#(and on a secret third hand i think i have to use that line in some sort of writing)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Championship love

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot inspired by him winning the championship for the fourth time !!

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You've been by Max's side for as long as you can remember. Teenagers with wild dreams and even wilder hearts, you both grew up together—through the awkward phases, the endless karting weekends, and the late-night phone calls where he shared his hopes of making it big in Formula 1. And he did. You’ve celebrated every step of his journey, but nothing compares to how you’ve marked each of his world championships together.

2011: The first time Max won the championship, it felt surreal. You were in Abu Dhabi, tears streaming down your face as he crossed the finish line and screamed over the radio. That night, back in the hotel room, it was just the two of you. Max was exhausted but glowing with pride, the trophy on the bedside table. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you like it was the first time, whispering, “This is just the beginning.”

2022: His second championship was no less thrilling. Max insisted on celebrating at home in Monaco, just the two of you again. He cooked you dinner—well, tried to. Half-burnt pasta and wine turned into laughter and slow dancing in the kitchen. He held you close, murmuring, “I couldn’t have done this without you.” You knew he meant it.

2023: The third title was chaotic—Sprint race in Qatar. But later that night, back at the motorhome, Max pulled you aside. His team was celebrating loudly in the background, but his focus was entirely on you. “Three-time world champion,” he said, smirking. “But being yours is still my favorite title.”

And now, here you are in Las Vegas. Max’s fourth championship.

The moment he crosses the line, you can barely hear the roar of the crowd over your own cheering. Your chest swells with pride as the fireworks explode over the track. It feels like a culmination of everything you’ve built together—his hard work, your unwavering support, and the love that’s only grown stronger with time.

Later that night, the team throws a party in one of the grand casinos. The celebration is lavish, the energy electric, but Max never lets go of your hand. Every so often, he leans down to kiss your temple or whispers something only for you to hear. He’s glowing, but there’s something else in his eyes—a secret, maybe, or anticipation.

Hours later, he whisks you away from the crowd, leading you to the rooftop of your hotel. The view is breathtaking—Las Vegas glittering like a sea of stars, a warm breeze wrapping around you both. You laugh, spinning to face him. “What are we doing up here?”

Max looks at you, his blue eyes soft and steady. He takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “I wanted to end this night with just us,” he says. “Like we always do.”

Your heart swells. “You’re getting sentimental, Verstappen.”

He chuckles but doesn’t look away. “I have a good reason.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max drops to one knee.

Time stops.

Your breath catches as he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. “You’ve been with me through everything—every win, every loss, every moment in between. I can’t imagine doing this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.” He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring that glitters even brighter than the city lights. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod frantically, a smile breaking across your face. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Of course, yes.”

Max stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. The kiss you share feels like every dream you’ve ever had coming true.

“You just made this the best championship celebration ever,” you say against his lips.

He grins, pressing his forehead to yours. “I think this one’s my favorite too.”

Under the Vegas sky, with the world at your feet, you know this moment is just the beginning of a lifetime of celebrations—together.

[antimonyandthyme]

2k, paul/carlos

(written after the c2 / paul vid, and this post came out with the brilliant @formulahs suggesting an auction LMAO)

He goes without the expectation of buying anything. He looks forward to a good time, even with all the cameras around. The shoes his stylist wants him to go in are fanciful, shiny monstrosities, and he nearly insists for the sneakers to stay on. Then he remembers that he’s technically there for Ferrari, and dutifully swaps them out.

Technically. Paul can go for other reasons too. Charles is lovely, if a little vacant around him. Carlos is. Carlos is, he’s—

It’s early days and Paul isn’t one for poetry, and yet here he is. He hopes to god he isn’t being obvious. Not to the staff when he spots Carlos and lights up like a schoolboy with a crush. Not to Charles, when he holds on to Carlos for a handshake that’s a little longer than necessary. Definitely not obvious to whoever watches these videos, when he mouths all of the answers to Carlos.

Can’t deny having a favourite. He can turn his nose up all he wants at the reputation that follows any young actor these days, but he can’t deny his appreciation for nice things. There are no trophies in his world—yet, just good food, good drink, good people. Beautiful people. For the third time since they rolled cameras, Paul is caught staring. Carlos always looks slightly lost, staring back, like he’s trying to figure Paul out, before he ducks his head and curls up. Large hands clasped in his lap. Maybe a little shy. Maybe a little pleased.

“He’s a little expensive,” Charles says, “but you should be able to afford him.”

Paul attempts to tamper his face into something palatable. Ungracious of Charles to lay out his desires so plainly. And then in the same breath insinuate that his ability to pay might not stack up. Somewhere past Paul’s eyeline, Carlos is returning his mic to the staff with a relieved smile. Unpacking his spine into something looser, now that the cameras are off. He tips his head at Paul, eyes inquisitive, as if guessing that they were discussing him.

Paul has to look away, guilty.

“I didn’t plan on buying,” he says. It’s the truth. Mostly. In his defense, it wasn’t like Ferrari were being subtle about shoving them in a room together, especially after they made this tradition known. It’s like asking someone not to think of elephants. On command, a safari blooms open in Paul’s mind.

Charles shrugs. “We’ll have another event later. Someone else probably will.”

The flippant way Charles speaks about it grates against Paul’s skin. He can’t tell if Charles is trying to rile him up. The thought of Carlos having to hang off a faceless person’s arm makes distaste churn so violently in his belly that it manifests into an ache.

“Carlos wouldn’t mind, if it’s you.”

“How would you know,” Paul grits out. The mental fidget spinner he has for Charles keeps going around in circles, flickering from Empty to Dickhead to Helpful, maybe?

“Ah, he’s used to it no? People looking at him like that.” Charles’s voice dips low, like he’s sharing a secret. Paul’s an actor for fuck’s sake. He knows when someone’s selling him something, a mediocre contract, a shitty line. Still, he can’t help leaning in closer, puts his ear right next to Charles’s mouth.

Further away, Carlos’s mouth twists down, his gaze shutters. Just a minute, baby, Paul wants to tell him. Just—give me a minute.

“He looks back, when it’s you,” Charles says, and Paul’s done convincing himself otherwise.

--

They tell him, in one of the most bewildering conversations Paul’s ever had, that Carlos will be delivered in the evening, at whatever time suits Paul best. Delivered, like he’s some kind of package. What the fuck, sings one part of his brain. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what have you just done. The other part, the part that’s mostly primitive and hedonistic, somehow takes charge and sends him off on multiple errands. He gets his hair trimmed, just a little at the sides. He buys some wine. He changes into the sneakers. He considers getting another tattoo, before he snaps himself out of it.

Poetry and tattoos. Paul’s lost his mind.

The time in between gives him room to vacillate between wanting to feed the open maw within him and growing shamefully aware about the shape of his yearning. He hadn’t realized he had enough space within his ribcage to stuff another man entire. There are so many other ways he could have gone about this. But he doesn’t have Carlos’s number. He can’t text. Even if he could, Paul wouldn’t know what to say.

Tick tock, tick tock. Paul rearranges furniture, door dashes some flowers, after spending half an hour reading up on flower language, interspersed with vapid scrolling of his socials. Tick tock.

By the time Carlos arrives, he’s in a bit of a wreck. People who move in Carlos’s world would certainly be familiar with Ferrari’s clauses, and would know how to act. The muted greeting Carlos gives doesn’t help either. He’s dressed up but down, in a plain, almost translucent shirt that leaves little to imagination. He toes off his shoes with an unconscious gracefulness, and comes to stand in front of Paul. He’s waxed, which Paul knows, just from being so close to him this afternoon, had to have happened in that space where Paul was questioning all his life choices. He looks wonderful, except for the fact that he looks so visibly uncomfortable.

“Do you,” Paul starts. Swallowing around the dry lump in his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

Carlos fidgets. “If you’d like,” he says.

That’s, ow.

They’d assured him, again and again, that Carlos always had the final say, but his teeth are buried in his lower lip, hard enough to blanch, and his toes dig into the carpet like a lifeline. It’s not like Paul’s hung out with Carlos more than a handful of times, but it’s hard to ever picture him in such distress. Carlos is—larger, than what he’d ever seen on screen. You have to witness him in person, to understand.

Faced with this shrunken version of Carlos, Paul can’t bring himself to continue.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I really am. I assumed you’d want—I’m sorry.”

Carlos flinches, jerks his head up. “Wait.”

“It’s alright,” Paul says. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You could just leave. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Wait,” Carlos says, more urgently. “I don’t want to—” His voice grows small. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” Paul nearly yelps. “But you’re. You’re…”

Carlos’s cheeks are very pink. His toes tap an erratic beat on the floor. His hands are clasped in front of him, almost in supplication.

“You’re nervous!”

“Yes!” Carlos blurts out, before looking very mortified. “I’m. Ah, fuck. Paul, I’m never. Never like this.”

Tension bleeds out of him. Something so relieved escapes out of Paul’s mouth in an embarrassing giggle. “Carlos. You should have just said.”

“I don’t know why…” Carlos trails off, scrubbing at the back of his neck vigorously. “With you, I’m like this. I don’t know. I want.” His toes tap some more. “I want to.”

“Want to?” Paul says, coming closer, watching Carlos sway in eagerly.

“Make it worth it,” Carlos mutters. “What you paid.”

Paul groans. He wants to shake Carlos. Then decides, hey, he actually can shake Carlos. Gentle hands around his shoulders, shaking him like a beloved ragdoll. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Carlos protests, but the corners of his mouth are turned up now.

“Shut up, you’re ridiculous. Do you think I would have even paid that if, if I. Oh my god, Carlos. You have to know, right?”

“Know what,” Carlos says, enjoying being a little shit now that they’re joking.

“Can’t take my eyes off you, when you’re in the room,” Paul says. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“You were,” Carlos says brightly. “I thought I was obvious right back.”

“Okay, so. So why are you—?”

Carlos’s face twists. “This season has been. Ah.” He shakes his head reluctantly. “You don’t have to listen to this.”

“Go on,” Paul says. “Come on, tell me. Twelve hours of your time, remember?”

“Been hard to live up to expectations, this year,” Carlos says. “I didn’t want that with you.”

“You are so.” Stupid. Hot. Stupidly hot. “I’m going to shake you some more,” Paul says. “I cannot believe you.”

“That’s fine,” Carlos says. He goes along with the shaking, in a way that shows exactly how much of his body he’s putting into Paul’s hands. A neck as thick as that and he’s somehow limp under Paul’s touch. That’s, well. That’s a lot. “Then maybe, maybe. You could kiss me?”

Yes, yes. Yesssssssss, sings both parts of Paul’s brain. Yes.

Carlos is still now, expectant. A long, lean line of muscle, rooted to the ground, that Paul can trace hungrily with his eyes. He could pull at Carlos with all his strength and Carlos would not move, if he did not want to. But when Paul nudges a finger under his jaw, Carlos goes, looks up, right at him. Leans in.

--

He’s a greedy little thing, isn’t he. Swallows Paul with ease, every which way. He makes insane noises, deep, and guttural when Paul fucks him hard, high, and breathless when Paul thumbs at his nipples. Carlos clutches at Paul like it’d physically hurt to let go. Everything he’s meant to do, he does and is wonderful at it. And somehow, he’d managed to assume he wouldn’t live up.

“Unbelievable,” Paul says to the ceiling, some time after he’d come so viciously it felt like he’d been wrung out like a dish towel. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Are you still mad at me,” Carlos says, amused.

“Yes.”

“Ay, don’t be,” Carlos says, softly. “I really was nervous.”

Paul turns on his side, hand supporting his head as he gazes at Carlos. Crazy intimate. Terrible, the way he’s setting himself up for the worst time. He can’t bring himself to care.

“You’re allowed to stay the night?”

“Twelve hours,” Carlos says. “You can ask me to do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Carlos confirms. “Sleep at the foot of the bed, if you want.”

Why would he even say such a—Paul is going to shake him again. If he can unpretzel himself from all that easy comfort following an earth-shattering orgasm. He nudges at Carlos’s hip instead. It’s the closest body part he can find.

“I kick in my sleep,” Paul says seriously, delighting in the way that makes Carlos giggle. He pats the scant space next to him. “I’d rather you be right here.”

“I’ll be right here,” Carlos says, then clears his throat. He probably was just parroting Paul, didn’t mean for it to sound so much like a promise.

But Paul… is also a greedy little thing, isn’t he? So greedy he paid for it, and so greedy he wants more now that he’s had a taste.

“And after?” Paul says. Will you be…?

“After,” Carlos says, “after Las Vegas is Qatar. Then Abu Dhabi.”

“Fine,” Paul says. As let downs go, this is pretty devastating, but he’ll live. It’s not like he had expected—never mind.

Carlos shifts. His jaw unlocks, then clicks back. “You get discounts, after, did you know that? Very good discounts.”

“Oh,” Paul says, a little wobbly. “Do I?”

“Yes. And after Abu Dhabi, it’s. It’s free.”

“Ah.” His chest is squeezing tighter than a fist. The space in his ribcage! Expanding and contracting to accommodate whatever Carlos sees fit. He lets himself imagine pressing up close to Carlos in a quiet apartment, pulling out every sound in Carlos's vocabulary with time, unlimited, on his hands. Buying flowers he knows for sure Carlos likes.

“I guess I need to stick around."

“Guess so,” Carlos says, smiles. “Make it worth your while.”

[paranormaljones]

okay y'all can make fun of me for this if you want but i had a dream last night

and i woke up wanting to CRY.

that i was basically in a fantasy novel with a whole adventuring party and everything, and myself and one of the other party members were very in love, but the problem was that this guy was basically the equivalent of a fire genasi from dnd (except he looked nothing like that) and he was quite literally extremely hot to the touch (like, painfully so) and at one point we were having a sweet moment and he tried to place his hand on my cheek but it burned me, and he felt so bad about it and very sadly said "If I loved you less, perhaps I could touch you more."

implying that the heat he gave off was amplified by how much he loved me.

[fairysylveon]

rubbing my temples a little thinking about tim takes

[ifonlyyuweremine]

Captain’s Girl. [Part I]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

Synopsis: After Laswell pitches you a favor to join 141, you're left with no choice but to accept. The only problem arises when you and the Captain start to butt heads, but if the two of you hate each other as much as you say, then why is the rest of the team calling you his girl?

Tags: Enemies to lovers, tension, military romance, forbidden love, smut, fighting, secret feelings, slow burn.

Word count? You know the drill, it’s long.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

‘Captain John Price.’ You skimmed the document again, his name catching your eye for the third or fourth time. The black ink seemed to bleed together against the crisp paper of your enrollment documents into Special Forces Task Force 141. It was a promotion, and an honor at that, special forces to begin with were selective.

But 141 was almost unheard of, a combination of British special forces and American special forces. They were one of the best, and you were about to become a part of it. You read the documents again.

‘All personnel will be working under John Price and answering to Kate Laswell, respectively-’ Your eyes trailed further along the mess of columned words, making sense of the legality aspects of transferring to a new team. You hadn't expected to be transferred over, not until Kate had contacted you with an offer. You could tell she was put under pressure by the way her voice strained against the receiver…

“Look, I need you here. Ever since Shepard went rogue, we've been a bit tight over here. John has stepped in as commanding officer; technically, we already have a sharpshooter on 141. But we could use a hand, just until we sort out our bearings. Then, if you'd like, I can transfer you back to your current team…”

You'd raised an eyebrow, “Laswell, you're acting like I'm the only one who can fill these shoes. Why don't you hire a private contractor from KorTac? I'm sure they have more experience anyway.” You heard her blow out air from her nose, amused. “[Name], I don't think I have to tell you how much these guys hate private contractors. We need someone who can work as a collective team, you know… integrate themselves for the time being.”

You pursed your lips together, weighing out the pros and cons. However, Laswell was one of the best people you had ever met, a long-time friend since the baby days of your recruitment. She was a woman of her word, and she had your back. And if she said this team needed someone, she was being serious. You sighed, leaning back, “Okay, send me the details, Laswell. I'll think about it.”

…You read the contract one last time; it was simple enough. You would be transferred to 141 at the end of the month; it was a year-long contract. Which, in a way, made you a private contractor, too. The rest of 141 was under the impression that you were there to stay, everyone except the Captain and, of course, Laswell, not that she was on 141. If they decided they didn't need you before the contract ended, you could pick to stay for the remainder of the year or transfer back to your original task force.

A sigh left your mouth; you picked up your pen and flipped to the last page. Etching your signature into the blank line. You had till the end of the month; as of that moment, you were officially a member of 141.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Well, you had to give Laswell credit where credit was due. It had been a few weeks since your arrival and you fit in quite smoothly into 141; you believe she called it “integrating.” To nobody's surprise, the team was almost entirely men, aside from Ferrah, who was stationed elsewhere. It hadn't been long since your arrival until you were bound to run into someone; Jhonny was the first…

It was later in the day and you were wandering about; transferring to a new location was something you never got used to, so you tried to get a head start on mapping out the place. Everything was similar to your last base, but you still felt a bit alien. A small room tucked off to the side caught your eye, and you followed in that direction. It was a small break room, a kitchen, and a fridge tucked away in the side; there were a few cupboards and a single run-down couch.

You mosied over to the kitchen, opening cupboards and looking inside drawers. You found the usual silverware, mugs, napkins, junk, and tea bags. You stopped; tea actually sounded pretty good. Sitting on the counter was one of those electric tea kettles; you reached for it.

Waiting until the water was boiling, you grabbed the first mug you saw in the cupboard. As you dipped one of the tea bags into the scalding liquid, the door handle jostled across the room. You heard him before you saw him; his voice was deep, a bit raspy, with a thick Scottish accent. Walking through the door came a man dressed in sweatpants and a military-issued shirt. His head was shaved aside from a cropped mohawk of brown hair. His face was pulled into a subtle frown with his eyebrows furrowed. A phone pressed against his head by his shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, the pale spheres of his eyes boring into yours. You could tell he was studying you, maybe trying to deduce if he had seen you before or if you were a stranger. Suddenly, you heard muffled talking coming from the receiver of his phone. You looked down at your tea, not wanting to be considered rude for staring.

The man's voice came again, but it was almost unreadable. It was like a different language, probably Scottish, and then it stopped. When you looked back up, he was standing a few feet away from you, reaching into one of the cupboards.

“Sisters.”

You blinked; it took you a moment to understand he was talking to you. “I-What?” You asked, caught off guard by his comment. He looked back at you, holding up his phone. “S’who I was talking to.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you nodded slowly; it was an odd way of making conversation. “Oh, okay…You uh- don't look too happy about it, family troubles?” You asked, his lips cracked into a soft smile, and he shook his head. “Nah, she's just a bit dafty. She's auld, so she feels the need to boss me around from time to time.”

You nodded along, trying to use context clues to understand some of his choice words. You watched him fill his mug with some water you had just boiled. “Ah, I see. I'm not sure I can relate; I'm the oldest sibling, so maybe I do all the bossing around.” He nodded, one of his thick eyebrows rasing, “How many siblings?”

You smiled, “Just two, a brother and sister.” The man hummed, looking down at his tea. “Gotcha…” A silence enveloped the room, and after another agonizing moment, he spoke up again. “You a new hire around here? Can't say I would forget a face like yours, lass.” You nodded, glad that the silence had been put to rest, a smile growing on your face at his comment. “Yeah, new transfer to 141.” Suddenly, his eyes grew more comprehensive, “You're the newbie?” He said, astonished.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn't say newbie; I'm just a transfer from another unit.” His face cracked into a grin, “No kidding, apologies, didn't mean to come off as rude.” He held his hand out to you, “Johnny McTavish, team calls me Soap.”

Your eyebrows raised, “You're a part of 141?” His smile didn't fade as he nodded, “Aye, sharpshooter and sniper.” You felt a grin creeping up on your face; this Soap guy was friendly. Way friendlier than you thought the people on 141 would be. “I’m [Name]. I'm also a sharpshooter, but I also work with mechanics and firearms. Soap is…uh pretty interesting call sign, any meaning behind it?” You saw something in his eye; maybe it was pride, or perhaps something more sinister, “Well, when you clean out a room as fast as I do, people notice. You ain't got a callsign, Bonnie?”

You shook your head, “No, I guess my name has always just done the job.” Soap pat you on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you one.” You and Soap just talked for the next few minutes; it was nice. The conversation ebbed and flowed without problem; he nodded to the door after your tea was nearly empty. “Aye, Bonnie, why don’t I take you to meet the rest of the team? Give you a head start on the meet and greet.”

You smiled, “Yeah, why not?”

…The more time you spent with the team, the easier it got; it helped that they made good conversation. Jhonny was…well, Johnny, good sense of humor but never knew when to quit. Ghost was quieter; he didn't trust you immediately, but you'd managed to pull a few chuckles from him and the occasional polite conversation.

Kyle Garrick, or ‘Gaz,’ was an all-around good guy, funny, polite, and incredibly talented. You could never get over the time that you had gotten drunk off your ass, and Ghost told you a story of when Gaz fell out from a helicopter and was shooting at people while he was swinging from the airborne vehicle.

And then there was Price. Captain John Price, you'd met Price a day after Soap introduced you to the rest of the boys. To say the atmosphere was tense between you would be an understatement. From the minute he laid his eyes on you, they went stiff. His whole demeanor around you reminded you of a rock; it was like he didn't even want you on the team. His voice went curt, and whenever you spoke, his eyes bore holes into your head like he wanted to shoot lasers into your brain by just staring.

You'd talk about it to the rest of the team, but they shrugged it off. “Maybe he ain't used to you yet; it takes a while for the lad to trust anyone. He usually puts on the tough guy act for new recruits.” Ghost had said; Jhonny snorted at that. “Tough guy act? Dinnae, nothing bout that; when I first joined, the man made me want to pull out my hair. Think that's more than a tough guy act L.T.”

Usually, this wouldn't have bothered you as much as it did. But for some odd reason, he got under your skin like nobody else could. And believe, you were no stranger to difficult co-workers and bosses. Even worse, your first interaction with him was incredibly awkward, and you couldn't have left a good impression even if you had tried. It was almost etched into your mind like a stone tablet…

It was your last day to set up, get used to the team and your surroundings before you started working. The three days you had to relax were mostly spent either in the base gym, or eating in the cafeteria. What could you say, you were a creature of habit.

Until this point, you had met almost the entire team besides the captain. Technically, you weren’t required to meet him until you started working, but you'd already met everyone else. So, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted. You pried the information about Price’s whereabouts from Gaz: “I haven't seen him up and about today; usually, he's around. It probably means he's hauled up in his piss-poor office. The guy hates it there but usually locks himself up there when he's in a bad mood or has paperwork.”

Despite his warning, you went ahead and searched for Price’s office. That was mistake number one. After a minute or two of searching, you came across a door with the engraving “Price” carved into the wood in neat lettering. You reached for the door and tried to turn the handle, but nothing. It was locked; you frowned and tried again. But to nobody's surprise, the door remained shut.

So, you resorted to the next best thing. You knocked a few times but were met with radio silence. Maybe he wasn't in there, you chewed on your lip, thinking. There was a small window in the door, but it was covered by blinds. You squinted, pressing your hands to the wood and moving your face inches from the glass; you tried to peer inside despite the closed blinds. That was mistake number two.

“Can I help you?”

You jumped. The voice came from behind you. It was deep with a smooth British accent; you whirled around to face the person. Your eyes met what was possibly, in your opinion, sex on two legs. The man was tall and built like a tank, judging from how his biceps and chest filled out his cotton shirt. His face was stern, with short-cropped brown hair and a muttonchop beard. His eyes a deep shade of blue, you swallowed.

Damn.

You didn't believe you had a type, but this guy probably would've checked off all the boxes if you did. You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment; when he raised his eyebrow, you snapped out of your trance-like state. “I’m-uh looking for Captain Price. I thought I'd check his office, but I don't think he's there.” You cringed; your voice was rushed, a pitch higher, too.

The man crossed his arms; god, he could probably pop your head like a balloon with those things alone. “Well, you found him.” He said plainly. You stared at him briefly; of course, he was the captain. Why else would he be here? You wanted to punch yourself in the gut. “Oh,” you breathed, “great then. I wanted to introduce myself; I'm the new transfer.” You tried to muster up a confident smile, which most likely had the opposite effect, given he was looking at you like you'd grown a second head.

“[Name], I know. I read your file.” He deadpanned. His voice caught you a little off guard; he wasn't irritated per se, but he didn't seem happy about this introduction. You cleared your throat, “Great then, I'm sure Laswell told you I was coming?” You were grasping at strings here, trying to prolong the conversation.

“Yes. I'm well aware you are here. Laswell has a way of inserting help into my team.” You paused; well, that wasn't meant to be a compliment. Your smile faltered, and you looked around the room like this was some prank. “She said you guys needed someone…?”

Price nodded, his demeanor unsettlingly calm, “That’s her opinion. Now, I respect Laswell; she knows what she's doing. That doesn't mean I always agree with her; 141 was just fine, this is just a precaution on her part.”

You felt your eye twitch a little; you transferred from your other unit, the unit you were extremely close to, mind you… for this? You joined out of the kindness of your heart, only for this jackass to say you were ‘just a precaution.’ “Well, I hope you won't hold a grudge.” You said a bit curtly. Price pursed his lips together in a tight line.

“Wouldn't dream of it; a year is an awful long time to hold a grudge.” He said, the malice and ego coming off his tongue so strong you could almost taste it. What was this guy's problem with you? You did the nice thing and took time out of your day to introduce yourself to him. And he was treating you like you'd personally wronged him. “Good, then I won't either.” You breathed, frustrated. Price looked down at you, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “Well, that's good to hear; now, are you going to let me into my own office or keep standing there like a human blockade?”

This guy.

Your palms squeezed into fists, shooting him a nasty glare. You forgot you were standing right in front of the door, the embarrassment making the tips of your ears heat up. You pushed yourself to walk away, “It was nice meeting you, Captain.” You spit, venom in your tone, walking away like a wounded animal.

Suddenly, you somehow forgot about how hot he was; at that moment, you wanted to smash his gorgeous face into a wall. You liked your new Captain a lot more when he didn't speak. But the reality set in: John Price hated you for some unknown reason, and you were starting to hate him back.

…You had calmed down since that first encounter. Maybe it was a one-off thing; after all, you did go when Gaz warned you that he may already be in a bad mood. Maybe you had jumped the gun? and Price didn't hate you.

News flash: He hated you, and it was not a one-off encounter.

You were now a month into your new job, and if it weren't for Price, you would've actually been enjoying your time with 141. Everyone else was great; they were warming up to the idea of having you as a teammate. The training was hard on you, but you expected that, you were improving day to day. But no matter how well you did, you always had Price’s voice in your ear telling you that you could've done better. The man was running circles around you.

Slowly, you started to lose patience with him; when he laid out the bait, you bit. It was getting easier to react instead of keeping calm and passive-aggressively telling him you were grateful for the friendly criticism.

Even the team started to watch every interaction you had with the Captain keenly. They would tease you ruthlessly, saying his name while your back was turned just to laugh at the way your whole body seemed to go as stiff as a board.

“I swear the two of ya seem to bicker like an auld married couple. It's like watching my parents fight.” Soap had said to you once after an agitated conversation you'd had with Price moments before.

Was it your fault for causing some of the arguments between you two? Possibly. But he instigated just as much as you did; it was like a competition of who could get under the other's skin the most. And you couldn't even avoid him; Gaz wasn't kidding when he said he was out and about when Price wasn't in his office. He was like your shadow.

You were in the cafeteria? Oh, so was Price. You were in the gym? That's funny; Price was just about to do his workout. Training? He was practically glued to you and nitpicking everything you did. You were trying to go for a fucking walk around base past lights out? Price couldn't sleep, and as your captain, it was his obligation to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.

Intrusively, you wondered if he had implanted a tracker into you while you were sleeping. That had to be it; there was no way you just happened to experience so many ‘coincidences’ back to back. 

Eleven more months, you had eleven more months stuck with him. Maybe in that time, you could come up with a detailed plan on how you would murder, hide, and successfully get away with killing your Captain.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was one of those off days where you didn’t have much to do. Like the calm before the storm, 141 had an incoming operation; plans were laid out, and everyone knew what to do. All that was left was playing the waiting game before you loaded into the helicopter and landed in a checkpoint base in Urzikstan.

With nothing to do, you figured it wouldn't hurt to hide away in the break room with some tea and scroll on your phone. You rarely had time to yourself, so you might as well make the best of it. You peeked into the break room and smiled when you found it was empty. You made a beeline to the small kitchen counter; you'd managed to snag some different types of tea for yourself over the few weeks you had been at base. It was the floral and sweet kind that nobody touched, despite Ghost's comment that: “It's not real tea.” You found it incredibly enjoyable.

As you turned on the electric kettle, the doorknob jostled. You looked up, and your eyes met Price. Well, shit. He made eye contact with you. Obviously, the feeling between you two was mutual based on how his lips dropped into a frown when he saw you. You stared at each other for a beat before you turned your head away.

You weren't doing this today; you were too tired to bicker with your captain over something useless. You stared at the counter, waiting for him to leave or speak. But he did neither. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed a mug. The silence between you was so loud that the room might've been quieter if you were arguing.

He was close, not enough that you were touching, but enough that his presence almost tickled your skin.

You just continued to watch the counter and your mug. Glancing at the kettle, you almost grimaced; it was barely bubbling. When did boiling water take so long? The tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. But, Price was the first to crack.

“Interesting mug,” he commented, his voice as it always was when he spoke to you. Dry. You debated not responding, but the silence was killing you just as much. “It's my favorite.” You said back, matching his tone. However, your eyes were soft as you looked at the mug before you. It was ceramic, with hand-painted fish drawn onto it. Cod, salmon, tuna, and swordfish, too, their colors vibrant compared to the barren beige of the rest of the cup.

He made a low hum sound, almost like he didn't believe you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you finally turned to look at him. You stopped briefly; his eyes had heavier bags than the last time you'd seen him. He didn't look as stern or unshakeable as usual; rather, he looked more weary, human. You forgot you were going to say something to him, “What?” You said, suspicious.

His eyes broke away from yours, looking down at his hands as they tore away the top of an instant coffee packet. Price emptied its contents into his plain white mug and cleared his throat. “Nothing, s’just that's my mug.” He said; his voice wasn't mad or accusatory. Instead, it was just like he was stating a fact.

You frowned, your eyebrows sinking further down your face. What was he talking about? You'd been using this mug for weeks; in fact, this was the first mug you'd used here, back when you first met Jhonny and the rest of the team. “That's not true; all the mugs in the cupboard are communal.” You pointed out, looking at him like you'd caught him in a bad lie.

He looked back at you, an almost smugness to his gaze. “Look at the bottom of the cup.” He said plainly. Your frown deepened, but you grabbed the mug and turned it over in your hands out of curiosity.

JP. It was painted in small lettering in the middle of the circular bottom. Your face dropped. Oh. JP, standing for John Price. It was his mug. Your face reddened as you realized you had been drinking out of his cup for the past month. Why hadn’t he said anything about it to you before now? He obviously knew, considering he'd seen you drink from it before.

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a good defense. “But- Jhonny told me all the mugs in the break room were for everyone. Including this one.” You said, pointing at the mug in your hands.

Price raised one eyebrow, “And you believed him?” He said. The gears in your head started to turn; the guy had a point. Why had you trusted him of all people? You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “fucking christ Soap.” You muttered, primarily to yourself.

The steaming whistle of the kettle broke your train of thought, and your head snapped in its direction. You looked from the boiling kettle to the mug in your hand, a sigh exiting your chest. You held out the mug to him, “Here. It's yours, I'll get another one.”

Price looked surprised for a beat before his face went neutral again. He shook his head, pushing the mug back towards you. “No need; I've already got this one.” He grunted, nodding to the plain white mug sitting on his side of the counter. Before you could protest, he grabbed the kettle, pouring the hot water into his mug. Your nose scrunched as the aroma of instant coffee hit you.

He raised an eyebrow at your visceral reaction, “Not a fan of coffee now, are we?”

You cleared your throat, looking away from the blackening devil concoction. “I like coffee-” You clarified, “-just not that instant crap; it tastes like sewer water.” The curve of his lip twitched into a half-amused smile. Bringing the mug to his lips and taking a hearty sip, “noted.” Price hummed. You reached out to grab the kettle, but he handed it over to you before you could.

You raised your eyebrow; this was the closest thing you'd ever had to a friendly conversation with your Captain. You skeptically took it, breathing a ‘thanks’ to him. A comfortable silence fell on the both of you; Price could drink his coffee while you waited for your tea to brew.

Your eyes seemed to pull towards his direction as you waited, observing the curve of his lips, his nose that was just a bit crooked, and the coarse hair of his beard that thinned into stubble the further down his neck it went. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed his drink and how his large hand seemed to make the mug seem small. He somehow pulled off looking like he hadn't slept in weeks, which ticked you off somewhat.

He shot you a sideways glance, “You're staring.” Price said flatly; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I was…zoning out. And for the record, I was looking at the-uh wall behind you.” You cringed at yourself; the long pauses and uhs weren't adding to your credibility.

Price gave you a funny look, turning to look at the refrigerator behind him, which was most definitely not a wall. He turned back to you, “The wall you said?”

Well, shit, thanks, captain obvious. You frowned, giving up, “It doesn't matter-” you huffed, “Point is, I was zoned out.”

That answer seemed to satisfy him or at least force him to drop the subject; Price shrugged and took another sip from his mug. “Let's hope you don't make a habit out of it. Wouldn't want to add that to the other list of…qualities you have.” Here we go again. You raised an eyebrow, the edge in his tone all too familiar. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Which are?”

Price cleared his throat, gesturing his mug to you and your tea. “Theavory, for one.” Well, he got you there. You blew out air from your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you'd let him pull from you.

“Funny.” You said sarcastically.

A small smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah, well, just trying to lighten the mood between us.”

There was a pause.

The way he said ‘between us’ didn't sit right with you; what he said had undertones of bitterness, almost similar to the layers of an onion. Now, was it possible that you were reading too much into this? Yes. Was it also a tone-deaf thing to say, considering he was the primary reason you two didn't like each other in the first place? Also yes.

Don't bite the bait; don't bite the bait, “The mood you created?” You bit the bait.

He glanced at you, one of his eyebrows arching. For a second, it was silent, like he was mulling over whether it was worth it to engage. Price sighed, setting his drink down. “Look… [Name], if this is about that time when we first met, I was in a bad mood. I wasn't trying to be harsh; I'd just had a shit day. Nothing personal on you.” He craned his neck to the side, sliding a hand over his nape.

You crossed your arms. “You could've apologized,” you pointed out. Price paused, staring at you quizzically, “Why would I need to apologize?”

You almost gaped at him; his ego seemed to know no bounds. If it wasn't so irritating, it might have been comical, “You called my job a ‘precaution,’ and me, a ‘human blockade-’” You deadpanned, “-I don't like when someone downplays my whole career.” Price just stared at you blankly, his face morphing into more confusion.

“But you are a precaution.” He said, “That's the whole reason why Laswell put you here.” It was like he was explaining something to a child.

You huffed, “Captain. With all due respect, I'm a part of this team whether we like it or not. I don't want to be treated like an outsider- everyone else here seems to treat me like I belong here so why don't you? What's not to trust?” You questioned, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pressed into a not-so-subtle frown.

“You don't belong here, though,” Price said frostily. “You're here for a year [Name], no more, no less. You belong to a different task force, so excuse me if I treat you as such.”

You stood there, stunned for a moment. A familiar feeling of resentment bubbling up inside you like the electric tea kettle. Your hands squeezed the ceramic of your mug, “Just because I'm not here to stay doesn't mean I'm any less committed to my job. I work my ass off every day to show you that I belong here. I just don’t understand why you’re too stubborn to even see that.” You huffed.

Price pursed his lips into a tight line, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer. “I don't have time to micro-manage everything you do. That's not stubborn; it's having other responsibilities besides making you feel included.”

Well, if he hadn't made you feel like a toddler before, he definitely was now. “Well, that's funny because you seem to do a perfectly good job at micromanaging everything I do despite your ‘lack of free time.’ And- I’m not asking you to make me feel included; I’m not an infant. I’m asking you to treat me with the same respect you treat everyone else with.” You hissed.

It didn’t surprise you how quickly the polite interaction with him turned into another bitter argument. When it came to Price, emotions ran high. Higher than you would like to admit.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a child, I would respect you more.” He bit back, and you groaned, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I’m not though- I’m clearly telling you the problem between us. But since you have this…this grudge against me you won’t even listen to me.” You huffed.

Price shot you a look that said, ' I'm winning this argument, and there is nothing you can say to stop that.’ 

Internally, you wondered if getting dishonorably discharged was worth throwing hot tea into your captain's stupid face. Instead, you decided to look away, setting your mug on the counter with a sharp ‘clank.’ “Fine then, don't listen to me. That works, too.” You breathed through your teeth.

Price downed the rest of his coffee, throwing his head back and then setting his mug upside down in the small sink. He turned his whole body to you, crossing his arms. His blue eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows pinched together in scrutiny. “You want me to listen? Go ahead. Say what you want; I'm all ears.”

Your voice died in your throat. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you didn't put up much of a fight against him, especially not with his ‘I'm the Captain, and you are one word away from cleaning toilets’ voice.

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, and the silence between you hung dangerously quiet for another moment. “Nothing, Captain.” You said through your teeth.

Price nodded, his eyes drilling holes into you, “That's what I thought. Now, it better stay that way for the duration of the next week or so help me; I will take away every privilege you have.” With that, he promptly turned on his heel and stormed out. Leaving you, a seething statue.

You looked down at his mug, still held tightly in your hand. You glared at the painted fish, “Fuck you.” You whispered to the watercolor salmon. Your frown deepened, substantially disappointed that whispering ‘fuck you’ to your Captain's mug didn't carry the same satisfaction you'd feel if you said it straight to his face.

Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Scratch that. Arguing with Price was worse than arguing a brick wall, a brick wall wouldn't intimidate you and then storm off.

You didn't feel like finishing your tea anymore. You grit your teeth together, dumping the liquid into the sink and watching as it slides down the drain. You had a few days before the mission, and you were going to make sure that you didn't fuck anything up. Lest you suffer the wrath of Price and your own self-doubt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Shit!”

Your head snapped toward the voice, even with the night vision gear you had everything was difficult to identify. It was safe to say you weren't a fan.

It had been 72 hours since you landed in Urzikstan, and 4 hours since you left the checkpoint base. If you had to guess, it was most likely around 0300 standard military time. Which meant you and the rest of 141 only had another two hours before you had to evacuate and hop on the trucks back to the checkpoint.

Your orders were simple enough, break into the compound and locate the underground terror group that was allegedly creating a bio-warfare laboratory. While it wasn't concreated information British and American SAS couldn't risk not sending a team to see if the tip was accurate. Being the genuine pigs of the situation didn't sit right with you but you weren't employed for your opinion on what the government chose to do and not do.

Still, being sent on a wild goose chase or worse into a trap made you more on edge. Everyone had paired up in case this was a setup and because the universe could never let you win you were grouped with Price. Which brought you back to the present moment.

“Price whats going on? talk to me.” You said in response to his curse. Trying to keep your voice as low as you could while still being audible. You weren't an expert but typically someone hissing ‘shit!’ wasn't a good sign.

In the split second before he could respond you heard the click. Along with the sound of Price’s footsteps trying to get out of the way, then came the sharp boom of a gun being fired. Only after the sound had left the barrel of the gun did you see it. The building wasn't finished, half of the construction was halted, leaving rooms unfinished, walk-offs, and random piles of rubble. Hidden behind a cement pillar a floor above, looking down at you was a person. More importantly a person behind a giant ass gun.

Shit!

You immediately threw yourself out of the way, ducking yourself behind a large amount of rubble. Your eyes scanned for Price in the darkness, frantically making sense of the objects around you. Another fire. Followed by another one. You didn't have time to look for Price. You turned your body, shielded by the debris, and pointed your gun up. It didn't take long before you locked onto the figure, you drew your breath in and pulled the trigger. The firing stopped.

You peered up over the rubble just in time to see the limp body flop over the drop-off and slam into the concrete. You were met with a deafening silence, “Price you copy?”

After a moment you heard someone move, “Yeah-” Your shoulders dropped, a breath you didn't realize you were holding escaped. You never thought hearing that deep British voice would ever make you this relieved. “Yeah, I copy.” He breathed. You stood, carefully making your way over to the corpse of your attacker. Looking down at the body, their face hidden by a cloth and glazed-over eyes looking up at the ceiling.

You grimaced, it was like looking at a dead fish. You looked up, nobody else was above. The only thing remaining was the unaccompanied sniper.

“This guy was alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing. “And his aim was shit.” You deadpanned. Your head turned, expecting to meet Price. But were only greeted by an empty space, “Price?” You asked looking around.

“Over here.” He gruffed, you turned around. Price was standing next to a wall, his palm flat against its surface. It was like he was leaning against it, your eyes narrowed. His left leg was slightly raised off the ground, something wasn't right.

You jogged over to him, “What's the matter?” you asked, because of the night vision goggles coupled with the amount of gear he was wearing you couldn't see his face well. However, you didn't miss the way his jaw flexed. Before he could respond you pinpointed the issue. The leg that was raised had a small bullet-sized hole in his boot.

“Shit.” You breathed.

This really wasn't what you needed. You and Price had to be out of the compound in the next hour and a half, being shot in the foot was a major problem. At least it wasn't an organ, you thought. “Can you still walk?” You asked.

Price put his foot on the ground, putting his weight on it. You cringed as he let out a quiet hiss, “Yeah just fuckin’ hurts like hell.” He took a step, he was limping but he could walk. Which was a small win for both of you. Just as you opened your mouth someone spoke in your ear piece.

“[Name], Price, you copy? We heard shots.” The voice was grave, deep, with a thick British accent. Ghost.

Price answered, “We’re fine. Bastard with a sniper nicked my foot. Did any of you find the lab yet?” He said through clenched teeth, despite your dislike of your captain you felt a little guilty. If you'd seen the shooter before Price would probably be fine.

“We just found it, nobody’s here. S’a fuckin’ ghost town… no pun intended.” Ghost’s staticky voice rang in your ear, if you were in a better situation you might have laughed. Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned.

“That makes no sense.” You chimed in, “If this guy was here there should be more people. It doesn't make sense for only one person to be set up here.” You looked at Price. His head was already turned to look at you. It was a beat before anyone spoke again.

“Price.” A raspy Scottish accent this time. Soap. “The labs empty, no inventory at all. Everything is sterile.” You felt your throat run dry, the silence on the radio spoke louder than anything you or anyone else could say. Either they evacuated before the team had gotten there or the whole building was a ruse.

You looked back at the corpse lying a few feet away from you and Price. “They knew we were coming.” You breathed. The weight of your words seemed to carry for miles, but the implications might have been worse. You looked at Price, the same thoughts you had probably already running through his head. “We need to fucking leave, right now.”

Price gave a small nod, “Everyone get out. Gaz, call for emergency evac now. Leave the same way we came do not under any circumstances go further into this building.” Price demanded. Which was followed by a series of ‘copies.’ You started for the way you entered, just as you reached the empty doorframe you heard a grunt behind you. You looked back, fuck. You forgot Price was hurt, fuck, fuck, fuck. He could walk but there was no way he could run with his foot.

You doubled back, and as you ran to him Price raised his hands. Almost in protest, “I can keep up, I'm not immobile.” He exhaled, and you shot him an unimpressed look. The situation was bad enough, you weren't going to deal with this. You couldn't waste time and walking on a bad foot would only worsen it for Price in the long run.

You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, one arm grabbed the back of his vest, holding his side up so his injured foot didn't hit the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable but it worked.

Price opened his mouth but you spoke before he could get a word in. “You can't keep up and you know it. Whatever problems we have don't matter right now, we've got to get out of here. God knows what the people who were here before us did to this place. But we don't have time to think about that-” Your eyes met his, the red hue of the night vision goggles making his navy eyes seem black. “-I’d much rather keep you alive but I would gladly die with you than have it be my fault that you die. So shut the fuck up and move.”

That seemed to do the trick because Price did in fact, shut the fuck up. You quickly exited with Price. It wasn't as fast as you would've liked to leave but it was the best you could do with a six-foot tank of a man leaning against you.

A few minutes later you and Price successfully made it out. The rest of the team was already waiting a ways away from the building, you let out a relieved sigh. Just being out of the compound seemed to lift a weight off your chest and calm your racing heart. Price seemed to feel the same way judging by his taunt muscles relaxing slightly.

You made your way over to the team, Ghost was the first to notice you. He did a slight double-take as he saw Price, “Thought you said the bloke nicked you?” He commented, you gently released Price letting him lean against the outside wall of an abandoned house.

Price grunted, “Yeah well he nicked me good.” He said back, Ghost nodded. Soap and Gaz peered at the bloody hole in his boot, “That’s gonna be a pain to heal I’ll tell you that.” Soap commented, and Gaz nodded along. “No kidding.”

Price’s frown deepened, and he let out a breath. “Gaz how long till evac trucks pick us up?” Gaz looked out at the open area then looked back, “I’d say twenty minutes give or take.” That answer seemed to give Price a little peace.

A few minutes had gone by, and Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were all talking with you while Price leaned against the wall silently. You glanced at your Captain, gingerly making your way over you leaned against the wall a few inches away from him. You didn't know what to say if you should say anything for that matter. Making conversation with Price wasn't your strong suit, but you felt bad.

“So…you okay?” You asked dumbly, Price gave you a look that made you want to go right back to the others. He was silent for a beat before speaking. “I got shot in the foot [Name], you tell me.” He deadpanned.

You swallowed, nodding. Asshole. No matter, you decided to take it in stride, “Right.” You breathed, “I just… wanted to check.” On second thought maybe you really should leave, it was like you were communicating with an alien. And after your last argument with Price, you walked on eggshells whenever you were around him.

The stretch of silence between the two of you lasted longer than you would've liked. But after a moment Price cleared his throat and nodded, “Thank you.” He said.

You did a bit of a double-take, thank you? Price never thanked you. It was like he was allergic to congratulating or acknowledging you in any form that wasn't to reprimand you. You must've looked as confused as you felt by the way he glanced at you and then went on. “For helping me out of there, you were prepared for the worst back there and you still had my back. I appreciate that-”

“-you uh, you did good.” He clarified.

Your mouth was probably hanging open at this point, ‘you did good.’ The words hung in the air around you, filling your ears with cotton. Price your captain, Price your mortal enemy had praised you. He gave you a sideways glance, “Don't look so shocked [Name], you're still on thin ice.”

Ah, there it was, your shoulders slumped. It was better than nothing though, “Right, uhm thank you.” You said a bit awkwardly, Price gave you a small nod in return. It wasn't much, but it was acknowledgment.

After some time passed by you and the rest of 141 loaded into the trucks, starting the long drive to the checkpoint base. You tried to lean your head back and get just a little bit of rest, but after thirty minutes of failing to do so, you gave up. There was just too much in your head, too many unanswered questions. You thought about the man you'd killed, why was he there? What was the use of evacuating a building if you just left a single sniper with terrible aim lying in wait for someone to come looking around?

Did that mean they didn't know 141 specifically was coming? The question that worried you the most was the fact that if they did plan for you to raid the lab, who on the inside was feeding these people your team's operations? You shuddered. It was bad enough that commanding officer Shepard went rogue a few months prior. The SAS really didn't need another mole. Especially considering the amount of enemies the American and British military had made.

Your shoulders slumped, it didn’t really matter, what mattered was that everyone made it out. You didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the previous occupants had left explosives inside the building. It was better to just be thankful that nothing happened.

Your first operation with 141 had been a bust, but considering the circumstances you thought it went as well as it could’ve. Not counting Price’s foot.

Subconsciously your eyes drifted over to Price, his boot had been taken off and his foot was wrapped in white garb. Just until someone could look at it properly, everyone had taken their night visions and helmets off to get some shut-eye. Your gaze drifted up until they met his face, navy eyes met yours. You froze, you hadn't realized Price was awake. The two of you didn't break eye contact for a minute, almost like a challenge of who would be the first to look away.

“You make a habit of staring at people or is it just me?” He deadpanned. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, he could never let you catch a break, could he?

“I wasn't staring, and you were looking at me too.” You defended, it didn't matter if you were staring, he wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you confess that. One of his thick eyebrows raised, “I glanced at you. There's a difference, you just happened to look up at the same time.” He said back, calm as ever.

You half rolled your eyes, he could word it however he wanted to, but in the end, it was pretty much the same thing. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” You hummed, matching his nonchalance. Your gaze dropped back down to his bandaged foot, “How’s the foot?” You asked, hoping he wouldn't catch you changing the subject.

Price grunted, his head lulling back onto the seat. You shot a glance at his adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down before averting your eyes. “Feels like I got shot in the foot, so…not great. It's better than an organ so I won't complain that much.” He breathed.

You nodded, “You ever been shot before?” you asked, what could you say? You were curious. He nodded, clearing his throat he cast his head down to look at his chest. One of his hands pulled up his bullet vest and shirt revealing the beginnings of his abdomen, right above his hip bone there was a small scar. “Two years ago, caught me while I was down. Took forever to heal, fuckin’ hurt like hell too.”

You zeroed in on the exposed skin, it was all muscle, no surprises there. The man was built like a 4x6 brick, his skin was shiny with sweat, and from what you could see his bullet scar wasn't the only one that littered his skin. Just below the dipped fabric of his shirt was the start of a happy trail. You swallowed.

What the fuck was wrong with you? A few days ago you were plotting how you could murder him and now you're ogling a sliver of his stomach like a horny teen girl.

You absolutely did not find a single part of your boss attractive. Forget your first interaction with him when you were practically gaping over him like a fish. That didn't count. This was Price you were talking about. Sure, he was conventionally attractive with just the right amount of ruggish charm to make him mysterious. And yeah, he was built like a tank, so what? And you couldn't forget about his stupid fucking British accent, who the hell was into British accents anyways? (You were. Embarrassingly so.)

Price looked up at you, the silence making you raise an eyebrow. “See something you like aye?” He said, amusement dripping from his voice. Your eyes immediately snapped back to his face, embarrassment churning away at your insides.

“You wish,” You said back. So maybe you found some parts of your Captain hot, that didn't matter. In the end, it was still Price. And the flames of hatred don't die out just because one's enemy is a little (a lot) attractive.

Price breathed out what sounded like a laugh, he dropped the shirt. “Keep telling yourself that [Name].” Your fists squeezed together as he threw your words back at you.

You glared at him, “You're so full of it you know that?” You breathed, which only seemed to pique his interest further. You were glad the rest of the team was either sleeping or so used to your fighting that at this point they tuned you out. Jumping off a cliff seemed nice in comparison to the ruthless teasing that Soap and Ghost would enact if they found out you'd been caught ogling Price.

“Didn't realize this would strike a nerve, any particular reason why?” He said, you grimaced. You could almost taste the smugness from his tongue like syrup, “It didn't.” You said through your teeth, “Then again, egotistical men are a pain to be around. Especially ones that think everyone around them wants them.” You grumbled.

Your words seemed to have the opposite effect, Price straightened. A small tug at his lip made you want to slap that smirk right off. “I never said you wanted me, but liars always do have a way of telling on themselves don't they?” He grinned.

Something flashed in his eyes, you didn't have time to see what it was. But right now, all your willpower was devoted to not picking up your gun and giving him a matching hole in his right foot. “I think I'd rather shoot myself than be anything but professional with you.” You said frostily.

Price hummed, the smirk never leaving his face and he leaned back. “Glad the feeling is mutual.” He spoke calmly.

Your eye twitched, he was pulling that card now. Reverse physiology or whatever it was, the ‘I don't have to want you but you have to want me.’ Well too bad you didn't care, you couldn't care less. If Price didn't want you that was great-better even.

“Yeah,” You huffed, “Super glad.” You turned your head away so you didn't have to look in his direction. Maybe you should've left him in that building, it was a tempting thought. The rest of the drive back to the checkpoint was spent in silence.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The base felt dreary, everyone was still in a funk from the previous night. Everything felt just a bit more surreal, nobody was talking about what happened either. Not that there really was anything to discuss.

The checkpoint base wasn't as nice as your previous base. It wasn't even a full building, there were a few small ones but those were mostly used to store weapons. Everything else was industrial-sized tents, making privacy a luxury. It didn't even have a proper barracks, just a large tent with several stretcher-like beds placed in rows. To be completely honest the entire thing was a pile of shit. But it was a roof over your head so there was that.

You sat at a bench in the ‘commons,’ a poor excuse for food sitting in front of you. Gaz sat next to you while Ghost and Jhonny sat across from you. They all had similar grimaces plastered on their faces as they ate their protein paste.

“If I have to eat this shite for another day I'm going to go into that food storage room and light the thing up. They got us eating like dogs.” Ghost said after draining the last of his rations. You half-heartedly agreed, humming a sound of approval that was accompanied by Gaz’s small chuckle.

Soap grinned, “Don't get yer panties in a twist just yet L.T, heard they're serving dessert paste too. Courtesy of Price’s injury.”

You shivered, it sounded just as bad if not worse. Then a thought popped up, you looked around the common space. “Hey, you guys seen Price? Isn't he eating?” You hadn't seen him for almost the entire day, which was a blessing for you but it did strike you as odd when normally you couldn't get rid of him.

Gaz shrugged, “He was in the medical tent last time I saw him. The guy was getting his foot looked at, he’ll probably show up soon.”

Ghost turned his head to face you, while it was a little hard to tell with his balaclava, one of his eyebrows raised. “Awful concerned about Price aren't you? Thought you hated the man.” Your lips curled into an exasperated frown.

“I'm not. And I do hate him. I was just curious.” You brushed him off, trying to avoid his stony gaze. Soap and Gaz exchanged looks that made your eyebrows furrow.

Gaz looked at you, “What about the other day when you helped him out of the building?” Soap was next to chime in, “Or that you use his mug all the time and he lets you?”

You shot Gaz a glare, “First, he's still my Captain I'm not going to leave him in a building where I think he's going to die.” Then you directed a similar glare at Soap, “Second, I didn't know it was his mug because you tricked me into thinking the mugs were communal.” You said through your teeth.

Ghost smirked, “Sounds like you care.”

Your hands gripped the table with unnecessary force. “I do not.” You defended, the looks exchanged between them made you want to crawl into a hole. Suddenly you weren't as inclined to finish your meal. You stood, grabbing your tray of half-eaten food and trash. “I'm not hungry anymore.” You said dryly.

Soap laughed, faking a disappointed frown. “Come on lass we were just getting started with ya. Where's the fun in leaving before the real jokes start?” You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the bench and walking towards the trash.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” you replied as you dumped the remanence of your ‘lunch’ in the trash. Just as you were exiting the tent Soap's voice called out to you.

“Oh, if you see the old fart, tell him his dessert paste is waiting for him!” That earned an amused tug at the corner of your lips, shaking your head in exasperation as you pushed past the floppy tent entrance.

You didn't even make it a foot outside before your momentum was halted by a larger mass. Your face met something hard, but also somehow soft at the same time. You stumbled back, gaining back your balance from the force of running into something. Or more specifically, someone. You looked up in dismay to see what kind of idiot ran into you.

It was Price, because of fucking course it was.

But it was Price with the addition of a single crutch and a newly wrapped foot. Your eyes slowly crept up to his face, the mortifying reality that you slammed right into his chest setting in. What’s worse was that the previous conversation with the guys was still very fresh in your mind.

‘Sounds like you do care,’ Ghost’s words echoed in your mind, haunting you like a…well a ghost. Ironic.

“Do you mind?” Price's words snapped you out of your trance. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was silent for a moment before your vocal cords decided to actually comply and let you speak.

“You ran into me.” You said lamely, the tips of your ears felt hot. Like lava was slowly being poured onto your head. Price’s eyebrows furrowed, his navy eyes studying you. Even on one crutch, he seemed to tower over you in a way that made you antsy.

“Why are you red?” He asked, the question caught you off guard. Making you falter for a second time, “I-What?”

Price’s eyes narrowed a bit, a finger pointed directly at you. “Your face. It's red,” It wasn't a jab, more like he was observing a simple fact. Suddenly you became hyper-aware of the heat spreading across your face. You touched your cheek, and the pads of your fingers burned at the touch.

Oh my god.

Your face was hot, it was flushed. You were blushing. Blushing. In front of Price.

You swallowed, feeling a bob in your throat. It was like you were in one of those dreams where you showed up to school naked. “I'm allergic-” You blurted out.

A beat of silence ensued, and Price raised a single brow. “Allergic?” He said, to which you responded with a hard nod. Think, think- what was a believable lie? “Yes… to the dessert paste.”

Price didn't look skeptical now, he just looked downright confused. “What the hell is dessert paste?” He questioned, while a good question, you didn't want to stand around to explain it to him while your face looked like the cover of a period ad. You shook your head, steering around him like a robot.

“Ask soap.” You said as you made your escape, “I'm going to the med tent so I don't go into anaphylactic shock.”

That was a lie, you were going to the bathroom to rethink your career and splash cold water on your face. Leaving Price a standing statue, a perplexed look on his face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A pack of 8 beers was slammed down onto the small table in front of where you were sitting. The bottles lightly clanked together, you looked up. “What’s this?” You asked, Soap stood in front of you with a confident grin.

“This is how we’re going to make it through our last 10 hours in this shit hole.” He proclaimed, his hands on his hips.

It was late, everyone but Price was in the sleeping tent. True to Soap’s words, in 10 hours you and the rest of 141 were finally going to load up into the heli and return to the original base. Thank goodness too, you didn't think you could stomach another meal here. Ghost looked over from his cott, “The hell did you get that from?”

Soap waved him off, smoothing over his poor example of a mohawk. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” He fished into his pant pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, grabbing one of the bottles he flicked the cap off with a soft pop’ “Since it is our last night, why not celebrate?” He went on.

You eyed the pack suspiciously, if it came from here it was probably shit beer. But it was still something, you shrugged. You reached for one, “I'll take what I can get.” You sighed.

Grabbing a bottle you snatched Soap’s knife to knock off the cap. Throwing your head back as you took a generous swig, it burned down your throat. The pungent flavor making your nose scrunch and your mouth curl. Soap did the same, smacking his lips as he swallowed. “Well…It could be worse.” He muttered.

Ghost and Gaz followed suit, walking over to your space and grabbing two bottles. After some time had passed the four of you had settled into a sort of circle, you were two beers in and things were already getting fuzzy. You didn't normally drink, mostly because you were a lightweight. But when you did drink, you got drunk. You were tipping your head back with laughter at every story, the warmth in your stomach making the tent somehow feel cozy.

Soap reached for his third bottle but Gaz swatted his hand away, “Leave some for Price Jhonny.” He scolded, Soap simply rolled his eyes and groaned. “The old man won't care, he only drinks at those shitty pubs. He's a stickler bout not drinkin’ on base, something about ‘not mixing business with pleasure’” He mocked, doing in your opinion, a decent Price impression. You chucked.

“I don't think Price takes ‘pleasure’ in anything, he's such a stick up the ass he wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the face.” You breathed, and while not the most articulate thing to say, your tongue and thoughts were loose enough that you didn't care.

Ghost’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk, “For someone who hates Price, you sure do love to talk about him any chance someone brings him up.” He said smugly, earning snickers from both Soap and Gaz.

“Oh fuck off will you?” You grumbled to Ghost, this whole teasing you about Price thing was getting old fast. “I say one thing and you guys act like I have some schoolgirl crush on him.”

Soap grinned, “You said it lass, not us.” He coughed abruptly when you smacked him in the stomach, making him lean forward to catch his breath. You glanced at Ghost who’s hands were now raised in surrender.

“Come off it [Name], we’re just teasing, you're not doing yourself any favors by acting with him the way you do.” He commented, which only confused you. All you did was argue with him, where was there room for speculation? The look on your face must've told them everything they needed to know.

“What do I do that gives off that impression even remotely?” You said defensively, they all exchanged looks.

Soap spoke up, “It's not just you bonnie, Price acts differently around you too. It just gives off a certain impression. Some people just take it the wrong way.” There was an underlying uncomfortableness to his words that you didn't miss. And who were ‘some people??’

Ghost smacked him upside the head, earning a startled grunt. “Fuckin’ twat, Soap doesn't know what he's saying.” Ghost said facing you. “He's already tipsy, don't take what he's saying to heart.” Soap was holding his head, shooting a glare at the lieutenant.

You shook your head, not ready to let it go. “No, who's some people? And what did you mean when you said ‘taking it the wrong way?’” Your eyes narrowed in on all three of them, waiting for someone to speak first. Gaz looked away, immediately giving him away as the weakest link. “Gaz what's he talking about?” You asked firmly.

He tensed up, glancing at Ghost and then back to you. “It's really nothing, it's just a silly rumor.” Ghost shot him a firm look, “Kyle-” He warned.

A rumor? What the hell was there to talk about? The last time you'd heard of a rumor going around about yourself was in high school, it wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least. Your lips pursed into a tight line, something about how secretive they were being set you off. “What rumor?” You said, after a minute of silence, you slowly got more frustrated. “If it's about me I deserve to know.”

Ghost didn't speak, neither did Gaz, but Soap did. He blew out a sigh, glancing back at Ghost who was maintaining strict eye contact with you. “There is a bit of a widespread rumor back at base that you've been shaggin’ the boss. People started calling you Captain’s Girl.”

The pit of your stomach dropped.

You felt dizzy, looking between the three of them. Waiting for one of them to break, to smile and say ‘got you!’ but it never came. “You're joking right?” You said, laughing nervously, the longer the silence the more nauseous you became.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes hard but his demeanor a bit solemn. “We didn't want you to know for obvious reasons. Thought it would make things worse between the two of ya’ and it was just too far.” You swallowed, this was a joke. This was a joke and they were just teasing. When nobody spoke after the reality set in.

Of course, this would happen to you, you worked your ass off just to be respected in a field dominated by men. You were asked to be a part of 141. But all people saw was a slut who worked her way up the ladder by playing Miss ‘Hard to Get.’

“We tried to stop it as best we could trust us, it's just a little hard to keep quiet when word spreads fast,” Gaz interjected, his eyebrows scrunched in…guilt? Second-hand embarrassment? Sadness? You couldn't tell.

You sat there in silence, processing everything. “But- but I'm not. I'm not sleeping with him.” You sputtered.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder, “We know you ain't. You don't need to listen to those people anyways, it's just barrack talk, people needing a story to make their lives more interesting.” A well of emotions started to flood your senses, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the gravity of the situation hitting you.

Captain’s girl.

What. The. Fuck.

This was Price’s fault. It had to have been, Soap said he was acting weird. Maybe this was all his elaborate plan to destroy your career and kick you off 141 for fraternization. It had to have been him, right? You weren't thinking as clearly as you would have liked considering you were borderline drunk, but that didn't matter. You shot up from where you were sitting, making Soap jump.

Stumbling you started to make a beeline for the entrance, Gaz also got up and followed you, much to your chagrin. “[Name]? Where are you going??” He called after you.

“To find Price!” (And kill him.) You shouted back angrily, storming outside before Gaz had the chance to stop you. Obviously, you didn't think this through enough because it was pitch dark outside. And Price was nowhere in sight, fuck.

Whatever, you could search this place for hours if you had to. He was bound to pop up somewhere, like how the tide is drawn to the moon you and Price always had a way of being pulled into each other. You stormed through the dark, almost tripping on your own feet once or twice in the process.

You'd been there long enough that you could tell what area was what. Even in the pitch-black cloak of the dark, you could feel your heartbeat in your head. It was like your body was pulsing with the rhythm of your anger. Just as you were about to start shouting his name a light caught your eye. You swiveled your neck so fast it burned the muscles in your nape. Low and behold it was Price walking out of the medical tent with his single crutch.

He stopped when he noticed you, his face a mix of confusion. “What are you doing? I thought I told you guys not to go outside after lights out?”

You felt every emotion rush back to you at the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, the fucking absurdity of the whole situation. Your hands clenched into fists, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I thought you sucked before but I underestimated how much of a jackass you could be!”

Price stood there like a deer caught in headlights, so baffled he couldn't even speak. “Excuse me?”

You marched straight up to him, “You heard me. Apparently making my life a living hell wasn't enough for you was it? You sadistic fuck. Do you get off on torturing me? Is that it?” You spat. The heat in your face rising with each word.

He didn't say anything, his navy eyes looking at you like you belonged in an insane asylum. After a minute of silence, he breathed, “[Name]. Realistically I should be laying into you right now and giving you every single punishment there is for the rest of your stay here for cursing me out after lights out with no provocation on my end. But, I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you're acting like a screaming banshee before I send your ass straight to the bins.”

His words only ticked you off further, well two could play dumb. “You know exactly why I'm angry! No provocation is such bullshit. You- You just think I'm so stupid don't you?!” You were stumbling, your mouth felt heavy. It was like your mind was moving faster than your body could keep up with.

“Are you drunk?” He asked incredulously. You shook your head, “No! I mean yes I had a few drinks but I'm not drunk. Stop deflecting-” You rambled on.

His eyes turned to narrow slits, “I don't even know what I'm deflecting- you can't just start making a scene and expect me to know why you're angry. I'm not a mind reader.” He groaned.

“The name! The rumor- whatever you call it. You spread a rumor about me to the entire base that I'm sleeping with you! People are calling me your girl! The guys told me, everyone thinks I'm some slut because of you!” Everything in your body was burning, it felt good to finally yell at him but the words hit you hard.

You were labeled as the slut. No matter what you did there was always going to be a man overshadowing you just because of a preemptive notion that you were weaker. Something you'd spent your life fighting was now your reality.

Price’s eyes went wide, he almost resembled a wooden board. For a moment his eyes softened, like he was taking pity on you. “That's what this is about.” He breathed, “Look, I’m just as upset about that rumor and the name as you are. I don't know who started it but I can give you my word it wasn't me. You can ask any one of the guys and they will tell you the same thing.”

You started to speak but he raised a hand to stop you, “-I know it's not fair. But the damage has already been done, the thing about rumors is that they pass. And nobody thinks you're a slut. You're just as capable as anyone else on this team.” He said calmly.

It was silent for a moment. You didn't really know what to do or what to believe. All you had to go on was his word, which wouldn't normally hold much weight but something about him seemed so genuine. “I- how do I know you're not lying to my face? You hate me. And I’m just supposed to believe a random person made this rumor up when you've been trying to kick me off the team from the start.”

Price halted for a moment, his face reflecting a series of conflicting emotions. “I don't hate you, and I am not trying to kick you off.”

“Well, it sure as hell doesn't seem that way, even Soap said you act differently around me. I don't understand why you fucking hate me so much when almost all I ever do is try and suck up to you!” You shouted, your voice slightly slurring with how fast the words escaped your lips.

A vein bulged in Price’s temple, his jaw working with his growing temperament. “I don't know how often we have to go through this same conversation before you get it through your thick head. I don't hate you, I'm hard on you. There's a difference.”

“Well, that's not what it looks like to me. Especially not to the mystery person who just conjured a rumor that we’re sleeping together out of thin air.” You seethed, until now you'd been standing a few feet away from him. But somehow, amid the argument, you found yourself now uncomfortably close.

Price scowled down at you, “What do you want me to say to you?! That I'm sorry I also got caught up in some dumb rumor. That I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt because I was a little harsh.”

Your mind was telling you to communicate your feelings like a normal person. The alcohol and your heart told you your fist connecting with his face was the better option. And right now, your heart (plus the alcohol) was winning.

“I want you to fucking show me you don't hate me! You can say all you want that I'm just being dramatic but there's obviously a reason why I think you hate me.” You fired back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours. A scowl on Price’s lips and his eyebrows pinched together, there was something about the heat of the moment that made you more on edge. You were hyperaware of everything around you, most importantly you were hyperaware of your proximity to him. The night air was cold but you were on fire.

“You want me to show you? Fine.” He grit out, and before you had time to react he was on you.

His hand was on your neck, thick and warm. Pulling you close so that his lips captured yours in what you could only describe as ‘a hungry kiss.’ The coarse hair of his beard tickled your skin and before you even knew what you were doing, you started kissing him back.

Fuck. He tasted like smoke and whiskey, a woody smell clung to him like sap. Greedily your hands pulled at him, your fingers bunching the cotton of his shirt like he'd disappear. You'd kissed men before but never in your life had anyone kissed you like this. The kiss was hot, desperate, almost angry. His tongue slid along yours, you felt the drag of his teeth nip at your bottom lip and his throaty groan when you only pulled him closer.

You couldn't remember why he was kissing you, or why you started kissing him back. You didn't know why you were so angry, nor did you pay mind to the chance that anyone could walk outside and see the two of you.

You heard his crutch absentmindedly fall to the ground, clattering against the hard dirt. Price's other hand snaked to the back of your head, curling his thick digits into the locks of your hair. His nose brushed against yours, he felt so warm. Asshole or not this man knew how to kiss.

“[Name]!”

Gaz’s voice broke you out of the trance you seemed to have been under. Immediately you and Price tore apart, your heart jackhammered in your ribcage. You looked at Price, he looked at you.

His blue eyes were blown wide, his lips parted and shiny with the reminisce of your spit. A reddish tinge colored his ears and cheeks. He looked horrified.

You didn't fair much better. You probably looked like a gaping fish. You'd just kissed Price. Price had kissed you. You two had been kissing. Holy shit.

Footsteps snapped your attention away from him, Gaz ran to meet you. His breath heavy like he’d been running around for a good amount of time. “[Name] Price didn’t start the rumor- you left before I could tell you. I-” He stopped, his eyes darting between both you and Price. You probably looked as guilty as you felt. “I…uhm I guess you two worked it out?”

There was an awkward silence before anyone spoke, Price cleared his throat, quickly wiping his lips. “She’s aware… You two go back to the tent, it’s late. We leave early tomorrow so get a good sleep.”

You were still in shock, could you even move your limbs? Another silence hovered over the three of you like a looming dust cloud. Gaz awkwardly shuffled to you, patting your shoulder as if to say ‘party's over, let’s go.’ He nodded at Price, “Right, see you in the morning Cap.”

Before you knew it, your legs were moving as Gaz led you back to the tent. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You alright?” He said hesitantly. You didn't know what to say to him, you didn't even know what you were feeling. And you doubted saying, ‘Honestly I don't know because two seconds ago Price's tongue was down my throat and I can't tell if I'm turned on or horrified,’ was appropriate.

So, you settled for a simple: “I’m fine.” Gaz gave you a skeptical look, but he chose not to comment on it. Once you got back to the tent Soap and Ghost had already started to get into their respective cots. Soap gave you a funny look over his shoulder, “What happened to you? You look shell-shocked.” He laughed.

You didn't even have the energy to respond, giving him a disgruntled grimace in return. You fell into your cot, burying your face into the thick sleeping bag. Your cheeks burned, and the taste of Price still lingered on your lips.

Apart of you wished that you were blackout drunk, then maybe it would be easier knowing whatever happened would disappear by the morning. But his groans, his hands in your hair, his lips, they were carved into your brain. And they weren't leaving.

You had to grapple with the reality that Price had kissed you. And you had kissed him back.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, wait! Don't go!

Well… hello there. It's me again! To those of you who aren't familiar, you can call me Baebae. And to those who are welcome back! I've written fanfiction a bit before (check out my other stuff on my home page) but nothing like this. So that makes this special, and I'm happy you can join me while I embark on this new journey.

There is no spice in this chapter but it is coming in the next part. There are only two parts to this so you won’t have to wait that long. Trust me I am trying my best to crank out the next one so I’ll try my best to be quick!!

I would be so, so, so, soooo grateful if you would like, follow, or repost. Don't feel any pressure but I love hearing any feedback you can provide as I am relatively new to this and it spurs me on to know people enjoy what I put out. If you so choose you can message me or comment if you'd like me to @ you in the next part so you're notified. <3

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and I'll see you in the next part. Toodles! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part II of Captains Girl!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[deadsetobsessions]

As the girl who came up with the Triplet! Tim AU PLEASSEEEEE continue it!!!!! I NEED to see Bruce who thought he had one robin finding out he actually has three separate completely different ones

I gotchu lmfao I think I’ll get to Bruce later? I’m really happy you liked it omg like that idea is so good

——

Their plan was perfect! It would have been perfect, had it not been for Dick Grayson and his nosy face!

Batman might not have known his identity, but Dick Grayson did. He promised to keep it from Batman, but Tim hadn’t exactly thought about his secret identity when he showed up to harass the man into being Robin again.

And now, they’re paying for it.

Tim leaned back and crossed his arms as he watched Dick cradle his head in his hands, looking half a short breath away from a mental breakdown.

“Are you telling me… there’s three of you?”

“Yes, Dick.” Tim sighed, having answered this exact question ten times in the past two minutes.

Dick lifted his head, wide eyes looking a little feverish… no, looking a little manic.

“Tim. Your name is Tim, right? I’m not-”

“Yes, my name is Tim. Technically, so are the others. But the one here with us is Lionel.”

“No, wait, Tim, you understand how this is- insane, right? It’s not even remotely in the realm of mentally healthy.” Dick paused. “Wait, are you skipping school right now?!?”

“Has anyone ever told you your priorities are screwed up, Dick?” Lionel-Tim walked back into the room, hands full of snacks and, most importantly, Dick’s emergency marshmallow bag. Dick turned to Lionel, eyes full of guilt, and grabbed the bag of marshmallows like a dehydrated man in the middle of a desert who’s only couple of feet away from an oasis that he’s been looking for for days.

“Oh my god. I’ve had three younger brothers and I thought they were all the same kid!” Dick wailed, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and stress cramming it into his mouth. Tim threw him a disgusted look.

“To be fair, we made sure to train to act like each other from a really early age,” Tim said, snatching the bag of chips that Lionel chucked at his head. His snack laden triplet plonked himself on the plush spinning chair, shoving a hand inside the bag of gummy worms and cramming it down his throat as he spun around.

“I can’t believe I’ve never even checked up on you at your place!! If I did, I would have noticed it way earlier!”

“Probably not,” Lionel mumbled through his mouthful of colorful gummy worms. “You only caught us because Tim got beat half to death by an edgy crime lord teenager.”

Dick hunched into himself, a myriad of complicated emotions- largely, guilt and fury and heartbreak- wormed its way past his face. Tim glared and threw a chip at his triplet.

“It’s fine, Dick. Lionel’s just being an asshole. We’re taking care of it. Revenge prank.” Tim explained.

“He wouldn’t have caught us and you know it.” Lionel grumbled.

“I’ll help.” Dick mumbled dejectedly.

“You’ll have to get in line, Wing,” Tim went back to his laptop. “My thirds got first dibs, and I’m not planning on staying still either. I’m gonna mess with Jason’s slush funds.”

“He’s got a stash of cash locked up in the fourth safe house, but that’s not interesting. Look!” Lionel proudly displayed a duffle bag- from where he got it from, Dick had no clue- and unzipped it to show batteries, lightbulbs, and random bits and bobs.

“What is that?” Dick asked.

“That’s the second lightbulb in his bathroom light! This is the left battery in his TV remote! And this is half of his back up boot laces. I took all of his 10 mm sockets! And the specialized socket he got for his bike! And this,” Lionel grinned, lifting up a piece of fabric. “Is his pillow case!”

“Niceee.” Tim whistled. He tossed a piece of tech at Lionel. “Sneak back into his house and put that in between his pillows. It’ll keep both sides uncomfortably warm.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Is… this revenge for almost killing you?” Dick asked.

“It’s either this or complete and total financial ruin, social death, and then actual death.” Tim tapped away at his laptop.

“You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

“We know!” Lionel chirped.

“Base, come in.”

“Base,” Tim quickly replied, laser focused on Archy’s call. Lionel and Dick quieted.

“Hood’s lurking outside the school like a creep,” Archy muttered into the comm, papers rustling behind him.

Dick tensed, upset making itself visible once more.

“You still have the container I gave you this morning in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

Tim smirked in a way that made Dick suddenly have a horrible need to shake and lecture him on the moralities of not becoming a villain. “It’s glitter. Purple and pinks.”

“…Ah.”

“Godspeed, Archy!” Lionel chirped again, sounding slightly more demented.

A moment of silence before-

“Oof!” A puff. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, mister!”

On the other end of the comm, the gruff voice of a beefy teenager spluttered, “What- why do you- egh- my mouth! The glitter went into- pleh, pleh! What the fuck, kid?!”

“I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be for a project! I worked so hard to mix the colors right! Wait, stay still, mister! I’ll help!”

Archy, eyes wide and innocent, patted some more glitter onto the vigilante.

“No, stop! Stop! You’re getting it on my bike!”

“It’s a pretty color- oh hey, this is open-”

“No! That’s the fuel tank!”

“Oh! Whoops! Sorry!”

As chaos spread on the other side of the comms, Tim and Lionel burst into cackles. Dick choked on the marshmallows, helplessly shaking with laughter.

Lionel whacked at Dick’s back, hysterically giggling.

“That’s- that’s Archy?”

“Archy pretending to be Lionel pretending to be me yeah. I hope he got glitter in the fuel tank.” Tim grinned.

“Want me to patrol tonight to see if he got the glitter out of his bike?”

Lionel jabbed his pointy elbows onto Dick’s shoulders. “Absolutely. Distract him, too! I gotta mess with his safe houses. He’ll never feel comfortable in a safe house ever again.”

“Don’t go overboard, Lionel.” Tim looked up. “But also, I changed his WiFi passwords to 123456, so do with that what you will.”

Lionel grinned. Dick mustered up a smile in response, pushing the guilt away. He had a lot to make up to his little brothers, and if terrorizing Jason was how he was going to accomplish that… well, Dick’s not feeling too nice about Jason right now.

——

Batman squinted suspiciously at a humming Nightwing.

“Something happen?” He managed to ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, I got some nice pictures.”

“…I see.”

Batman, regardless of what his history might suggest, knew how to pick his battles. This? This thing that brought Nightwing’s murder smile? This was one battle he was willing to walk away from.

“Hey, B, you ever think about adopting more kids?”

Batman choked and promptly grappled away. Nightwing cackled.

“You can’t escape the question!”

Batman ran faster.

[thepersonnamedsam]

the boyfriend - the genz!driver

pairing: 24!grid x the genz!driver, gzd x the boyfriend

summary: the grid finds out about the secret boyfriend of the genz!driver

word count: 1.8k

warnings: not proof read

note: i got so many requests about the grid finding out about a boyfriend, i decided not to use anyone famous, as i do think our beloved driver would want to have a private relationship.

maybe the boyfriend will make more appearances? that’s up to you, so let me know :)

masterlist / taglist

Maintaining a relationship outside of F1 was hard, but it was much harder for the only woman on the grid, who’s relationship status was all the media could think about.

But, the young y/n made it work. He wasn’t famous, by any means. He was just some young man from her hometown, whom she knew most of her life, but never thought about dating. But here they were, giggling over some memories and sharing drinks.

His blue eyes were staring deeply into hers and she felt chills rising over her whole body. He made her feel normal. Yes, that’s the word she would describe this whole relationship, normal. She loved him truly and was so glad to have him all to herself.

He knew about her job, of course, how couldn’t he? But he wasn’t jealous, nor was he angry about all the travelling and the media, he just wanted to see her succeed.

He was her safe space.

She swore to never tell anyone outside of family about him. She wanted him all to herself. The media, the world, can’t know about her little happy bubble. This was all for herself. Some would call y/n selfish, but she was just enjoying the time outside the spotlight.

What she didn’t think was the boys catching on to her love sickness. Lando in general. She thought that boy was as oblivious as HeyHey the chicken. But he caught onto the demeanour change of the young woman.

„What’s been going on with you?“, he asked her before the Australian race. The young driver looked up to the papaya coloured boy. „What do you mean?“ - „I mean, you have been smiling at your phone, who you smiling at? You don’t have any friends outside F1, sorry. And you haven’t been mean to any of us this weekend, not even Pierre.“

y/n shrugged her shoulders and just looked at her best friend. „It’s not that important“, she said. „Do I have to call Seb?“ - „No, don’t call Seb, I‘ll tell you, if you don’t tell anyone else!“

She didn’t want Seb involved in any of this. Not because she didn’t want to see Seb again, but he would overreact like hell.

So, when the race started on Sunday and her boyfriend got up in the early mornings to send her a sweet good luck message, she was racing for a podium. With Max out of the race, chances weren’t even half bad.

She knew the two Ferraris in front of her wouldn’t budge and her car wasn’t fast enough to even reach them. But it would be enough to reach the third spot on that podium.

With Lando right behind her, she felt this was a perfect first podium. Sharing it with the two Ferrari boys and Lando right behind her. All that was missing was him.

He was sitting in front of the TV cheering for his girlfriend and waking up the whole household when she crossed that finish line as third. Oh how he wished to be there with her to celebrate that first podium. But he was back home.

y/n was screaming. Her coms had been deactivated, so no one would have serious damage. She was so happy. The first podium ever for her.

She parked her car on the significant spot and jumped out of it, standing on top of her halo. Hands thrown up into the air. It was a feeling she’d never forget. When she got down, Carlos and Charles were waiting for her. She squealed and jumped into their arms.

She made history.

And when she stood on that podium, looking straight into the camera, she blew him a kiss, knowing he’d watch her.

Later that evening, the grid went partying. They found this exclusive club, thanks to Danny, and just let it all out. Even Max was there, he couldn’t let the opportunity go to celebrate the young driver.

„You have to call him now!“, shouted Lando. „Lando!“, she shouted back. „Who do you have to call? We’re all here?“, Danny asked y/n. „No one“, she tried to cover up Landos mistake.

„Who’s ,him‘?“, asked Fernando. „I heard the milk boy clearly, who is he?“

„I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t want spill your boyfriend“, Lando apologised. The young driver just groaned, how can one be so stupid?

„Boyfriend?!“ „You have a boyfriend?“ „Wtf, y/n has a boyfriend?“ Was heard throughout the club.

The young woman sighed, „Yes, I have a boyfriend, is that so surprising?“

„It’s not that, y/n, promise, it’s just so weird seeing you all grown up“, Lewis said to her, „Who is he, what’s his name, what does he do, hm? We want to know all about him and why you haven’t told us about him.“

„Okay, so…“

And she told them everything, how he was a childhood friend, how they met in school. How they met over winter break she spent at home in her local food shop and how they instantly clicked again. How she asked him out on a date and the rest of it was history.

„I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell us?“, Danny sounded hurt and y/n‘s heart broke into a little million pieces. „I just wanted him on my own, I knew if I told you guys, you’d wanted to meet him, which means taking him to a race, which then means he’d be seen by the media and the whole world. I like having a normal relationship with him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, you are my family too after all.“

„It’s okay, little one“, Nando patted her on the back to console the young driver, „Next time, just tell us, we won’t judge.“

„I actually hope, there won’t be a next time…“

„Oh, y/n, I hope for you that there will be a next time. Enjoy the butterflies that come with love. He’s the first one and will always remain the special one, but believe me, there will be others waiting there for you“, Daniel said with a slight laugh.

„You can’t say anything sentimental without your signature sentence, can you?“, y/n laughed. Daniel just shrugged.

„Call him!“, Lando said, once again. „Okay, okay, I will“, y/n finally gave in.

His phone rang with your face on the screen. He happily picked up, expecting his beautiful girlfriend on the other side in her hotel room. What he didn’t expect was his girlfriend trying to fit 19 men on her display.

„Hi baby“, she said happily. He could make out, that she was tipsy if not already drunk. „Hi my love, congratulations on your podium, you did so well, sweetheart.“ - „Thank you, I’m so happy! But, there are a lot of people who want to meet you, actually. Meet the grid!“

Her boyfriend watched the men on the other side of the screen fighting to reach for her phone. „Boys, one at a time, he’ll be overwhelmed“, she giggled.

Lewis was the first one to grab her phone and started his parent-ly rant about not hurting the girl or he‘ll show up with Roscoe. Her boyfriend nodded and promised the older driver to never hurt her.

Daniel was the second one and demanded he tells him a joke. „Uhm, okay, why do cows wear bells?“, he asked Danny. „I don’t know, you tell me.“ - „Because their horns don’t work?“ Daniel snorted and gave her boyfriend a thumps up. „I like him“, he then whispered to y/n.

„How much do you like her?“, Charles asked the poor boy. „I like her like the earth loves the sun, how without it no life would ever grow again.“ Charles looked at the young man and was deeply impressed. „Okay, alright, I guess that’s enough?“

And when Oscar got the phone, all he did was say ,hi‘ and pass it to Zhou. The latter wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. As he didn’t know the young driver very well. But he did as everyone did and threatened the boyfriend.

Valterri, Esteban and Nico just made a ,dad stare‘ as they would call it. And Carlos said some sweet words about her.

It went on and on until Lando got the phone last. He ran away with it and tried to speak with him privately.

y/n laughed, but wasn’t sure what he was gonna tell her boyfriend.

„Don’t worry, Lando won’t do anything stupid, well, maybe he will, but he won’t cause any harm. You know him“, Oscar reassured her. „I know“, she sighed, „But I’d still like to know what they’re talking about.“

„You know, one time she had to get her wisdom teeth removed and it was so funny seeing her on anaesthesia, oh my god, you should’ve seen her!“

„Oh and there was one time, she crashed because of an engine failure, and she was so sad, but she looked so cute, I swear, like a little baby!“

„Man, are you sure you’re just best friends? You’ve been talking about her like you love her“, her boyfriend said timidly.

„Of course I love her, but she’s my muppet, I couldn’t ever love her like you do, I see it in your eyes, the eyes chico, they never lie“, he giggled.

„I uhm, how did you know? I haven’t told her yet, so please don’t do it for me“, he begged. „I won’t, but no promises, I’m real bad at keeping secrets, to be honest“, Lando tried to promise.

After a while, he handed the phone back to y/n. „Here you go, be lovesick with your boyfriend“, he said in a sing-sung voice.

„Thank you, Lando“, she smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek, „Thank you to all of you for being so accepting and understanding.“

„We wouldn’t do it any other way, y/n“, Pierre said. „But if he hurts you, we will collectively show up to his house and we can’t promise anything“, Charles threatened.

„Oh guys, I love you all so much, but please don’t hurt my boyfriend.“

„No promises“, Nando whispered darkly. „What was that, Nando? Did you say anything?“, y/n asked him. „No, cariño, nothing at all, we love you too.“

Later, late at night in Australia, y/n‘s boyfriend called her again.

„You know, they all threatened me and I actually got scared. Uhm, Fernando, was it? He is so scary. I thought he was a big old softy, they was you talk about him and his Taylor Swift obsession, but man, was he scary.“

y/n giggled and said, „He is a big softy, he just doesn’t show it that much. What did Carlos say to you? I didn’t understand what he was saying.“ Her boyfriend smiled lovingly at y/n. „Nothing important, just how you bring light into their life’s and how happy they are for us.“ - „Awww Carlitos, I have to thank him the next time.“

„You know, I do think Lando is in love with you, if I didn’t know how much you like me, I would feel threatened“, he laughed lightly.

„I don’t just like you, I love you.“

„You do?“, his heart was racing, just like she was every other weekend. „I love you too.“

„But I swear to god, if they threaten you ever again, I will purposely crash into them at the next race.“

°°°

taglist:

@ironmaiden1313 , @hiireadstuff , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraurr , @heartmetaphor , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone , @zimm04 , @woozarts , @mellowarcadefun , @deephideoutmolkshake , @grimeslvrr , @tallrock35 , @namgification , @pear-1206 , @trouble-sistar , @jxnellat , @littlesatanicassholebitch

[scoops-aboy86]

Secret Admirer

Steddie Week 2024, July 1: Mystery / secret relationship / One Night Alone by Vixen

wc: 2131 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

cw: negative self talk (steve), allusions to unhealthy use of drugs and alcohol (eddie), and one horny paragraph

In the first few letters, Eddie had tried to disguise his handwriting. It occurred to him after a while, though, that there would be no reason for someone like Steve Harrington to recognize it, so he stopped. And he was right, nothing happened. 

Steve hasn’t figured out the secret admirer letters he kept answering were written by none other than the official Freak of Hawkins High. Hell, Steve hasn’t even worked out that he’s a he. Though a few vaguely worded sentences every now and then suggest that Steve might not be assuming she either, which is…interesting. Possibly nothing, but interesting all the same. And Eddie knows he’s probably just stringing himself along by doing this, but he’s about to repeat his senior year of high school for the third goddamn time and this is a better option than drinking or dipping into the harder stuff that Reefer Rick expects him to sell. Broken heart likely, but at least he doesn’t wake up with a headache or the shakes.

Now it’s well into summer, and the PO Box he’d had since he was sixteen (for Blueboys and other mags that would get him equally tarred and feathered if anyone finds out) gets mail every damn day.

Eddie looks down at the most recent letter, rereading it for the hundredth time with a joint in one hand, several empty beer cans littering the bedspread and floor of his room around him. 

Dear Secret Admirer, Hey, I’m sorry if I came on too strong in my last couple of letters. I get why you don’t want to tell me who you are. We probably went to high school together, right? You don’t write like a middle schooler and no one who graduates sticks around in this stupid town besides me. I guess that makes me stupid means you probably knew me when I was still a douchebag. Sorry about that. I hope I never said anything to you or let Tommy push you around. Except I don’t know why you would’ve started writing to me in the first place if I had? It’s not like I would’ve written back if I was still that popular guy who everyone talked to and thought was so cool. Yeah, I admit it, I thought I was hot shit back then too! But it turns out, they only give you the spotlight as long as you don’t put a toe out of line. Don’t point out when they’re being assholes. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit some people will say when they think you already agree with them about everything.  Anyway, I’m trying to be better now. Genuinely, if I’m not, if I’ve been an asshole in these letters at all, please tell me. And it’s not like I’m tired of writing to you, I just. Wouldn’t getting to talk in person be even better? Or we don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to, that’s okay! You can come by Scoops and tell me it’s you and I’ll give you a free ice cream cone or something, whatever you want. Because actions speak louder than words, right? You keep sending me all these nice letters, and I’m not the best with words so I want to give you something too. (I don’t mean that like That wasn’t a come-on, I swear. Shit, I should rewrite this again but this is already the fifth draft, it’s not getting any better than this. Sorry.) — Steve PS, I don’t know if you have been to Scoops already, but if you’ve seen my coworker’s whiteboard I swear I’m not interested just because I keep striking out. Turns out I don’t actually know how to talk to girls without being weird. It’s weird being done with high school and not have that stuff in common to talk about, and I used to be this cool guy that I’m really not anymore so I panic and all this bullshit (who am I kidding) bullshit comes out my mouth and it’s EMBARRASSING. Anyway. I really like your letters, it’s been great having someone to talk to even if it’s not really talking a face to face thing, and I’m not just saying that because I’m kind of a loser now. Anyway, have a nice day! Fuck, Robin is right, I SUCK

The first bullshit in the postscript is crossed out so hard there’s a tear in the paper. All the scribbled out bits are borderline illegible, like Steve really tried, but Eddie can still make out most of it and can guess the rest from context. The very last word, for example, is totally obscured, but he has seen the You Rule / You Suck board, so. Yeah.

It makes his heart ache, the way Steve talks about himself sometimes. The way his insecurities bleed through artlessly on the page like coffee stains. Eddie alternates between wanting to wrap him up in soft things to protect him from whatever sharpness left him so cut open, and wanting to smother him with kisses for the bravery in being so genuine with a nameless, faceless stranger. 

Except Steve isn’t his. Steve is straight, for all he’s apparently being kind enough not to make assumptions, and could never want Eddie in the same way. And it’s not fair, the hanging back that Eddie’s been doing, holding out now that Steve has come to look forward to his letters just because of a little (huge, massive, life-threatening) fear of rejection. 

He’s been dragging his heels so long that Steve is feeling rejected, and that just won’t do. 

Sighing, Eddie takes another long drag before stubbing the remaining nub of the joint out. Scrubs his hands across his face and considers getting another beer. Or maybe forgetting the corner he’s backed himself into, with Steve wanting to meet—not only to satisfy the curiosity of knowing who his secret admirer is, but because he actually seems to like the person writing to him. (Actually wrote that they didn’t have to talk if Eddie didn’t want to, Jesus H. Christ, why did he have to be such a fucking sweetheart about that?) 

It’s late, and he’s already stripped restlessly down to just his boxers for bed. He could push it all aside, push his hands down the front of his underwear and get lost in different thoughts about Steve for a while, for the trillionth time. God knows that always works to clear his head, sometimes twice if he’s ambitious about it, enough for sleep to take him. 

Instead, Eddie drops the letter on his bed and hunts around on his desk for a notebook he can stand to tear a few more pages out of. Once he has what he needs, he chews on the end of his pen for several minutes  before putting it to the paper.

Steve, my beloved, It has been some time since I’ve replied. My deepest apologies for that, as it seems like you’ve taken that to mean something I absolutely did not intend. I received all of your letters, and “too strong” is not how I would describe them. They were lovely, sweetheart. I have reread them many times, I have slept with them under my pillow, I have cried happy tears over them for the thought that you might actually share my affection enough to want so badly to know who I am.  Very quickly, to address some of your questions and concerns: One, we did share some years in high school, yes, and I’m pleased to read that you think my writing is at a level appropriate to someone approximately our age. (I wish more of my teachers shared that view, but alas, I’m pretty sure that most of them hate me. Except for the drama teacher, who would let me get away with murder as long as I didn’t stain or break any of his props with the act.) Two, Hagan was a dick, but more to my friends than me directly, and the worst you ever did was laugh when I dropped my books a few times, that sort of thing. Water under the bridge, fuck high school, etc. etc.. Three, you have not engaged in any assholery in your writing, or in any of your actions that I’ve seen in a long time.  And four… you should’ve left the double entendre (i.e. the “I want to give you something too”); I wouldn’t have minded.  Obviously I think of you as prime boyfriend material—thoughtful, good sense of humor and humility, and whenever those younger kids swing by to pester you at the mall you put up a good front of being exasperated and annoyed, but through all that I can tell you care about them. (They say never trust someone who would hurt an animal, it works for kids too.)  But you’re also a total smoke show, baby. The effortless way you moved around the basketball court, same as in the water when you were still on the swim team, and in those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off with this paragraph.  It was a relief to write that, to be honest. I am not without my fantasies, you see; in a lot of ways, they’re all I have. The real reason I’ve been hesitant to respond to all of your heartfelt entreaties to meet, sweetheart, is that I’m afraid. I’ve been head over heels for you for so long—for your looks before anything else, I’ll admit, but the douchebag boy from high school that you mentioned is long gone. A man stands in his place, and what a man you are. In writing to you, I wanted to make clear first and foremost how ardently I admire and love you, lest my feelings be mistaken for mere tawdry teen lust.  And hopefully I’ve succeeded. If so, can you see now how actions can be carved in with the words? It is the intent that shines through, and I can read in between the lines, Steve, that you are being genuinely honest with yours. All those disparaging remarks you made about yourself in your last letter, both crossed out and not, are probably you being too hard on yourself, but they speak to the fact that you both understand you’ve made mistakes in the past and are trying to pay penance for them. That, along with your fantastic hair and magnificent ass, are just a few of the reasons I remain, as always— Your Secret Admirer P.S. I don’t mind weird. Like it, even. Bring it on, big boy.  P.P.S.  If all I could ever have with you is one night alone, I’d take it and be grateful.

Eddie’s letter is almost twice as long as Steve’s, but whatever. That’s par for the course; he never expected Steve to be much of a wordsmith, even though the guy is clearly putting in a lot of effort. Writes drafts, apparently. Unlike Eddie, who bangs all that out in pretty much one go and merely skims it before sliding it in an envelope, sealing it in, slapping on a stamp and address, and throwing it off the bed. 

Then he falls into bed and strips his dick to the thought of Steve reading the letter and thinking about his mouth, half in a hot anonymous way and half in some imaginary reality where Steve knows it’s him and wants this just as badly. Of Steve groaning out how good it feels and maybe wanting to hold him after, fall asleep together, like they’re…

The next morning (or afternoon, whatever, it’s summer vacation), Eddie reviews his slightly fuzzy memory of the letter after stepping on the envelope and realizing, oh, right. Overly verbose and dramatic, the way he always is but even more so when tipsy. And… fuck it. One horny paragraph, he decides, won’t be the end of the world. Maybe it will scare Steve off; maybe he’ll enjoy it. Let fate decide, just like at the dnd table. 

Eddie shoves the envelope into the mail drop box just outside the trailer park gate on his way into town and sends a prayer out to no god in particular that he hasn’t just rolled a nat one.

~

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

Tagging some folks who expressed interest about this story in my Wiggly Wednesday post last week, let me know if you don't want to be tagged going forward: @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve

@rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

[a-ikuoliver]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞?

what's your favourite scary movie? | k. bakugou— k-atsukibakugou

finally convincing one of your best friends to come to the 30th anniversary re-release of scream, he figures out one of your best-kept secrets

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader w/c: 4.9k warnings: femme reader (called girl, has a pussy, wears makeup n a skirt), death threat kinda lmao, public & unprotected sex, blood mention, knife mention, reader implied to be recon/stealth hero, not beta’d bc i got nervous and we die like men, this is like all lead up my b notes: HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEEEEEN this is sorta inspired by @katsukikitten's post and um i have no explanation for this i was possessed by that post n my fat crush on katsuki and I KNOW scream came out in 1996 imagine the timelines line up lmao crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • recent wips & updates • kofi • askbox

“pleaaaase?” you’re too aware you’re whining, your bottom lip stuck out in a pout, probably only one more emotionless denial away from getting on your hands and knees and begging the stoic hero, “i’ll owe you? i'll do anything you want!”

you caught the mischievous sparkle in his eye at your promise, dropping your head in desperation to your hands still clamped together like you were praying, one final time, you pleaded, “please? it’s the thirty-year-anniversary re-release! i can't miss it!”

bakugou made a sound like he was thinking over your request, eyes glancing between the two tickets in your hand, the blood red title printed at the top calling his name, and your pleading eyes, a gravelly hum low in his throat. his mind had been made up since you asked, already planning on watching the theatrical re-release, it was just his luck your favourite horror movie was his, too. but he didn’t plan on telling you that quite yet, revelling in your desperation after a third rejection; eijirou too scared of a slasher, denki already having plans for a different night, and sero scheduled to patrol.

“you’ll do anything i want just for a movie?” his voice was mildly condescending, but the twitch in his lips had you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms like a grumpy child bargaining with a guardian, “if that’s what it takes!”

exasperated, you throw your head back with a groan, about to turn to him and announce your forfeit when he beats you to it, pinching the extra ticket from your hand, a satisfied smirk painted on his lips, “i’ll pick you up friday night, ya owe me one.”

katsuki walked away without even waiting for your response, leaving you simultaneously frustrated at your friends toying with you, and cheering at finally having found someone to join you.

punctual as always in his adult years, katsuki was outside your door friday night half an hour earlier than when you told him to drop by and get you, fists banging on your door while you were still tugging your skirt over your hips, just getting the zipper up when you swung the door open, already growling at your friend standing in the doorway in front of you, “i heard the first thirteen times you knocked.”

you toyed with the hem of your shirt, stepping aside to let him inside, promptly looking him up and down to admire the casual outfit he wore, far different from the hero costume you were used to seeing on him, the simple black cotton stretching over his broad chest somehow emphasising the muscles there more than the tight costume. there was a hint of a necklace underneath the collar of the shirt, the thin line of silver glinting under the lowlights of your hallway, similar jewellery on three of his fingers, and his blond locks sitting normally, spiked up around his head, his undercut leaving his ears free to show off the handful of piercings there. glancing back up, your eyes locked on his glinting ruby eyes, already watching you drink him in, the eye contact only breaking when he tapped his heavy boots on the floor just inside your door, “quit whining, how long are ya gonna be?”

you rolled your eyes at his impatience, waving him off while fixing your hair in your reflection in the glass beside the door, “give me two minutes.”

you flitted back up the hallway, swift and silent as he was used to seeing you be, leaving him beside the door to take a glimpse around your living room, taking in the little plush ghostface sat front and centre on your couch, blood red felt stitched over its soft knife, a stack of novels beside the couch, a few titles he recognised as classics, and more horror novels he knew nestled between scattered romance titles. he heard a few more heavy bumps from your bedroom, just out of his view before you emerged once more, in a tight shirt, gorey graphic printed in the middle, a sweater thrown over your arm and boots looped in your fingers, a cute garnet charm dangling off the back of each loop of fabric, “you want me to fill up your car?”

your question had his eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “the fuck are you on about?”

“to repay you?” you asked dumbly, stepping closer to place your key in the lock, clicking it locked once your tall friend ducked under it and stepped outside onto the driveway. he sucked his teeth disapprovingly, unlocking his car with you bounding over to the passenger side, jumping into the seat to wiggle your boots onto your feet, he only dignified you with a response once he was seated on the dark leather, huffing out a grumpy, but demanding, “you’re not payin’,”

reversing from your driveway, he interrupted when you opened your mouth to argue back, “besides, i haven’t decided what i want from ya yet,” katsuki smirked at you, vermillion eyes darting from his rear view mirror to you when he propped his arm behind your headrest to make sure the road was clear, speaking again with all your focus studying the way his lips moved with every low syllable, “it’s more fun keepin’ you in suspense.”

head dropping from the clouds, you glared at him, unsure if you were more annoyed at his self assured grin or yourself for throbbing from it, leaning down to tie the lace of your boots, “fine, last time i'm offering though.”

katsuki shook his head, exiting onto the road towards the cinema, ending the conversation there, and leaving you both to settle into a comfortable air, sometimes dropping into silence, sometimes a casual conversation about your hero work until you reached the quiet theatre, arriving with plenty of time to spare before your screening. the lot was dead, nowhere near as busy as you expected it to be, katsuki parking with no one else beside him for at least twenty feet in each direction.

locking his car, you both made your way inside, side by side through the glass doors of the cinema, decorated for today with original posters, thin black fabric on the walls, the doors spattered with dark red fake blood, even the employee checking tickets adorning a flimsy ghostface mask. you were practically buzzing with excitement, squeezing his forearm when you saw the guy ahead, handing your ticket over for him to scan. the corner of his lip twitched in a grin, never seeing you geek out quite so much like you were right now, your eyes shining with excitement right up until he turned to face the fabric screen playing static.

the static soon faded into the production logos, and finally, the title screen; scream. you were vibrating in your seat, eyes glued to the screen so much you hardly had any of the popcorn he’d got for you both to share, only occasionally did you reach for the cup to take large sips, all without tearing your eyes from the screen. katsuki was even beginning to question the last time you blinked.

gradually, as the movie went on, he noticed your minute squirming more and more, first dismissing it as discomfort from sitting in the one spot too long, but the longer he fixated on you, the more he noticed your inability to remain still, your legs crossing and uncrossing every five minutes. your clothes rubbed against the fabric of the chair with every wriggle, the rustling having him observe you from the corner of his eye more than he watched the final act, deep red irises catching you swipe your tongue across your lips, your sparkling eyes darting around the screen, your black skirt doing nothing to hide the way your thighs were pressed tightly together.

your wide pupils reflected the carmine on the screen, heart eyes locked on the blood spattered slashers on the screen, your ears blocking out the monologue to focus entirely on the villain’s bloody face, lips just parting to release a short puff of breath you didn’t know you were holding in your heaving chest.

realising he was staring, katsuki clenched his sharp jaw and focused back on the crescendo of the third act, trying to ignore the way you kept writhing right up until the credits were rolling. you stayed fixated, entranced, for a minute longer, unable to hide your smile when the lights slowly turned back up, illuminating your shiny, plump lips and your hungry eyes. without wasting another second you started gushing over the movie without looking at katsuki, half of your words running into the next without so much as a breath between them, sounding more like the obsessive deku the longer you prattled on about the characters and theories.

you were still chatting his ear off when you both made your way down the carpeted stairs towards the exit, past the decorations and blood splatter once more, out of the dead theatre, spotting only one or two employees left cleaning counters and floor as you left, their costume discarded on the counter as they swept.

exiting into the night, a gentle icy wind blew through your body, making a shiver wrack your body. you gripped katsuki's wrist to drag him faster to his car, desperate to retrieve your forgotten sweater from underneath the passenger seat before your lips turned blue. your tugging did little to change his pace, his heavy boots stomping along the paved car park, illuminated only by the moon and a singular lit lamppost just outside the cinemas doors, his car shrouded in the darkness of the night, alone in the lot.

chirping as it unlocked, you swung the door open immediately, digging around under the passenger seat where you knew you’d dropped the sweater, not paying attention to your friend climbing into the driver's seat beside you, still rummaging around under the seat when he made a disapproving sound. finally getting hold of the soft fabric of the sweater, you pulled it from under the seat, and into your lap to untangle the sleeves of it while eyeing katsuki, catching the signature scowl gracing his lips, although this one seemed tinged with confusion, tongue clicking against his teeth as the dashboard made a beeping sound once more before it turned dark. you watched him try it once more with a frustrated curse, “useless fucking thing.”

you pulled the sweater over your head, confusion painted on your face now, too, as you watched him reach under the steering wheel to click the lock for the metal bonnet.

“what’s going on?” curiously, you leaned over to peer at the dashboard with him, watching his nimble fingers unbuckle his seatbelt and climb from the car.

“‘m not sure yet, battery might be dead.” he grunted, closing the driver's door to go around the front of the car. you watched him through the pristine windshield until he was blocked by the bonnet being lifted and locked up into place. you followed suit, meeting him around the front, scarlet eyes darted around the metal and tubes and batteries, a muscular arm flexing when he squeezed the metal in frustration, swearing once more.

“shit, i’ll need to call for a jump.” you watched him think, sadly studying the battery that was ruining your plans with your bottom bedside drawer. “oh.”

“wait in the car, i’ll call ei to come help us.'' without question, you nod, studying the way he leaned back on the car, pulling up the number pad, rapidly typing in both of your closest friends' number. sparing one last glance up at him, you caught the unreadable look on katsuki’s face, an expression of his you’d never seen before, crimson eyes glaring down at the technology in front of him.

climbing once more into the car, you relaxed as much as you could into the seat, slipping your heavy boots off your feet with your body thrumming, no way to sit comfortably with the way your pussy throbbed against the seam of your panties, your hips jolting forward whenever you sat a certain way, the slashers bloody ghost mask imprinted behind your eyelids each time you blinked. your cheeks were hot, embarrassed to be so desperate from a movie, but still praying eijirou would rush to save you both to solve katsuki’s problem and let you get home to fix yours.

you squirmed in the seat, your skin hot on the leather while you eyed the dark streets, hope growing in you with every car that drove down the street, only to be crushed when they continued past the cinema. waiting for a moment longer with quivering thighs squeezed together, you finally huffed and opened the passenger door, “katsuki? did he answer?”

a beat went by, nothing responded to you except the soft chirp of crickets nestled in the dark of the greenery sprinkled around.

“katsuki?” you repeated, your voice a bit louder, and still you heard nothing back, the silence interrupted by the vibrating of your phone.

left all alone, sweetheart? 12:41am

you reread the text from the unknown number with your heart in your throat, nervously watching a typing bubble pop up beneath it.

you climbed off the seat warmed by your body to take on the cool night in search for your silent friend, the skin of your thighs erupting in goosebumps the moment your light feet landed on the ground, wrapping tingling arms around your torso, you attempted to rationalise while you watched the bubble disappear. rounding the front of the car, you scanned the space in front of the car, expecting to see the hulking blond standing there, ready to jump out and scare you, instead, the spot was empty, not a trace he’d even been there to begin with.

brave little hero. you’re not the type to run headfirst into danger.12:42am

let’s play a game, see if you can win him back, sweetheart. 12:42am

your breath was knocked from your chest reading the text, your heartbeat deafening when you choked out his name once more, your tone painted with worry.

“i swear to god, if this is a joke i'll make sure no one hears from you ever again.” shivering, and not from the cold, your voice shook, wide eyes not conveying the threatening aura you were trying to achieve, nor your entire trust in this only being a joke.

and if you get an answer wrong i’ll make sure no one finds you. 12:42am

your blood ran cold feeling the phone buzz again, your face still shamefully warm when your cunt throbbed at the threat, fear and need settling in the pit of your stomach. sucking in a breath, you shouted at nothing, “fine!”

you’ll be a good final girl. 12:43am

if you’re smart about it. 12:43am

you crept around the car silently, sticking close by the lifted hood to scan the darkness around you, sneaking around the side to get back inside the car, desperate to get back to safety, wanting to think this through, to be smart about getting katsuki back by your side. seeing no one, you darted for the driver’s side door, tugging on the smooth handle with trembling hands, the lock unlatching only for a moment before being shoved shut once more with a strong, scarred hand planted on the window, causing you to squeal in surprise when the door slammed with a thud.

“wrong move, final girl,” his deep voice whispered in your ear, feeling like it was echoing all around you, his free hand clamping around your hip to keep your weak legs upright. your stalker smiled into your hair, ego swelling at how easily he had you worked up from a few threatening texts, “how wet are you right now?”

katsuki rasped, voice impossibly deeper, his nose bumping your temple when he spoke. heat flushed through your body, embarrassment pooling in your stomach, only adding to the drippiness of your needy pussy.

“what?”

“what?” he mocked, “you think i wouldn’t notice you humpin the fuckin air in there? what was it, sweetheart? the blood, or the fear?”

sharp teeth emphasised his final question, canines catching on your sensitive lobe, his hand tightening around your hip, pinning you hard between his thick chest and tumid car.

“i don't have any idea what youre talking about.” your voice was an uneven, unconvincing murmur, your breath fogging on the window in front of your face, blurring your view of him, bar a sliver of the cherry-red of his irises reflecting back at you. you felt the fervid heat of his eyes on yours as if there wasn’t a single obstacle between you and him, the burn of his gaze dropping down to your lips when you surrendered a shuddering breath.

“you don’t?” you shook your head, barely disturbing the air around you, more shy than you ever had been since knowing him, “that didn’t turn you on at all?”

you shook your head once more, your gaze averting to the ground beneath your feet, suddenly interested in the shine of the lamplight on his boots instead of his interrogating, knowing he already knew the answers to every question he asked you.

his calloused fingertips ran up your plush, pillowy thighs, blunt fingernails digging in at the peak, a mere inch away from your dripping core, “c’mon, final girl, tell the truth, and i’ll stop.”

he got impossibly closer, crowding over you with a thick forearm sliding around your waist, settling in where he remained still, the hairs on the back of your neck standing when you felt his gentle breath there. your hips jerked forward into his biting nails, surely leaving half-moon indent in the soft skin underneath them. you felt his cocky smile in your hair when a low mewl reverberated in your throat, your bitten lips smothering the sound almost imperceptibly, “please, don’t stop.”

katsuki heard you, his ears so attuned to your voice, he’d hear you in a sea of half a million people, loud and clear. still, he let his fingers drop further away from where you needed him, incessant in his teasing, “what was that? “please stop”?”

his hold around you loosened, his boot disappearing from your view when he took a step back, this time it was your fingers digging into the skin of his forearm, pulling him close to you, “no, katsuki, please don’t stop.”

he didn’t need to hear a single word more from you, his cock already straining against his pants hearing your shaky voice beg only twice for him. he cursed again, his fingers gliding over your skin, not going to deny you, or himself, the pleasure of dipping his fingers into your sopping cunt.

a high pitched mewl escaped you when he swiped his thumb over your slit, the soaking fabric still separating you two doing nothing to weaken the pleasure his skilled fingers brought you, enough to have your hips bucking into his hold again. katsuki’s devilish laugh tickles the back of your neck, your eyelids becoming heavy with need filling your veins, adrenaline keeping your heart beating loudly in your ears, and lightning through your body when he finally slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties, hardened fingertips free to touch your core any way he desired. snaking his free hand up your body, katsuki brushed the hair from your neck, letting his hand rest slackly at the base of your throat, leaving the junction where your shoulder met your neck free for him to plant his lips there, sucking your skin into his mouth, bringing your blood as close to the surface of your skin as he could without a buck knife of his own. you crooned, warm body melting into the blond’s touch, stumbling back over your own feet when he slid his hand under your skirt to pull you back a foot by your hip, holding you hard to his chest, a thick, powerful arm holding you upright. your lustful eyes were trained on his hand when it abandoned its hold on your throat, committing every flaw, divot, vein and scar to memory while he yanked the shiny handle, shoving it further out of his way with his shoulder before he let you drop forward again; missing his strength to keep your goo-like legs holding you up, you stumbled forward into the car, catching yourself on the driver's seat with your forearms, a stammer forced from your chest when you landed on your palms. you peer over your shoulder at him with wild, hazy eyes, adjusting yourself up on your hands, his hot hands pushing down on the small of your back to keep you firmly against the leather before you get too comfortable, marvelling at the feel of your hammering heart against the soft seat.

katsuki’s hands at the nape of your neck and the small of your back forced you to arch your back further, your plush ass pressing back into him when he lifted your head a couple of inches off the material by your hair, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from you, “say it again.”

there wasn’t a trace of a request in his tone, it was a simple demand, accentuated by the large hand pressing down harder on your back, contorting your body in an uncomfortable pose you’d be relieved of the second he had your approval once more, your trembling figure entirely in control of him despite his incredible strength holding you down.

“i need you, ‘ki, don’t stop.” your head fell forward, your ass pushed back against his hard cock, your stammer breathless but clear when you spoke, your shining lips parting to moan lowly when he released your hair to tease your core again, deft fingers fucking into you again, deeper than they were before when he was focused on taking your attention from the stupid slasher on the screen inside. now his attention was turned to having your pussy clenching him as soon as possible.

the blond behind you groaned, feeling your tight cunt hug his digits, squeezing like you were trying to swallow him deeper and deeper, mesmerised by the way you took him, your blushing, wanton face already marking the soft material of the seat with your foundation and he wasn’t even close to being done toying with you. you were already soaking after the little he was giving you, the movie and now his teasing ministrations having you dripping, hole clenching in anticipation; unnecessary for him to continue pumping his fingers in and out of you other than for his own lewd entertainment, needing to commit the sight to memory in case it never happened again.

“keep talkin’ to me, final girl, you want me to stop?”

you shook your head, your face buried in the crook of your elbow and your back arching into his touch, a long moan escaping you, getting closer and closer to cumming around his fingers, lewd squelching echoing in the dark night.

“you want me to fuck you like this?”

“mhm!”

“you thinkin’ of me or that pathetic slasher, huh?” katsuki's fingers curled as he whispered, forcing a choked gasp from you, any answer slipping from your mind when his fingertips grazed that sensitive spot inside you, your brain going blank, your vision turning white.

colour returned to your vision far too quickly, your bleary eyes snapping open, staring behind you where katsuki stood tall, one hand still pressing down on your back but no other part of him touching you, his wet fingers at his mouth instead of inside your aching pussy, sucking the two into his mouth, smirking down at your shocked face, one eyebrow raising when your mouth bobbed open and shut noiselessly.

“you’re not gonna be thinking of that pitiful ghostface when i fuck you,” the moonlight shining behind him cast his menacing face in darkness, only his eyes and sharp canines glowing from the shadows when he spoke, voice deep and gravelly with his own desire, unable to deny himself your sweet cunt any longer. his dexterous fingers working the shining steel button on his pants undone while you beam up at him, entranced by his bared teeth, narrow scarlet eyes watching you, blond locks hanging over his face when his stare shifted down, lining himself up with your sloppy hole, “you’re gonna be thinking. of. me.”

he sunk into you, word by demanding word, inch by salacious inch, until your eyes were rolling back into your skull, cock moulding your throbbing, silken cunt to the shape of him. 

“katsukiiiii,” you panted, earning a sharp snap of his hips bumping your forward in the car across the seat, your soft sweater doing nothing but glide against the material, digging your fingernails into the soft leather, you tried to hold yourself still, an impossible feat against the strength of his movements.

katsuki’s hot hands seized your hips, pulling you back in time with him thrusting forward, his hips pressing into your squishy thighs hard enough to leave a dark bruise before he was pulling back out to fuck you hard again, his dominance making your pussy squeeze tighter around him, leaving you to helplessly cry out broken stammers of his name beneath him until your voice broke, your breathing growing faster, harder, with his movements, “oh-h, ka-katsuki, ‘m close.”

your slurring words had him fucking ever harder into you, helping you chase the orgasm you’d been desperate for since the second act, shifting your hips to have the head of his cock brushing the spongy spot deep inside your pretty cunt, hitting it again and again until you were squealing, creamy cum gushing out of you to collect around the base of his thick cock in a lewd ring. despite your spasming pussy, katsuki’s vice-like grip didn’t loosen, virile fingers splayed over your shaking hips, pulling them up to keep his pace, dragging his veiny cock in and out of you, watching your cum gather and drip down him to the ground below.

his cock felt like it was in your throat, every thrust forcing out garbled moans into the night air, even a deep sigh escaping the blond above you when your thighs twitched and trembled again. katsuki slid a hand up your spine from your hip, pushing your face back down with a strong grip on the back of your skull, leaning forward to grind deeper inside you, revelling in your muffled whine, watching the way your eyes widened before rolling back again, “you’re gonna cum again?”

katsuki’s mocking tone was uneven, tinged with his own impending end, but you still heard the cocky smile in his voice, his ego ever ballooning at the ease he worked you up, revelling in the warm squeeze of your thirsty cunt around his cock, more and more wetness dripping from you to collect around him. still, you nodded, too delirious to even try and deny the effect he had on you, your tense thighs and delirium only inflating his ego more.

“who makes you feel like this, huh?” his voice was a hoarse whisper now, thick eyebrows scrunching when you squeeze around him again, just from his voice and the stretch of his cock.

“you! you do, katsuki!” you choke out his name once more, your voice still muffled against the seat, his hand at the small of your back doing little to stop you standing on the very tip of your toes to swallow his cock deeper until he matched you with his own stammer of your name, pushing your head down harder as he stood up again, fucking rougher into you, faster, abusing your hole to get to his own end with you.

repeating his name like a mantra, your whole body tensed under him like you’d been shocked, a long whine of his name when you came intensely around him again, your high pitched keen making him follow suit, holding you firm against him, emptying himself into you, thrusting shallowly twice more to fuck his cum deep into you before he laid atop you with a low groan of his own.

you whimpered underneath him, your cunt still tight around him while you both started to calm, heart rates returning to normal, sweating skin cooling rapidly in the night air. you both laid still for a moment, bodies relaxing into the leather like you were in a liquid state, a soft whimper escaping you every so often as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you; similarly, katsuki remained still, gently releasing his grip on the back of your head to hold himself up above you before gingerly standing back up behind you, slowly pulling out of you with a soft wince at the sensitivity, glancing back up to study your face when you shivered at the loss of his warm body.

he leans over you to twist his keys in the ignition, the car starting with a low rumble, air blowing from the vents quickly warming both you and the car. you gawk up at him, stars still in your eyes when you connect the dots, “your car’s been fine the whole time?!”

he slides your soaking wet panties back up your thighs, snapping the waistband against your skin once they sat comfortably on your hips again,“obviously, the final girl’s supposed to notice that.” 

“the final girl was a bit preoccupied.” you glare, gasping again when his fingers loosely loops around your throat to pull you up to stand in front of him again, lust dripping from his near-silent voice, “well, it’s just your luck the final girl owes me a favour…wanna see if you’ll survive the sequel?"

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[the-roo-too]

karina fluff alphabet when? 😭😭

now? 🥲

candy -> yu jimin ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- i can’t say you whole because that would be too cliche, but it’s kinda true. she looks at you with those heart eyes like you build her world brick by brick

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- karina the typa girl who’d poke your lip a little lol. running her thumb over it—she loves that shit. you have so many lip balms because she says they remind her of you

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- i think she likes looking at you when you’re cuddling. just because you look so cute up close, yk? (with rizz 🫦) so she loves you laying your head on her lap, or you cuddling up to her chest <3

dates (what’s her ideal date)- cat cafe typa person. you’re eating yummy pancakes AND a cute little cat is purring on your lap? alternatively she’d love to hear some classical music for a late night outing, like going to an opera just for the sake of it. she’s a sucker for classical music i’m telling you 😔

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- with that, she doesn’t really hide. you’re her girlfriend, you both should communicate your emotions to ensure a happy relationship:)

family (does she want one)- maybeee..? she’d like kids at home but not maybe all of the time. i think you two would be the rich gay aunties who spoil their little nieces if anything

gifts (what about gift giving)- she’s not to big on that tbh. in the love language section i get more into the details, but karina prefers acts of service over gifts, she’ll also love if you do it back!

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- not in public!!! but at home? she has to hold your hand while you’re watching movies or she’ll just spend the whole time looking at you with a pitiful pout on her face

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- hurt=papercut: kisses it better and runs to get you a bandaid. “wounds heal better when you kiss them”; hurt=broken leg: when you get the cast, she carries you around everywhere 😭 you’re like a backpack now, glued to her back. now imagine the muscles she’ll build with that workout…

jokes (does she like to joke around)- dry ass dad jokes and you can’t convince me otherwise. karina would use bad pick up lines on you, the ones you’d find on tiktok or smth. she’d be so proud too 😭😭😭

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- i’m thinking hand on your cheek, caressing your skin gently when she leans in to peck your lips <:)

love (what’s her love language)- acts of service. brings you coffee in the morning, offers to give you a massage when you come to her tired after a long and busy day. she thinks gifts are nice, but not personal enough. karina wants you to feel how much she adores you

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- seeing you on the street one day 😭 first time you two met it was raining heavily and she won you over by running to you with her umbrella, mustering up all of her rizzing nature 😔 the memory still makes her stomach flutter

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- big on being the big spoon, then cuddles up to you like a cat in the middle of the night. she just needs to be warm ok. you think you’re in a relationship? you’re her personal heat pad

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- karina is a massive loser i am telling you

pet names (what does she like to call you)- ‘babie’, ‘my cutie’, ‘dearest’. maybe also variations of your name like ‘y/nnie’, ‘y/nny’ etc

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- imagine for a second that you play some instrument, like piano. now stay with me, she absolutely adores it. wants you to play her silly pieces, like parts of their songs or chopin’s waltz’s.

rush (does she rush into things)- after that previous relationship? no thank you 💖

secrets (how open is she with you)- tells you about how she stole a pencil from her best friend in third grade, a secret she promised to take to grave with her, but refuses to tell you her parent’s names until you’re together like a year. silly things > personal info

time (how long did it take her to confess)- you tricked her into confessing ☝️ girlie wasn’t picking up on your ‘subtle’ signs (visiting her every two days for a month straight) so you talked about hot idols you’d have a crush on until she admitted to hating when you spoke about others because she wanted you to be hers 🤙

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- karina needs help then lol. she won’t know by herself what to do. maybe if you’re upset over something minor, like her forgetting to give you a kiss when she was leaving in the morning, she’s just kiss you to apologise when she’s back? otherwise the whole aespa is recruited as a rescue squad lol

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- terrified 👍 we all know how fans reacted to her last public relationship so… idk if she would wanna come out with you until you’re like getting married 🥲

warrior (how often do you fight)- i think she’s a little scared to fight honestly. she thinks fighting would make you see her weak sides and she’s just scared to loose you :(((

x-ray (is she able to read you)- yes but also, karina is a loser trapped in a hot body let’s be honest. she just doesn’t pick up some clues :( poor baby thinks you’re coming to their dorm just because and it takes a lot of convincing for her to understand your one on one late night hangouts are in fact dates

yes (how would she propose to you)- in the most corny ass way you can think of. sappy love confession under the moonlight OR maybe she’d propose if dispatch somehow caught whiff of your relationship lol. then it would be rushed tho

zen (what makes her feel calm)- hear me out, driving around. especially, driving around a motorcycle. i don’t think she has a motorcycle license lol karina just gives me the vibes of someone who, when she’s stressed, would ask you to get with her on her bike. also, wrapping your arms around her waist ☝️🤓

part of [the fluff series]

[thecameronchronicles]

Unexpected

TW: mentions of pregnancy. Heavy angst. Language. Minor mention of gore.

SUMMARY: Trevor and you just learned you are going to have a baby! It would be good news if there wasn't a secret he was keeping from you...

*REQUESTED*

Anonymous Asked:

Hiii! Could you do a hellraiser trevor one shot where he gets her pregnant and realizes he's in too deep and her and his baby are going to die if he doesn't do something about it

Unexpected

It was as clear as day. Two pink lines from the third test you've taken this morning. The others only confirm that in which you already suspected.

You're pregnant.

Tears fill behind your eyes as you are terrified of what this means. Although you know there is an unspoken commitment between you and Trevor, his expression confirms that happiness isn't his first emotion, even if his own eyes are glossy.

"I'm -" You're about to apologize when he rushes to his keys set in the bowl beside the door and put to his car.

"Trevor!"

"I-I have to take care of something!"

"RIGHT NOW?" You call to him as he quickly shuffles on a pair of shoes and pulls the handle to leave.

"I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry." He takes the words from your mouth as you settle into your heartbreak in the midst of the living room. Only, you aren't left alone. Understanding there is a life within you, you steady your emotions the best you can given your accelerated hormones, and place your hand on your stomach.

"Hey in there. I promise everything is going to be okay." You rub softly, afraid even the softest of movements will somehow affect the baby. It causes you to make an appointment, which is what you do instead of dwelling on the abandonment.

Trevor accelerated through town, hitting the steering wheel with tears threatening to blur his view, before finally coming to the decrepit house on the edge. It was once beautiful and now a fortress fortified for what was to come. The things he tried to protect you from...

"Voight!" He calls, rushing through each gothic-themed room in the continuation of a seemingly useless name.

"Vo-"

"What is it?" Voight, a man struggling to breathe with the contraption punishing him for his greed, holds himself up from around the corner.

"I want out."

"Out? There is no "out"."

"Well make one! I can't be a part of this-"

"We made a deal-"

"I can't -I...I won't do it."

"You stopped having a choice when you got a taste of what you wanted and asked for more. Now you're going to help me..." He removed the cursed object that was once a cube, now more an arrowhead as he tenses. Knowing the capabilities and the torment, his skin dampens and his teeth clench.

"Please. I...I'm gonna have a kid. I can't..."

"You think pity will change things? You are so truly naive. Now do what you were hired to before I take you from the equation completely." He threatens Trevor as he is left in temporary silence.

A silence that leaves him pensive.

A silence that makes him understand the possibilities.

If his own mind wasn't desperate for some compromise, your text coming through prompted him to commit to it.

Y/N: I have an appointment at two. Not that you'll be there, just thought you should know.

"It's for you, baby. Shit-babies? It's for my family..."

A FEW HOURS LATER

"Voight?" Trevor leads the man from his rest as he follows him in conversation. Trevor plays the role of reinvigorated henchman, having kept you in the forefront of his mind. He wonders if you've eaten since you haven't been able to most of the last few days. He hopes you're resting but estimated you're probably pacing in between the thought of cursing him out and breaking up with him. Eventually, he uses the motivation of you and the unborn child to drag him from reservation and into effort.

"I was thinking what if I lured someone..." He begins to discuss a plot that piques Voight's interest. It's enough to distract him as he disguises the ruse of a get rich quick scheme and a quick job. An intriguing detail leaving suspicion on him.

"You want me to give you the device?"

"If the girl can come across it then it'll latch onto her. I'll have to get close to her. I'll be believable. Just like how I was to Y/N." The acid of his untruth burns and yet he commits.

"I'll conceal it. Get me that box from the Hennessy job." Trevor disappears before cursing at himself for his lacking wisdom to get Voight's trust.

And then comes another idea.

"The doors. Are they secure enough?"

"I made sure." Voight says as he begins to place the device away. Trevor is running out of time and he knows it.

"Last time I checked, the gear stuck. I couldn't get it-"

"You probably broke it-" He mutters, leaving the device unattended as he looks for the electrical box. Once hunched over it, Trevor carefully conceals the device in his sweatshirt and moves behind Voight.

He has to time this perfectly...

Carefully...

Without being detected...

"AHHHH! HELP ME!" Voight cries out as his hand becomes lodged between the gears. Bones and flesh crushed, he is dependent on Trevor's nonexistent mercy.

"What are you doing? I helped you!"

"I'm not risking my family." Taking out the device, he placed the opening of the end to Voight's flailing finger until it latches.

"What have you done?! After all I did for you!?"

"I tried to reason-" Voight reaches for Trevor, managing to grab a hold of his collar.

"They'll come for you. If not today-NO! NO! PLEASE! HIM! I'VE GIVEN YOU OFFERINGS-NOOOO!" Voight calls, his body contorted before he is dragged from sight. The snap of bone and tear from life is all that remains as Trevor steps quickly in the opposite direction from the nightmare taken from him. The sound of chain and the smell of iron linger and haunt him as he rushes into his car.

He takes a minute to try and erase what he saw. Just as the nausea begins to control him, he sees your bracelet hanging from his mirror. You replace and recycle his thoughts for what the future could hold. In an instant, the blood, gore, and deception shapeshift into something filled with hope and goodness.

A true light in the dark.

He rushes back through town and up through the hospital and to the OBGYN sector. Once inside, he finds you holding back tears in the waiting room.

"Trevor?" He's on his knees in front of you, hands desperately holding yours.

"I'm here, baby. Are you okay?"

"I was...anxious. I'm fine." You retract your hands, always used to being let down by him. Whether it is jobs that only last long enough to pay bills or being second choice to a bar when he's stressed, he knows now is the time to step up. He knows you need more and he wants to be that for you.

"I'm going to be better, baby. For you. For us." His hand lowers to your stomach.

"Y/N?" You get summoned, both you and Trevor on your feet. You follow behind a technician who leads you into a room stolen from most light. It reminds him of Voight's expensive dungeon. You misread this for anxiety and your shared worry drives your hand to join his.

"This is the baby..." It is more a collection of shapes than an identifiable form and yet it's yours. A join of you and Trevor. A life. A future. A revelation and a chance.

Trevor takes your hand and leads it to his mouth for a kiss.

"I promise baby, everything will be okay." You're foolishly in love with him and yet never once have seen such sincerity behind his eyes. You trust it, even if some secrets will be bound to remain just that, you clutch and hold that which you see possible.

No matter how unexpected.

MASTERLIST

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write the oldest request with Aitana Bonmati and maybe make more parts of it with flashbacks if important moments (First Meeting, first kiss, first time pregnant, first daughters birth, first birthday, meeting Aitanas parents) there are many more moments you could write. If you don't write requests at the moment, I understand and don't put pressure on your self, if you don't like it don't do it.

Always keep the fun at writingand if you are not having fun stop it, because if you don't like it the you will never write as good as a story you really had fun writing

Thanks for sharing these incredible story's with us

Linda

Aitana Bonmatí x reader request

-> Aitana hides a wife and eventually a child from her teammates

-> also requested by this anon - I hope you like it

-> Talk of IVF - Information from Google, 'Y/N' once, a lot longer than expected

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Doing something for the first time was always scary, most people knew that – and so did your wife. Well, now she was your wife, a couple of years ago she was just ‘Aitana Bonmatí’ the next person on your list of people you would need to photograph. That was your job after all, being Barcelona Femenís new team photographer after the last one was let go after facing harassment claims made by the players. 

The first friend you made on the team was Caroline, who spoke English so that you could communicate, and it didn’t take long until Lieke warmed up to you as well. They made it a lot easier to communicate – you didn’t speak Spanish and most of the Spaniards, didn’t speak English, but you still managed to talk to each other – it was a mix of both languages, as everybody tried to learn. 

Meeting Aitana back in 2019 was quite funny, the young Midfielder was next in line to get her photos for the season taken and she was nervous. A new photographer, who didn’t speak Spanish? How was this going to work?  

But as soon as she saw you, she knew that you had already stolen her heart, ready to keep it forever. Aitana was a blushing and stuttering mess, while you tried to get through the shoot as fast as possible, thinking that the Catalan hated you. It was a lot of awkward back and forth until she finally asked you out on a date.

It would be the first of many, and because you had taken such a long time to even get to this point, both of you were now mediocre at the other's respective language, making conversation much easier and a lot more fun-er.

---

---

The first kiss came with the third date when the Spaniard couldn’t wait any longer, and what better place than her bed? The footballer had invited you to her apartment and you had cooked together, joking around the entire evening until she could see your eyes droop.

“Let’s go to bed linda, hmm?” It was no secret that you loved when she called you beautiful, so with blushing cheeks and shy smiles you stumbled to the brunette’s bedroom, who excitedly pulled you after her by your hand. 

Soft giggles filled the room when Aitana just pushed you on the bed, claiming that you ‘need to relax more’ before she started massaging your shoulders. A certain tension filled the room and ultimately the Spaniard couldn’t handle it – she grasped your ching gently, turning your head towards her. 

She was stunning.

Soft brown eyes stared deep into yours, seeing you for who you really were before she gently closed the gap between your faces. It had been the best first kiss there could be (at least when asking you or Aitana), and the first time followed shortly later, she really couldn’t wait any longer.

Safe to say, that neither of you would ever forget that date.

---

---

Meeting your girlfriend's Parents was quite scary for you, after all, your Spanish still wasn’t that good – but Aitana made sure to praise every new word you learned with a gentle kiss to your forehead, proud of you, that you wanted to learn her language and culture. 

But when you met them, all your worries went out the window – they were so nice and very much interested in learning English as both of them were teachers of the Catalonian language and literature.

The evening was nice as Rosa taught you how to make Aitana’s favorite dish from home – she even gave you all of the recipe cards she had originally written for her daughter. While the footballer loved food, she tried to stay far away from the kitchen – luckily for both of you, you enjoyed it.

During that time Vicent stood in the garden with his daughter, giving her ‘the speech’ he had planned for you – but just like his wife and daughter, you had quickly wormed your way into his heart, making him turn on his daughter. But she could tell that the threats held no real weight to them, the sly smirk on his face giving everything away.

Rosa gave you all the credit for dinner when you really had just peeled potatoes and observed – but Aitana, none the wiser complimented you the whole night through, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and even your hair, while her parents watched. 

They were in awe, wondering how you had gotten their daughter's attention when she had never been in anybody else. Football had been the only thing on her mind until she met you. Vicent and Rosa were so incredibly happy for their daughter – sure seeing her successful and fighting for equality was amazing, but seeing her so utterly in love? That was just something else.

On that very night, Vicent had given your girlfriend a little box with two rings inside of it.

---

--- 

A year of dating had passed and you were living together in a new apartment when Aitana popped the big question. When you started dating she had told you, that it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ you were getting married, but rather a question of ‘when’. You had only blushed, her certainty made you feel giddy. There was just something about it.

The proposal wasn’t some big gesture but rather a cozy evening together, where she pulled the box out and got on her knees when you were getting more wine.

There had been tears, and obviously, you had said yes after sinking to your knees and embracing Aitana in a tear-stained kiss.

The rings were beautiful, one of them was a little thicker than the second one, but both had beautiful vines with leaves engraved in them – multiple little diamonds were embedded in the bands. 

“They belonged to mi abuela y abuelo.” Aitana was also crying, while she knew that you would say yes, she was still overrun with emotions. “We can get new ones if you want… I just thought th-“

You didn’t let her finish rambling, cooing a little at how nervous she was. “No – I love them, Tana. I’ll have to thank your abuela y abuelo the next time that I see them, huh?”

 After meeting her parents for the first time Aitana took you to her grandparent's grave – family was important to her. 

The actual wedding was held in a small circle of the closest friends and family members – the Spaniard loved keeping you to herself even with her huge family. The team obviously knew you as their photographer but Laia Codina was the only one invited from the team – sworn to secrecy.

It had been a dream.

---

---

During your honeymoon, the conversation about having kids came up again and again. You had obviously talked about it before, but now as a married couple, everything seemed much more plausible. You had everything you needed for the perfect family life you had always dreamed of – except a kid, obviously. 

After carefully considering your options you landed on co-IVF. Thanks to two well-paying jobs, you had the necessary funds, and both of you wanted to be actively, emotionally as well as physically involved.

The decision on who would carry out the pregnancy and who would be the provider of the genetic load came quite easily – Aitana was just at the start of her big career, important seasons would surely come, so you would be the one to get pregnant.

While it was typically the younger person who would be the genetic mother, Aitana was only a year older than you and had just turned 22 – she had a good ovarian reserve and the genetic screening showed no problems, so you could go through with the process. Your uterus had also been deemed fit to carry the baby, as was your overall health.

The process was long and tedious – Aitana had to inject herself with hormones for twelve days, to stimulate egg growth, before the final injection which would trigger ovulation. After that, the eggs are retrieved and the mature ones are fertilized by the sperm of an anonymous donor you had carefully picked out together. One of the embryos gets placed in your uterus after up to six days of growing, while you have prepared your body with progesterone and estrogen in order to make sure that your uterus lining is at the correct thickness. 

But the hardest part came after the embryo transfer – A two-week wait before you could take a pregnancy test. It was pure torture, the only good thing was that you saw your wife every day, making the hormones much more manageable.

How the team didn’t find out was truly a miracle, they must have thought that there was something seriously wrong with their teammate when Aitana started to be more careful – not knowing that she was growing a load of eggs.

After the dreaded two weeks you finally took the test together – no matter how much you protested Aitana joined you in the bathroom, she really wanted to be here for this. In solidarity the Spaniard had sipped water alongside you – so now you both needed to pee. 

After taking the first ‘First Response Early Result wand test’ test you waited anxiously on the couch. This was the best test kit for at home, your wife had made sure of that. The five minutes felt even longer than the two weeks – it was painful. When the timer was up, your eyes met. Together you turned the small device over.

No. It couldn’t be…

Out of shock, you took a second test, and after that showed the same result, you took a third one. Tears brimmed in your eyes, hands shaking so much that Aitana took the test out of them, turning it around – it was the same result.

Positive.

It had worked on the first try.

---

---

As happy as you were to be pregnant, it really was a bitch. The first trimester was the worst, you had morning sickness all day long. Why do they even call it that? Morning sickness?

You still went to work with an upset stomach, extreme tiredness, and hurting breasts. Aitana tried to look out for you, as subtle as she could. Whenever at a match she brought you a chair, just carrying it after you so that you could sit down. She also took over the cooking so that you could rest as much as possible. But with all the problems the meals got smaller and more frequent.

As hard as it was, you loved it – so did Aitana.

The second trimester came with back pain, stretch marks, and patches of darker skin over the cheeks, forehead, nose, and upper lip – the ‘mask of pregnancy’. But it also came with a slightly showing belly in the beginning until you could fully see it in your work clothes.

In week 23 of pregnancy, Aitana had the scare of her life. As usual, you were cuddled up on the couch, your back to her stomach as you tried to edit a couple of pictures in this position. Your wife's wandering hands were just making their way down to your pants, trying to tease you when she suddenly felt a nudge. “¿Qué fue eso?” You had felt it before, a gentle fluttering in your tummy, or like a tumbling sensation. “Linda? What was that?” 

The baby had started to move, and Aitana fell in love all over again. She obviously knew that it could happen any day now, but actually feeling it? That was something else. 

With your protruding belly, the other girls started to notice as well – it was Ana who discovered it first. You had come to her with the Club's Social Media phone, needing her to record a quick video for Instagram.

“Oie! Did I miss something?”

At first, you didn’t really know what she was talking about – completely forgetting that you had given up looking for baggy shirts and just worn one that was a bit tighter.

“Whoopsie?”

On that very day, Aitana decided to tell the team. She didn’t want to hide anymore. While having you to herself was incredible, she wanted to brag about you and the unborn child she already loved so much. 

When you entered the gym room at the time you were told, everybody looked at you. “¿Cómo estás mi amor?” Alexia was the first at your side, and even if she saw your belly, she didn’t say anything when she kissed both of your cheeks.

“I know you already know her, but I wanted to re-introduce you. So… Meet the love of my life, and my wife – Y/N.”

The silence was swallowing you whole, Aitana’s hand in yours as she gently squeezed it, trying to calm your nerves. Just seconds later the gym erupted in cheers and you were pulled into hug after hug by the girls who knew that there was something going on between Aitana and you – but they never would have guessed just how close you were.

“Is it Aitana’s baby then?” – and just like that Ana made the team erupt in screams again, as if they were just looking at you for the first time. 

---

---

For the third trimester, you were sent home by Jonatan, Aitana’s training plan was heavily adjusted and her game time dwindled down. While she would have hated that at any different time – she was happy to be with you every single day of your pregnancy. 

She helped you wherever she could, showering, making dinner, putting shoes on, and going on walks. When you started to nest, she never complained, just offering her hands whenever something didn’t work the way you wanted it to.

The Barca girls were a big help to their fellow teammate – listening to her rambling on and on about you and the little one, affectionally called ‘pequeño’ by everyone. No one knew the sex yet, you didn’t want to know until the baby was there. There were organized bets going on, organized by Mapi and Jenni – team boy currently held more money.

Your due date was calculated for the 23rd of May, with the Champions League final falling on the 21st. It took a lot of convincing on your side to make Aitana go with the team. “Tana this could be the most important game in your life!”

“But what if pequeño comes early?”

The Spaniard insisted on staying home until the day of departure came. You had reassured her countless times, that you would be perfectly fine – after all the baby wasn’t supposed to come yet, and what baby would actually be punctual? Definitely not yours. After all it haf your wife’s DNA, and Aitana was always late.

In the end, it was Rosa who convinced her daughter to travel to Italy with the team.

The loss of 3 – 1 hit hard, especially against Lyon but an excited hum filled the plane back that was originally supposed to take off the next evening – but when Aitana had gotten the call that your contractions started every existing plan got thrown overboard and just two hours later they were on their way to Barcelona.

It was safe to say that little Mira Linda Bonmatí made the memory of losing the Champions League finale the day before just that much better.

Now an entire year later you could barely believe it – your little girl was already turning one and her Mamí was getting ready for another final – this time with you and her little mascot by her side – making it a hundred times better already.

While standing in the crowd you couldn’t help but laugh, thinking back on how you had managed to hide your relationship, marriage, and pregnancy from the Barca Femení squad for such a long time. Now you couldn’t imagine life without them – 22 very eager Tia’s who would gladly look after Mia any chance they got.

[manjiroscum]

MARRY? KILL? FUCK!

CHARACTER/S: Bonten

WARNINGS: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, threesome, a bit of slut shaming, bonten just being bonten, doggystyle, full nelson, protected sex (use of pills), creampie, just a lot of filth :p, sanzu's a bit of an asshole, strip game, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

NOTE: hi! here is the third fic for the collection :) took a lot of time bc uni and life got too hectic huhu anyway, i hope you enjoy it! (⁠ノ⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠)♪

MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: Another slow day at work meant more shenanigans to occur. Haruchiyo Sanzu was adamant to cause trouble and to have you bent over the desk for everyone to see.

WC: 1k

The chances of being shot in the head by Bonten’s notorious pink-haired assailant had a much lower probability of happening than the wine bottle never landing on you. The whole ordeal wouldn't have been daunting if it were a normal truth-or-dare game. But of course, the rest of Bonten’s higher-ups were bored out of their minds and suggested a little twist in the game. It was either you picked truth or dare and did them… Or avoid it and strip. Lips in a grim line, you ignored the drunken hollers by the Haitani brothers as you unbuttoned your blouse. There was no way in hell you would admit that you slept with Takeomi in Mikey’s office due to a bet you made with Rindou.

No way in hell.

Curse these bastards for inviting you, their ever-lovely secretary, to this stupid game when you could've gone home early since Mikey wasn't around. When the big cat wasn't around to intimidate, every rotten mouse was up to play. And play, they did. Sanzu was even more adamant about making you answer the most difficult questions because it was fun to torment you especially now that you were only clad in your stockings, pencil skirt, underwear, and bra.

“Seriously, this game must be rigged!” You sat back down, brows furrowed and unaware of the lingering gazes on your supple breasts covered by a lace bra. “Most of you guys haven't even stripped much. Why am I getting the craziest dares and questions, huh?”

This was definitely to teach you a lesson not to get ahead with yourself thinking you can best these men in a game. As much as you knew their dirty secrets within the organization, they too, knew yours. What made them annoyingly frustrating to deal with was how they utilized it to bring you to your knees.

“Alright then,” Rindou rubbed his hands as if he has foreseen the future when the bottle pointed at you and him. Fighting back the urge to slap yourself for joining this stupid game, you listened as he gave you the options. “Truth or dare, princess. What do you choose?”

To use your answers against you was what Sanzu Haruchiyo and Haitani Rindou were begrudgingly good at. This tactic had you stripping your pencil skirt when you refused to answer the question Rindou gave you and the dare option was as equally brazen. Perhaps after a few more rounds, you were sure you would exit the building all nude. However, just as you were about to spill your woes, the pink-haired man got up and instantly pulled you from your seat without breaking a sweat. The next thing you know, you were bent over Mikey’s desk. Eyes wide, you blinked twice.

“W-what the—”

“Why won’t you answer the simple question, sweetheart? We’re not gonna kill ‘ya if your pussy decides it likes me better than Ran.”

“Sanzu, you dick, I heard that!”

The scars on either side of his lips stretched as he grinned down at your vulnerable form, his hard-on pressed against your ass that was too difficult to ignore. Wishing for it to go away would be stupid to do as well.

“I mean, aren’t you curious boys? A simple question as to who she wants to kill, marry or fuck isn’t something that’ll cause us to slit each other's throats. A slut like her should be shared by us.” Pulling back, Sanzu stepped aside for everyone to see your ass still clad in your panties. But not for long as he hooked his finger and pulled down the lacy thong, tongue tucked between his lips as he did so.

Such an obedient thing you were, spouting for him to stop yet doing nothing to make him halt in his actions. A few of the men swallowed hard at the sight of your bare ass and damp pussy lips, aching to fill your holes.

“Gonna ask you one last time, sweetheart. Be a dear and answer Rin’s question. He thought long and hard about it, you see.” Ignoring the huff the younger Haitani made, Sanzu smirked. “Fuck, marry, kill? Unless of course, you’re such a big slut that you want to fuck us all?”

The safest answer you took was what led you to be on all fours, Ran’s cock in your mouth and Sanzu thrusting his from behind. Rindou’s thick fingers were busy toying with your nipples as Kakucho rubbed himself to the sinful scene in front of him. Milky semen coated your back, belonging to the brothers and Kakucho after being coaxed by Sanzu to see who has the thickest load that will definitely knock you up. You ignored their silly banter, trusting the pill you religiously took. The air conditioner in Mikey’s office was either broken or was blowing cold air quite poorly due to how hot your flesh felt against their cool skin. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoed around, driving you all insane. Your eyes rolled back at Sanzu’s long cock hitting that favorite spot of yours.

They continued to switch positions, adamant for everyone to have at least a turn inside your cum-filled pussy. You felt your lower stomach bloat up at how much semen was inside. The game and wine bottle were forgotten, replaced with a much more engaging game where nobody loses. This was what you’ve always wanted, a secret you’ve kept to yourself. And now that it was happening, perhaps the teasing at the strip game earlier was worth going through.

“Too bad Takeomi and Mikey are missing out on this cunt.”

“Nah, the old man would probably complain about his back and Mikey’s not interested whenever we’re around.”

“Hey, Kaku, she’s blacking out. Wake her up.”

Kakucho hoisting you up and doing the standing full nelson position wasn’t something you anticipated. Everyone was amazed at how much of their cum spilled out when he thrust his thick cock inside your weeping pussy, your teeth gritted at the tight fit. He has always been the biggest of them, rendering you a bit dizzy as he pistoned his hips. Not minding your fucked up state, Sanzu bent down to be on eye level with you, a grin on his pretty face.

“What do you say after we grant your wish, sweetheart?”

“T-thank, a-ah, hu…♡”

taglist: @imkumichan @pyrsqrd @ploylulla @wakaslut @ranilingus @tobidabio @zuuki @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @wakasa-wifey @keijisprettygirl @marism-tr @stffychn @manjirousagi @tokyometronetwork

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Mango (The Surprise, Part 13)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, innuendo, implied sex, periods, mostly just fluff, reader taking care of Emily because our girl deserves it Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Emily comes back from a hard week in the field and you treat her in all the ways you can possibly think of. Because she's baby girl and she deserves to be taken care of.

Week 23: The Mango

In both your personal and professional life, you were a wildly independent person. Self-sufficient, dedicated, proud of the work you did and how hard you’d worked to get where you were. You were nobody’s doormat, nobody’s housekeeper, nobody’s mom.

If anyone else you knew, especially men, asked you to cook for them or do their laundry or take care of them in any way, you would have been personally affronted. You would have said, “You’re a fucking grown-up, do it yourself. I’m not your mom.” And you’d mean it.

So it embarrassed you a bit that, with Emily, you acted like a full-blown ‘50s-style housewife and you loved it. Not all the time, of course. But enough of the time that you couldn’t just brush it off. Dinner on the table when she got home? Your pleasure. Packing her lunch? A joy. Doing the laundry and making sure she always had a second go-bag packed and ready in case there was a quick turnaround on cases? You lived for that shit, especially when you hid little notes in the pockets that said things like:

I love you (so does little mango)!

We miss you! <3!

So proud of you for saving lives and kicking criminal ass! P.S. It’s hot. ;)

The bottom line? You were down bad for Emily. You had been from the moment she’d asked you out and all the years since. But after you’d gotten pregnant, your roles had switched a bit. Emily had always taken care of you well, but in the last few months she'd taken over significantly more of the household tasks since you were often tired and achy. You ordered takeout more often than you cooked (Emily had tried, but after her third time setting off the fire alarm you’d said, “You know what, babe, why don’t we just order out?”).

You missed taking care of Emily. God knows, she wouldn’t let anybody else do it. So when she’d called you from the jet to let you know she was on her way home after a grueling week in the field–made even more grueling by the fact that she was on her period–you set out to treat Emily right. To treat her in all the ways you used to treat her before you got pregnant, in all the ways that Emily deserved to be treated and so rarely let herself be.

You had groceries delivered to make her favorite meal, and when the little Find My dot that was Emily showed up at Quantico and started making its way back to DC, you ran her a bath–water scalding so it’d be nice and hot when she came in, fragrant with lavender Epsom salts. You lit candles, turned the bathroom lights low, even put her favorite hoodie and sweatpants and a fluffy towel in the dryer so they’d be toasty and warm when she got out of the bath.

You started on dinner, playing Emily’s favorite Salah Ragab record on the turntable. The food processor growled as it worked overtime to blend a homemade hummus, complete with your secret ingredient: a splash of aquafaba. You chopped parsley and mint for fattoush, made a marinade for the chicken flavored with all the spices Emily loved so much from her childhood years in Oman and Egypt, sumac and cardamom and coriander and all the others that you ordered online from a specialty Middle Eastern spice seller.

Your oven shawarma wasn’t as good as shawarma from a spit in Cairo, but it was about as close as you could get at home, and Emily loved it. And you made a damn good fattoush and hummus. You sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, whipped together a quick yogurt sauce.

You’d just put the chicken and veggies in the oven and were starting on the cream cheese filling for the stuffed dates when you heard the door open and shut.

“In the kitchen!” you called, hands sticky from slicing the dates.

Emily looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her blazer rumpled from a long day of travel. But her face lit up when she saw you.

“Do I smell… shawarma?!” she asked, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your neck, her hands resting protectively over your baby bump.

“Mmhm.” You grinned, feeling Emily’s body melt into yours, the tension in her muscles already dissipating.

“What’s the occasion?” She turned you around, so she could lean her arms on your shoulders, running her fingers through your hair.

You shrugged. “Can’t a girl just want to treat her wife?”

“She sure can.” Emily smiled and leaned in to press her lips softly to yours. You held your hands out at your sides so you wouldn’t be tempted to press them into Emily’s clothes or skin.

Emily pulled away, watching you lovingly as you sliced and mixed and stirred.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked, lowering herself into a chair and wincing slightly.

“In the kitchen!?” You scoffed. “Absolutely not. There’s a bath ready for you, so go relax for a bit.”

Her eyes brightened. “Aw, honey. That’s so sweet of you.” She grabbed your hips again, once again turning you away from the counter so she could press you against it in a hungry kiss.

You giggled and swatted at her with a dish towel. “Go before the water gets cold!”

“Care to join?” she asked suggestively, pulling lightly at the waistband of your shorts.

You smirked, gently grasping her fingers and moving them away. “I have to finish dessert.”

Emily walked toward the bathroom like a scolded puppy, looking back with big eyes. “I can think of something else I’d rather have for dessert,” she commented, eyebrows raised.

You waved her off, blushing furiously. “Get out of here, you dork! Go take your bath!”

“I thought we were treating me tonight!” Emily called from the bathroom.

“That’s an after-dinner treat, honey,” you yelled back. “I’ve got shit to do first.”

“Fine! But I’m gonna hold you to that!”

You shook your head, grinning, as you spooned cream cheese filling into the halved dates, pressing them into a mixture of crushed pistachios and rose petals. God, you loved your wife.

When the dates were plated, the bulgur in the fattoush soaked through, the pita warmed, and the chicken covered in foil and resting on the counter, you washed your hands and went to find Emily, grabbing her comfy clothes and towel from the dryer.

You heart surged when you found her still in the tub, eyes closed, face relaxed. This is what your girl deserved. You leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

“You alright, honey?” you asked, trying to squat down next to the tub, but ending up on your knees thanks to the baby.

She hummed in affirmation, keeping her eyes closed. “Thank you so much for this, baby,” she mumbled quietly.

“Anytime, love.” You watched her for a few more minutes, then set the stack of warm clothes on the bathroom counter. “There’s a warm towel and some PJs here for you,” you said, struggling to get to your feet.

“You good?” Emily chuckled, watching you out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes.” When you finally managed to make it to your feet, you had beads of sweat on your forehead. It wasn’t even that your belly was that heavy yet, it was that it threw off your center of gravity and made moving from one position to another awkward. “Get dried off when you're ready,” you told her. “I’ll get dinner on the table.”

You were proud of the spread when you stood and surveyed it. Shawarma chicken straight from the oven, spiced and heavenly-smelling. Warm pita bread and a swirl of smooth, creamy hummus with just a bit of paprika and olive oil on top. A lovely, vibrant fattoush, sliced cucumbers, juicy tomatoes. A little plate of stuffed dates, popping with green and pink from the pistachios and rose petals.

Emily walked in, hair wet around her shoulders, blotching her sweatshirt. You pulled her chair out for her but, before she sat down, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. She smelled like lavender and fresh laundry, and you breathed her in, holding her close.

You could tell by the way she lingered there, by the way she breathed easier with her body pressed against yours, that Emily would need a lot of touch tonight. Not just in a sexual way, though Emily’s sex drive was always through the roof on her period. You could tell that tonight, Emily would let you hold her, that she’d curl herself around you tightly, possessively, as if to cover the most that she possibly could of your surface area.

In other words, she needed comfort. And she didn't get it from anyone else, not really. It had taken her a long time to even ask for it from you, to seek it out. So when she did, you were always more than happy to oblige. More than happy to hold clingy, sweet, needy Emily for as long as she needed.

She whined a bit when you pulled away, and you kissed her cheek, playing with her fingers.

“You’ve got to eat something, love. Then I promise I will not let you go for the rest of the night.”

She sat obediently, squeezing your hand, and piled her plate with all the things you’d made, eyes rolling back in her head when she swiped a finger through the hummus and put it in her mouth.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she gushed. “I swear your hummus tastes just like my friend Zainab’s mom’s from when I lived in Oman.”

“It’s the specialty spices,” you shrugged, taking a bite of pita with shawarma and veggies.

“No, I think it’s the special person making it,” Emily cheesed, beaming at you.

You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, you’re getting it tonight.”

“I certainly hope so.”

When your plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked safely into the fridge, you led Emily to the bedroom, pulling back the covers for her, tucking her in.

“You know these are just gonna get untucked, right?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Shh,” you scolded. “Let me take care of you.”

You crawled into bed next to Emily, drawing her body into yours, holding her gently as you pressed your lips to hers. She melted into the kiss, already breathless.

You brushed her hair out of her face, placing your hand gently on her lower stomach. “How are your cramps?” you asked. “You want any medicine or anything?”

“The only medicine I need is you,” she said, guiding your hand lower.

You chuckled. “Alright, Romeo. Calm down.” You lowered your face to her neck, planting kisses all across her shoulder and collarbone. “I told you I’d take care of you, and I will.”

Emily held your face gently in her hands, looking deep into your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” she whispered.

You pecked her on the lips. “Because I love you. And you deserve good things.”

And with that, you started your long, slow journey across the topography of Emily’s body, ready and willing to give her every good thing you possibly could.

[widowbitessting]

The One with the Scary Game

Word Count: 546

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: MJ encourages you to play FNaF. What could possibly go wrong?

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

(I swear I got an ask for this, but can I find it? No. I remember it being along the lines of Natasha hearing Baby shouting: "Mommy!" and coming rushing to her aid. It's not the best thing I've written but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless)

xoxo

You really should stop listening to MJ.

It’s becoming a serious problem. 

Especially for your heart.

Even if you do want to murder her. 

“It’s not that scary,” You mimic MJ’s voice, pulling a face. “You’ll be fine, they’re only cuddly animatronics. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You’re standing on the sofa, nervously bouncing as you re-check the cameras, begging Chica and Bonnie to stay away. 

“C’mon 6am. C’mon 6am…” 

Someone slams the fridge door and it startles you.

“Can you not!” You glance quickly back at Carol who’s smirking. 

“Sorry, little one. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Sure you didn’t.” 

You get laugh as a response as Carol leaves you to your game. 

“C’mon 6am…c’mon…” 

Your hands are so clammy it’s no joke. 

“5am! How is it still 5am?” 

You check the cameras again, letting out a whimper when you spot Freddie on the move too. 

“NO! C’mon now!” 

You exhale shakily. 

“Mommy…mommy…mommy…” It comes out in a quiet chant. “Mooommmyyyy.” 

You frantically check the doors, letting out an incoherent string of words when you stop Bonnie in time. 

“I can do this…I can do this…” 

You really think you are. 

Convinced you’re about the beat the third night, when you hear a laugh. 

Your body freezes up and you’re about to ask yourself what that was, when Freddie pops out of nowhere, scaring the soul right out of your body. 

You scream at the top of your lungs.

Shouting: “MOMMY!” as your controller is launched into the air; toppling off the sofa in a tangle of limbs. 

You lie there. 

Mortified. 

Envisioning the different ways you can murder MJ for telling you to play this game. 

The main light is switched on as Natasha comes sprinting into the room, blinding you momentarily.

“Who died?!” 

A sad noise leaves you.

And you point to the screen that says GAME OVER. 

“I did...” 

“Oh detka…” Natasha walks over to where you’re lying on the floor and offers her hand down to you. “I warned you not to play it in the dark.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You allow her to help you up and quickly wrap your arms around her. 

“Do I want to know why you shouted my title at the top of your lungs?” She asks, looking at you. “Got a secret kink you need to share with us?”

You bark out a laugh and playfully shove the red head away. 

“Nerd. I do not have a - no - I just, shut up.” 

Natasha just laughs at you and pulls you in for another cuddle. 

“My brave girl, hmm?” 

It takes you a second to reply.

“...yes.” 

“How ‘bout we leave the scary game for today? Wanna have a bubble bath with mommy?” 

Your eyes light up.

“With candles?” 

“Anything my sweet baby wants. Wanna race?” 

“You’re on!”

Natasha smiles lovingly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Wanna do the count down or shall I do it?” 

“You can this time.” You reply. 

“Ready?” You nod in reply. “3…2...1…Go!” 

Natasha darts off as you attempt to leap over the sofa.

Your giggles fill the quiet apartment as you dart up the stairs, just behind Natasha. 

“Get back here, Romanoff!” 

“Gotta be quicker than that, baby girl! I’m gonna win!” 

You let her win. 

Totally. 

[athforskz]

Body Worship - Seo Changbin

Masterlist

Pairing: Changbin  x reader (afab) 

wc: ~2.7k

Type: Angst, smut, established relationship

Warnings: Insecurities (body image issues), cursing, mention of online bullying & death threats, crying, tons of kissing, love bites/ marking, sensory play (reader is blindfolded), unprotected piv, use of sex toys, prone bone, aftercare. Let me know if I missed any!

a/n: I don’t care who you are, but every single one of you is beautiful! You better believe it or I’ll send Changbin after you, myself! ����

Enjoy lovelies!

It had been weeks since you showed your face to the public or been out of the house for that matter. All you wanted to do was stay home in your cozy bed and sleep. To say you were insecure was an understatement. Your boyfriend, Changbin, hadn’t really minded your increasing tendencies to stay in bed. He figured you were just catching up on some much needed rest. However, when it was creeping up on the third week of you turning down his date ideas he started to get worried. 

“Bunny, you doing okay today?” 

“I’m fine, Binnie.” You sighed from underneath the pile of blankets. 

Changbin let out a frustrated groan. He knew you weren’t fine, but he couldn’t figure out why. He finally had vacation time and all he wanted to do was spend it with you. Take you out to all your favorite places and maybe make some new adventures. 

You, on the other hand, despised the thought of it. Not because you didn’t want to spend quality time with your beloved boyfriend, but because of what his fans and media might think. You and Changbin had started dating a little over two years ago. At first the relationship was kept a secret with only his group members, close friends, and family knowing of your status. But once you both had felt comfortable you guys decided to make your relationship public. For the most part, it went over well with Stays accepting your presence and news outlets making headlines about you dating the K-pop idol. 

Even though the majority of fans and media welcomed you, there were still toxic fans and tabloids that tried to tear you down. Normally, you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, but some of the things you read in news articles or comments fans made chipped away at your confidence bit by bit. It started off with an unflattering photo caught by paparazzi when you and Changbin were headed to the airport, then the comments began rolling in. 

‘Her face looks so uneven’

‘She dresses like a toddler’

‘Changbin could do so much better’

You wanted to ignore it all. Push all the hate aside and continue with the happiness you found in Changbin. But just when you were getting used to the mild negativity, the death threats came. Some crazy fans had found your personal accounts, threatening you to stay away from their Changbin. There had even been a trending tag on Twitter reading ‘Save Binnie from his scrooge girlfriend.’ 

That was your final straw, the final push that had sent you into recluse mode almost three weeks ago. You started nitpicking your looks and facial features. You became hyper aware of every scar and stretch mark on your body. You would stand in the mirror pinching the chub of your stomach or thighs. Everything made you feel disgusted with yourself and the only way to feel any kind of comfort was to hide away. 

“Come on, you have to talk to me eventually.” Changbin wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Talk about what? There’s nothing wrong…” you lied through your teeth. 

Changbin pulled the duvet from your curled form. You whined trying to grab it back from him. 

“Binnieeee, please just leave me be right now.” 

“Not until you’re honest with me,” he retorted. 

You simply laid there feeling defeated, covering your face with your hands as tears welled at your lash line. He could hear the faint sniffles you were trying to keep quiet. Changbin became increasingly concerned and grabbed your wrists to move them away from your face. 

“Hey, hey baby, why are you crying? Please talk to me. I am begging you.” He was pleading with you. 

“Why are you still with me…?” You averted your eyes, not able to look your boyfriend in the face. 

“What are you talking about? I’m with you because I love you and you make me the happiest man on earth.”

“But I’m nothing more than an ugly fucking scrooge!” You had snapped, tears full on running down your cheeks as you completely turned your face away. 

Bin placed his hands on either side of your cheeks making you look at him. 

“Why are you saying this? Please don’t talk down about yourself, it breaks my heart to see you hurting.” 

“Social media and some of your fans have been saying rude things. But now I see that it’s all true.” You mumbled, halfway hoping he wouldn’t hear you, but he did. 

“None of it is true. You have to stop paying attention to those haters.” He said softly as he rubbed your cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. 

“You’re only saying that..” you tried to pull out of his hold but he kept you close.

“Baby, you are the most gorgeous thing to have ever walked this universe. People are always graced by your beauty when you walk into a room. I am beyond lucky to call you mine and I’ll personally fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He declared to you.

“So you don’t think I look like the scrooge?” You sniffled.

He chuckled while shaking his head, “course not. You are my beautiful babes.” 

“I- I don’t believe it. I’m sorry.. I just feel so ugly and unworthy of you.” You sobbed again.

Changbin pulled you in close placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you. Make you believe it.” He simply stated while walking around the shared bedroom gathering a few items and even lighting a couple of candles. 

For a minute you were confused. How was he going to achieve a seemingly impossible task? You had your mind made up and there was no changing it. Your insecurities were set in stone. 

After Bin had gathered what he was looking for he kneeled on the bed in front of where you were now sat up. 

“Close your eyes f’ me.” He said calmly.

“Bin, I don’t think-“ you tried to resist.

“That wasn’t a request, bunny.” 

You shut your mouth and followed his command, closing your eyes. You could feel some kind of thick silk being wrapped around your head, making sure you couldn’t see anything. 

“What are you doing?” You inquired.

“Shhh, I’m going to be the one asking questions. Understand?” 

“…yes,” you whispered. 

“That’s my girl,” he praised. Changbin ran his fingers through your hair, landing his palm on the crown of your head massaging just the way you liked it. You began to relax, your previous sobbing and sniffles coming to a stop. He then gripped onto the roots of your hair and maneuvered your head to the side so he had easy access to your neck. 

“Can’t believe you’d talk about yourself - my girl - in such a way. You have a wonderful mind and a beautiful body and I intend to worship all of it. Show you exactly what I see.” He placed a kiss on your neck, sucking and biting the flesh which will surely leave a mark. 

“You’re so pretty, so damn pretty.” He murmured with his lips still pressed under your jaw, moving to another spot to mark. Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue lick up the column of your neck. 

Needless to say, you and Bin hadn’t been the most intimate the last few weeks. So every kiss and every touch he gave you made you feel more sensitive. The way his hands caressed down your waist until he reached the hem of your shirt set your skin on fire. He pulled the clothing over your head and tossed it on the floor. You covered your chest with your arms out of reflex, but he stopped you. 

“Don’t hide this gorgeous body from me, sweetheart. I need to see you. I crave you.” He said in an almost animalistic tone. It sent shivers down your spine. Bin placed his hand between your breasts and lightly pushed you down to lay flat on your back. He then slid his hand to the side to cup and squeeze your right breast. “Such beautiful tits you have,” he leaned down to suck on the left. “So squishy and perfect,” he’d say between sucks and licks to your nipples.

You started letting out airy moans at his ministrations on your chest. Changbin came up to place another kiss on your lips before kissing down your sternum and down your stomach. The motions made you tense as you especially hated your abdomen. He sensed the change in your body language and rubbed your sides spending extra time there. His fingertips hooking into the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down along with your panties. 

“Binnie.. don’t look please.” You started shaking from anxiety. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me. Binnie’s got you, bunny.” He reassured you as he continued his kissing assault on your middle. 

“I especially love your soft tummy. One of my favorite parts of you and the best place to lay my head when we cuddle.” Changbin affirmed. You whined at his declaration, then you felt him go even lower, spreading your legs apart. You wanted to close them so badly but you know he’d just pull them open again. You couldn’t deny that you were dripping with arousal at this point. He landed a kiss on your wet core making you shudder. Then you heard him shuffling for something next to you. You kind of hated not being able to see anything but in a way it made you calmer. 

A few more seconds passed before you felt your boyfriend shift and a cold object was placed directly in your clit. Changbin clicked the device making it come to life. It was your vibrator. The sudden feeling making your body jolt and a whimper escape your lips. You couldn’t see it, but you could practically feel the smirk Bin would most certainly be sporting right now. 

“Now, you don’t get to cum until you admit how beautiful you are. Got it?” He established a rule that he wanted to make sure you understood. 

“Nng I- I can’t!” The vibrations were already drawing you close. 

“Oh you will, bunny.” He said matter of factly.

Changbin kept the little toy in place on your clit as his other hand along with his lips explored every other inch of your body. He chanted how beautiful, gorgeous, and stunning you were like a mantra. You tried to hold your orgasm back as long as you could but he knew you were on the edge by the way your hips bucked. 

“C’mon, say it. Lemme hear ya, honey.” 

Your brain went fuzzy and you just wanted to cum so bad. “M’ pretty! Fuck, s’ pretty!” You called out. 

“Good girl, that’s right baby. Good job,” he praised.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath as he let you calm down from your high. Changbin removed the vibrator from your soaked pussy, tossing it aside. 

Once your boyfriend felt you were ready he maneuvered you so you were laying on your front, facing your body to the foot end of the bed. He then placed a pillow under your lower tummy to make sure you were comfortable. You could feel him situate himself between your legs behind you, his weight slowly pressing onto your back. You felt a light tug to the silk ribbon he had tied around your eyes some time ago. It fell away, allowing you to see again. You blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. When your eyes focused you could see he had moved you so you could see yourself in the mirror that was placed at the opposite side of the room. You immediately hid your face in the mattress, not wanting to bear witness to the reflection in front of you.

“Don’t look away, bun. Wan’ you to see how absolutely ethereal you look when we fuck.” He nipped at your ear before reaching a hand around to the front of you to grab under your jaw and lift your head. In your haste to hideaway you hadn’t noticed that Changbin was naked on top of you. You wondered how you could feel his cock throbbing so clearly on your thigh. 

“Don’t wanna look,” you whined while locking eyes with him through the mirror. 

“But you just have to see what I see when you cum. You look so pretty when you cum, baby.” You knew there was no protesting, so you simply nodded. 

Changbin lifted his hips slightly so he could line his cock up with your entrance that was currently clenching around nothing. He sank into you slowly, allowing you to adjust. Bin’s cock was thick and the stretch always burned deliciously when he first entered. You let out a breathy moan as he started to grind his hips into your core. The sound of skin smacking as he bounced off your ass. 

He could see your eyes glaze over with lust as pleasure overtook you. You kept your gaze on the mirror as your boyfriend fucked into you mercilessly from behind. “Yeah, that’s it, babe. So fucking gorgeous, my girl- ah,” he landed a harsh slap to your rear making the skin ripple. You let out a squeak between the string of moans falling from your lips. 

Binnie leaned down placing kisses on your back and shoulders, occasionally biting to leave his mark. He’d look up every few thrusts to make sure you were still watching yourself and at one point he saw the position of your eyes shift. You had siren eyes and your moans became more throaty, indicating to him that you were definitely into it. Into checking yourself out which is exactly what he wanted. 

Suddenly, Changbin reached around to grip your neck and pull you up against his chest. Making you both kneel while his other arm wrapped across your waist. His cock reached deeper this way and hit that spot that drove you wild. The knot in your core threatened to snap with every harsh pump of his dick. 

“M’ gonna cum! B-bin please!” You screamed while looking up at the ceiling, your vision becoming blurry. 

Changbin redirected your gaze to the mirror again as he felt your body spasming from your release. 

“Mm fuck look how gorgeous y’ look cummin’ on my cock like that,” he said between grunts as his own high washed over him. His seed spurting into you in waves. 

“So.. gorgeous,” you repeated as your orgasm finished wracking your body. You couldn’t help but watch how your body glowed after your second release of the night. A thin sheen of sweat adorning your body, almost looking like you were sparkling. You looked positively hot, maybe you could see in yourself what your boyfriend saw. 

You both stayed like that for a while, connected and calming down from the mind blowing sex. Changbin pulled out after a few more minutes then went to the bathroom to run a hot bath for the both of you. You laid on the bed feeling uncomfortably sticky from the sweat drying. Before you knew it your boyfriend had returned and picked you up bridal style in his strong arms and carried you to the bath. You giggled and kicked your feet at his display of strength. 

“Binnie! I can walk by myself ya know?” 

“I just fucked you senseless and you think you’d be able to walk straight?” He chuckled.

You huffed in response as he gently lowered you into the water. The warmth encapsulating your body. Changbin stepped in to sit behind you and pulled you back so you were laying on his broad chest. He kissed the side of your head and whispered sweet nothings in your ear while lightly tracing the love bites that were bruising on your skin. 

Somehow the marks made you feel even more confident. They were symbols of your loving boyfriend and that in itself was beautiful to you. 

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always very much appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz