get up from the bed, which she doesn’t hesitate to take. But, as she gets up from the bed, she’s not following you to the bathroom like you thought she would. She passes her arms around your shoulder, holding you tight against her.

Understanding what she needs, you hold her back, even firmer against you. You are higher from several centimeters from her, not so much though. But you like the way she can easily hide her face in your neck without taking strange position. You rock her softly, kissing her cheeks and her hair several times, only to release her when she’s ready.

“Thanks for coming here for me” she whispers against your skin.

“Every time” you smile sincerely, looking tenderly at her.

She smiles back and cup your chin with her hand, before following you to the bathroom this time. You try to make her go alone in the tub; you really just want her to relax. But you finish with her in it, massaging slowly her back.

You know her team has special masseurs and that they are definitively way more skillful that you are. But seeing how your girlfriend has her eyes closed and let you do whatever you want, it must not be unpleasant. Except that the moan and whispers she’s making are making you think about something else, and please everyone forgive you, but you don’t had sex for two months and your girlfriend is naked in front of you.

“Why d’you stop?” Caitlin mumble with a pout.

You are glad that she’s sitting in front of you and that she can’t see your face, because you are bright red once again. You don’t want to take advantage of her, she’s upset and tired. You kiss her shoulder though, getting her hair out of the way. You love her with her hair down. Have you already mentioned it?

“Isn’t it time for great footballer to go to bed?”

She groans and turn around to face you. You are trying hard to just look at her face and not being distracted by everything else. But then she sits on your lap, and you have to get out of the water right now.

“Why are you so tense?” she frowns. “You may be the one needing a massage.”

You laugh softly and decide to be honest with her since not talking about your feelings made you lost time before. And you are a very bad liar. You bite your bottom lip before answering.

“I haven’t seen you in like two whole months, which mean that I haven’t touch you from two months, Caitlin. And you are naked on me and I’m really trying to be a good and caring girlfriend without sinful ideas because I know how much disappointed you are, but you make it very hard. Plus, the water is getting cold.”

The realization appears on her face, before being erased by mischievous smile.

“We still can put hot water in it.”

In the end, you add hot water on the tub several times. When you emerge from the bath, you are as tired as Caitlin, and she doesn’t need many pleas to make you stay with her. You were planning to go back to your hotel room that night to be honest. But you don’t. You answer to Leah who wrote you to tell you that she’s sleeping with the team and asked you if you want to go with her before going under the cover next to your Aussie’s girlfriend.

You lie face to face with her and smile when she starts to stroke your face.

“You are so beautiful.”

You roll your eyes and smile.

“You need to sleep Foord; you are starting to get delirious.”

She frowns and hit your forehead before leaning to kiss you. You smile against her lips and when she turns around to let you cuddle her from behind, you don’t need more than several seconds to fall asleep.

Hours later, you are waking up of your peaceful sleep by a deep voice with an Australian accent.

“Caitlin Foord what the hell?!”

Caitlin jumps next to you and you groan, hiding under the cover. Before you understand what is really happening, your girlfriend took Mackenzie Arnold by the arm to take her with her in the bathroom.

“Why the hell is there Leah Williamson half naked in your bed?” Mackenzie whisper-shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes, rolling on your back to grab your phone. It’s more than 9 in the morning, you really should have put an alarm on your phone. Thanks god, there isn’t message from Leah for now.

“It’s not Leah” you hear Caitlin answer.

“I have bloody eyes you know?”

Now that you realize what is happening, your heart is pounding. Mackenzie isn’t a close friend of Leah, but you know that her girlfriend is a good friend of Alessia who is a good friend to Leah. And you. But more to Leah. And you obviously can’t let anyone near Leah know about your relationship.

“It’s not Leah! … It’s her sister.”

There is a moment of silence and then

“You are in so much trouble. Leah is going to kill you.”

“I know! That’s why you have to shut your mouth Macca, even with Kristy.”

Mackenzie snorts and even you can’t see it, you easily can imagine Caitlin’s imploring look. There is a sigh, and you sit on the bed.

“Alright, I’m not saying anything. But you really should have chosen someone else to get over the lost.”

“It’s not just… We are together, actually. Like in couple.”

“Oooh that’s why you are always glued to your phone?”

“It’s not really the time to talk about that right now” Caitlin points.

She’s right, but you can’t help but smile at this. You are happy to have a good abonnement though, otherwise you will probably be poor because of your phone’s bill. There is some more noise, and the door handle goes down before the gesture suddenly stops.

“Not a word to Alanna too, please.”

“Promise.”

After that they are both out of the bathroom and you smile awkwardly to Mackenzie before she waves at you and get out of the room.

“I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin looks so tense that you almost feel sorry for her, but you are really stressed too. You shouldn’t have stayed the night here. Sighing, you get up from the bed to look for your clothes.

“It’s not your fault.”

Caitlin hums and while you are getting ready, a question pops suddenly in your head. You look up at your girlfriend who is sitting on the windowsill, looking outward. She’s still in her pj’s with her bed hair.

“Cait?” you call her softly.

She just turns her head in your direction. To distract yourself a little bit, you braid your hair while asking the question bothering you.

“I shouldn’t be concerned about Mackenzie coming in your room at random hours of the day or night, right?”

Her face goes soft, and she breaks the few meters between you to stop right in front of you.

“You don’t have anything to be worried about” she answers, slipping a rebellious lock of hair behind your ear. “No one is in my mind apart from you. Plus Macca has her own girlfriend.”

“Ok.” you smile before hugging her.

You stay in her arms longer than usual. Saying her goodbye is hard even if you know you will see her again in several days now.

April 2024 – The Fight

It was several months after the World Cup that Caitlin mentions for the first time to talk to Leah about your relationship. You were still hiding at that time, just like you are still doing now. You refuse to do it, saying that it was too early and explaining to her again why you can’t do that for now.

She understood your place but then she talked about it again in January, when you had to wait for several days to have a date to celebrate your first anniversary. The date being the First of January, you were obviously passing the day with Leah and your family. You gave her the same answer, it’s too soon and you don’t want to fight with your sister when she’s about to come back on the pitches from her injury.

But now, Caitlin is talking about it again and you can feel how much she’s frustrated about it. You try to make everything to distract her from that idea. You took her on trip just the two of you, using once again your jet to gain time. You are sleeping at her house every time you can. In reality you would love to be open about your relationship, in front of your friends and family at least. But you can’t take the risk to lose or disappoint your sister.

“It’s been a year and three months, Y/N.” Caitlin is saying, frowning like never before. “Leah is back on the pitch; we won the finale against Chelsea and your last deal went well and there is nothing holding us now. Well, except you.”

You sigh, pitching the base of your nose. You don’t want to fight with her. It happens almost never to be fair, only when you are talking about this.

“I can’t do it now, Babe. I just… I don’t know how Leah would react and I can’t take any risks.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t, Caitlin.”

She snorts and cross her arms on her chest. She’s hurt, you can see it. You try to take a step to touch her, but she backs up from two steps where you took one. Your arm falls stupidly against your hip.

“Come on, you can’t ask me to choose between you and my sister. I told you since the beginning why we can’t talk about it to people.”

“Why are we even together then?” she asks coldly.

The question hurts but you decided to ignore the feeling to stay honest to your girlfriend and make her understand your statement.

“Well I don’t know, because I love you?” you answer, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t feel like it’s really the case right now.”

“Don’t say that” you frown too. “You know that I love you.”

But Caitlin is shaking her head and starts collecting her things around your living room. She’s shaking and you try once again to make her stop. Your arguments have never been deeper.

“Baby, please…” you start but she cuts you.

“No. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t stay with you if that means we’ll never evolve in any way. I just can’t.”

You feel numb when you look at her putting her shoes and taking her vest. You follow her like a lost puppy in the entrance, trying once again to grab her arm. You are successful this time and she stops her movements.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Let go of me now, please.”

You just obey, slowly releasing her arm. There is a lump in your throat when you talk again.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Your voice is hardly even a whisper, but Caitlin doesn’t miss it. Her blue eyes cross yours when she looks up over her shoulder.

“Talk to you soon.”

And then, she’s gone. You try to call her of course, texted her too, but she never answered. It’s with puffy red eyes and tears on her face that Leah finds you under your covers in your bed several hours later. She got scared when she doesn’t receive any answer to her text and just come to your home.

She hugs you at first, helping you to calm down to be able to talk and explain what is happening. You hesitated at first, before telling her everything. Well, almost everything because you never mentioned Caitlin’s name or the fact that she knows Leah.

“Tell me her name and I will go on her to make you cry like this.”

Your big sister managed to take you out from your bed to go to the living room and made you drink water and eat something. There are still tears running on your face from time to time, but Leah takes the time to wipe them gently each time.

“She just broke up with me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Leah makes a grimace before taking you back against her for a new hug.

“If she can’t wait for you, it means that she didn’t deserve you, Love.”

“Can we stop talking about her? Please.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Leah puts the TV on, starting a random show and you try to concentrate on it. You can’t really, but you are still so thankful for your sister. The way she listened to you talking, holding you while you cry like a crazy woman without pushing you to know anything else makes you think that maybe she wouldn’t have scream if you talked to your love for Caitlin. But it’s too late anyway. Caitlin doesn’t want you anymore.

********

Two days after, on Saturday, Leah took you to the game. She almost hasn’t left your side, only to go to training. You are still working though, losing yourself in work. Like you always did before Catilin.

“What’s happening to your sister?” Lia asks Leah during the training.

Your sister turns in your direction, watching you several seconds before sighing. She’s aware that Caitlin isn’t far away from them, but she doesn’t know where your problem comes from, so she answers anyway. Caitlin is supposed to be your friend after all.

“She’s navigating through her first breakup” Leah answers, still looking at you.

Your mother is sitting next to you, she has her hand on your shoulder. Leah explained to your parents what was happening to you and of course your mother is looking for you like you are dying. You are looking at the pitch, but Leah can tell that you aren’t really looking. Unless you’ve discovered in yourself a passion for corner posts.

“Oh? I didn’t know she had someone.”

“Me neither” your sister sighs. “She’s like this since Wednesday but she doesn’t want to tell me who she is.”

Next to your sister, Caitlin gulps nervously when she crosses Steph’s gaze. Caitlin is a mess since Wednesday too. She took the decision to leave, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy for her. She almost called you a thousand times. She missed you and wasn’t able to hide her sadness with the people who know her the best. Steph Catley is one of them.

“What?” Caitlin snaps at her teammate.

“Nothing” Steph answers, still looking at her suspiciously.

Caitlin went back to the bench nervously to grab something to drink, looking discreetly in your direction. Now your mother is talking to you, and you are looking at her, but Caitlin knows you very well and realizes how destroyed you look. Of course, it made her sadder than ever, but she still has her point. She wants to move in with you, be able to talk about her girlfriend to everyone one, she wants to take you on date in London and not only seeing you in one of your apartments. She wants to be able to walk holding your hand where you both live, not in the other side of the world. She wants to be able to take a plane without needing to hide in the airport.

You were hopping that Caitlin will be benched today, but she’s starting just like Leah. Which means that you will have to look at her for 90 minutes, knowing that you lost her.

It’s a great game to be honest, and while your mother feed you with fries and chicken nuggets (it’s a family thing) you are able to distract yourself enough not to cry while watching your ex-girlfriend.

Leah is sub at the 78th minute and Caitlin is still playing. You would have preferred for her to go on the bench too, particularly when she got hurt five minutes after that. The tackle wasn’t clean at all and you know right away that Caitlin is hurt. Like really hurt. You don’t need to see the stretchers coming for her, you don’t need the concerned looks of her teammate or Katie shouting at the girl taking Caitlin down.

You are up of your seat instantly, trying to have a better look of what is happening. They take longs agonizing minutes to get Caitlin out of the pitch and you run in the locker room in hope to be able to see her. But you just run into Leah.

“I’m going to the hospital to be with her” your sister explains to you. “I’m not allowed to go with her to the ambulance so I’ll take my car.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Sure.”

You are relieved that she doesn’t question you, but once again Caitlin and you are supposed to be friends. Even close friends. You follow Leah to the parking, and she’s ignoring the fan calling her name for the first time. You are so nervous that you want to throw up and you are glad that your sister isn’t talking, otherwise you are not sure that you will be able to contain yourself.

One of the Arsenal’s medics is waiting for you when you arrive, and he takes you into a private waiting room. From now, you just have to wait. Sitting next to Leah, you put your head on her shoulder and are glad that her cuddle instinct is so high when she passes her arm around your waist to hug you. You really don’t deserve her love; you were lying to her from months now.

Leah was scrolling on her phone for what feels like hours when someone comes in the waiting room.

“Are you here for miss Foord?” the medic asks.

“We are” Leah answers while getting up. “How is she?”

“Right. So, her leg has a doble fracture, but those are sharps break so she normally doesn’t need any surgery. She’s in a lot of pain though, so we give her something to help her. She also has a big bruise on the knee, but it will resolve itself. Would you like to see her?”

“If it’s possible, yes” Leah nods.

“Only one person for now.”

Your sister turns to you and you shrug, trying your best to smile at her. You would kill to be able to see Caitlin right now, but she doesn’t know that you are here. And you’re not sure that she wants to see you. Probably not.

“Go. I’ll text or ring her mother.”

Leah nods once again and follow the male nurse to Caitlin’s room. There are strange machines in the room, but Caitlin is up.

“She’s under drugs. She might be a little out of it” the medic whispers to Leah before leaving the room.

The noise of the door makes Caitlin turns her head in Leah’s direction. The blonde gives her a smile and take a chair to sit next to her.

“Oh. Wrong Williamson.”

“What?” Leah laughs softly while sitting up.

Caitlin is speaking like she’s half-asleep but when she looks at Leah, your sister feels like she knows very well what she’s saying. At least that the words are real.

“I would rather see your sister.”

She shrugs and wince, the drugs making her head feels fuzzy.

“Well she’s here, I still can ask her to come if you want” Leah proposes kindly.

“She’s here?”

The surprise on Caitlin’s tone is astonishing to Leah, who frowns a little while looking at her friend. She knows how much time you pass together, well for the brunch or this kind of things. Not really that you passed almost every night together when you are in London. Unless it’s a Monday and you are at Leah’s.

“Yeah?”

Caitlin stays quiet for several seconds, before sighing and looking at the window. The view isn’t amazing to be honest, just the parking lot of the hospital.

“She wouldn’t want to see me anyway. I fucking broke her heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Leah frowns deepens.

She doesn’t mean to take advantage of Caitlin under drugs, but it’s about you and you are the person who is the most important in her life. It’s not a one-side thing, you are Leah’s person as much as she’s yours.

“We had a fight Wednesday because I wanted to tell you about our relationship or at least that she really thinks about telling you. But like usual she had excuses, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I love her so much it’s hurt. I just want to be able to hold my girl in public and tell the world how wonderful she is. Who travel the world to bring someone fucking pancake? We were amazing and now we are nothing and a fucking prick just broke my fucking leg and I just want to her to hug me. But she can’t because I fucking wasn’t patient enough with her.“

Leah is stunned. And not only because of Caitlin’s unusual use of swear words. She never though a single second that Caitlin and you were more than just friends. Or that the Australian was the reason of your tears for the last days.

“I know that she loved me, but she loves you even more Leah. She was so scared to lose you. But now I lost her. And I’m really tired.”

“You should sleep a little maybe” Leah mumbles.

Caitlin sighs and close her eyes.

“I’m going to see my sister, will you be ok alone a little bit?”

“Yeah” Caitlin breath before opening her eyes. “Will you tell her? That I love her?”

Leah hesitates some seconds before nodding and smiling softly.

“Yeah. I will.”

She watches the Australian woman closes her eyes and falling asleep as soon as her eyes are closed. Her mind is running, trying to understand what she just learned. She feels like she isn’t really here when she finds you still sitting on the waiting room. You immediately spot her concern look and get up from your chair.

“Is everything ok? I just wrote to Caitlin’s mother that she will be fine?”

“Yeah, she just fell asleep.”

You let a shaky breath pass your lips, really relieved. Your sister still looks pale, but maybe it’s because of those white walls?

“She has a message for you though, that she asked me to tell you.”

“What is it?”

You are curious to know and look at your sister who cross her arms on her chest while looking at you.

“She asks me to tell you that she loves you.”

Well now you might be whiter than Leah. Your big sister watches you become paler than ever, she watches your eyes widen too and how you open your mouth several times to talk without anything coming out.

“What were you thinking Y/N, really?”

You could cry right now. You passed months perfectly hiding your relationship to Leah, giving you probably the onset of an ulcer due to anxiety, and some drugs from a public hospital is going to break all the efforts you made?

“Leah, I’m so sorry” you began, begging while looking at her. “Please, I never wanted to hide something to you, I swear.”

You were panicking. You just lost your girlfriend and now you are about to lose your sister too. The two most important people in your world, sorry to your mom.

“I just don’t understand” Leah says, shaking her head.

You probably are going to have a panic attack.

“I…”

“I don’t understand” Leah cuts you “How you might have thought that I will be mad at you for being with someone who made you happy?”

You don’t understand and you probably don’t look very intelligent with the way you are looking at Leah. She’s still frowning, but you realize that she isn’t mad at you, she just seems lost.

“You said several times that I wasn’t allowed to flirt with one of your teammates, Le” you point, whispering.

“I said flirt because I didn’t want some of hormonal footballer taking advantage of you! Being in love is something else.”

“You are not mad at me?” you ask shyly.

“Of course not, you idiot. I love you more than anything, your happiness is what comes first.”

Leah rolls her eyes and reach out to you. You don’t hesitate to go in her arms, relieved by the unexpected turn of events. The nose in her hair, you whisper :

“I’m sorry for keeping things away from you.”

“It’s ok” Leah says softly, squeezing you a little harder. “I’m sorry you were in so much pain.”

She kisses your cheek and let you go, not without taking you by the shoulders to have a better look at you.

“We are going to make things better between you and Caitlin now, if it’s really what you want. Ok?”

“I’m not sure she’s still interested. She really is mad at me.” you shrug.

“Please. She told me I’m the wrong Williamson, if she doesn’t take you back, I’ll send her back to Sydney.”

********

When Caitlin wakes up almost three hours later, the sun was gone and the room is almost in the dark. There is a small light on the nightstand, and she needs some seconds to remember where she is and why her leg is hurting like hell. She groans and try to roll on her side, her back sore to have been in the same position for hours now. But her leg hurts more, and she opens her eyes, grimacing slightly.

Then she sees you and froze several seconds.

You were already looking at her, like you were doing since you entered the room. She doesn’t seem really peaceful while sleeping and your heart hurt to see her in pain.

“Hi” you whisper, in case her head is hurtful.

“Did I really told your sister than I’m in love with you or was I dreaming?”

You look at her several seconds, trying to see in her eyes if she’s stressed or anxious before answering.

“You ask her to tell me that you love me, but I guess it’s the same thing.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok” you say, coming closer to the bed. “It’s not what bother me now. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I guess. Thanks god we are at the end of the season. The doctor said I will be ok to play for the Olympics.”

“That’s a good new”

Caitlin hums and you look at your hands, lost in your thoughts. It’s maybe a good think that she hasn’t ask you for now to get out of her room, but you chose not to push your luck too much.

“I uh, I’ll let you in peace now. I wrote to your mother and your sister to reassure them, but Beth came with your phone and other stuff like one hour ago” you explain while getting up. “You can write to them if you want to.”

“Oh… No wait, please. Can you stay? Just a little bit?”

You hesitate for several seconds, looking at Caitlin before answering anything. You want to stay, of course. You finally slowly sit down again on the chair.

“Thanks” she mumbles. “Look, about what I said to Leah…”

“It’s ok” you say again, shrugging. “She isn’t mad.”

“No?”

You shake your head, playing with your nails and fingers without looking at her. Caitlin knows how much Leah means for you so you’re pretty sure that she would have feel guilty if Leah was mad at you.

“Is she not mad because she knows that we are no longer together, or would she have been even if we were still together?”

“I think she would have been ok. If that was the case.”

You hear Caitlin takes a deep and big breath, making you look at her. You can’t read the feeling on her face, so you are happy to see her talking again. You don’t know what behavior you can have with her now, are you still able to ask her all the questions you want?

“I don’t know how to say that” Caitlin sighs. “But is there a chance that we maybe try to make things better between us?”

“Better like in being friends again?”

You see Caitlin rolling her eyes and you understand quickly that you haven’t guess right. You are surprised to see a small smile on her face despite the situation you are in.

“How can you be so clever when it’s about your company and so obvious when it concerns relationships?”

You roll your eyes too, used to being criticized about your lack of ease in human relations when they do not concern your job.

“Yes, because you are the most sociable and none-shy person in the world yourself.���

“Touché.”

There is a silence, during which you are looking at each other.

“Can you forgive me for running away the other day?” Caitlin asks softly.

“Only if you forgive me for believing during all this time that my sister wouldn’t accept our relationship and how I was wrong.”

She smiles again and you smile back at her. You get up when she asks you to sit next to her by patting the bed next to her. That place being the other side of her injured leg, you oblige.

“I don’t know how explain how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have left like this.”

“I get it. It wasn’t a pleasant situation. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you or anything.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I am too” you whisper.

After one second of hesitation, you put your head on her shoulder, and you close your eyes when she put her chin on your head.

“So, what now that Leah knows?” Caitlin asks.

To be honest, you don’t really know. Today was a lot of feelings to deal with and you don’t even know where to start. Your girlfriend (?) seems to understand what is happening in your head, because she kisses tenderly your temple before talking.

“What about I get out from here first?”

“That sounds good” you smile softly. “And from here, you come right to mine so I can take care of you.”

“Perfect.”

You watch the Aussie laying down on the bed and you turn on your side to be able to look at her better. With your finger, you are tracing random patterns on her arm. You know that she’s falling asleep but you need to ask the question.

“Cait?”

“Mh?” she answers, without opening her eyes.

“Are we back together? Like, are you my girlfriend again?”

She snorts and snuggle closer from you, already half-asleep.

“Yes we are. Weirdo.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine

[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️ Behind the victory is a spice / Ball tagged onto the prize / Then the touch is nothing but a vice / Inhaled not once, but thrice 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - The Alchemy

wc: 1.6k

genre & warnings: fluffff, tinier than a dust angst, college setting, football player!Riki, inaccurate game of football, cursing, mentions of beer, appearnce of other enha members, bisco and konon as special guests, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The incessant knocking on your door made your head ache even worse, the scowl that greeted the person behind the annoying sounds disappeared when you saw who it was.

"Riki, I told you I don't want t- oh? Konon? What are you doing here?" you frowned apologetically at the girl, to which she only shrugged off.

"I'm here to give you this." she hands you a piece of clothing, a familiar one and you can't help the nose scrunch.

"Uh.. thanks. Take care on your way back." you mumbled, not believing that your boyfriend has to send his sister here in order to accomplish his mission.

"Wait!" she hurriedly says, stopping you from closing the door, "I know that my brother is an idiot for doing what he did. But he does love you, given that he's been sulking since your fight."

You laughed a bit at the snitching, imagining the tall boy pouting, "Thank you so much, Konon. Don't worry, we'll work things out."

She waves her hand, "I'm not worried in the slightest!" she giggles, "He deserves the silent treatment, but I do hope that you'll attend his game."

You nod, bidding each other goodbyes and you sigh. Looking at the item in your hand before spreading the oversized fabric out, a small piece of paper falling from it.

You raised an eyebrow, picking the paper up and examining its contents and it gave you a major facepalm moment. Still, finding it uniquely endearing.

Good day to the prettiest girl who is reading this! You have been given the honor to attend my (Nishimura Riki aka your boyfriend) game tomorrow at exactly 4 PM.

Please encircle your answer from the following options:

1. Yes

2. Yes

3. All of the above

Thank you! (ily)

You rolled your eyes at the silly content of his letter, tucking it gently on your coffee table and proceeding to your room to match the jersey with fashionable pants.

He basically wants you to come, so might as well give in. Besides, their team calls you their lucky charm. So you do have to attend either way, or else those rowdy boys will bust your ear out at uni.

---------------------------------------------------

Riki nervously looks around the stadium, eyeing for the familiar figure that he hasn't seen for days. (and it kills him deep inside but he would NEVER admit it)

"She'll come." one of his teammates, Heeseung, pats his back when the older noticed his anxious expression, "We explicitly told her to attend our matches because she brings us good luck. She'll come."

"True that." Jake butts in, giving the younger a comforting side hug, "Now stop pouting and let's do the huddle."

Riki gets hauled into the middle of the field, joining the nestle of hyping the team up, but he couldn't fucking concentrate.

Focusing was proven difficult if he hasn't seen or felt your presence before a game, and it shows.

It was clear to anyone with eyes that their japanese star player had something in his mind- you.

He is getting icky, his teammates were exasperated as well. They are 5 points behind and they are all shouting for Riki to get that touchdown.

Can he do it?

---------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath when you heard the loud cheers inside the stadium. Wiping your clammy hands on your denim pants and boosting yourself up to go in there. 

Finally, you entered the arena, the bright lights blinding you for a second as you took some time to adjust. Moving through the plethora of watchers is a damn journey, finding the VIP spot that is always reserved for you. 

You sighed out of relief when you saw the seat was not taken because for real, you did overthink that someone might have stolen your place. 

Your eyes scanned the area, gazing at the scoreboard then towards the players. You hear their coach yelling, then you focus on the man that you had been avoiding for a while. 

Football is something that you never truly understand, sports in general, but your beloved is passionate about it. That is why amidst your studies, you put in the maximum effort to learn about it. That is why you can confidently say that you somehow understand the situation after analyzing what is happening.

Expanding your lung capacity, clutching on the metal bars that separate the bleachers from the field, you did the unexpected.

“Nishimura fucking Riki! If you don’t score a touchdown, I will not cook your favorite bungeoppang anymore!” you screamed like a madman, and it was like thunder struck the stadium as your voice echoed throughout the field. 

Who knew that L/N Y/N has the power to momentarily stop the whole crowd from cheering and the players to stop moving. 

Riki grins widely, scouting the bleachers and seeing you in the same seat that he has always saved for you during his games. 

The boy gave you a salute and even if you can’t clearly see his face due to his helmet, you know that he’s sporting a smug and victorious expression because you can’t resist him. 

Blood rushed into your cheeks and you tried to hide your embarrassment, concentrating on the game instead as the world started spinning again. 

You watched your school team defend like their life depended on it, more importantly, you stared intently at Riki’s running form, getting nearer to the end zone. 

You clasped your hands together, adrenaline coursing through your veins, praying for him to go for it. To win this and make you proud. 

And he did. 

Before the time ended, Riki successfully reaches the ball behind the plane of the opponent’s goal line. The side of your university in the arena went nuts when the broadcaster announced an overdramatic: "Number 10, Nishimura Riki, scores a touchdown! That makes Decelis University our champions for this year's league!” 

You clap your hands in celebration, beaming in happiness as you witness the chaotic scene in the field. The whole team is popping beers and splashing water, removing their shirts wildly, throwing their helmets, squawking like crazy and lifting the man who set the winning shot up in the air. 

Just then, Riki’s eyes meet yours and he immediately runs over to you, ignoring the trophy that was being handed to him by their coach. He does not give a fuck about the barrier separating you two, hoisting you above it, making you squeal around his arms. 

“Oh my god! Riki! No, let me go!” you laugh, gripping his shoulders for support as he walks back to his teammates.

“No can do, princess.” he smirks, raising you even further and declaring you as the team’s personal four-leaf clover. 

All members howl in excitement, agreeing with his statement because truly, ever since they met you, everything has been going their way. You are an amulet that blocks any ill-fated situations that might fall upon them.

“Put me down, Riki! This is embarrassing!” you covered your face with your hands and he finds it incredibly adorable how the tips of your ears turned pink. 

He follows you though, smoothly setting you on the grass field and gently removing the obstacle that interrupts him from getting a peek on your gorgeous face that he missed dearly. 

He holds your hands in his stupidly large ones, his fingers caressing your knuckles and he leans down until your noses are touching each other. 

“Thank you for coming, my princess. And wearing my jersey too.” he mumbles and you disconnect your intertwined hands, reaching to push his sweaty hair back and resting your palms on the back of his neck.

“I can’t possibly miss an important game of my MVP, right?” you chuckled and it was such a tender moment. Like no one was around you, well, in your point of view they are all blurry as the man in front of you invades all of your senses.

Riki hums, holding your waists and pressing your lips together without any further ado. 

He can’t help but smile into the kiss, the reality of having you in his arms like this outweighs any shiny prizes that he could ever dream of. 

---------------------------------------------------

You giggled when your boyfriend kept on leaving feathery smooches on the expanse of your neck, frowning when he suddenly stopped to look at you with such sassiness.

“By the way, you have to explain yourself, missy.” he says, tightly holding onto you as you two cuddle on the sofa. 

“About what?”

“About why you’re late at my game yesterday.” 

It was like a light bulb turned on in your brain, a wicked smile on your face that it somehow scared Riki despite being a menace himself.

“Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week.” you admit and he groans, complaining that he only lent the jacket to some unknown girl to make you jealous. 

“Exactly!” you pout, grabbing his face and squishing his face, making him look like a baby duck, “So I have to do something about it.” 

Riki raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious at your story.

“What did you do?” a question that Riki regretted when you spilled the answer to it.

“I went and retrieved the jacket from the girl,” you put a finger on his lips, “don’t ask how I got her address. Then I gave the abomination to Bisco. He really loved playing with it, turning it into tiny little pieces of fabric. Very artistic.”

Riki’s movements came to a halt, his eyes slowly moving towards his pet who is currently chilling on the carpet, giving him a nasty side eye when he lightly glared at the Maltipoo. Then his gaze returned to you, gaping like a fish. 

“That jacket was expens-”

“The jacket smelled like a girl, unless you want it back?” the tight smile you gave Riki was enough sign for him to shut up.

“No, princess.” he hugs you closer to him, leaving a peck on the crown of your head, “I don’t want it. I can always buy another one.” 

taglist:

@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo @slutforjeno

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #niki imagines #niki fluff #niki angst #niki smut #niki x reader #niki scenarios #niki hard thoughts #niki hard hours #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki fluff #enhypen fanfiction #nishimura riki angst #nishimura riki x reader #riki imagines #riki fluff #heeseung imagines #jay imagines #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunoo imagines #jungwon imagines

[embrosegraves]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕠 𝕋𝕠 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕘𝕚

Alessandro Fusaro x Fem!Reader (she/her) Where taking your niece to a race has an unexpected, very stressful (but eventually very welcome) outcome.

Warnings: None! Maybe some brief talks of the dreaded emotions!! (also probably some bad Italian translations 😅)

Ember's Notes: I really hope you like this one @pear-1206 because I actually loved writing it so much oml 🫶🫶

(I left it kind of open ended so if there’s a decent demand for it, I can write a part two that focuses mainly on the pairing)

For as long as you could remember, your family had been staunch Ferrari supporters. You had been part of the Tifosi for your whole life. It was something that you had found so much joy in, being able to cheer and root for the same team as the rest of your family. Which is why you had asked your younger brother if you could take your 7 year old niece, Gianna, to the Imola Grand Prix. He had told you a few months ago that he was trying to get Gianna to be a Ferrari fan (a fan of motorsport in general) but it was turning out to be tough work.

Originally your father had planned to take you with him, but given the circumstances, he had told you to take Gianna. So you brought it up to your brother and his wife. Your sister-in-law had been worried that something might happen to Gianna (and you of course) but she swiftly agreed to let you take her daughter when you promised to facetime every morning and every night that you were away. All that was left to do was to tell Gianna that she would get to spend a whole weekend with her Zia Y/n. [Auntie]

A few weeks have gone by and it was finally time for you to introduce your niece to the world of Formula One. You hoped that she would have fun, especially given just how excited she was when her parents told her about the trip. You desperately didn’t want that excitement to have been for nothing.

“How long will we take this weekend, Zia?” You heard her ask from the backseat of your car, your beloved 1959 Fiat 500. Your car had been another thing that Gianna was excited about for the weekend, as you usually only drove it around on special occasions.

“We’re going to be here all weekend, Bambina. Nonno was kind enough to get us passes into the garage for the whole weekend.” You told her. [Baby] [Grandpa]

“Are we going to meet important people?” She asked, twiddling with her thumbs timidly. You became worried as this was so far away from how she usually was.

“Mmm, I’m not sure Fiore. Why? Are you nervous?” [Flower]

“Un po’” [A little bit]

Your heart melted and seized simultaneously. You reassured her that being nervous was normal, because she had never gone to a race weekend before. Wanting to see her smile again, you offered to teach her about who was who in the paddock as soon as you settled into your hotel room. Gianna quickly agreed and was back to her vibrant, excited self in no time.

Walking into the paddock on Friday morning was a feeling that you would happily get used to. Gianna had asked if you could try and get there earlier than all the drivers. When you asked, she told you that she still wasn’t 100% confident about who was who, despite spending well over an hour the night before looking up pictures and matching them to names. Gianna said that by getting there earlier than the others, the two of you could find a nice spot somewhere near the entrance where you could point and tell her who was walking through.

Thinking about it, you couldn’t fault her logic. So here you were bright and early. You had arrived with enough time to buy some breakfast and find a nicely shaded spot where you could settle in while you waited. Gianna had insisted that you both sit at a table that was both directly opposite the paddock entrance and under a rather large tree. Sitting down you gave Gianna her breakfast, a freshly toasted bacon and egg croissant, and made sure that she was drinking enough water from her Cars themed bottle. Similarly you also began to eat your own croissant while you sipped your scalding hot coffee.

Gianna spoke to you about what she was most excited for this weekend while you both ate. Occasionally someone would walk through the entrance that she recognised. You were surprised just how often she had noticed someone that you mentioned the previous night. So far she had pointed out some drivers, a few of the team principals and the occasional mechanic or engineer.

When Hannah Schmidt had walked through though, Gianna had nearly fallen off her seat as she pointed and told you that she had recognised and remembered the iconic woman. Said woman had heard Gianna excitedly cry and she had smiled and waved at your niece as she walked to the Red Bull garage.

You smiled when you noticed that Hannah had waved at Gianna. Happy that this trip was definitely living up to what you had promised your niece. Seeing that the two of you had long since stopped eating, you packed away your rubbish and cleaned up the area you had been sitting.

“Should we walk around for a bit, Gigi? Stretch our legs a little?”

“Yes please, Zia.”

So you packed away your things and threw away your rubbish in a nearby bin. You held Gianna’s hand and walked around for a bit as you didn’t need to be in the garage for a little while still.

Walking around the paddock with your niece made sure to point out all the things she thought were interesting. You were giving her little tidbits of information throughout the whole walk, about a bunch of things that had to do with motorsport. Granted most of the information was directly about Ferrari but hey, you were trying to induct a brand new member of the Tifosi.

Unbeknownst to you, just as you were starting to tell Gianna about the extensive history of Ferrari, a member of the Scuderia Ferrari media team had strolled past you and had heard you speaking about Enzo Ferrari. They had quickly turned around and you found yourself being approached by a small media team no less than 2 minutes later.

“Hi, I’m Sophia. I’m part of Ferrari’s media team, I was just wondering if we could film you answering some Ferrari related questions for a youtube video?”

Having not expected this change of events at all, but also knowing you wouldn’t get another chance, you agreed to let them film you. So long, of course, that they didn’t get Gianna’s face in the shot. As they started to set their equipment, you gently kneeled next to your niece and asked her to stay within a few metres of you so that she wouldn’t get lost.

“Te lo prometto Zia!” [I promise Auntie!]

“Bene.” [Good.]

As you stood up they told you that they were ready to film when you were. Giving them the go ahead they pressed record and started asking you questions. First general questions about Formula One but soon they started to ask more obscure questions about Ferrari specifically. You smiled and gave as many answers as you could. Which was a lot. Later when the video would come out, a lot of people would comment that had you not introduced yourself at the beginning they’d’ve thought you were related to Enzo himself.

The questions had ended after almost twenty minutes. Sophia had apologised because she wasn’t aware how long that would take but you assured her it was no problem at all. You readjusted your shoulder bag and went to grab Gianna’s hand, only to not see her where she was supposed to be standing.

“Gianna?” you called, trying not to panic. She was right beside you, where could she have gone?

“Gigi?! Fiore, this isn’t funny!” you tried to call out again. “Zia’s getting really worried!”

Having already excused yourself from the media team next to you, disregarding their shocked and worried looks, you quickly started walking around trying to find your niece. Walking towards the end of the paddock you kept calling out for her, hoping that someone would take pity on you and help you look. Thankfully you had taken a “fit check” photo with her this morning, meaning that when you went up to people asking if they’d seen her, you could show them a picture of what she was wearing that day.

Too many people had said they’d not seen her at all for you to be comfortable. You were starting to get frantic when another 10 minutes had gone by. There was no way you were returning home without your niece. You’d turn into Liam Neeson if you found out that someone had taken her. Speed walking past the Ferrari garage, you finally heard the sound you had needed to hear.

Gianna’s giggles.

Letting her giggling lead you to her, you ended up in the garage where you needed to be for the beginning of the practise sessions. Looking around for Gianna, you noticed that one of the mechanics was crouching down but not facing the car at all. Walking closer you finally saw that the mechanic was entertaining you niece, whose face was lit up with the biggest smile you had ever seen.

Emotions washed over you like a tsunami. She hadn’t been taken. Tears welled up in your eyes at the utter relief you felt finally knowing that she had been safe the whole time.

Rushing over to her, you quickly scooped her up into a hug, wrapping your arms around her tightly.

“Gianna! Mia cara ragazza, non hai idea di quanto fossi preoccupato! I thought someone had taken you away and you were lost forever! Sono così felice che tu stia bene!” By now your tears had begun falling down your face. [My darling girl, you have no idea how worried I was!] [I’m so glad you’re okay!]

“Zia! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break my promise but someone pushed into me and I fell and when I got up again I couldn’t see you and then I bumped into Alessandro and he asked me why I was crying and so I told him that I couldn’t see you and that we were supposed to go to the Ferrari garage for practise so he made sure I got here without anyone else pushing me!” She rushed to tell you everything that had led to this moment. You finally let go of her, moving your hands to stroke the hair away from her face. In the back of your mind you noted that she had bumped into Charles Leclerc’s head mechanic, but that could be focussed on later.

“It’s okay Principessa. You found help, I’m proud of you. I was just worried when I couldn’t see you, that's all.” You said, finally able to wipe your own tears off of your face. “Did you say thank you to Mr. Fusaro?”

Alessandro decided to cut in before Gianna could tell you that she had indeed said thank you. “Please, there’s no need for thank you’s. I didn’t want her to get more lost or upset.”

Standing up, you gently placed a hand on Gianna’s shoulder as you faced the man in front of you. “I must insist, you just saved me from a horrible phone call with my sister-in-law.”

You both chuckled a little as you spoke. He brushed you off again saying he loved hanging out with Ferrari’s biggest little fan.

“Zia, he has a tattoo! It’s so cool!” Seeing Alessandro get a bit bashful when your niece spoke made you curious, but you decided to not bring a lot of attention to that.

“Does he?” You said. Of course you already knew. Being part of the Tifosi for as long as you had, Alessandro’s Guido tattoo was common knowledge. Funnily enough it was one of the questions Sophia had asked you. Which ferrari mechanic has an iconic tattoo and what is the tattoo? It was your favourite question to answer as it allowed you to bring up your precious Fiat 500 that you had named Luigi after the Fiat from the Cars movie. It technically also allowed you to bring up your own tattoo which was, again, based on Luigi from Cars. Not that you did bring it up. You’d never hear the end of it from your father.

“Uhuh! It’s a red Guido from the same movie as yours!” Trust your innocent niece to blurt to all Ferrari that you also had a Cars themed tattoo.

Alessandro was now less bashful and more intrigued about your tattoo.

“The same movie as yours?” He asked.

You chuckled and continued to smooth out Gianna’s hair as you faced Alessandro. “Yeah, a few years ago, maybe a month before Gianna was born, I got a tattoo of Luigi from Cars. In a pale red instead of the usual yellow.”

Gianna nodded her head quickly and began to excitedly tell him all about how the first movie she had ever watched with you was Cars and how it had become your thing together.

All too quickly time caught up and it was soon time for Alessandro to go back to work. Gianna had deflated a little at the knowledge but she perked up again when Alessandro had said that he would try and talk to them again after both practise sessions had finished.

“After all,” he said, kneeling in front of her but looking up at you, “I’d love to get to know you better.”

I actually love this so much (When I get back home, I'll be making a new masterlist for the non-drivers that I'm gonna be writing for) ((also, while i’m away from my computer i’m gonna be typing up some dusty requests and maybe some drafts as well on my phone so please excuse any irregular formatting i’ll try and fix them before i post them))

this is also being posted a lot later than i initially thought it would be. i had planned for it to be posted before Monaco but 😅 (also something will be coming for the monaco race but i want it to be perfect so it might be a while before that comes to light)

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #alessandro fusaro #alessandro fusaro x reader #alessandro fusaro x y/n #alessandro fusaro x you #alessandro fusaro fluff #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #ferrari mechanics #forza ferrari

[thefallennightmare]

Can you do a headcannon where noah and reader are just friends but they both have feelings for each other and they don't know how to tell each other and there really bad sexuall tension between the two of them???

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka

"Son of a bitch," you muttered while trying to hang up a shirt on the tallest point of the merch wall.

Noah and Steven were helping you set up the merch table before the show tonight and Noah couldn't help but watch you with a gleam in his eye.

"Need help, Y/N?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I've got it, thanks," you said, still struggling.

Noah shrugged. "Fine by me. I've got a perfect view from down here."

With your position on the ladder, both of the guys did have the perfect view of your ass in your tight jeans so you gave a little extra wiggle of your ass.

"Too bad you can't touch it," you teased after finally getting the shirt hung up.

Back safely on the floor, you patted Noah's chest as Steven watched the two of you.

It had been like this for months, ever since you joined the Bad Omens team as their merch girl.

You and Noah had feelings for each other, everyone could see it.

But neither of you would act on it because you wanted to remain professional.

Plus the flirting was fun.

Later that night, after the show, Noah was there again helping you tear down the booth.

"Do you know how many times I got hit on tonight?" You asked.

Noah shrugged while folding up the shirts.

"Every single guy had some comment about how my ass looks or how I'm too hot to be a merch girl. Some guy even asked for my number in front of his girlfriend," you shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't know why they even think they have a chance," Noah snorted before taking a step toward you.

Your ass it the table behind you and you gazed up at him. "Yeah, you think so?"

Noah licked his lips, boxing you in against the table with both of his arms on either side of you.

"I know so, angel."

Your stomach flipped at his nick name for you.

"Why? Because you think you have a chance with me?" You shot back with a teasing smirk.

He breathed in your scent, burring his face in the crook of your neck. "Admit it, you want me."

You let out a breathy moan when you felt his warmth breath on your neck and your fingers played with the ends of his hair.

"Not even in my dreams," you playfully pushed him away with a wink.

You spent the rest of the time packing up the merch table with Noah, talking and joking around with each other. But never admitting your feelings for each other.

Deep down, you both were afraid of ruining your friendship.

But off to the side, Jolly and Matt watched the two of you and shared a knowing look.

Matt pinched his eyes shut when he noticed Noah watching your ass when you bent down to pick something up. "They're the only two who can't feel the sexual tension between them."

Jolly laughed in agreement. "Maybe we should set them up to share a room at the hotel tonight. Finally, get them past this phase of just pretending."

Matt's face broke out in a wide grin and he pulled out his phone.

"Matt, I was joking," Jolly said while following Matt, hoping to stop whatever wicked plan he had in mind.

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens headcannons #noah sebastian headcannons #thefallennightmare

[shitapril]

you know what time it is ! it's time for my completely non-sensical and inexpert takeaways from the monaco grand prix -

firstly, charles leclerc breaks literal curses with his maiden win at home, and it was absolutely beautiful. everyone liked that.

oscar and carlos did not kill each other (some may argue there was an attempt in lap 1 which i will pretend did not happen) and were very amicable on podium - not all hope is lost carcar girlies

after a horrifying red flag (all drivers are safe thankfully) haas double dnf'd, checo's car resembled a redbull can after someone quenched their thirst (who's fault do you think it is take a wild guess)

esteban decided he was going to play bumper cars with his teammate (you know just in case they manage to make points god forbid) and dnf'd too and yes bruno famin has publicly declared he's in big big trouble (you thought this was sport ? naw it's a soap)

williams finally made points (yes, plural) with alex albon in p9 ! as for logan sargeant, he made a cheeky lil overtake on zhou guanyu which i stan (he was screwed over by the team with shit strategy i believe so i will cut some slack)

max was in p6, which i thought i would enjoy, but did not. worry not, i expect canada to be bussiness as usual (that is max p1 and the rest of the grid racing)

that's all for now, i should really, really stop posting these

#i need to stop this stupid series #its me with a mic telling you i will never be smart enough to talk about f1 #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #carlos sainz #logan sargeant #ferrari #max verstappen #haas f1 team #kevin magnussen #pierre gasly #esteban ocon #alpine f1 #williams racing #alex albon #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #carcar #monaco gp 2024 #monaco grand prix

[inferno-silentdragon]

A friend of mine named Box of Rocks/Kelbox made a banger of a song that inspired this drawing. This is also my drawing to celebrate SUNNY's bday : D

Originally posted July 20, 2022

#i still really want people to hear this song but it is an fnf song #so the only way to release it is to make the sprites and it's an original song #i hope at some point the team and i can finally do it #the song essentially is like a reimagined final battle for omori but that's all i can say #some small details is the red hand playing one side which was meant to be sunny #the other hand is mari's ghost hand #tho i messed up cause it's the left hand #so it doesn't look like two people playing the piano together #unless you see it as when the left hand is over the right like in some songs #also hilariously mari does appear like 4 times technically including her fucking corpse #omori #omori spoilers #omori fanart #omori sunny #omori basil #omori mari #omori kel #omori aubrey #omori hero #my art

[kellystar321]

.

#periodical life updates #lets hope this one goes better than the last one </3 #anyway hi everyone. im in an entirely different timezone during this trip so its actually mid afternoon right now #thats not what this is about though this is about how im EXCITED FOR ARTFIGHT AS USUAL!!! lemmy posted his s/is and theyre so cute <3 #also the theme reveal is coming on the 23! i hope its enough time for the theme templates? i love doing the theme templates with everyone : #this'll be my seventh year participating holy sht!! ive been doing this for seven (7) years!!!!!!!! #ive been feeling like ive been improving in art every artfight but idk how i'll fare this year. i feel like ive been a bit stagnant #and i did some PRETTY KILLER PIECES LAST YEAR;;; who knows if i'll top it; especially with summer college classes UGH #miserable about that btw. college my beloathed forever and ever amen. :/ ive been meaning to fix a few characters profiles and add some too #FINALLY going to separate kelly and jace! kelly is now the bureau of balance halfling only <3 ive been redrawing a new design of her :> #she has cute pointed ears now heho!! and actual more fantasy-esque clothes to fit her universe <3 jace is getting a separate profile! #jace is now solely my sona and i look SO much more gender now with the haircut and i can post my refs <33 #i also want to post agent and icarus and all the javelins but that means i have to draw them actually hfjkh <33 #i should also actually add something to shen's profile hfkjfh i care more about xer worldbuilding than xer character i feel </3 #IVE BEEN MEANING TO GET QUEUE BACK UP but everytime i look at my drafts i feel so tired </3 theres ART i want to reblog!!! #ough. some other time. okay! im gonna get my artfight discord channel back up and running for the new artfight season! let's go let's go! #oh and i'll be sure to announce which team im joining obviously hdjfdh it'll probably be the lighthearted one <3 #some of the themes this year are a little off? (stars vs nebula? heart vs soul? arent those the same thing?) but im hoping for the best <3 #okay frfr going now! hope for queue soon maybe if i have time/energy! working on artfight! lets goooooo!! <3

[carcarrot]

elevators so scary

#im saying this bc i got hit on (kind of) in the elevator this morning #absolutely baffling experience #all this happened at 6 am btw. which added to the surrealness of it all #so im doing my usual walking at breakneck pace to get into work . and am making it from the first bank of elevators to the second #and theres some guy behind me and im hoping to beat him to the elevators but i DONT #and im still pressing the doors close button as he's walking up to the elevator but he still gets in #and im like ok. preparing myself for a slightly slower elevator ride bc we're gonna have to stop for his floor before mine #and i think this is gonna be your usual silent elevator ride. like your usual sane respectful elevator encounters should be #but this guys like good morning! and im like good morning back before i return to staring pointedly at my phone thinking itll end there #but it doesnt! and hes like how are you :) and im like goodhowareyou #and hes like not bad and i just kinda nod and go back to my phone. and then hes like how was your weekend :) #and by now im thinking maybe this guys a new member of the catering team i work in and is Friendly so i just go on #and im like good how about you and hes like oh good . it was quiet #and at this point all i can say is that's nice and go back again to my phone. but hes not taking the hint #and hes like oh i watched some football. did you watch any football? #and i should have said no and ended the conversation but its 6 am and i DID actually watch like 10 minute of football when my dad had it on #so i say yeah and hes like oh thats good! whos your favorite team :) #and i PANIC because i have zero knowledge of football and i should have said the vikings but i wasnt abt the back the losing team #so i say the giants as we FINALLY get to his floor and as hes leaving hes like OHH i like you even more now ;) #and im at a loss for how to respond #and then he says smth else abt football and im just like yeah! 👍 as the doors close #and to make this more baffling. hes not a member of the catering team #hes part of the wells fargo bankers that the catering team works for #but he thought i????? was a fellow wells fargo banker i guess????? #yet unlike the rest of the catering team i dont even work on the floors this guy would be on #but somehow he saw me at my most disheveled 6 am just powerwalked through scary nyc streets self. and was like hey ;) #time to talk to this girl about football ;) #BAFFLING. who does this

[makoodles]

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups. 

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you. 

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now. 

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly. 

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

 Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway. 

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy. 

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it. 

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head. 

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock. 

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you. 

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly. 

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling. 

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying. 

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving. 

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented. 

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria. 

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve. 

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife. 

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off. 

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you. 

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again. 

Well. Okay, then. 

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk. 

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go. 

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things. 

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?” 

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words. 

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

 The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused. 

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee. 

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry. 

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure. 

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch. 

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing. 

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged. 

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs. 

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return. 

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming. 

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else. 

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily – 

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face. 

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him. 

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs. 

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. 

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious. 

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering. 

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy. 

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static. 

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent. 

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry  kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside. 

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is. 

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you. 

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him. 

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in. 

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much. 

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today. 

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach. 

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest. 

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him. 

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies. 

“Thank you.” You mumble. 

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[melzula]

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender #request

[ellemj]

Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.

Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.

Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.

He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.

If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.

________________

         “Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.

         “I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.

         “Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.

         “Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.

         “Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”

         “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.

         “But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.

______

          The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.

         You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.

         Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

         You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.

         “What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.

         “What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”

         “Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.

         “And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.

         “I’m not a tease.”

         “Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.

         “I’m not.”

         Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.

         “Good girls don’t lie.”

______

         To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.

         Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.

         He was fucked.

         Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.

         His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.

         “You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.

         “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

         “Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.

         “Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.

         “You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.

         “You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.

         “Bucky—”

         “No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”

         You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.

         “That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.

         You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.

         “Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”

         When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.

         “You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.

         “Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.

         “You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”

         Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.

         “Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”

         You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.

         “Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.

         “That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.

         “That was a fucking dream.”  He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.

         “Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.

         “Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.

         “It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.

         “Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.

         “I didn’t know—”

         “Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.

         Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.

         His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.

         He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.

         “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”

         “Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.

         “Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.

         Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.

         Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.

         “Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.

         As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

         Obsession.  

TAG LIST:

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[starkwlkr]

the hamilton girls | lewis hamilton

based on dave grohl’s interviews about his daughters <33 he’s my favorite girl dad i can always trust dave grohl

Lewis Hamilton was many things. A Formula 1 driver, a seven time world champion, an idol, an inspiration to many young kids, but most of all, he was a husband and father to three girls. His family was everything to him. He enjoyed being a dad to his three precious girls.

Maeve was his oldest. She was born on a sunny day in 2013. Then came his second, Violet, born in 2017. Violet instantly became Maeve’s best friend. Lewis and Y/n were thankful that Maeve didn’t go through a jealous phase. Lastly, came their third girl, Gracie, born in early 2020.

The Hamilton girls would join their father in the paddock when they didn’t have school. Dressed in Mercedes merch, they walked hand in hand with their mother to the Mercedes garage. The entire team loved them, it was impossible not to.

“Dad! I really want lemonade!” Violet poked Lewis’ side until he payed attention to her.

“There’s no lemonade here. Have some water.” Lewis suggested, but Violet frowned. Lewis didn’t want his daughter to be upset so he directed the girls to Mercedes hospitality in hopes that someone could make the girls a lemonade. In the end, his three daughters ended up with their lemonade.

At one point, they even because Twitter famous whenever they were at the races. Violet had a habit of sleeping even before the race ended so when the camera showed Lewis celebrating his win, the camera panned over to Lewis’ family showing little Violet asleep with her mouth slightly open in her mom’s arms.

Maeve was half asleep, but she still made a heart with her hands. Gracie was with her grandma, but you were pretty sure she was asleep as well.

But when they weren’t attending races, the Hamilton girls were back in school. Whenever Lewis had time off, he would pick up the girls from school, giving you some time to yourself. He knew how the school pickup process was, what he didn’t know was how long it would take. When it was finally his time to park in front of the school, a teacher walked up making Lewis roll down the window.

The teacher was taken by surprise when she saw Lewis. “Um . . Who are you here to pick up, sir?”

“Maeve and Violet Hamilton.” He replied. Then the teacher nodded and walked back to the school. Seconds later, his two girls walked patiently towards their dad’s black Mercedes. Lewis could feel the other parents staring at him. It wasn’t everyday that Lewis Hamilton came to a children’s school.

Maeve opened the backseat door and climbed in along with Violet. They looked exhausted, probably from all the running they did during recess.

“How was school?” Lewis asked as he drove away.

“We went to the library today and I got a book. It’s about sports and your face is in it.” Violet said as she got the book out from her backpack.

“Really? What does it say?” Lewis questioned, curious as to what the book said. The girls weren’t really interested in formula 1, so he was confused as to why Violet even checked out the book.

“It says you won seven titles and then i stopped reading because I was bored. I only got it because I wanted to show you and mom that uncle Nico was in the book too.”

His girls always made him laugh. They could brighten up his day even if he was at his lowest. He was such a proud dad too, often bringing up his daughters during interviews and posting pictures of them on instagram. During his Jimmy Kimmel interview, he took any chance he got to talk about his family.

“And do your daughters understand that their dad is a seven time world champion?” Jimmy asked.

Lewis chuckled. “They don’t really care.” He said then the audience, along with Jimmy, laughed. “No, they know what I do for work, but when they were younger they thought I sold cars.”

“You sold cars? How did they come up with that?” Jimmy laughed.

“Their mum explained that I work with cars, that was all, so they assumed I sold cars because at home I have several. Then I think it was the Monaco Grand Prix where they finally got an understanding of what exactly I do. They watched the race and when it was over, I asked them what they thought of it and all I got was ‘I don’t know’ and that’s when my wife said that halfway through the race they asked her for her phone so they could watch their cartoons.” Lewis explained.

He remembers that day clearly. The girls weren’t interested in cars, they rather watch reruns of Gravity Falls. He wasn’t mad either, he was glad that they didn’t get frustrated and start causing chaos around the paddock.

Him mentioning his girls because a regular thing. During press conferences, he was often asked about his girls, more specifically if they would follow his footsteps into the world of F1.

“They don’t even care about the races.” Lewis said as the other drivers bursted out laughing. “My oldest, Maeve, she did have a phase where she liked cars, but she’s transitioned into learning about dinosaurs. She says she wants to be an paleontologist so I don’t have to worry about her.”

“Her birthday is coming up, no?” Max asked. “I’ll buy her one of those fossil kits. I think she’ll love it.”

“And what about your other daughter?”

“She falls asleep every time, I don’t think we will see her racing anytime soon. I’m telling you, they don’t care.” Lewis laughed.

“They don’t care about your world titles?” Charles asked smiling.

“They don’t care! To them, I’m just their dad. They’re like ‘daddy, I need my lemonade now’ it’s kinda funny actually. But I love my girls.”

The Hamilton girls loved their dad to death, it was clear, even if they didn’t care about his world titles or his reputation in F1. He was the best dad to them and that was all they cared about.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lh44 #dad!lewis hamilton

[jacaerysgf]

Plagued by you

r.q: requesting this please, alicent's daughter x jacaerys… and an angry confession.. "I burn for you." type ❤️😭 like he wants to her to come with him and be team black.

c.w: Otto doesn't go to Dragonstone you do; alicents daughter!reader, minor angst, dialogue heavy, reader “hates” jacaerys, hints of rhaelicent, not proofread

w.c: 1.6k (finally a shorter jace fic…)

a.n: anthony bridgerton ass confession lmaoo, hope you all enjoy :3

part two part three coming soon

You were currently pacing back and forth in the room rhaenyra allowed you to stay in on Dragonstone. You had come to see her, to ask her to declare for Aegon. She had obviously argued back and forth with you, up until nightfall where she said she would retreat for the night and the two of you could finish this tomorrow in the morning before you flew back in the morning. You argued that you would leave right then but only to find out that it had begun to storm so heavily. Realizing you would not be able to travel anywhere in this weather you reluctantly agreed and here you were.

In truth you did not want to come here. You had begged your mother to send someone else to anyone else but she was instant it be you. 

“Mother, why not send grandsire? He will be a much better negotiator than me.” she fiddles with your cloak, a far away look on her face before she moves to cup your face.

“Rhaenyra certainly likes you more than she likes him. She will treat you kindly.”

“She will say no mother you know this.” 

She lets out a trembled sigh and grips your face tightly in her hands and presses her forehead against yours “If not for his sake you must try, for me. For my sake I do not wish for this to go to. To see her harmed.” 

You've always known your mother has a very complicated relationship with rhaenyra if you can even call it that. She hated her, or at least that's what it seemed to be. 

She turns and grabs your bag before giving you a knowing look. 

“And I know you also have some unresolved things, do not deny it. I can recognize that look on your face. You must let these things go. Lest you end up like me.” 

You feel sick at the idea of Him. You hate jacaerys velaryon. Him and his stupid pride, his stupid face. His stupid everything. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him. You never understood how much a person could hate someone seemingly as much as your mother seemed to hate rhaenyra. The way she seemed to be all she could talk and even think about, going on endless rants to the point you felt you knew more about rhaenyra than your own mother. Until you met him. Now though you understood her completely, when you were no more than six jacaerys became the target of your anger.

Due to his torment of your twin brother aemond you quickly began to hate him. You would spend all your free time thinking of him and how to get back at him. The two of you always bickered and argued, when you would look over at him he was always already glaring at you. 

You were more than relieved he and his family were leaving after the incident at driftmark, but there was a part of you that when your days dragged on you began to miss him. Tormenting him of course there was no way you actually wished to spend time with him, there was no way…. Definitely not.

You haven't seen him during your time here. You would think he would be in the room where you were negotiating but he was nowhere to be seen. You did not want to ask about him, though the question has been on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly there was some aggressive knocking on your door and you froze, turning towards it holding your breath. “Who is it?” there's no answer but you know exactly who it is and hesitant for a moment contemplating if you should even let him in. You end up swiftly making your way towards the door and opening it just a bit, planning on telling him to just go away but before you can say anything he's pushing his way into the room storming past you with an angry look on his way. You lean against the door to support yourself as you feel lightheaded just looking at him. 

“You are an absolutely ridiculous woman.” you do not speak, unable to, only able to watch as he runs his hand through his curls and paces in the room just as you had been. “Do you only wish to torment me?”

“I am here for my brother-” “You should not have come.” there's a venom in his voice and he does not even look at you. You find yourself growing more annoyed at him. “I do not care what you think. I would be gone by now if your mother had not been so stubborn-” he turns to look at you and makes his way to stand right in front of you, barely any space between the two of you. “Jacaerys…” “you do not want your brother to sit the throne.” it was true, as much as you tolerated your brother, the thought of him sitting on the throne disgusted you. He would not be a good king, “you know not of what i believe.” “I know this is true, you shouldn't lie to me.” 

“You act as if you know me.”

He scoffs, turning his head away from you for a moment before looking you dead in the eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I don't know you? I know that you hate the summer because you get too hot in your long dresses, i know you love whenever the chefs make cake and you would sneak into the kitchen to grab a slice, i know you despise your mothers perfume because it hurts your nose but you could never tell her such a thing because it brings her comfort,” he pauses for a moment moving somehow even closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, “i know when you are lying you scrunch up your nose,” he moves his head to your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent before lifting his head back up and his forehead is against yours once more. “And worst of all I know you desire me as I do you.” 

You shake your head as you suppress a whimper from your neck, “no,,,” “you will not deny it. You will not deny something I know to be true with every bone in my body with every drop of blood in my body.”  

With a long silence between you, neither of you saying a word he pushes away from you and goes back to standing where he was, that angry look back on his face. “You must go.” you look outside and notice that the storm has since stopped, your brain is currently running a mile a minute barely able to think. “I shall head back to the keep-” “that is not far enough!” 

He grips his head in frustration as he begins to pace once more, “you could travel to dorne, to essos to bravos and it would not be far enough to free me from this torment you have put me through, For the thoughts of you that plague my mind to cease to exist. Even after I pass I am sure when I am faded to nothing but bones and ashes the picture of you will be laced where my heart should be.” 

He quickly moves back over to you and cups your face once more bringing himself so explicitly close to you he should be kissing you. The way you two are pressed against each other is more intimate than a kiss, more romantic than any confession. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, unable to control yourself for a while. You want to kiss him, you want him to kiss you. Before you regain the small sense of control you have to push him away from you shaking your head. “I must go home, my mother-” “Stay here. Stay with me.” He stares into you a way nobody else ever has, like he's truly trying to see you and not the facade you put on for everyone else. “My mind, body and soul yearns and burns for you uncontrollably and now that you stand in front of me I cannot take it.” He takes your hand and presses it against his heart where you can feel it being erratically as yours was as well. “Tell me you do not want me and I shall turn my back and allow you to leave. But do not beg me to watch you as I fear my heart cannot take it.” 

He takes another step closer to you and does not break eye contact with you. “Tell me you do not desire me and tell me at once my love, my heart please you must.” 

You shake your head as tears begin to form in your eyes, “I cannot.” “then stay.” you angle your head and kiss him, praying that through your actions he can too understand that you indeed burn for him the way he burns for you. You decide in the moment to say fuck it. Fuck your mother, fuck your brother, fuck the crown and screw everyone and everything else that is not him because you hate him so much that he has fully consumed every part of you like a parasite. Yet you have done the same to him. 

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys

[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

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[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

lmk if u guys want a part two ft. the datables!

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