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[sysig]

By the skin of your teeth (Patreon)

[reidmarieprentiss]

Water Under the Bridge

Summary: Spencer grovels, he knows he needs to work to regain your trust. Your walls slowly come down, you find happiness. Is it with Spencer though?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: Derek Morgan <3, violence, typical criminal minds content, gun shots, guns, gun shot wound, (un)requited feelings, alcohol consumption, self doubt, happy ending

Word count: 9k

a/n: i cannot even lie to y'all i completely forgot about this story i am sooooo sorry !!!

main masterlist part one part two

It had been a few weeks since that intense conversation with Spencer, and though things weren’t fully resolved, there had been a subtle shift. Spencer had started making small, almost invisible gestures—little things that didn’t scream for attention but spoke volumes. 

One afternoon, you were deep into paperwork, your desk covered in case files. The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you, and you sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Need a break?” a quiet voice came from behind you. You looked up to see Spencer standing there, holding two cups of coffee—your favorite order in one hand, and his in the other. 

You blinked in surprise. It had been a long time since he’d brought you coffee, but the gesture felt thoughtful, familiar. "How did you know I needed this?" you asked, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto your face.

Spencer shrugged, his expression soft. “Just a guess.”

There was no expectation behind his actions, no demand for forgiveness. He simply placed the coffee on your desk, then turned back toward his own space, giving you the room to process the gesture on your own terms.

—

Work had returned to its steady rhythm, and though things between you and Spencer weren’t as strained anymore, they were...different. Polite. Professional. But there were moments, small pockets of time, where the old familiarity would creep back in.

During a briefing for a new case, you were reviewing the suspect’s profile when Hotch called for your opinion. Your mind momentarily blanked, the exhaustion of the case starting to cloud your thoughts. 

Spencer caught your hesitation from across the table, his eyes flicking toward you with a quiet understanding. He gently stepped in, providing additional information from the file—almost as if he could sense that you needed a moment.

He didn’t overstep, didn’t make it obvious. He just gave you a subtle nod, like the small lifeline was there for you to take or leave. You caught his gaze and offered a brief, appreciative smile. 

After the meeting, you found him near the coffee machine and walked over. “Thanks for that,” you said quietly.

“No problem,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve got your back.”

It was nothing monumental, just a brief exchange, but it carried a weight of understanding and a reminder of what you once had—and what was slowly being rebuilt.

—

The tension between you and Spencer still lingered, but something had shifted. Spencer wasn’t pressuring you. He wasn’t trying to force a conversation or make grand gestures. Instead, he focused on the little things, the small ways he could help and support you. And that was how, in the middle of a particularly stressful case, you noticed it.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at the seemingly endless stream of witness statements, trying to piece together a lead. Frustration gnawed at you, the pressure of the case and your unresolved feelings with Spencer weighing you down.

Without a word, Spencer appeared at your side, placing a stack of neatly organized files in front of you. “I cross-referenced the witness testimonies with the surveillance footage. There’s a pattern in their timelines that wasn’t obvious at first.”

You blinked, staring at the files. “You did this?”

He nodded, his expression calm, no hint of expectation. “I figured it might help.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This wasn’t the Spencer who had pushed you away. This was someone who was quietly, steadily trying to be there for you. You picked up the files, scanning the information. He had found connections you hadn’t seen.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said softly, looking up at him. There was no grand declaration in that moment, just a flicker of gratitude and trust slowly beginning to rebuild. And for the first time, you felt like you could let down your guard, just a little.

—

Weeks passed, and Spencer continued to show up in small ways. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand. He was just there, reliable and steady in a way you hadn’t expected from him anymore. You noticed the change. It wasn’t loud or overt, but it was there—his remorse, his commitment to making things better.

One day, in the middle of a case, you found yourselves paired together to interview a witness. The professional atmosphere between you was smooth, almost comfortable again. But as you were driving back to the precinct, there was a moment of silence, and then Spencer spoke.

“I know I can’t undo what happened,” he said, his voice soft but clear. “But I want you to know… I’m still here, and I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes. For you to trust me again.” Spencer glanced at you briefly, “I miss my friend.”

His words hung in the air, genuine and without pressure. You glanced over at him, surprised by the calmness in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t expecting a grand gesture from you in return. He just wanted you to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was ready to put in the effort.

You nodded, your heart softening. “I appreciate that, Spencer,” you said quietly. “I’m starting to see that. I miss you too.”

—

The case was coming to a close, you had been staring at the whiteboard, trying to make sense of the last few pieces of evidence when Spencer approached quietly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside you, studying the board.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but familiar, like the Spencer you used to know. 

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking too hard? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Spencer smiled faintly, the tension between you easing just a little. “Sometimes, you need to step back and see the bigger picture. You’ve been doing this long enough to know that.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve been seeing the bigger picture lately.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice quieter. “You’re not alone, you know. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I’m... I’m here.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. He wasn’t just talking about the case. He was talking about everything—the trust that had been broken, the space that had grown between you.

“I know,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something closer to hope. 

—

A month later, things had continued to ease between you and Spencer. You still weren’t back to where you had been, but you had begun to feel comfortable enough around him to let your guard down a little. The tension wasn’t as sharp, and the moments of silence between you weren’t so uncomfortable anymore.

One day, while sorting through case files, you made a sarcastic remark under your breath, something about the ridiculousness of the situation you were dealing with. To your surprise, Spencer chuckled, glancing over at you with a grin.

You blinked, and then, without meaning to, you laughed too—a genuine, unguarded laugh that seemed to surprise you both. It wasn’t forced or tense, but natural, like old times.

“Wow, I haven’t heard you laugh in a while,” Spencer remarked, his own smile still lingering.

“Yeah,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him. “Maybe I’m starting to get my sense of humor back.”

The lightness between you felt… good. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things were on their way to being okay again. 

It wasn’t a grand reconciliation, but these moments—these small gestures of kindness, support, and patience—were building toward something real. And you were starting to believe that rebuilding trust was possible, even if it was slow.

—

Spencer had been acting like your friend again, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

At first, it was small things—him stepping in to help with paperwork, offering a quiet word of encouragement when a case got tough. Little gestures that felt like the Spencer you used to know, the one you had trusted, the one you had fallen in love with. But that same Spencer had also been the one who pushed you away, the one who had broken your heart when he refused your feelings. And now, here he was, quietly working his way back into your life, like nothing had changed, like everything could go back to the way it was.

You wanted to be angry. Part of you still was angry. You had been hurt deeply, and that kind of pain didn’t just vanish overnight. Spencer had rejected you when you were at your most vulnerable, leaving you to pick up the pieces on your own. You had worked hard to move on, to distance yourself from the feelings that had once consumed you. And now, just when you thought you were starting to heal, he was back. Trying to be your friend again. Acting like nothing had ever happened.

But the other part of you—the part that remembered how close you used to be—couldn’t help but notice the change in him. Spencer wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t pressuring you. He was just... there. Quietly supportive, offering small signs of care without demanding anything in return. His persistence, his steady presence, was starting to soften something inside you. And that terrified you.

You didn’t want to fall back into the same trap. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds only to have them torn apart again. But there was no denying that Spencer’s efforts were genuine, and it was getting harder to keep your walls up. His actions were slowly chipping away at your resolve, and every time he made you laugh or showed you a quiet kindness, you felt a piece of your guard slipping.

Were you truly over him? That was the question that haunted you, one you didn’t have an answer to. You had tried so hard to move on, to convince yourself that the feelings you had for Spencer were in the past, but now... now you weren’t so sure. His persistence was making you question everything, reopening emotions you thought you had buried. 

The problem was, you didn’t know if you were ready to face those feelings again. What if Spencer wasn’t? What if he didn’t mean it? You couldn’t bear the thought of being hurt again, of opening yourself up only to have him pull away. But the longer this went on, the more you felt the old connection between you returning, bit by bit, moment by moment. 

And so you were stuck, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of something new. Spencer was showing you he had changed, but could you trust that? Could you trust him? Could you trust yourself not to fall too hard, too fast again?

The uncertainty was maddening, and yet, you couldn’t seem to stop the slow progression of your feelings. Spencer’s persistence was working, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, part of you was starting to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

—

It started innocently enough, the way all promising things seem to. You met them at a bookstore, of all places. It was a weekend, and you were just browsing, trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon away from the chaos of the job. You weren’t expecting anything, least of all meeting someone who would leave such a strong impression on you. 

You were reaching for a book when their voice broke through the silence. “That’s a good one,” they said, pointing to the novel in your hand. “One of my favorites, actually.”

You looked up, surprised to see a person standing there with an easy smile. They were tall, with sharp eyes that held a warmth you wanted to look into for a long while. Their demeanor wasn’t overbearing, just casual, like they genuinely wanted to offer a recommendation. 

“Yeah?” you replied, glancing at the book. “I’ve heard good things about it.”

“I promise it won’t disappoint,” they added, and something about the sincerity in their voice made you smile back.

That was how it began. A casual conversation over books that somehow stretched into coffee. You learned that their name was Ricky, that they were professor at a nearby college. Their life seemed different from yours—calmer, grounded in routine, free from the dangers and chaos of your work. It was refreshing. They treated you with respect, asked about your opinions, and listened to your stories with genuine interest. And when they smiled at you, it wasn’t just a fleeting look—it was as though they were truly seeing you, valuing you.

There was something about Ricky that you couldn’t ignore. They didn’t know about your history with Spencer, about the complicated mess of emotions you were still untangling. They didn’t need to. They just treated you with the kind of respect and consistency you had been craving for so long. It felt easy with them. Simple.

After that first meeting, Ricky started to show up in your life more often. They texted you to check in, asked you about your day. They were attentive in a way that wasn’t overwhelming but was instead comforting. It wasn’t like you were looking to fall into something serious, not after everything with Spencer. But Ricky was… different. They weren't rushing you, weren't pressing for more than what you were willing to give. They were just there, steady and dependable, and that was enough for now.

One night, after a particularly hard day at work, they invited you over for dinner. You had expected something casual, maybe takeout or a quick bite, but when you arrived at their place, you were greeted with the smell of home-cooked food. “Thought you could use a break,” they said with that same warm smile. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Ricky’s presence in your life began to fill a space you hadn’t known was empty. They weren't just kind—they were consistent, reliable. They showed up when they said they would. They followed through on promises. There was no second-guessing with them, no worrying about where you stood. And that, in itself, was a relief. After months of emotional turbulence with Spencer, this felt like a breath of fresh air.

But as things with Ricky slowly began to grow, you couldn’t help but feel the tug of uncertainty in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if it was because of your history with Spencer, or because you still weren’t fully convinced you had moved on from him. Every now and then, you caught yourself comparing the two—Spencer’s awkward brilliance against Ricky’s steady confidence. It was hard not to.

Yet, with Ricky, there was no fear of rejection, no walking on eggshells wondering if they would pull away. They didn’t carry the same emotional baggage as Spencer did. There were no lingering unsaid confessions or missed opportunities between you two. Ricky was here, in the present, offering you a chance at something you hadn’t had in a long time—stability.

And you couldn’t deny how much that appealed to you. The question now was whether stability was what you truly wanted… or if part of you was still hoping for something more, something unresolved with Spencer.

Spencer had been making slow, steady progress toward reconciling with you. He could feel it in the way your smiles came a little easier, how the conversations between you two were no longer strained, how you were starting to trust him again—bit by bit. He had convinced himself that, if he kept showing up, kept proving to you that he was different now, there might still be a chance. A chance to rebuild, to maybe even become more than friends. It was a fragile hope, but it kept him going.

That fragile hope was shattered the moment he found out about Ricky.

It wasn’t as though you had hidden anything from him. In fact, Spencer hadn’t even realized you had been seeing someone else. It wasn’t until Penelope, in her usual excitement, let it slip in the bullpen during lunch. “Oh my god, have you met Y/N’s new squeeze, Ricky? They’re so lovely!” she had gushed to JJ and Derek, who nodded along.

Spencer’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He had been standing just a few feet away, filing paperwork, and the sound of Ricky’s name hit him like a freight train. His fingers froze mid-motion, and the world seemed to blur around him. You’re seeing someone? Ricky? When had this happened?

He couldn’t stop himself from listening in, trying to gather as much as he could without fully intruding.

“Yeah, Ricky’s super sweet. Y/N seems really happy with them,” JJ added, smiling as she sipped her coffee. “It’s nice to see her like this after everything.”

Happy? Spencer’s mind raced, the weight of that word sinking in. You were happy—with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing as the realization settled deep in his chest. You had moved on. While he had been working his way back into your life, trying to earn your trust, you had found someone else. And not just anyone—someone you were happy with.

Spencer tried to shake it off, tried to focus on his work, but the jealousy and hurt were gnawing at him, louder with each passing second. The idea of you with someone else, of someone else holding the place he had wanted to hold for so long, made his chest tighten painfully. He had been so sure that if he just kept at it, if he just kept being patient, eventually you’d see he had changed.

But now… now he wasn’t sure what to think.

Later that day, Spencer found you by the coffee machine, and though he had planned to act normal, the words came out before he could stop them. “So, I hear you’re seeing someone?” His voice was tighter than he’d intended, and you looked up, surprised by the edge in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, studying his expression. “Ricky.” You didn’t elaborate, but Spencer could see the softness in your eyes, the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips when you said their name. It made his stomach churn.

He swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You’re happy?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

You nodded, your smile more assured now. “Yeah, I am. Ricky’s... really good to me.” There was a contentment in your voice, the kind of contentment Spencer hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And that’s when it hit him—this wasn’t just a fling or a rebound. Ricky was important to you.

Spencer felt his chest tighten even further. He wanted to be happy for you—he did. But the jealousy, the frustration, and the deep sense of loss clouded everything. He had spent so long trying to make things right between you, and now it felt like he was too late. He had lost you, and it hurt more than he ever expected.

“You deserve to be happy,” Spencer finally said, forcing the words out despite the lump in his throat. “And... if Ricky makes you happy, then... that’s all that matters.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. There was something vulnerable in the way he was standing there, like he was on the edge of something, trying to hold it together. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, not entirely sure what else to say. You could feel the tension between you two, the undercurrent of something unspoken still hanging in the air.

Spencer nodded, his hands in his pockets, trying to mask the turmoil he felt inside. He wanted to fight for you, to tell you that he still had feelings for you, that he wasn’t ready to step aside. But he also knew that your happiness had to come first, no matter how much it hurt. He had waited too long, hesitated too much, and now he was seeing the consequences.

Over the next few days, Spencer wrestled with his feelings. On one hand, he wanted to be selfish, to try and win you back, to show you that he was capable of being the person you needed. But on the other hand, he knew that wasn’t fair to you. You had found someone who treated you with the consistency and care you deserved, someone who didn’t leave you questioning where you stood. Spencer had to face the reality that he had lost his chance.

But the hardest part was realizing that, in his jealousy and frustration, he still cared more about your happiness than his own feelings. And that was the most painful truth of all.

Spencer paced back and forth in the bullpen after everyone else had gone for the evening. He had been trying to focus, trying to distract himself with paperwork, but his thoughts kept circling back to you and Ricky. The jealousy was suffocating, and he needed to vent before he exploded.

Derek was leaning against a desk, watching Spencer unravel. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew the kid was on edge. He’d seen it coming for a while, the tension between you and Spencer thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, Spencer couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I don’t get it,” he blurted out, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ve been trying, Derek. I’ve been patient, I’ve been showing up, trying to be there for her, and... and then Ricky comes along.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming on his face. “So that’s what this is about,” he said knowingly. “You jealous?”

“Jealous?” Spencer repeated, practically scoffing. “Of course I’m jealous! How could I not be? She’s with Ricky now, and they’re... they’re everything I should have been. Steady, consistent, caring—everything she deserves.”

Derek’s smirk only grew as he watched Spencer spiral, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew Spencer needed to get this off his chest, and, well, he’d been waiting for this moment. He knew something had been brewing between you two for ages.

Spencer continued, his pacing more frantic now. “I missed my chance, and I know it’s my fault. I messed up. I pushed her away when she needed me, and now... she’s moved on. And the worst part is, she’s happy, Derek. I saw it in her eyes when she talked about Ricky. She’s happy, and I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know if I can be mad about it, because I want her to be happy. But it hurts like hell.”

Derek crossed his arms, nodding slowly. He had always known Spencer had feelings for you, even if the kid hadn’t admitted it to himself for a long time. Now, seeing him come apart like this over you, Derek couldn’t help but feel a bit smug—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be there for his friend.

“Look, man,” Derek started, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’ve been waiting for this conversation for a while. You’ve had feelings for Y/N forever, and I knew something was going on between you two, even if you were too stubborn to see it.”

Spencer stopped pacing and looked at Derek, his frustration clear. “How is that supposed to help me right now?”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “What I’m saying is, this whole thing with Ricky? It doesn’t mean it’s over for you and Y/N. Yeah, she’s happy, and yeah, it hurts like hell because you care about her. But you’ve got to stop thinking about what you should have done and start focusing on what you’re going to do next.”

Spencer frowned, his arms crossed defensively. “And what am I supposed to do, Derek? She’s with Ricky now. I don’t want to come between them.”

Derek leaned in a little, his expression softening but still firm. “I’m not saying you should swoop in and try to break them up. But you don’t have to give up either. You want to be in Y/N’s life? Then keep being her friend. Keep being there for her. Let her see the real you—the guy who’s learned from his mistakes.”

Spencer sighed, slumping into a chair, his frustration giving way to exhaustion. “I don’t know if that’s enough.���

Derek walked over and clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Kid, sometimes it’s not about doing the big, dramatic thing. Sometimes it’s about showing up, consistently, day after day, and letting her see who you really are. And if Ricky’s the one that makes her happy, then yeah, you’re gonna have to step aside. But if she starts seeing what I’ve seen for a long time—what I think she saw for a long time, too—then maybe you still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his heart heavy but grateful for the support. “You really think I still have a chance?”

Derek grinned, leaning back. “You never know, Pretty Boy. I’ve seen crazier things happen. But whatever you do, don’t give up just because it hurts right now. You’re too smart to throw in the towel without a fight.”

Spencer nodded, letting Derek’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t ready to walk away from you, not yet. And maybe, just maybe, Derek was right. Maybe showing up, day after day, was how he could finally prove to you that he was worth it.

And even if it hurt, even if it tore him apart inside to see you with someone else, he was willing to wait—if it meant having another chance with you.

—

It was an ordinary afternoon at the BAU, the usual hustle of agents moving around, paperwork piling up, and the sound of phones ringing in the background. Spencer sat at his desk, trying to focus on the case file in front of him, though his thoughts kept drifting. He was still grappling with his conversation with Derek the night before, still trying to figure out where he stood in this whole mess with you and Ricky.

Then, the moment he had dreaded arrived.

You were at your desk, focused on your work, when the doors to the bullpen opened. Spencer barely noticed at first, but then he heard your voice, light and filled with surprise. "Ricky!" you exclaimed.

His heart clenched immediately. Ricky's here? He looked up, and there they were, standing in front of you, holding a bag of takeout with a bright, beaming smile. Ricky was undeniably attractive—tall, fit, with an effortless style that made them stand out. Spencer’s stomach twisted with jealousy the moment he laid eyes on them. He couldn’t help but notice how perfect Ricky looked standing beside you, the two of you fitting together in a way that felt both natural and unfairly harmonious.

You smiled warmly, standing up to greet Ricky, the happiness evident in your eyes. It was a look Spencer hadn’t seen in a long time, and the sight of it—of how they made you feel—tore him apart inside. Ricky leaned in to kiss your cheek, their affection for you clear as day.

“I brought you lunch,” Ricky said, holding up the bag. “Figured you could use a break.”

You laughed softly, looking at them like they had just handed you a treasure. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off the interaction, though he desperately wanted to look away. His mind was screaming at him to stop torturing himself, but his body refused to move. The way you smiled at Ricky, the ease with which you stood close to them—it all felt like a punch to the gut. Spencer could practically feel the walls closing in on him, his insecurities clawing at his insides.

He hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t prepared to see how good the two of you looked together, how happy you seemed. The rational part of him knew it wasn’t fair to be upset; you deserved happiness, and Ricky clearly made you happy. But the irrational, jealous part of him—the part that still wanted you—was screaming at the injustice of it all.

Before Spencer could even think about leaving, you spotted him.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving him over. “Come say hi.”

He froze for a split second, forcing himself to stand up and walk toward you. Every step felt heavier, like wading through quicksand. When he reached you, he tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Hi,” Spencer said, his voice a little tight but polite. His eyes flicked between you and Ricky, trying to hide the jealousy swirling in his gut.

Ricky smiled warmly, extending a hand. “You must be Spencer. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer shook their hand, feeling a twinge of resentment bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, nice to meet you,” he replied, his tone short, though he didn’t mean it to be. He quickly released Ricky’s hand, feeling like his skin was burning from the contact. His mind was spinning, trying to process how calm and put together Ricky seemed, compared to the storm raging inside him.

“I brought Y/N some lunch,” Ricky said, smiling again, glancing over at you with such ease and affection. “Thought she might be too busy to grab something.”

Spencer nodded, his mouth dry. “That’s... thoughtful,” he said, though it took effort to get the words out. The thought of Ricky being so caring, so attentive, made his chest tighten painfully. That used to be his role—being there for you, knowing when you needed support.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the awkwardness thick in the air—at least for Spencer. You, however, seemed blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, still smiling brightly at Ricky, completely comfortable in their presence.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch,” Spencer said quickly, his throat tight. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of this. He gave a stiff nod and turned to head back to his desk, but not before catching a glimpse of the two of you exchanging a look—one that felt intimate, full of unspoken affection. It was the kind of look that made his heart feel like it was cracking open.

As he sat back down at his desk, Spencer’s mind raced, replaying the image of you with Ricky. They were everything Spencer wasn’t—confident, calm, and seemingly perfect for you. He had hoped that his efforts to rebuild trust, to show you that he cared, would be enough. But seeing you with Ricky made him realize just how far away that possibility felt. 

Inside, Spencer was dying. His jealousy clawed at him, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Ricky. About how happy you looked. About how he had missed his chance.

—

It all came to a head during a case that had gone from bad to worse. You and Spencer had been assigned together, and from the moment you found yourselves alone, the tension between you was palpable. Every word exchanged was brief, clipped, and filled with the renewed weight of what had been left unsaid for months. The entire team had been tracking a dangerous and unpredictable unsub, one who had managed to evade capture for days despite the best efforts of the BAU. He was intelligent, calculating, and every lead you followed seemed to lead you into another dead end, tightening the pressure on all of you.

The unsub had taken a particular interest in his victims, following them for days, learning their routines, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had shown a pattern of escalating violence, and you all knew it was only a matter of time before he found his next victim. The team had been working around the clock, exhausted and on edge, but now things were spiraling out of control.

Late into the evening, a tip came through—an address tied to one of the unsub’s known aliases. You and Spencer were dispatched to check it out, sent ahead while the rest of the team secured other locations. The drive there had been silent, neither of you wanting to broach the thick tension hanging in the air. 

The house was isolated, sitting at the end of a long dirt road, and as soon as you arrived, you could sense something was wrong. The place was eerily quiet, too quiet. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and instinctively, you and Spencer exchanged a tense glance, wordlessly communicating the same thought: This feels like a trap.

The two of you moved cautiously, guns drawn, as you entered the darkened house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet seemed to echo in the oppressive silence, heightening the anxiety already clawing at your insides. Spencer stayed close behind you, the tension between you morphing into something different—something focused and sharp. You both knew you had to rely on each other now, no matter what had passed between you before.

The house was a maze of narrow hallways and closed doors, each one a potential danger. The unsub could be anywhere, lying in wait, ready to strike. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you approached the last room on the second floor. A faint sound caught your attention—a shuffle, like someone moving inside.

You nodded to Spencer, your breath quickening as you prepared to breach the door. He gave you a tight nod in return, his eyes never leaving yours. In that moment, despite everything that had gone unsaid, you trusted him completely. There was no room for the emotional wreckage between you, not here, not now. It was just you and Spencer, partners in the field, as it had always been.

You kicked the door in, gun raised, ready for whatever was waiting on the other side.

The room was empty.

For a split second, relief washed over you—until you heard it. A creak behind you. The unsub had been hiding, waiting, and before you could turn, you were slammed into the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Your gun clattered to the ground as you struggled to regain your footing, your vision swimming.

Spencer reacted instantly, lunging toward the unsub, but the man was fast—too fast. He shoved Spencer back, sending him crashing into a table, and you could hear the wood splinter as Spencer groaned in pain.

Then shots were fired, the deafening cracks of gunfire ringing through the warehouse as adrenaline surged through your body. The world seemed to slow down in that moment, every sound and movement heightened, as you and Spencer dove for cover. Your feet barely touched the ground before you felt it—a sharp, searing pain tearing through your arm, hot and immediate. A bullet had grazed you, cutting through flesh, sending a shockwave of agony radiating down to your fingertips. You gasped, stumbling, the sudden pain momentarily overwhelming you.

"Y/N!" Spencer’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with raw panic as he reached for you, his hands grabbing your jacket and pulling you behind a stack of crates. His grip was urgent but gentle, protective as he maneuvered you out of the line of fire. 

Your vision blurred for a moment, the pain in your arm throbbing in sync with your rapid heartbeat. You pressed your hand to the wound instinctively, trying to stop the blood that was already starting to soak through your sleeve. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt like hell.

Spencer was crouched beside you, his body practically pressed against yours as he shielded you from any further shots. His eyes, wide with fear, flickered down to your arm. His hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, unsure where to touch without hurting you more. 

"You're bleeding," he muttered, his voice thick with worry as he gingerly pushed your sleeve up to get a better look at the wound. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he surveyed the damage. 

“I’m fine,” you managed to grit out, even though your arm was screaming in pain. You could see the fear in his eyes, how he was barely holding it together. 

“You’re not fine,” Spencer insisted, his voice a low whisper as he pressed his hand firmly over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His hand was warm against your cold skin, grounding you in the chaos. “You’re losing blood,” he added, his tone betraying the panic he was trying so hard to keep at bay.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade—the gunfire, the danger, the chaos surrounding you. It was just you and Spencer, his eyes locked on yours, his fear for you palpable. You had seen Spencer like this before, always worrying about others, but this was different. This was more than just concern for a partner in the field. This was desperation, a kind of fear you hadn’t seen in him before—like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

His breath was shaky as he applied more pressure to your arm, his focus completely on you. “Stay with me, okay?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions he was trying to hold back.

“I’m fine, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to smile through the pain, though it came out more like a grimace. 

But Spencer didn’t smile back. He was too focused, too panicked. His fingers pressed into your wound, his movements methodical, yet you could see how much this was affecting him. Every time you winced in pain, his face tightened, like he was the one being hurt. 

“We need to get out of here,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the room for an exit, for any sign of the unsub. The weight of his words hung in the air, but even more than that was the unspoken fear—he wasn’t just scared for your life. He was scared for the things that hadn’t been said between you, for the way things had been left unresolved.

But right now, it wasn’t the time to deal with the emotional storm brewing between the two of you. The only thing that mattered was getting out alive.

“I can’t lose you,” Spencer whispered, almost too softly for you to hear.

You blinked, confused, the pain in your arm momentarily forgotten. “What?”

“I can’t lose you,” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling. His eyes met yours, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I love you.”

The confession hit you like a blow, the words settling into your chest, heavy and painful. This wasn’t the time for this—not now, not with the unsub hunting you both down, not after everything. But the rawness in his voice, the fear in his eyes—it was undeniable. Spencer was terrified, not just of the unsub but of losing you. And not just as a friend, but as something more.

“You can’t be serious,” you hissed, anger flaring inside you despite the circumstances. 

He looked pained, as if this hurt him just as much as it had hurt you. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, that I’d mess everything up. Please, Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to do this now!” you cut him off, the frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to confess your feelings when you know I’ve moved on, just because you suddenly realized you want me!”

Spencer’s face fell, guilt and desperation swirling in his eyes. “I know it’s unfair. I know I messed up, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else. Please, Y/N, just—”

“Why?” you shouted, your voice breaking as you fought through the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. “Why now? Why did you reject me in the first place if you felt this way?”

The pain in your voice seemed to hit him hard, and for a moment, Spencer was silent, struggling to find the words. “I was scared,” he finally admitted, his voice trembling. “I was scared of ruining what we had, scared that I wasn’t enough. I thought pushing you away would be better for you. But it wasn’t. I know that now.”

Tears stung at your eyes, the hurt and anger you’d buried for months now bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s better for me, Spencer. You don’t get to push me away and then pull me back when it’s convenient for you.”

Spencer’s voice cracked, his desperation clear. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you. I need you. Please, Y/N, leave Ricky. Give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the raw sincerity in Spencer’s voice and the betrayal you still felt. You couldn’t deny that part of you still loved him. You had never stopped. But how was any of this fair? How could he expect you to just walk away from someone who had treated you with the respect and care Spencer hadn’t given you when you needed it most?

Before you could respond, the unsub’s footsteps grew closer, and the immediate danger snapped you both back to reality. There wasn’t time for this—there wasn’t time to unravel the mess of emotions that Spencer had just dumped into your lap. You had to survive this first.

The footsteps had stopped, and the sudden silence was deafening. It was too quiet, the kind of stillness that set your nerves on edge, making you hyper-aware of every creak and distant noise in the warehouse. You tried to focus through the pain in your arm, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you pressed your back against the crates. Spencer was beside you, but his back was turned, his focus drawn away as the weight of everything between you became too much for him to handle in that moment.

You were about to say something, when suddenly a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Before you could react, the unsub yanked you to your feet, pulling you backward with a force that made your body jerk violently. The pain in your arm shot through you, but the fear was stronger. You struggled to breathe, your heart hammering in your chest as the unsub dragged you back into the shadows, his hand tight around your mouth, muffling any sound you could make.

Spencer didn’t notice. His mind had been racing, consumed by the danger you were in, by how much harder it had become to even look at you knowing how badly he had hurt you. He had turned away for just a second—just a second—and that’s all it had taken. You were gone before he could register the absence of your presence, before he could feel the shift in the air.

You thrashed against the unsub, your hands clawing at his arm as he pulled you further away, deeper into the warehouse, but he was too strong. His grip tightened around your face, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Make one sound, and I’ll kill him first.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he meant Spencer.

You stopped struggling, your breath coming out in shallow, panicked gasps, your mind racing as you tried to figure out a way out of this. You couldn’t let Spencer get hurt because of you. You couldn’t let this man take you away without a fight, but the threat was clear. One wrong move, one wrong sound, and it wouldn’t be just your life at risk.

But then Spencer turned back. He had been about to say something—ask if you were ready to move—but when he glanced over and saw that your spot beside him was empty, his heart stopped.

"Y/N?" His voice came out in a panic, eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any sign of you. It was too quiet, and the stillness of your absence sent his stomach into a free fall.

"Y/N!" Spencer shouted, his voice rising in fear, echoing off the walls. His heart raced as he spun in circles, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. The adrenaline from earlier flooded back, stronger now, sharp and cold. How had he let this happen? How had he let you get taken right in front of him?

He rushed forward, frantic, his mind clouded with the worst possibilities. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. The thought of you in the unsub’s grip, hurt, taken—gone—was unbearable. Spencer couldn’t breathe. His chest constricted with fear, and the guilt, the crushing weight of his failure, suffocated him.

"Y/N!" he called again, his voice breaking as he stumbled forward, every nerve in his body alight with desperation. He had let you slip away. He had failed to protect you. And now he was losing you—not just emotionally, but physically.

Spencer’s eyes scanned the dark warehouse, heart hammering in his chest, until he finally spotted the unsub, gripping you tightly, his hand still covering your mouth. Your eyes were wide with fear, but when they locked with Spencer’s, he saw more than just fear. He saw helplessness, anger, and beneath all of it, trust. You were trusting him to get you out of this.

“Let her go!” Spencer shouted, his voice shaking but resolute. His gun was raised, aimed directly at the unsub, but his mind was racing, terrified of making one wrong move that could put you in even more danger. The unsub shifted behind you, pulling you tighter against his body, using you as a shield. 

"You think I’ll just let her go? You think I’m that stupid?" the unsub snarled, his voice thick with menace.

Spencer’s throat tightened. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to act, to do something, but the unsub had you, and one wrong move could end everything. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

"Take me instead!" Spencer suddenly blurted out, his voice desperate but filled with determination. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, his heart pounding in his chest. "Just... take me. Let her go, and I’ll come with you. You want leverage? Take me, not her."

Your eyes widened in shock, the pain in your arm forgotten as the weight of Spencer’s words hit you. He was offering himself, offering his life—for you. The unsub hesitated, clearly surprised by the sudden offer. He loosened his grip on you just slightly, his eyes flickering with consideration as he looked between you and Spencer.

"You think I’m going to fall for that?" the unsub growled, though you could feel his grip faltering as Spencer’s words sunk in.

But Spencer didn’t back down. He stepped forward, lowering his gun, his expression resolute. "I’m unarmed," he said, his voice steady despite the terror coursing through him. "You want to get out of here? Take me with you. Let her go."

Your heart pounded as you watched Spencer put himself in danger, his life on the line, all for you. Tears stung at your eyes, emotions swirling inside you—fear, anger, and above all, a deep, overwhelming sense of love. 

The unsub shoved you forward slightly, his grip loosening enough for you to gasp for air, but he still kept his arm tightly around your waist, the threat still lingering. Spencer’s eyes stayed locked on yours, silently promising that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Just as the unsub’s grip tightened again, a gun raised to Spencer, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. The team burst in, guns drawn, and before the unsub could react, they took him down in a hail of bullets. The unsub crumpled to the ground, his grip on you finally releasing.

You stumbled forward, breathless, your arm burning with pain. The world spun for a moment, the chaos of the situation hitting you all at once. But then, Spencer was there. He was at your side in an instant, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries, his expression wild with fear and relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he looked you over, his hands shaking slightly. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You could barely process the words. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, and the weight of what had just happened—what Spencer had just done for you—was crashing down around you. He had offered himself up, put his life on the line without hesitation, all to save yours.

"I'm... I'm okay," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the emotions swirling inside you. 

Spencer’s face was pale, his breaths uneven, but the way he looked at you was filled with nothing but relief. And in that moment, standing there with him in the aftermath of everything, you realized just how much you still loved him. How much you had always loved him. It was undeniable, impossible to ignore anymore.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, holding him close despite the pain in your arm. "Thank you," you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking with emotion. "You could’ve been killed, Spencer."

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, as if letting you go might mean losing you again. His voice was hoarse, filled with the same raw emotion. "I couldn’t let him take you. I couldn’t lose you."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. "Spencer, you... you put yourself in danger. For me. I don’t understand... after everything, why would you—"

“Because I love you,” Spencer interrupted, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked onto yours, no more hesitation, no more fear. “I’ve always loved you. And I was an idiot to ever push you away. I didn’t deserve you then, and I probably don’t deserve you now, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch you get hurt. I couldn’t... I can’t live without you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice left you breathless. Everything you had been feeling, all the hurt, the love, the anger, bubbled up inside you. But in that moment, as you stared into Spencer’s eyes, all you could feel was the overwhelming love you still had for him. 

You reached up, cupping his face with your good hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "I still love you, Spencer. But you broke my heart. How is any of this fair?"

Spencer’s eyes filled with regret, his hands holding yours tightly. “I know. I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me. But please... don’t go back to Ricky. Don’t let this be the end for us. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just... give me a second chance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the love you still had for him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you stood there, Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, you realized that you had already made your choice.

With a deep breath, you whispered, “We’ll figure it out. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off easy.” 

Spencer’s face softened with relief, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn’t expect anything less." 

And in that moment, despite the chaos, despite the danger you had just survived, you knew that the two of you would find a way forward—together.

—

Ricky swirled the ice in their glass, chuckling softly as they leaned back in their chair, the dim light of the bar casting shadows over their face. “I still think it’s messed up,” they said with a grin, shaking their head in disbelief.

Derek, sitting across from them, just smirked, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting the glass back down on the table with a quiet clink. “Nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, completely unbothered. “I knew it would work.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, their smile widening as they took a sip of their own drink. “You set me up to date her just to push her and Spencer together? That’s some next-level matchmaking, man. I’m surprised you didn’t end up on a bad side of this.”

Derek shrugged casually, his smirk never fading. “I had a feeling it was the push Pretty Boy needed. Y/N and Spencer? They’ve been dancing around each other for too long. I just gave ‘em a little... incentive.”

Ricky laughed, a low, amused sound. “Incentive? You mean you hired your friend to fake date her so she’d realize she was in love with someone else?”

“Hey, I didn’t say fake date,” Derek shot back with a playful grin. “You’re a catch, Ricky. I just knew you’d make her happy enough for Spencer to lose his mind.”

Ricky rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop laughing. “And here I thought I was the rebound.”

“Nah,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You were the wake-up call. Spencer needed to see what he was missing, and you? You helped him get there. Trust me, they’ll thank you for it one day.”

Ricky took another sip, still grinning. “Maybe. But still, man. Messed up.”

Derek just winked, lifting his beer in a mock toast. “To love, manipulation, and getting things done.” 

Ricky clinked their glass with his, shaking their head with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

"That’s why you agreed to it," Derek said with a wide grin, taking another long drink. The audience had no idea, but now the truth was out, revealed in the easy banter between the two friends. It had all been part of the plan—a plan to push you and Spencer together once and for all.

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[shirakow]

I was wondering if you could write some Vincent x reader smut from dead plate? There’s barely any on this site and I need my fix😭

˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; Vincent's always so mean to you, especially at work. (18+)

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Vincent Charbonneau x GN!Reader .

. . . words ; 1.3k+

EXTRA ! here you go boo, sorry if it's not up to your expectations ^3^ I wrote this in one sitting at 3 am so this is not proof read <3

"I'm mean to you?" Vincent frequently asked you on multiple occasions, only because you brought it up once and now he wouldn't let it go.

He'd unexpectedly corner you near the dumpster whenever you take the trash out—it wasn't the most romantic meet-up spot, even he knows—but it's the only place where he could be alone with you.

That or his office. But it's not like he can call you there every hour of the day, or else the chefs and Rody might get suspicious, right? So he only does it every few days.

This day is one of the few.

"Have you been watching Rody like I told you to?" He'd ask you in that same deep and brooding voice of his—charming, with a hint of danger that always lingered in his tone whenever he talked.

You just looked up at him with tear stained cheeks as he stared back down at you, "Oh right," the corner of Vincent's lip quirked upward upon remembrance. "I forgot your mouths too full." He pushed your head back down on his cock, forcing you to deepthroat him as a gutteral moan came out from his mouth.

"There we go... At least you're good for something..." Vincent whispered breathlessly, momentarily forgetting that he needs to be quiet, or else someone'll hear him and catch the two of you in such an embarrassing predicament.

However, he could just play it off: say he stubbed his toe while he makes eye contact with Rody while you keep sucking him off from under his desk. He'll make sure to start small talk with Rody too just to embarrass you further.

You gagged and drooled all over his dick, the ache in your throat growing more immense the more he continued to fuck it like his personal fleshlight. But despite the pain—you slobbered all over his cock like a fucking prostitute.

Vincent let his head fall back as his teeth bit down on his bottom lip with a silent curse following after it. His slender fingers loosened it's hold on your hair, giving you a moment of respite to breathe and slow your pace down.

Noticing the way you hesitated to continue, Vincent ran his hand down to caress your throat; gently massaging and rubbing the skin with his cold fingers.

"Was I being too hard on you?" His voice purred almost teasingly. You slowly nodded with tears rolling down your cheeks, silently enjoying the way he gave attention to your aching throat. You took his wet cock out your mouth, and gave the bright red tip a kiss, before running your tongue down the side—tracing the veins while maintaining eye contact with Vincent.

You saw the glint that appeared in his raven eyes, "What?" Vincent let out a breath which you assumed was a laugh, "Is this your way of begging?" He gave a small grin. Vincent moved his hand away from your throat, which earned a whine from you.

"Don't worry," he hummed and parted your lips, using his thumb to toy with your tongue as he pumped his cock, "I'll massage it from the inside..." Vincent whispered and slapped the tip on your tongue, "Now be a good little cocksucker and keep my dick in your mouth."

Vincent's always so mean to you, regardless if you were in and out of work. But he's especially so when you're at work.

Sometimes, he'd finger your hole before opening hours, stretching it to his hearts content while whispering all kinds of things into your ear.

"Imagine how they'll react when they see my server bent over my desk..."

"Having you walk around with a toy in your ass while you work...~"

"And the fact you're just letting your boss have his way with you too? Aren't you just a naughty thing."

And then when you're about to cum, Vincent would pull his fingers out and make you lick them clean. You'd beg and beg for him to make you cum, but Vincent only shoves his fingers down your throat to shut you up.

He'd have a grin on his face while he does it too, because he knows how much you hate it when he leaves you aching for more.

Right before you leave his office, he would put a pink vibrator in your hole and let you prance around the whole restaurant with him knowing you have something in you to remember him by.

He'd occasionally turn the level up by one, but most of the time, he'd turn it up to max just to see you squirm from the pleasure. Vincent would watch you from the hole in his office as his hand fisted his cock at the sight of you flushed with embarrassment.

Vincent felt so dirty whenever he does that, but he can't deny that acting the slightest bit perverted didn't turn him on.

He doesn't make any exceptions, however. So if you mess up at all during work hours: he will not let it slip. Even if it's because you have a toy in you, Vincent will not hesitate to punish you after closing hours.

If you let even the slightest moan out your mouth—best believe you're gonna get ravaged.

"I told you... Not to make a fucking noise." Vincent panted into your ear, tightening the belt around your neck as he takes you from behind. Your perky ass bent over his desk while he drills his cock into your hole.

Vincent reached for vibrators remote, and turnt it up to the max level; feeling it vibrate against your gummy walls along with his dick that rubbed your prostate. "Feel that? Feel my cock kissing the deepest parts of you?" He groaned against your shoulder.

You squealed into the gag, the overstimulation being too much for your poor sensitive body. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head from the sweet pleasure he gave you. If it weren't for the ball in your mouth, you'd be screaming Vincent's name over and over again like a prayer.

Your face was flushed with sweat dripping from your forehead, and down to the discarded news paper articles of missing people on his desk.

He gave the leather belt another tug, and you made a choking sound. Vincent grunted at the noise you made, finding pleasure in knowing he controls your breathing.

He could cut it off if he wanted to, but he's not that mean.

"Is it too much? Am I making you go lightheaded?" He teased while giving a particularly sharp thrust.

Your toes curled as you cried. You shook your head and held onto the desk tightly. You felt your vision going dark, like you were about to pass out. Luckily, Vincent slowed to a stop and turn the vibrator down a level to give you a break.

At first you saw it as a blessing, but it quickly became a curse when you felt your release slipping away from you. More tears rolled down your rosy cheeks as you sobbed, babbling incoherent nonsense both from the pleasure and because of the ball gag.

Vincent grinned and used his hand to turn your head towards him, "You sound so pathetic..." He pushed your head down flat onto his desk, pulling all the way out and thrusted back in.

The tip of his cock kissing your prostate as he moaned. "Don't worry... I'll give it to you soon enough."

He's such a meanie.

© shirakow ! Reblogs are greatly appreciated .

I'm starting to get into soul eater so expect something from that !! Also keep those requests coming <3 I love writing for you guys (even though I rarely post anymore)

ㅤ

[leclerckiss]

love letters ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to lovers, humour, fluff, confessions, this is both a smau & written piece.

a/n: one of my favourite tropes ever: guilty. this feels a little messy but I had a lot of fun writing it.

౨ৎ

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc and 313,983 others

yourusername: hello from the birthday girl here <3 thank you so much for all of the kind messages, wishes & gifts. sending lots of love

3,122 comments

friendusername: happy bday to our favourite girl ever 🍰🫶🏼

yourusername: 🤍🤍🤍

user1: happy birthday to our favourite paddock princessss

charlesleclerc: did you like the cake I bought you then, or?

yourusername: I loved it until you threw half of it in my face

charlesleclerc: it tasted nicer that way

franciscagomes: bday girl !!

yourusername: i love youu

franciscagomes: i love you more 🤍

pierregasly: what about me?

franciscagomes: today is about y/n. shush.

౨ৎ

I. Your Birthday.

After hours spent with café au lait and too much maple syrup on pancakes in the morning with gift receiving and wishes, a quiet luncheon with those closest to your heart, enjoying the beauty of the shores and rosé champagne, evening eventually settles in a beautiful colour against the heavens of Monaco.

You have never been one for the dramatics or high attention of crowds, settling on an intimate celebratory affair amongst close friends and family: pretty dresses and glasses of Lavender French '75 or those strawberry daiquiris that Ésme is in love with; a sweet, favourite song heard in the background.

Charles arrives fashionably late, the collar of his white-linen shirt loosened and soft, dark-brunet hair slightly tousled as he comes near, the sight of a smile on his face you've always loved, dimples revealed.

There is a certain relief that comes with being graced by his presence, like you had been silently longing and waiting for his greeting before anybody else's, though you disguise it from any chance of teasing.

"(Y/N)," Your name rolls off his tongue like caramel, accentuated as he shifts to kiss both your cheeks in friendly affection before he chuckles at your expression, "Happy birthday." Mon ange.

"Thank you," You breathe, a laugh falling past your mouth at the sight of him in manifestation, inclining your head when you look at him through your lashes, "I was beginning to think you forgot."

"Forget? Me?" The Monegasque exclaims as though wounded, placing his hand to his chest though the smile about his sun-kissed visage never dissipates, stealing a nearby glass of champagne, "Never. I had some work to finish."

There is an edge of teasing beneath your looks, a dance of butterflies in your stomach when he touches the small of your back fleetingly as he shifts past with that signature wink of his, all friendly and humorous in years of friendship, and yet your heart stutters.

You almost say something else, confessions and thoughts that want to erupt from your chest like love letters you have never sent – certain it is merely the liquor fogging your judgement – but he's wandered away with a final promise before a syllable can come forth.

"Let me get the birthday girl a drink, oui?"

liked by franciscagomes and 311,646 others

yourusername: july with my favourite people <3

mentioned charlesleclerc, friendusername, franciscagomes and two others

1,354 comments

user1: literal angels

user2: second pic is definitely y/n and charles

friendusername: you still owe me another ice cream 🍨

yourusername: sorry bby, i’ll be at your front door with a double vanilla ice cream soon <3

franciscagomes: 🤍🤍

౨ৎ

II. At the beach.

Warm light kisses your skin like heavenly delight, a forgotten copy of Paris' Vogue beside where you are currently bathing with a finished strawberry lemonade, long lashes fluttering when you open your eyes to gaze at the skies above in the heat of July, a mosaic of white and cerulean about the Côte d'Azur.

Most of the others have momentarily departed for the nearby café for new sweet treats, though you are consciously aware of a half-dozing Charles Leclerc nearby against the slight flush down the bridge of his nose and eyelashes that ghost about his cheekbones where he is lying.

Pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Charles?"

It takes him a second, the mention of his name rousing him to blink out of a hazy hint of a dream with the tilt of his chin towards the direction of your voice that calls to him like an angel's symphony, squinting against the haze of light before a lazy, boyish smile reveals his pearlescent teeth, "Mm?"

Shifting upright, consciously trying not to stare at him for too long though you have come to simply welcome and fall used to the sight of his naked chest, all smooth ridges and lean muscle, you absently adjust the ribbons of your pretty bikini and reach for sun cream.

"Do you think you could help me put some on my back, please?" You ask politely, offering him the item whilst shifting on your knees and gathering the edges of your hair over your shoulder that have fallen loose.

He does not respond initially, not until he's sat upright and shifted closer with a kind edge of a smile that dances across his face, "Oui."

Charles does not hesitate or take advantage of the circumstances, applying the fine lotion against the curve of your shoulders with gentle ministrations and lower down, fingertips feather-light, careful not to linger too long.

The act feels oddly intimate as you gaze towards the serene shores, like his touch is meant for the most secret parts of you, an unconscious shiver and the subtle arching of your vertebrae when he traces a particular area. Whether he notices or not, there is no indication given, instead continuing in a method that seems entirely platonic but leaves an ache in your stomach.

"Merci," You tell him once the deed is most finished and he draws away, shifting just enough to offer a look of him from the corner of your eye in a gratuitous smile.

You wonder if how his gaze lingers is the same way yours does, like a painting worth admiring or a flower in emergence, heart thrumming quicker under your sternum before the moment is broken when he clears his throat.

"Of course."

౨ৎ

III. A dinner.

Caffè Milano, a quaint but fanciful and warm establishment tucked in the quiet luxuries of Monaco's principality with its dancing chandeliers, oak-varnished furniture and beloved menu.

A semblance of familiarity, pleasantry and polished glasses clinking against the rhythm of conversation amongst friends in the warm afternoon: a lingering aroma of roses from the centrepiece décor neatly arranged and fine cuisine.

"– Non, I am not lying," Pierre is recounting a recent, humorous anecdote of experience, thumb idly tracing the edge of his wine glass whilst you and the others listen on, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you have laughed in the recent half-an hour, idly toying with the necklace resting at the hollow of your throat in common fashion.

"You are." Francisca frowns, albeit fondly.

Your concentration is removed from their talk when there is a subtle caress against the ankle bone, a touch beneath the furniture and a fleeting glance from your peripheral sight at the Monégasque beside you, all handsome smiles and that addictive song of laughter whilst a stray hair falls about his eyebrow, though he does not seem to show any degree of deliberation or notice that his shoe idly touches you there.

You have the urge to hold him, caress him, to press a thousand, butterfly kisses along his jaw and say something you should not. Instead, you continue to listen and nurse the last of your Château-Chalon.

1,596 likes

f1gossip: y/n at the grand prix this weekend <3 our paddock princess is back

mentioned yourusername

333 comments

user1: she looks divineee

user2: charles and y/n friends to lovers when?

user3: leave them alone, they’re just friends and have been since childhood

౨ৎ

IV. A balcony.

Charles had forgotten his keys somewhere and, until his dear brother could come and return them, you had offered the warmth of your welcomed apartment: all minimalist but homely in décor against a palette of cream, white and the like all complemented by paintings and furniture.

One hour had melted into two by the late afternoon with dusk's slow kiss, hints of lilac and grey in the edge of the skies, your cats curled contently on the plush chaise lounge and resting after endless affections from the Monégasque who seemed to be in love with them.

"Can I join you?"

The voice – honest and clear, albeit a fraction amused – is recognisable as you are drawn out of reverie on the balcony of rocaille motifs, gazing into quiet streets below and the nearby public gardens flourishing with flora, gnawing at your inner cheek as you look to the man where he leans against the threshold, a look in his eye that comes with a subtle indulgence after he stole your favourite bottle of rosé in the kitchenette.

"Of course, yes." Always.

He stands beside you, a few inches apart with his elbow resting against the intricate balustrade when he follows your dreamy stare for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. There is a comfort between the two of you, something you know must come from years of familiarity:

An seemingly endless, innocent youth that manifested in its complications as you aged and neared adolescence, like an evening primrose that flowers and sometimes falls apart, but always returns, even changing with senescence. With age.

You can feel his gaze, almost like an internal, silent imploration for your own, the edges of your fingers and nails polished in a rose quartz-esque varnish that glitters prettily in the evening, and his lips are parted just enough as if wanting to say something before they curve a little higher on the edges, his words hushed.

"Have you ever thought about love?"

Your eyebrows raise a fraction, though it is not so unexpected of a question and one that has been on the edge of your tongue since forever, even with the doubtful inkling that he has merely enjoyed too much wine.

"Sometimes," All of the time. You murmur, a soft, breathless chuckle following as you shrug and tilt your head upwards, gazing above like some wished answer or instruction from the angels or whoever listens, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," His response is delayed, though his answer is sincere and thoughtful like he has been thinking over his words since a time he can't remember until his fingertips touch your elbow fleetingly, "I can't stop thinking about it."

There is a moment, a single fragment, in which you meet his eyes, his touch is known and everything seems to pause like a finished painting, a still image in a history book: his hand, his body and his eyes – the colour of autumn, earth, hints of something else so unique to him.

"Charles, what are you saying?" You laugh softly, looking away momentarily and toying with the knitted wool of your soft cardigan with the kind of feigned indifference that comes with disguising truth, "I didn't think you were a romantic, who has caught your eye?"

For a moment, you wish he would say someone's name, a blessed girl that you have never heard of, so that you can deny your own feelings and settle on the painful reality that you are merely friends.

Instead, his gaze flickers, almost nervously, and a palm cradles the curve of your cheek and jaw with the hesitance of a man of conflicting considerations even when he tries to smile a little. "Please, forgive me."

There is not an instance given to allow any insistence or inquiry as Charles presses a kiss upon your mouth: it is not rushed and there is a desperation there that is not greedy, tasting the remnants of your lipstick and rosé, slow and methodical – longer when you indulge and welcome the feeling.

He does not draw away completely when the feeling ends, his forehead lightly pressed to yours and his touch a little firmer where his fingers curl into your hair, swallowing slowly as his eyes close for a moment until he dares meet your stare once more.

"(Y/N)?"

You smile.

"Je t'aime." There is something in his face you have never seen before, something raw and open like an unfurling rose revealing itself, and you know that your heart is his and his alone.

Another kiss with your prompting, fingertips tracing the soft cotton of his shirt near the shoulder until you drape arms about his shoulders, breathing him in with hints of raspberry, amber and cinnamon, "I love you."

There is poetry in his eyes like those unsent love letters shoved under your pillow, and he delves in, holding you close and intimate until you're most certain, mutually, of the silent yearning you have felt for one another for years.

"C'mere," He mumbles, an arm drawing around the back of your thighs as he picks you up and holds you securely, and you cannot help but laugh in pure, unadulterated glee at his touch and affections, the bottle of rosé abandoned as the night settles in and you are whisked away.

He loves you.

He loves you.

[strawhbrrries]

domestic frank seeing his girl after she’s just come back from a girls night out and she’s a little tipsy and giggly rambling about how much she loves him and how happy she is with him whilst he’s trying to help her get ready for bed :’)

screaming and crying and throwing up, im so glad someone else had these thoughts <3 lots of sweet frankie under the cut!!!!

You weren’t sure who called him or when he showed up, but god he smelled good. He big, strong arms supporting about ninety percent of your weight as he walked the two of you from the car and into the house.

“Frankie!! You smell so good.” Your words were soon followed by a hiccup and some other things neither of you could quite understand.

“C’mon baby, in the house.” Is all he responded, lifting you up the stairs of the porch and avoiding any falling that may have occurred if he let you climb them yourself.

He took your purse and any other accessory he could find and set it on the kitchen counter, grabbing a glass of water and a small snack to help counter, what he was sure was, an empty stomach.

“Missed you so much.” You slurred, clumsily taking off your shoes and smiling up at him proudly when you didn’t fall in the process.

“I missed you too, come drink this water for me, okay?” Frank motioned for you to come over, the space between you and the island counter wasn’t that far so he trusted you enough to make it over there.

“M’kay.”

He stood there and watched you drink the entire glass and eat the entire snack he set out, making sure you swallowed it all and didn’t choke, he felt like a father. He loved you too much to risk you choking on a fucking cracker because you forgot how to swallow, in your inebriated state.

When he had gotten the phone call from you about how much you loved him and how glad you were to have him, he knew it was time to pick you up. He knew how much you loved girls night but at some point, your old man, had enough and wanted you back.

“Let’s go get changed for bed, you need to take your meds too.” He grabbed your hand softly and led you to the bedroom, yet again supporting most of your weight but he didn’t mind.

“Can we have sex?” You blurted out, slapping your hand over your mouth and bursting into a fit of giggles. “That was supposed to stay in my head.”

He smiled softly at you and sat you down on the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead before changing you into your pajamas for the night. He disappears momentarily before coming back with a paper cup of water and your nightly meds, taking the cup away once you had taken the meds.

“C’mere funny girl, let’s rest.” He climbed into the bed and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your arm softly as a way to coax you into sleeping.

[halfwayhearted]

Cariño — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend can’t stop looking at you, so… why not always check if something’s flown onto your face?

Word Count: 440+

Disclaimer/s — Fluff :3!

A/N: OH, HOW I LOVE THIS TOOTHY-GRINNED BOY.

“You’re not listening to me,” a pause. “Are you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement, a statement that had a smile tugging at the corner of Pau’s lips within seconds. He wouldn’t deny it; you weren’t exactly wrong. “I’m listening. Go on.”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes. “Yeah? What was I talking about then? Let me know.”

The boy in front of you can’t help but shrug. “You were talking about why you didn’t want to go into work this weekend. And I agree. Take time off.”

“Huh.” He was listening. “Why do you think that?”

“You work too much.” Pau shrugged once again, his gaze flickering from your interlocked hands back to your face, his gaze softening almost instantly. “I think time off would be good for you.”

That was, in fact, true! You worked too much. The days you spent completely and utterly exhausted made your boyfriend worried—more than you’d like him to be, well, at all. You hated worrying him.

“Okay. If I do take time off, emphasis on if, do you think you’d be able to come over? I feel like we haven’t had a sleepover in so long. It’s overdue.”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “Of course.”

“Perfect, it’s settled then! You can come over…”

Now he wasn’t listening. The sound of your voice faded out while he focused on the small details of your features—the way your lips were graced with a smile, the way your eyebrows went from furrowed to raised with excitement, even the way your nose scrunched due to the cold weather, making you sniffle. He was captivated by… you.

Then, when you move a certain way, a couple of strands of your hair slowly fall in front of your face, making him frown. If he was going to not listen to you, the least he could do was move it out of the way—one, so he could look at you some more, and two, so you wouldn’t be peeved.

Lifting his hand, Pau tenderly tucks the strands back behind your ear, the gentle touch causing you to momentarily lose your train of thought.

He most definitely wasn’t listening now, was he?

“You were so not listening this time, Cubarsí.”

Scrunching his nose, that big toothy smile of his forms and he shakes his head. “Not this time, I’m sorry. What were you saying? I’m listening now.”

“I forgot now,” you sighed, “Let’s go get food?”

“Food is good, let’s go. Maybe you can remember what it was you were talking about, hm?”

Doubtful, but cute. “Yeah, yeah, maybe I will.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby ! ౨ৎ

[strawberrymochin]

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Gojo gets sick-: you get stuck with 3 kids. (Sick gojo=Horny gojo)

You refilled the ice pack again, handing it to Tsumiki, while the chicken soup boils.

As weird as it may sound, satoru gojo has fever. Being the strongest sorcerer, sick days are something, people don't expect him to afford. It's a rare occurrence though, the last time he caught flu was when he was a first year student in jujutsu high.

Tsumiki takes the ice pack to gojo, who is currently in your shared bedroom, resting. The kids have school today and you need to hurry. Moreover a sick gojo called for a disaster—a shudder runs through your spine, as the vivid evocation of the lucid night crosses your mind, tainting your cheeks red.

You shake off your thoughts, sensing the soup is ready to be served. 'megumi, can you bring me a bowl to pour the soup, please?'

Megumi obeys handing you a bowl. You pour the soup into it, covering it with a lid, not to let the hot steam escape. You, next, get working on packing the lunches of the kids , then, placing the breakfast on the table, 'Megumi, Tsumiki breakfast's ready! Hurry!'

The kids rush to the table, followed by the pale figure of your boyfriend, eyes feverish , face flushed, messy white locks falling on his brows with a slight pillow crease on his cheek. The sight melted you, wanting to kiss him, but worry washes over you as soon as you recall his health.

'honey! why did you get up? You should be resting now,' you get closer to him, raising the back of your palm, to brush off his silvery moonlight hair, checking his temperature, almost making you gasp, 'you're burnin—'

Before you could finish your sentence, gojo pulls you closer, one hand snaking around your waist, while the other cups your face, leaning in slowly, ever so slowly bringing his mouth to your lips, kissing you.

His eyes close, lashes brushing your cheek.

Time stopped as his lips moved around yours, slow, soft and gentle, as laying down on the dewy grass on a first snowfall, as munching on a cloudy marshmallow, as the stars twinkle in midnight sky.

You would have given in, but taking note on how reverent his touch was, made you realise how in a pyretic daze he was, as you pulled away.

'mmnh...I want more.' gojo groaned, pulling you for a second kiss, when—

'ppfftttt'

The sound made you reconsider your surroundings, which you forgot momentarily. After all, you guys aren't alone and there are two kids around, just of six and seven years old.

You sprung apart from gojo, taking a look at the kids faces. Megumi's one eye was twitching, there were visible remarks of him choking on his glass of milk. Tsumiki's one hand covered her own eyes, peeking from the little gap of her fingers, while the other tried to cover Megumi's, which ofcourse didn't work well blocking the view. This is the first time they saw you guys kiss.

Embarrassed as hell, you disappeared into your room, with an awkward excuse of getting changed to drive the kids school.

Gojo, however, wasn't even a bit shaken by this incident. He walked up nonchalantly to the table joining the kids instead, as Megumi eyed him sickeningly.

'What?' he asked the kid with a default grump face.

'....'

'Can't I even kiss my girl?'

'No. You have fever. Don't want y/n-san to get sick.'

Gojo scoffs at Megumi's remarks. Now, a six year old kid will teach him when to kiss his girlfriend.

'I'm sick. Don't you have anything to say?'

'yeah. Stay away from me.'

Gojo- :⁠,⁠-⁠)

You come back after dropping the kids at school. The chicken soup you made him will probably be finished by now, but to your surprise it was sitting on the counter untouched as you left.

'why didn't you had the soup, satoru? Moreover I told you to rest in the bedroom right?' you frown at gojo laying his head on the table for god knows how long.

'Forget about the soup. Can I have you instead?'

'.....'

'Spoon feed me, then. After that we will continue what we left unfinished.'

[constantmourning]

Confidence

[Price/Fem!Reader] [Gaz/Fem!Reader] [Soap/Fem!Reader] [Simon/Fem!Reader] [Poly!TF 141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: You haven't been feeling too confident lately. Your friends convince you to dress up to feel good, and you send them a picture of the end result. Except, you sent the pictures to the wrong group chat...

Word count: 6.9k (hehe)

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!! No use of Y/N, Thigh slapping, finger sucking, p in v, lack of protection, creampie (x2), oral (male and female receiving), face sitting, praise, pet names. Let me know if i forgot something please, I'll be happy to tag it if i did!

A/N: Reader is written As PLUS SIZE! There are mentions of fat/stretch marks/self esteem issues and the likes! This got very long I'm sorry but also I hope you enjoy!! Also, half of this is Beta'd, the other half... well, we die like men...

Your confidence had been at an all time low as of late. You weren’t sure what it was, but ever since joining Captain Price and not having your friends there to tell you just how great you looked every day, you really were down in the dumps.

Babes, I’m terribly upset

You text in your group chat with your friends. You waited for their answer. It felt like a century before someone responded.

Dear, what's wrong?

Finally, one of them had answered. You sighed and took a moment to respond.

I’ve been feeling like utter shit lately. Everyone around me is so… not built like me… I think it’s silly, but I don’t always feel beautiful.

You sent in the chat and immediately got a speech bubble.

Babe… I’m gonna tell you what helps me. Dress up all pretty. Do something to make you feel good. I promise it’ll help

You scrunched your face up.

I’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work I’m going to torment you forever

No response. You groaned and sat up. You decided it’d be best to try that. You looked through your things and found a cute underwear set and walked to your bathroom. Momentarily battling about putting on makeup, you decided to try it.

You sat in your bathroom for a good twenty minutes just doing your makeup. You then took another twenty minutes doing your hair. Everything was going to be undone, but if it was going to help you feel better, why not try it? You slipped into the cute underwear, black and lacy. You examined yourself in the mirror and smiled.

Remember, briefing tomorrow morning

-Captain Price

You remembered, and made a mental note to respond to his text a little later. You, instead of responding, began to take pictures of yourself in different positions. Once you were satisfied with some of them. You decided to throw a few into your group chat with your friends.

Validate me babes <3

You set your phone after you sent the pictures and just looked at yourself. You inhaled and placed a hand on your stomach. You pinched the fat there and sighed. Your phone went off, and then went off again. And again.

HUH?

-Gaz

oh fuck

-Soap

Wrong number?

-Ghost

You felt your heart stop. You wanted to vomit and run away and never be seen again by your teammates. Truly thinking about not responding and running away into the night, you scraped your nails through your hair. You grabbed your robe from the door and screamed into it. As loudly as possible without alerting anyone.

You grabbed your phone up and thought about being a grownup. Briefly.

WRONG GROUP CHAT

You then sent a barrage of different sad emojis and hoped the pictures would leave their minds.

There were no responses for the rest of the night. You went to bed just as you were; hair, makeup- You did put on comfortable pajamas though. You lied down and knew- just knew you would be getting an earful in the morning.

You grabbed your phone one last time and sent a group message to your girls, checking this time if it was really them.

Goodbye, I just wanted to say that. Since I will be simply passing away right now.

Immediate response.

What did you do???

I sent pictures to the wrong group chat. To the work group chat…

Your friends both, at the same time, asked what the pictures were. You sent the pictures and said nothing else. The chat erupted. Your friends were spamming you, different emojis, swears, memes. Anything. If they could send it, it was sent.

You lied on your back, looking up at the ceiling and you sighed. You were going to have to be an adult and face the men you really didn’t want to in the morning. You made that a problem for you in the future, and decided that sleep was the best option. You turned your phone off and slowly fell asleep. A pit in your stomach the whole time you waited for unconsciousness to overtake.

You woke up with the exact same pit in your stomach. You threw on your uniform and walked as fast as you could to the room you were meeting at. You wanted to miss Soap, Ghost, or Gaz. You did not want to run into them.

You opened the door to the room and realized you’d be facing Price alone. That was until you saw everyone was already in the room. You looked at your watch. You were early… If you were early, what time did they get there? You did not want to think about it…

No one would look you in the eyes. Their demeanor had changed completely. But no one mentioned the photos. You stood, uncomfortably, away from everyone. You couldn’t take in any information that Price was giving you. You were hyper aware of everyone around you; their body language…

You watched as Soap balled and unballed his fist a couple times. His knuckles white.

Gaz’s chest was rising and lowering a little quicker than usual. You could tell through the gear. His eyes were trained ahead, looking directly at Captain Price.

Speaking of Price, his eyes would look right over you. You weren’t the best at eye contact anyway, but Price was not bad at it. You knew he was trying to be professional.

Your eyes moved to Ghost and they locked onto his. You, immediately looking away, noticed him shift. His eyes didn’t falter though. He seemed to be the only one looking at you.

You shifted your weight, swallowing hard. Gulping down air like your life depended on it. The tension in the room was too much. You wanted to explode. Instead of exploding, you did (in your mind) the second worst thing. You opened your mouth, and words actually came out.

“I’m sorry!”

Everyone went quiet. Price stopped speaking and all eyes were on you. You gulped again and took a step back, distancing yourself even more. Price was the first to speak up. His brow cocked and you waited for his response. “For what?” He did sound genuinely confused, so you didn’t take it as him pretending to be stupid.

“Uh-” Your eyes scanned the room. You did the thing you were best at, word vomit. “Well, I’m sorry for sending those pictures! It was unprofessional and I didn’t check the group I was in- I was just- I meant to send it to-” You stopped yourself.

“To who?” Ghost asked, deadpan. But, you could almost see the smirk under his mask.

You, not knowing how to stop, kept going. “My friends. I wasn’t feeling good last night- Or the past couple o’ weeks really… My friends said, um, doing what I did would help me feel better! I mean, she did not tell me to send the picture in the work chat!” You put your hands up, no one stopping you from continuing. “I just wanted to feel cute… I guess…”

The room went silent. You made a face and held yourself back from stomping your foot or throwing a tantrum. You decided to be an adult, and wait for a response, one that felt like it was never coming. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all looked at each other before all staring at you. You pouted.

“What?”

“Do friends normally send pictures like that to each other?” Ghost cocked his head at you.

You wanted to throttle him. “Whatever. If this is done, can I leave?”

Price nodded, he knew you had retained nothing, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Free to go.”

You walked out of the room and began to walk towards your room. You felt tears prick your eyes and tried to hold yourself together, at least until you got to the comfort and loneliness of your room. You were seething. You didn’t know why, but you were mad. Mad at how they had acted, mad at how you had acted, and mad that the pictures were sent to them in the first place. You got to your room, slammed your door, and threw yourself down on your bed.

You curled up and decided it was best to skip lunch that day.

A knock came from the other side of your day and you held back the urge to tell whoever it was to go away. You threw yourself out of bed and walked towards the door. Forgetting that you had puffy eyes from crying, you opened the door. Price stood there.

“Hey, you weren’t in the mess hall-” He stopped when you wiped your eyes. “Are you crying?”

You pouted harder. Price sighed. You groaned and moved to the side, motioning for Price to come in. You did not want everyone to see you looking like a mess. Price walked in and you shut the door. You placed your back against it and looked at him.

“Are you alright?” He gave you a concerned look.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Terribly.

Price’s head dropped slightly. “You had said this morning you weren’t feeling-”

“Captain,” You sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just horribly embarrassed. It’ll go back to normal once no one looks at me differently.”

Price’s brows furrowed. “If they don’t?”

You blinked at him. Why would he say that? You felt tears forming again. “Captain-”

“I know you don’t want to hear it from me-” Price started, “And would obviously prefer it from your friends,” He smiled at you softly, and got closer to you, “but, you are stunning. You should not feel the need to be validated, but you should know you are beautiful.”

Something hit you; whether it was the eye contact, what he said, or how he said it, you weren’t sure, but whatever it was sent you into a frenzy. You, without thinking, grabbed Price’s face and kissed him. Hard. Your lips hit his and you realized what you were doing. The kiss was over as fast as it started. You threw yourself back and began to profusely apologize. 

“Holy shit!” You were stunned at your actions, “That was so inappropriate, I’m so sorry.”

Price was as stunned as you. You watched him with wide eyes and he processed everything that had just happened. Nothing was being said. It was a deafening silence. Price watched you closely, his eyes dropping from your to your lips. His hands cupped your cheeks and he brought you into another kiss.

You eagerly kissed back, pressing against him. He pushed forward, your back pressing against the door. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth for him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and nothing was stopping either of you.

Until your stomach growled.

Price pulled away and looked down at you. “Look, you need to eat and I’m not sure we should do this-”

“I want this…” Your voice was barely audible, just loud enough for Price to hear.

“How about…” He paused, “you go eat. And think about this-”

“I’m not going to lie now, Captain Price,” You bit the inside of your lip, “I’ve been thinking about you, and the others for a while now.”

“Me and who?” He questioned you, brows knitting together.

“Um, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost… I think about you four all the time. Um, too much actually.” You stop yourself before going further. “Sorry, that's too much truth.”

Price laughs, “Okay… Go eat. Think on this. Text me when you’ve eaten.”

You nodded. “Yes sir,” You did a little salute. Price moved and let you out from your spot. You opened the door and both of you walked out of your room. You, pretending like Price did not just have his tongue in your mouth, walked off for lunch. As you were leaving, Soap walked up. He looked at Price in confusion.

“Why were ya in her room?”

Price smiled at him. “We may be doing a team bonding exercise later.”

“What does that mean?” Soap was quick to ask. Price was quick to ignore. He started to walk off, away from Soap, agitating him. “C’mon! You can’t say that and then not elaborate!”

Your mind was racing the whole time you ate. You could only focus on one damn thing; your earlier actions. And Price's words. Heat prickled across your cheeks as you ate and you made up your mind.

You wanted to do whatever it was Price had been thinking about.

You finished up your food and began to head back to your room. You just had to get a hold of Price, you had to tell him what you had thought about. But not before coming face to face with Soap.

"What happened earlier?" His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned down. "Wait, have you been crying?"

You groaned. "Fuck, it's still noticeable?" You looked back at Soap, "Where's the Captain?"

It was his turn to groan, "I'll take you to him."

You smiled widely and thanked him. He began to lead you to the barracks, the men's barracks. Your stomach flipped and you felt butterflies instantly. You kept your eyes trained ahead, on the back of Soap. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were burning.

"Did Price get to you first?" Soap turned to ask.

You blinked at him, shocked. "Huh?"

He shook his head, mumbling 'nothing' before leading you Price's door. He knocked and there was silence for a minute, before the door opened. Price's eyes fell from Soap and back to you. Price smiled and motioned for you to come in.

Soap began to leave and you grabbed his hand. "Can he come in too?" Your words caught Soap's attention. He froze and looked back at Price.

Price's smile turned into a toothy grin. "Of course."

You pulled Soap in behind you and Price shut the door. You held Soap's hand like a lifeline, a nervousness taking over that only hand holding could help. Soap didn't seem to mind. You looked at Price with a curious expression and finally asked, "What now?"

"Well, we have to lay down some ground rules, and let Soap in on what's going on."

"Please fucking do! What's going on?"

Price looked at you, for you to tell him. Your stomach turned. You swallowed hard and looked at Soap, letting go of his hand. "Um, I talked with Price this afternoon, before I ate. I told him about-" your eyes cut from Soap to Price, who gave you an encouraging nod, "-about liking the four of you. I thought about it, like you asked," you looked to Price again, "and I'm up for-"

"A team bonding exercise?" Soap asked.

You nodded. "If you wanna call it that."

Soap very much so wanted to call it that. He wanted to bond with his men over you. You were unaware- oblivious to the fact that all of them seemed to want that. But, now, the opportunity had presented itself so perfectly. Soap wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you. But he waited.

"Go get Gaz and Ghost." Price looked at Soap before his eyes hit you. Your heart fluttered and you looked at Soap, who was ready to protest.

"Why do I have to go get them? Call them!" Soap's hand snaked around your waist.

"Soap…" Price's eyes narrowed. "I'll take care of her, go get them." Price pulled you from Soap's grasp and Soap groaned. He mumbled a 'whatever' under his breath and left the room.

You watched Soap refrain from slamming the door and moved your gaze to your Captain. You bit the inside of your lip and your arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, hugging yourself.

"C'mere." Price motioned you over. Your feet were heavy and your eyes were wide. You couldn’t move. You inhaled sharply and your hands dropped to your sides. Price watched you like a hawk, “You still up or this? You can back out at any time.” You only nodded. “We’ll set ground rules as soon as Soap gets back with the boys.”

“Until then?” You asked, head cocking to the side.

“We can do whatever you want.”

You nodded again. Anxiety crept in, and even though you knew you could do what you wanted, you needed to ask. “Can I kiss you?” You whispered. Price nodded. You were on him in an instant. Your lips were on his, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled into the kiss. This time, you traced your tongue over his bottom lip. He eagerly opened his mouth for you, and your tongue slipped in.

Price’s teeth ever so slightly bit down, gently scraping your tongue. You moaned. Price smiled again. His hands rested on your hips and he pulled you closer to him. He began to back up and he soon reached his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and you froze. Suddenly, you were aware, very much so, of him and yourself. You looked at Price, he looked up at you through his lashes.

Without saying a word, he placed his hand on his upper thigh, and patted. Everything in you screamed for you to sit down, but you were stuck standing in front of him. Price’s lips turned downward and his brows furrowed. You shifted your weight and looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“Love,” Price reached his hand out for you, “what’s wrong?”

You grabbed his hand and sighed, “I don’t wanna sit on your lap because, what if-” You stopped yourself. Price’s brows furrowed and he asked for you to continue. You refused.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You threw your head back and whined, “I don’t wanna be too heavy.” You didn’t want to say it too loud. You felt silly enough already. But it was a real fear, being rejected because of your weight.

Price gave you a soft smile, “Don’t even think that way, I promise it’ll be fine.” Price motioned for you, once again, to sit on his lap. So, you did. You didn’t place all of your weight immediately, and he could tell you obviously didn’t want to. So he would coax you. You were sitting on one of his thighs, uncomfortably if you were being honest. Until Price took matters into his own hands.

Price’s heel rose from the floor, catching you off guard. Your back arched and you grabbed his shoulders. “What are you-” His foot dropped, taking all of you with it. All of your weight pressed down on his thigh now, and as soon as his foot hit the floor his hands were on your hips. You instinctively grinded into him and let out an embarrassing whimper.

The door of the room opened and you looked back, unmoving. Soap and Gaz walked into the room, and your heart jumped into your throat when Ghost walked in right behind them. He closed the door and everyone was staring at you. You wanted to hide your face but there was nowhere to hide. Your whole body was hot and you couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of their eyes on you and how good Price’s thigh felt against you. Price lifted his heel again, and before you could prepare yourself, it hit the ground. You moaned.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled.

“Sorry, love,” Price smiled, “I had to show them your reaction.” Price gripped your hip before releasing it and looking at the guys. “There are some things we need to go over before we get down to business.” Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all nodded, listening closely. “We need a safe word.”

They all looked at you. You were confused momentarily. “Uh, red? Like y’know, green, yellow and red? If I’m good I’ll tell you green, if I’m iffy I’ll tell you yellow, and red is just hard stop.”

They all nodded in agreement with you. Soap was the first to speak up, “What first?” You shrugged, feeling very shy all the sudden. Price gripped your hip before releasing it, and you looked at him for reassurance.

“You decide, darling.” Price looked back at the guys and then at you, “Who first?”

You said the first thing that came to your mind. “Gaz.” You looked back at him and watched him ball his fists, before relaxing. He smirked at you and Price stood you up. “You’re feelings aren’t hurt right?” You looked around the room.

“Bonnie,” Soap smiled at you, “we’ll all get a chance, no hard feelings.”

“You’re just saying that,” Gaz elbowed him, “You wanted to be first.” He then promptly ignored Soap’s angry stare and approached you. Price stood up from his bed and he, Ghost, and Soap watched you closely. Your body was set ablaze and you just focused on Gaz.

“Please, kiss me?” Your voice was soft, your arms behind your back. Eyes cutting through your lashes as you looked at Gaz. You did not have to ask again. He was on you instantly and his hands were cupping your face.

He backed you towards the bed and you fell down. You scooted up the bed and Gaz was on you again. This time, he was kissing your neck. Your mewls filled the room. You had no clue what to do with your hands. You were pulling at the sheets and then started to pull at Gaz’s shirt. He eagerly pulled it off.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked, so politely, how could you deny him?

“I don’t know…” You answered. Suddenly, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You were staring at the ceiling and playing with the cover beneath you.

“You don’t have to,” Gaz nuzzled your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. “We can work towards that.”

You nodded, “Okay,” a breathy whisper escaped you. Gaz worked wonder with his hands, he grabbed at your hips and his fingers ran up your side, just under your shirt, causing you to gasp. Goosebumps rose on your skin. With eyes shut tight, you spoke up, “You can take my shirt off.”

Gaz smiled into your neck and pushed himself up. You sat up and helped Gaz help you out of your shirt. You sat there in your bra and the cool air made you realize what you had just done. Your hands went to cover your abdomen and Gaz frowned. He placed a hand on yours but did not dare move your hands away from you.

“You’re beautiful… I-” He stopped himself, “We can show you that if we need to.”

You bit the inside of your lip, “I’m gonna be honest. I’ve never felt comfortable in these situations… Well, actually, I’ve never been in this situation, with multiple men… I never even felt comfortable with just one.”

The energy in the room shifted immediately. Before, it was just horny, then it quickly changed to something more serious. Gaz nodded, understanding. “We can stop if you get too uncomfortable. Where are you right now?”

“Green.” You grew more comfortable, even if it was just with him at that moment. You moved your hands from your stomach and placed them, palms down on the cover, beside you. Gaz gave you a soft smile and nodded. “You can continue.” You reassured him. He did just that.

You leaned back on the bed and let Gaz take over again. His hands ran up your sides and towards your bra. You arched your back and let him unclasp it. You shimmied out of it and he threw it to the side. You laid back on the mattress and looked up at Gaz, who was staring at you as if you were a gift from whatever God was listening to him when he prayed.

One of his hands moved for your chest and you gasped. His hands were warm and calloused and something about his touch was so calming. He massaged your breast and lowered himself to your neck again. Your back arched harder and your hips bucked upwards slightly, causing Gaz to groan into your neck.

You had almost forgotten other men were in the room. Almost. "Ugh" Soap groaned, "could you go any slower, Gaz?" You laughed at his remark. Genuine and loud. Gaz grumbled into your neck and pushed himself up.

"I'm going to ignore him now," Gaz looked dead at you, you were the only one in the room according to him. You smiled at him and nodded. Gaz kissed your jawline, down your throat and headed for your chest. He briefly paused at your nipples, a hand playing with one while the other got sucked on. You moaned and whined at him, the sound of the other men shuffling around the room not even detering you.

Gaz's hands moved towards your belt and you tensed. You said nothing though. But Gaz still noticed you tense. He froze and looked up at you, one of his brows cocking. "Green," you whispered, still focusing only on him. He gave a nod and made quick work of your belt. It was pulled off of you in no time. You kicked off your shoes and Gaz began to pull down your pants. You lifted your hips to make it easier, and soon enough you were just laying there in your panties.

You were nearly completely exposed to them. Your thighs, stomach, stretch marks, all of it on display. Part of you didn't care, but part of you was terrified. Gaz's fingers gently traced your stretch marks and you froze up.

"Yellow." You blurted out, without really thinking.

Gaz was off of you in an instant. "You okay, love?" Price and Gaz asked at the same time.

"Uh, sorry," You sat up, resting on your forearms, "not used to this attention. I was a little uncomfortable." They all looked at you, attentively. "We can continue."

"How would you feel…" Gaz trailed off, thinking hard, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs again. "Sitting on my face?"

Your heart jumped into your throat. How were you going to survive? Your eyes widened and you pulled yourself up, trying to comfort yourself. "What if… what if it's too much?"

"What?" Gaz, seemingly genuinely confused, cocked his head. "What if what's too much?"

You gave him a deadpan expression as if he should know. "I don't wanna crush you with my thighs!"

"What an honorable and lovely way to go, though!" Gaz gave you a goofy grin.

You thought for a moment, "Okay, but can we do it my way?" You played with the sheets beneath you. Gaz hummed, asking what your way was. "Uh, you lay on the floor and I'll sit on your face." Your face was suddenly burning as you said the rest of your thought, "So I can I suck one of their dicks." Your words ran together and you tried to hide your face.

"Hey, no need to be shy now!" Gaz comforted you. "Anyway, I'm sure I know one of them is absolutely dying for you to suck his dick." Gaz whispered to you. You laughed, causing the others to wonder what was being said.

Gaz moved off of you and got on the floor. He laid down and patted his chin, waiting for you to get up and take a seat on his face. The others looked at you with confusion. They couldn't help but wonder what you had planned. You stood up and wondered how to not awkwardly take your panties off. You decided it didn't have to be awkward, you were with four men who were ready to throw themselves at you (well, Ghost hadn't yet…), you didn't need to feel so self conscious.

Yet, there you were, being self conscious. "Do you have to watch me while I take off my panties?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to watch, love?" Ghost adjusted himself, causing a pit to form in your stomach.

You grumbled a 'fine', and slid off your panties. You made your way to Gaz, who was more than ready to devour you. You got on your knees, one on each side of his head and looked at the other guys. Gaz placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer down to him.

"Don't be afraid to sit all the way down." He smiled against your thigh, causing you to melt.

"Soap," You had said his name with a lust in your voice you weren't sure you were capable of. He perked up. "C'mere." You motioned for him to come over. He was on you as soon as possible.

"May I?" You grabbed up at his belt. Gaz kissed up your thigh, closing in on your pussy. Your thighs clenched around him without you meaning to and you immediately apologized.

"Fuck," Soap groaned, "You're so gorgeous…" That caused you to look back up at him through your lashes. Soap was promptly pulling his belt off for you. He unbuttoned and unzipped them so fast you were unable to process his movements.

Gaz licked a stripe up your pussy and you gasped. “Fuck…” Your voice was soft and weak. You focused back on Soap and looked up at him. Your hands moved to his waistband and you bit your bottom lip. You pulled at his underwear and you were immediately at eye level with his cock. Your hand wrapped around it and you began to softly pump it, the head already dripping precum. You slid his dick into your mouth.

Everything was going on at once. You were trying to focus on Gaz absolutely going to town on you, you were trying to focus on sucking Soap’s soul straight from his body, while also trying to focus on looking okay for Ghost and Price. Which, in all honesty, you didn’t need to try to do that at all. In their minds you were already perfect.

Soap’s cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You couldn't help it. Soap's hands tangled in your hair and he held you steady, which you were thankful for. Gaz was putting his mouth to good use and you needed all the help you could get. If you weren't so concerned with Gaz and Soap you would have heard Ghost and Price groaning and grunting on the other side of the room.

You looked up at Soap, tears pricking your eyes, and he pulled your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. "Good girl," he grunted, causing you to have a reaction.

Gaz was going to town under you. His tongue lapping you up as quickly as possible. His hands gripped your hips tight, holding you down while his fingers dug into the skin. You lost it. You settled completely on Gaz's face and moaned onto Soap's cock. Gaz's nose rubbed against your clit and you were sent over the edge immediately. You gripped Soap's outer thigh and tried your best to keep going as your first orgasm hit you. Soap saw you struggling and pulled away, leaving you a mess.

"Kyle!" You moaned out. Gaz did not slow. In fact, you saying his name only caused him to go harder. Your hands hit the floor and your nails dug into the wood. You started to grind onto Gaz's face, a whining and whimpering mess. No words were forming. At least not properly. "Please- Fuck, I-"

Gaz slowed and his grip loosened on you. You pushed yourself up, or tried, Gaz helped you move off his mouth and you were left sitting on your knees, hunched over and reeling.

"Holy shit."

"You still good?" Ghost asked from across the room. You nodded. "Wonderful, because we're just getting started."

You looked up and noticed Ghost was still in uniform. He had obviously been masturbating, but he was fully clothed. Price however, was not. He stood naked, his hand pumping away at his cock. You wanted him. He caught your glance and immediately stopped jacking off. You sat up straight but your eyes cut away from him.

"Mind if I join, dear?" He smirked at you. Words were still not forming. You motioned for him to walk over and made his way towards you. He easily pulled you up and walked you over to the bed. He set you down and you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked up at Price, and sighed.

"I forgot to mention," you finally formed a sentence, "I'm on birth control." Price smiled at this. It was your way of saying 'Please rawdog me right now' and he understood instantly. He lowered himself to your level, lips pressing to your ear.

"Wanna be on top?" Price whispered, chills running up your spine.

"I don't know…"

"Whatever you want to do is fine, love, but I'd love to watch you ride my cock-"

"Okay." You are hooked instantly. His tone, his accent? He did not have to repeat himself. Before you knew it, he was laying on the bed and you were positioned over him. You grabbed his cock and started to gently rub up and down it, before lowering yourself onto him. You whimpered, Price steadying you. He watched you closely. 

“Good girl, that’s it,” He grunted. His hands rested on your thighs. You were still so sensitive. You had a feeling you were going to be sensitive for the rest of the day.

“Captain…” You moaned out, not entirely sure where it came from. But it did something to Price. His hips bucked up immediately. You gasped. You were bouncing up and down, slowly at first. Your hands rested on Price’s chest to steady yourself, your legs still wobbly from the earlier interaction with Gaz.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room. Your whimpers and all of their groans and grunts filled the barracks, most likely. Your pace picked up and Price slapped his hand against your thigh, the smack ringing in your ears. The sting only turned you on more. “Fuck,” Price’s teeth were gritted, “love, you’re taking me so well.”

Your eyes shut tight and your mouth fell agape. One of your hands grabbed his, the one that rested on your thigh, and you were coming undone again. “John-” You stuttered out his name, “John, I’m gonna-”

Your movements slowed, but Price kept bucking his hips, causing your second orgasm to hit faster than you thought. A string of curses left your lips and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Your stomach was in knots as you clenched around Price.

“Love, I’m-” He was so close… “Where?”

“Inside.” It was so clear and coherent. Price did not argue.

His hips bucked up a couple more times and suddenly he was cumming as well. You leaned down and your whole body tensed. The feeling of his cum spilling out and rolling down your thighs was all you could think about. Price pushed himself up and kissed you, catching you off guard. You were kissing until one of the guys stopped groaning and spoke up.

“My turn.”

You pulled away from Price and looked over your shoulder. Ghost. You blinked at him a few times and Price moved you off of him. He stood up and let Ghost approach you. Ghost looked at Soap and motioned for him to get behind you on the bed.

“This okay?” Soap asked.

“Yeah-” You started. Ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh. Green.”

“Atta girl,” The tone in Ghost’s voice caught you off guard. You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, love,” He began to pull his pants down, “but I’m not letting you on top. And the mask isn’t coming off.”

You nodded. Soap was behind you holding you. You began to wonder if Soap and Ghost had done something like this before… You, however, did not wonder for long. Ghost was on you quick, his mask pulled up slightly to kiss you. His hand was placed under your chin, keeping you in place. He pulled away from you and looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

Ghost’s fingers slipped down to your dripping pussy and he slid two fingers into you. He kept eye contact with you as he fingered you. You shut your eyes as he hit a spot you had never had someone reach with just their fingers and he clicked his tongue again.

“Look at me.” Ghost’s voice was gruff. Your eyes snapped back open and your chest heaved. “Good girl.” You were stuck trying to form a sentence again, and the word Ghost slid from your lips, but nothing else was intelligible. “Simon,” He leaned down to your ear, “You can call me Simon.”

You were sent into a frenzy. Your hips bucked up and as he dragged his fingers out of you, your hips tried to follow. You were putty in his hands. You were a blubbering mess once again. Another orgasm hit and you cried out for Simon. Your eyes screwed shut and you gripped onto Soap, who was still right behind you.

Simon pulled his fingers from you and slid them into your open mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You looked at him through half shut eyes and shut your mouth, sucking on his fingers. Simon smiled under his mask, you could see him smirking under it as you eagerly sucked his fingers. He removed them from your mouth with a ‘pop’ and you watched him, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see what was next.

Simon grabbed your chin and made sure you stayed looking at him. “I’m going to fuck you, is that alright?” You nodded and he continued, “Soap is going to be here for moral support.” He patted your thigh. Soap’s hands rested on your hips, and as Simon said that, he gripped you tighter and placed a kiss on your shoulder.

‘Fuck,’ You thought, reeling from everything going on, ‘I’m going to need fucking support?’ You prepared yourself for what was to come. Simon told you to position yourself, and Soap, seeming to know the drill, helped you while Simon took his clothes off. Simon was completely naked except for his mask, and you were staring. Staring, and staring. Your head was resting on Soap’s stomach, and Soap was leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Simon crawled onto the bed and leaned over you, angling himself at your entrance. His eyes cut to Soap and moved back to you.

“Green,” You were eager for him to continue. So he did. Simon’s hips thrusted into yours, his pace slow and steady. Your legs were quick to wrap around his waist and Soap rubbed your shoulders. He whispered how good you were, how amazing you had been, and how hot you looked taking Simon’s cock.

Your cries grew louder, and you begged and pleaded for Simon to go faster. Simon grunted as he did so. His pace picked up and you were being plowed into within seconds of asking. Your head rocked back and you looked at Soap.

“Johnny-” You whined, tears pricked your eyes, “Fuck-” You reached up for Soap, who was hard again, you could feel it, and you touched his face. Soap mumbled some swears but was quick to encourage you some more. “I can’t- Uhn-” Your legs tightened around Simon’s waist and you cried for him. His name ripped from your lips and you said it over and over. Moaning for more. Simon did not stop.

“You can-” Your words caught in your throat, “You can cum inside-”

Simon wasn’t far off from you. You were laying there, whining and mewling as he continued to wreck you. His thrusts began to pick up speed once more, until he finally came as well. His hips slowed slightly, and he placed his face in your neck. He moaned out your name and your stomach flipped.

Soap placed and a kiss on your forehead. “We can take a break if you need to?” You couldn’t answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Simon pulled out of you and you lied there in Soap’s arms for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Come on,” Price walked over to the bed, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You didn’t move. Your legs felt wobbly and your brain was foggy. Your eyes cut over towards Price and you saw Gaz grow concerned. “You good?” He asked. You finally processed his words and gave a lazy thumbs up. This elicited a laugh from Simon.

After a couple minutes and Soap trying to get up, you stopped him. Your hand grabbed his bicep, “Wait,” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all the noises you had been making, “is this-” You froze momentarily, “Is this a one time thing?”

You could see them all look at each other and then back at you. They all started talking at the same time, “No!” “Of course not!” and “Do you want it to be?”

You sighed in contentment , “I think I could go for the occasional team bonding… If you guys are up for it of course!”

“Absolutely,” Simon leaned over you, “Now we really need to get this mess cleaned up.”

You smiled, agreeing, and let them help you. You had felt more confident than before, and while you knew you didn’t need to rely on others to make you feel that way, you hoped that whatever happened could continue.

[wearebarca]

10. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 10

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9*

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 5,4k

Warnings: none for this one, lot of fluff

Her conversation with Katie served as a bitter distraction during her flight back to Barcelona. She had not let herself think about the words that were spat at her face too much, wanting to enjoy the small amount of time she had left with her friends. When she arrived at the apartment, well after the two Arsenal players, she was met with two sets of eyes on her, both harbouring silent questions. One smile was enough for them to understand that there would be no talking about this and they simply motioned her to join them on the sofa. They spent the rest of the night watching cheesy romance movies and judging the characters on their poor choices and horrible taste in man.

Right now though, sitting 30 000 feet above the ground, with nothing but the soft chatter of the other passengers, Rosalie could not help but drift back to what was said. Alexia wasn’t like that. In the months she had spent with this team, she had never felt like she was being used, and she knew that the Irish defender was simply trying to get under her skin, but Rosalie had not completely healed. She was still fragile, and had just started to feel like she had found somewhere she belonged. Katie’s words, even if she would not admit it, had successfully planted a seed of doubt in her mind.

Stepping out of the airport in the warm Barcelona sun was such a relief for the photographer, who felt the tension leave her shoulders. She took a long, steady breath, the first satisfying one since boarding the plain, and closed her eyes to try and center herself a little. She had asked Lucy to come pick her up, and was slightly dreading the road back to her apartment since she was certain Leah had already told Keira about the events from the night before, and Keira would have, without a doubt, told Lucy. What Rosalie did not expect was to see a certain tattooed defender with a sophisticated Norwegian by her side.

“Hola guapa! How was your trip?” Mapi said, hugging the brunette and immediately taking her bags from her hands. Ingrid was next in line for a hug and handed her a cup of coffee, earning a grateful smile from the smaller woman.

“It was busy, very nice though. It felt good to see my old gang.” She said, refusing to get onto more details. From the side look Ingrid sent her, Rosalie knew that Ingrid was aware of some details and she was praying she wouldn’t ask. Mapi was already walking ahead, crumbling under all the bags she insisted she would carry alone and was beckoning them to follow to the car park.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you guys, but I thought Lucy was coming to get me.”

“ She was, but someone,” She said, sending a loving stare at her overly excited girlfriend, “really wanted to pick you up.” The revelation warmed the brunette’s heart who momentarily forgot the harsh words uttered towards her.

“Are you too tired to go get some food with us?” As much as the brunette was dreaming of her own bed at the moment, she also did not want to be alone.

“No no I’ll be fine, as long as it's a quiet place.”

“We were thinking about getting it to go and eat at our place, you could meet Bagheera too!” Mapi said, putting the brunette’s bag in the trunk of her car. Rosalie smiled and quickly agreed. They stopped at a small restaurant and ordered paella that they would share. Their apartment was vast and very tastefully decorated. Rosalie could see the Scandinavian twist in the decor and smiled at some colourful addition that could only be from the Spanish woman.

But the most interesting element of the space was the little ball of black fur sleeping soundly on the beige sofa. Rosalie made a beeline for the little creature, completely forgetting about the house tour she was currently in. She sat next to the cat who’s head instantly went up. She sniffed the photographer’s hand and got up, only to brush its head against her hand and start to purr loudly.

“ Bonjour mon chaton, tu es si belle, oh oui mais quelle beauté, et si gentille j’y crois pas.” She said softly while petting the small cat completely, unaware of Mapi’s presence next to her.

“I understand Alexia, hearing that just made me feel things amiga.” she said laughing while setting up the coffee table up for supper.

“What?”

“She is my best friend, I know her. Also she has been in a foul mood ever since she came back from camp and I’m pretty sure that it’ll change as soon as she sees you tomorrow.” Rosalie sent a look to Ingrid who made a face and silently agreed to her girlfriend’s statement. “And… We all saw you two back at the club.” She said winking at her.

Rosalie gave up playing dumb and simply rolled her eyes at the Spanish woman. “All of you?”

“Well, Sandra and Irene are aware since it was their plan to make Alexia mad. Patri and Pina suspect, Lucy and Keira obviously, and the rest can see that something is going on with their captain but can’t seem to pinpoint what.” Ingrid said, handing the French-Canadian a plate.

“They are blind yes.” Mapi said

“Mostly intimidated probably. Alexia is extremely protective of her private life.” Ingrid said, pouring them all a glass of white wine

“You don’t say.” Rosalie said, taking a sip, “I understand though, it seems like Martina has no boundaries. Anyway, how was the national break for you guys?”

The conversation flowed nicely all night, with Ingrid and Rosalie sharing about their respective camps and Mapi keeping them up to date on what had happened with Barça while they were gone. The brunette didn’t check the time once, which meant that she stayed very late and ended up accepting the couple’s offer to take the guest room.

National camp was always a hassle, and her weekend at Leah’s wasn’t exactly a vacation either. Add to that a night spent in an unfamiliar bed and the unrelenting flow of energy that was the Spanish defender, even early in the morning, Rosalie looked and felt like a zombie. She walked in the training center with her sunglasses still perched on her nose and a vice grip on the large coffee cup in her hand.

Dealing with Martina was the last thing she needed in her state, so she decided that it would be best if she sent one of the other photographers on the pitch, just so she could catch up on what she had missed during her time away.

It would be a small week for the photographer, with only three days before the weekend. There would be a game on Saturday but she was excited about it. Game days had become her favourite part of the job.

The thing that stressed her the most was her race quickly approaching. The Barcelona marathon was less than a week away and the French-Canadian wondered how she would deal with her level of exhaustion, work and her last lap of training.

Time seemed to pass without Rosalie noticing. She was so caught up in her emails she completely ignored her hunger. She kept working like that all through lunch and almost jumped when she was pulled out of her trance by her door opening and Lucy barging in her office.

“Didn’t your mum teach you to knock before entering?”

“Oh she’s sassy today.” Lucy said, taking a seat in the chair facing the brunette and unpacking hers and the photographer’s lunch. One look at the sandwich and her emails were forgotten. Without even glancing at the older woman, she grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite.

“You’re welcome, ungrateful twat.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes and finished swallowing. “Merci maman.”

“Are you gonna survive your day?” She asked, grabbing her own sandwich.

“Who knows, I feel like I got buried alive under all those emails.” She said, taking a sip off her cold coffee. “ I’m so tired I can’t even focus.”

“Can’t you work from home?” The brunette took a second to contemplate the idea, and came to the conclusion that nothing productive could come from her staying here.

“I could. I probably should.” She said, A big sigh left her lips as she lowered her head to her desk

“Are you the lead photographer on Saturday’s game or are you resting for your race?”

“I’ll be working, the game is early so I’ll be fine. Leah, Lia, Steph, Beth and Viv are coming to see the game too aren’t they.” She asked, sitting up and rubbing her palms on her eyes in a vain attempt to wake herself up.

“Yes, they’ll arrive the night before. The LW’s will stay at our place while the rest have hotel rooms in town. ” Just like they had promised, her friends were coming to cheer for her during her marathon. They would be staying at Lucy and Keira’s place and hotels so the French-Canadian would not have to worry about hosting and focus solely on her race. She was touched that her friends had thought about this, but the thing that would likely keep her up, was the thought of her old life and new life colliding. She knew that in the football world, everyone knew everyone. They all had heard of each other, or played against each other, sometimes even played together. But having them all interact outside of football, seeing the girls that were with her through some of the toughest times meet the people that had brought back her happiness, that was a different story. What if they didn’t get along. Afterall, England and Spain were famous rivals on the national scene and she was very close to both of the respective captains.

Rosalie could feel the start of a nasty headache creeping in as she closed her laptop. “Allez Frenchy, gather up your stuff and go home.”

The English player was already up and picking up the empty wrappers from their lunch. “Have you spoken to Alexia since you came back?”

The mention of the captain made her heart leap a little in her chest. She had wanted to, really, but the words from Katie still resonated in her mind and the thought of them being even remotely close to the truth had kept her from reaching out. She stayed silent, knowing that Lucy was aware that she had not.

“We didn’t tell her anything if that’s what you’re scared of. We only said that you were tired from the trip. She’s clearly worried tho.”

“I’ll speak to her tonight.” She said with a smile, walking out of her office. From the windows, she could see the whole team in action. As if she had felt her presence, Alexia’s head snapped up just in time to see the photographer pass.

She could see from her posture alone just how tired she was. She knew the woman had not spent a proper night at her place since she came back, so inviting her to hers seemed like a lot. She didn’t want the brunette to feel like she was suffocating her, so she decided that she’d let her do the first move. If she wanted to see her it would be on her terms, without feeling obligated to.

She was at peace with her decision for a total of twenty minutes. The look on Lucy’s face when she came back on the pitch, along with Keira's quiet but audible “is she ok?” were enough for the blonde to lose her cool. She herself had a hard time understanding why she felt protective over the brunette but truly it didn’t matter.

Concentrating for the rest of training turned out to be a difficult task, but Alexia sped through the rest of the exercises and was one of the first off the pitch. This behavior was very uncommon for the Barcelona captain which left a few of the girls confused. Only two had an idea why the midfielder was so eager to end this session.

“You should bring her pasta. It’s what Sara has recommended her to eat a week before her race and she’s a sucker for good pasta.” Lucy said when Alexia walked past her. The midfielder stopped in her tracks.

“Rosalia has not had a moment alone since she came back, you don’t think I should let her be?” She was surprised that the woman who acted like a big sister towards the photograph would encourage her to pursue the French-Canadian.

“I can’t tell you why, but being alone is not what she needs right now.” Lucy said with a hint of sadness and worry in her eyes. “Oh, and bring Nala, she’ll be so happy.” That was all the Catalonian needed to hear. Her plan was simple. She would go to her apartment to leave her training bag and pick up Nala. She would then go to the market and get all the ingredients she needed and walk back to Rosalie’s place.

It was around dinner time when Alexia arrived in front of the photographer’s building. She was glad she didn’t have to wait long until someone exited so she could let herself in without having to ring a random doorbell. The thing the blonde had clearly not thought of, was her little dog remembering the space, and most likely, smelling the photographer through the door.

As soon as Alexia reached the apartment door, Nala started to bark and jump, scratching the door with her little paws. Alexia cringed at the ruckus her dog was making and tried to calm her but nothing was working. She was about to drop all her bags and pick up the little beast when the sound of the door opening made her look up.

Rosalie was groggy. She was sleeping on her couch after succumbing to her fatigue while working when barking had pulled her from her slumber. She knew that there were no dog owners in her building and the sound was from right outside her door. She surely wasn’t prepared to see Alexia crouched down in front of her door, fighting with the small dog who was hell bent on freeing herself and running towards the photographer.

“Ale? What are you doing here?” The footballer stood up with the little excited dog still wiggling in her arms. Rosalie smiled widely and motionned to the player to pass Nala to her, which she gladly did. While Rosalie was busy greeting the fluff ball, Alexia picked up the grocery bags and made her way to the brunette's kitchen. She was happy to see that the woman had not started dinner yet and immediately started to prepare the food.

“ Ale, are you gonna tell me why you are here?” She asked, sitting down at the breakfast bar, Nala still in her arms.

“I am making you dinner! I can go after, if you want me to, but I know you are tired and I wanted to do this for you.” Rosalie could feel tears threatening to fall as she watched the blonde work silently. It took a moment for Alexia to realize the smaller woman had not moved from her spot in front of her.

“You can do your things like normal Rosalie, just act like I am not here.” She said, finally turning towards her. Upon seeing her eyes, Alexia walked around the kitchen island and crouched down in front of the photographer. “What’s wrong?”

“ Nothing, this is perfect.” The brunette said, whipping away her tears with the hand that wasn’t holding Nala. Alexia understood why the English couple was worried. She took her hand and guided her to the sofa where she could see a pillow and a pile of blankets.

“ You can rest more, I will wake you when the food is ready.” Rosalie got comfortable once more, with the little pomeranian snuggling in her arms. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep once more.

It took Alexia a little more than half an hour to cook enough food so that the brunette would also have lunches ready. The sight she was met with when she moved to the living room warmed her heart. The brunette was bundled up in thick blankets in a fetal position and all that could be seen from the small dog were her little ears sticking out of the blanket. Alexia quickly snapped pictures of the two before carefully waking her up.

They ate together in comfortable silence, simply contempt in each other’s presence. Alexia insisted on doing the dishes herself, not wanting for the photographer to have anything to do once she would be gone. Rosalie took place at the counter with her laptop. She needed to finish a couple things before bed but she found that watching the captain so at ease in her kitchen was very distracting. This was as domestic as it could be, and it felt so natural, easy.

Once she was done, Alexia took a seat next to the photographer, closed her laptop and scooted closer. She turned around to face the blonde and as soon as their eyes met, she felt the remaining tension slowly escape her. Alexia’s hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair that had escaped from Rosalie’s bun, and finished her path on her cheek. She leaned into her hand and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of her palm.

“Thank you so much.” Rosalie whispered, not wanting to break the stillness of this moment.

“I am happy to do this for you.” She whispered back, slowly inching closer. “Rosalia..”

The word was but a breath on the footballer’s lips. She was so close Rosalie felt the air tickling her cheek. Their forehead connected, closing the distance even more.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” She sounded almost uncertain, as if she was scared the brunette would reject her. The thought alone almost pulled a chuckle from Rosalie.

“Oui, please.” She said, almost desperately, “You never have to ask again.”Her lips felt like coming home. How is it that after so little time, this woman had managed to break down all her defense and slithered her way into the depths of her mind.

The kiss was soft, unhurried. Their lips danced together, only parting to let out shuddering breaths. Rosalie reached out, pulling the blonde closer. It was like every part of her being was calling out for her. The heat was rising quickly, the need to be closer, feel her warmth invade all-consuming.

Rosalie was almost ashamed at the whine that escaped her when the footballer pulled away, leaving the forehead connected, as if she too, couldn’t fathom being separated just yet. “Rosalia, this is not what you need tonight.” She whispered, her hand caressing her cheek.

As good as her lips felt, Rosalie knew that the blonde was right. And yet, she could not let the blonde go. “ Can you stay please?” She asked in a broken voice that made Alexia’s heart shatter.

“Of course preciosa.” Alexia borrowed the same clothes she did the night before camp and stayed in the living room while the photographer went to shower. There was a shelf in the bookcase with what seemed like a collection of photo albums. They all had years written on the spine. Alexia picked one from what she assumed would be the brunette’s college years and sat on the sofa.

She was still flipping through the pages when the brunette emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and only wearing underwear and an oversized t-shirt. It took a lot of self control for the blonde to keep her eyes from trailing down her toned legs. She put aside the album and took the hand Rosalie was holding out for her.

They settled together in bed, Alexia’s arms wrapped around her protectively. In this position, sleep came to her very easily. It was arguably the best sleep she had had since leaving for camp and the brunette most definitely needed it.

The wake up in itself, was everything but peaceful. She could not breathe. It was like her face was blocked by something warm and fury, with hair getting in her nose and mouth. She panicked and rose from the bed, grabbing the ball of fluff that had conveniently chosen her face as a resting spot. She coughed up a few hairs, still holding the dog at arm's length.

She was still groggy from sleep, but it did not keep her from registering the sound of Alexia’s laughter echoing next to her. “Your little beast almost killed me and you’re laughing?” She said indignantly, bringing Nala to her chest and kissing her head. She simply could not be mad at the little dog, but could definitely direct her anger towards the owner.

“You were so peaceful, you slept through the alarm, so I thought you needed something a little stronger to wake you up.” The smile on Alexia’s face was simply radiant. Her hair was wild from her night of sleep and her eyes were shining brightly in the morning light. Rosalie could not do anything but smile at the blonde and put the little dog down, only to jump on the blonde to playfully attack her.

This playful mood persisted all throughout the day. From the car ride to Alexia’s place so she could drop off Nala and pick up her training stuff, to their interaction on the pitch during training. Rosalie managed to capture the biggest amount of shots of Alexia smiling at the camera, although everyone knew it wasn’t at the camera she was smiling at, but rather the small woman behind it.

The build up to Saturday’s game was a lot smoother than usual. With the Barça captain’s mood having brightened a lot and the excitement of a home game palpable, all smiles could be seen in the viewing room. As soon as the meeting started, there was nothing but determination written on the girls faces.

There was only one who seemed out of it. She was always like this before a race. In her head, quiet, but inside, her mind was roaring. Her fears, her strategies, her goal pace, her desired splits, she was mapping everything out, leaving nothing to chance.

To everyone’s eyes, Rosalie looked empty, which concerned some of the girls who, instead of disturbing the photographer, seeked out answers in Lucy and Keira. The girls knew that Rosalie was simply in her game mode and would likely stay that way til after the race.

The only person who seemed to pull a smile from the brunette was none other than the captain herself. However fleeting it might have been, she was proud to have been the one to make her smile.

Sunday was game day, and Rosalie vowed to herself , for the sake of her friends, to be there for them. Tonight, she would have time to worry for herself. So she pulled up at the stadium coffee in hand and ready for a home game.

She was the one capturing the player's arrival. She loved this part almost just as much as the game itself. The girls were all smiles yet again, confident in their abilities and preparation. Upon seeing the photographer smiling they all greeted her similarly, often hugging her or high fiving her.

As always, when Alexia came around the corner, Rosalie’s breath caught in her throat. She was wearing a dark green tennis skirt, a white shirt and that leather jacket that made the photographer drool. She was mesmerizing and Rosalie could hardly hide her staring even behind her camera.

The blond stopped in front of her and opened her arms. Her familiar smell automatically calmed her.

« Ça va bien aller, Rosie, tu es prête. » She whispered in her ear before pulling away. Rosalie was too stunned to speak. Although heavily accented, Alexia’s sentence was flawless and the photographer could not help but smile widely at the thought of the footballer learning this for her.

Out on the field, the sun was shining bright and the stands were almost full. She immediately spotted her little group of friends frantically waving her way. She waved back and prepped her equipment.

It was a wonderful game. Five nil with a beautiful header from Alexia and a goal from Mapi. The pictures she had taken of their celebration together were some of her favourites she had taken so far at Barcelona. It showed perfectly how strong their friendship was. She’d had to print it out and give it to them later.

As she suspected, her friends had walked down and were stepping on the pitch as she was taking off her media bib. Leah was the first to reach the photographer, sneaking behind her and grabbing her in a tight hug from behind.

“ Howdy Frenchy, ready for your big day?” She asked, resting her chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Rosalie grabbed her hands around her waist and laughed as the blond lifted her and essentially carried her towards the group of Arsenal players. She did not let go, even after putting her down.

Alexia was very aware of that fact. She was on the other side of the pitch signing jerseys and greeting fans, but she could not help but keep a close eye on the brunette. She had seen Leah approach her, seen the way her arms had wrapped around her, and this was simply not sitting right with her.

She was aware, in the back of her mind, that Rosalie had confirmed that Leah was with the Swiss captain, and of the remaining fans' eyes following her every move, but for a second, these details evaded her mind.

She crossed the distance separating her and the photographer in a few seconds and arrived behind the two. The only problem was that she did not, for the life of her, think about what she would say once she had reached the little group.

The girls got quiet upon seeing the Spanish captain. Rosalie and Leah both made a curious face before turning around. Rosalie smiled widely at the Catalonian and opened her arms.

“That was such a beautiful goal Ale!” She said while the girl was holding her.

“Thank you bonita.” They were then met with a stunned group of five women who had certainly not put Alexia Putellas hugging their best friend in front of them, and a stadium full of fans, on their bingo card.

“Hola,” The Spanish woman said upon seeing their dumbfounded looks. She stepped closer to them, her hand never leaving the brunette’s waist. “Did you enjoy the game?”

They all knew each other, having played against each other for club and country, so introductions were not a need. It was very weird for Rosalie, seeing everyone interact like that. She noticed Alexia was colder towards Leah, and the reaction was clearly amusing the English captain. They all exchanged a few words, asking about their season so far, with Viv and Alexia clearly hitting it off thanks to them being the biggest football nerds the brunette had ever met. During their conversation, Alexia’s hand never left Rosalie’s hips. It was a calming, grounding touch which the photographer welcomed greatly.

The stadium was slowly emptying. The fans were bustling with happiness after such a wonderful victory. Even the staff was nearly done picking up the remaining equipment and eager to go home to finally relax. The only people on the pitch were Rosalie and her small band of footballers. They all spoke and laughed together, unaware that someone was watching them.

From the mezzanine, Martina had a perfect view of the Arsenal players along with the Barcelona captain and photographer. An idea started to bloom in her mind.

“Ok I think it might be time to go, Rosalia.” Alexia whispered in her ear. She was right, dinner was quickly approaching and she needed to be in bed early. The start of the race was at eight in the morning and god knows Rosalie would not sleep much tonight.

She in fact, did not. She was up at five, already dressed in her lucky red sports bra, a black zip-up hoodie and running short, and pacing around. Her oatmeal was getting cold on her breakfast counter. Lucy was picking her up. It was their little tradition. Ever since she had moved to England, every racing event she had been a part of, Lucy had always been the one driving her, something about needing family to be there for her.

Lucy arrived at her apartment at six, because she knew that Rosalie would not have eaten anything. It was always the same. She would arrive an hour before the agreed time, eat breakfast with the Canadian, more like force feeding her, and leave, all of this mostly done in silence. Rosalie always felt bad for her pre-race attitude but Lucy understood. She had worked with countless superstitious players with weird and annoying rituals, silence was the most peaceful she had encountered for sure.

It was usually when they arrived on site that Rosalie’s tongue got loose. “Will they be there at the start?”

“Yes, and someone will be there at every water stop, everything is already planned.” Lucy said, squeezing the photographer’s hand. They got out of the car and Rosalie headed straight for the English women and engulfed her in a hug. “Thank you for being here, ma grande soeur.”

“Je t’aime, tu le sais ça”

“Je t’aime aussi, Luce”

The tent was full of runners. Some clearly experienced and others who seemed like it was their first ever race. Rosalie respected all of them, she knew how hard your first was and she valued all the training that went into this sport. She also loved the community built around it, whatever your level of experience, they were all here together with a common goal in mind, reach the finish line. She found an empty bench at the back of the tent and pulled out her trusty Asics Metaspeed. Before lacing them up, she took out her noise cancelling earbuds and pooped them in. She hardly ever ran with music, but she purchased them solely for their nose cancelling abilities.

Ten minutes before the star and Rosalie was outside the tent stretching. She could see the growing crowd assembling around the inflatable arch where the signal would be given. Her friends were likely already there, with Beth, Leah and Keira complaining about how early it was and Viv, Lia and Lucy attempting to tame their grumpiness.A part of her mind hoped she would see Alexia somewhere, maybe with some of the Barça girls, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up, after all, she had not even thought about properly inviting them.

Five minutes before the start. She was walking slowly towards the starting line, making her path among the other runners. She had a goal in mind, and so she needed to start this race at the front. She smiled at the other racers, the apprehension palpable in the air, as she advanced more and more towards the front line.

Two minutes before the signal. Rosalie was happy with the spot she had managed to slither into. Almost in the middle, completely at the front. all she could hear was the sound of her breathing. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her eyes scanned the crowd for the first time.

Hundreds of people were screaming and cheering for their loved ones, and at the front, right behind the gate was her family. She smiled at them and waved. It took a second for her to realize that they were in fact, not alone. More than half of the Barcelona femini team was at their side, cheering with homemade signs.

Thirty seconds before the start, Rosalie's green eyes met with hazel ones. She was smiling, a calm expression on her face. She was here. A new kind of determination lit up inside her.

The signal was finally heard and all that was left to do was put one foot in front of the other.

[sunnymainecoon]

(Ahem, 2 minutes future Sunny speaking) context is, simply put, Dream momentarily forgot about everything that went wrong. But, he doesn't have to dwell into that anymore, not when the (literally pointless)war is over.

Headcanon time lessgo!! Dream never got into any hobbies because of his job as a guardian but there is one thing he knows how to do and that's making flower crowns :3 and since it's connected to childhood memories he tends to forget how cruel the world is. Luckily though, war is over ;3 so he can finally rest!!.... At least in this timeline.(Sunny, shush, stop, YOU NEED TO STOP YOU F—) and since we're talking about flowers..(we are?) I'm also gonna mention I see Dream as a big flower nerd :3(stop doing that face) and it's even more fun out in the multiverse 'cause god are there so many flowers!! He also likes to see what kind of absurd flowers he can make fit together :3(Sunny, what did I just say)

Also, let me introduce y'all to my "crying you a river" style! Created by my literal tears :3(....) I suffer from life crisis whenever art styles and this one is just a silly and simple funker. I'm gonna lend this art style to... Dreamtale Sunny! Yeah, he exists apparently... I usually make or have OCs that I use to represent different styles- which is one way to hide who I am ig...

Anyways— @cakesmelons I'm picking the star Sanses because this was already being made(here u go bessie) TwT I just— I need to break my hands wait I meant

....anyways. I have to give credits to Roxy(creator of Slash) because my thoughts while I came up with this was inspired by that one comic where Dream literally forgot his brother was dead :3(Sunny I hope you die)(...please don't—)

[ganjas-shit]

Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Summary: You get to the bottom of Billy’s feelings but will it be too late?

Pairings: Billy x reader, slight Steve x reader (nothing too crazy)

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexual intercourse, cursing, abuse, blood, harsh language, Neil Hargrove, angst, mention of drugs, mental illness, panic attack.

Authors note: So, turns out I will be turning this into a series but STILL don’t know how long yet! I hope you guys enjoy I’ve been working on this all day. Message me or comment if you’d like to be apart of the tag list! Thank you for your support <3

Chapter Two: You’re gonna be okay.

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The morning air was crisp and refreshing, like sipping cool water. It felt invigorating against your skin, awakening your senses to the day ahead.

You took one more deep breath, enjoying the cool air in your lungs and closed the door behind you, locking it with your house key, and made your way towards the front of your house waiting for Steve’s arrival.

You close your eyes before slapping a hand over your forehead. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, realizing you forgot to call him this morning. With his habit of sleeping in, you’d likely be late for the billionth time only this time you didn’t find it in you to care, the excitement from last nights events still lingered in your belly.

Billy showed a different side of himself, setting aside his usual arrogance and charm. This unexpected change only fueled your excitement, leaving you eager to learn more about him.

The sound of Billy and Max bickering snapped you out of your thoughts. Though you couldn’t discern their exact exchange, it was evident Billy had the upper hand as Max slammed the passenger door of his car. “Watch it, shitbird, or you’ll be walking to school!” Billy’s voice echoed with attitude and irritation. Neil’s sudden appearance brought a stern reminder for Billy to mind his words when speaking to his sister

As he was about to get into his car, your eyes met his ocean-blue ones, but they held anger towards you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You immediately shook it off, offering him a wave and your bright, sweet smile. He maintained eye contact for a moment but disregarded your greeting, hopping into the driver’s seat of his blue Camaro.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him speed off, cringing at the loud sound of his departure. Did you do something? You thought to yourself.

You found the interaction between him and his father last night rather odd. His father’s presence was intimidating and uncomfortable, yet Billy left with a small smile directed towards you. It seemed like he was grateful for your conversation, so you couldn’t understand what could’ve happened.

Steve arrived momentarily, surprisingly on time, his burgundy bmw stopping right in front of you house. You climbed into the passenger side, a mixture of frustration and disappointment bubbling within you. With a heavy hand and a distracted mind, you slammed the passenger door of Steve’s car.

“Hey, easy!” He yelled, his tone irritated at your lack of consideration for his precious baby, bringing you back to the present moment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, shifting your belongings to the front of your legs and fastening your seatbelt.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” He glanced towards the driver’s window, checking for any incoming cars or pedestrians.

“Billy Hargrove,” you muttered grumpily, turning your gaze out the window as the trees and houses began to blur with the increasing speed of Steve’s car.

Steve looked over at you, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white in the process. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not being benched today because of him,” Steve said, his tone tinged with anger at the fact that Billy clearly upset you and at the realization that he’s not starting or playing the opening game today.

You remained quiet still distracted by your thoughts.

“What happened?” Steve asked, glancing over towards you. You straightened up and began explaining what had occurred the night before.

You started to explain the night in vivid detail to Steve, although he wished you wouldn’t have because he already didn’t like the idea of you and Hargrove together, and hearing the details made him inwardly vomit.

The car came to a halt when you had arrived at school. Steve parked and took the key out of the ignition, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Billy’s always kind of had a weird temper, y/n," Steve spoke carefully. He wasn’t being judgmental; he's just been a firsthand witness to it. "Him and I have roughed each other up a couple of times," he admitted.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You guys fought?! MORE THAN ONCE? ” You felt a surge of anger; Steve had lied to you. “So that one day after school, when you had a bruised eye, it wasn’t from bumping into a locker, it was from Billy?!” You mimicked Steve’s stupid voice, scolding him.

Steve rolled his eyes at your reaction, his head hitting the back of his headrest. It was the very reason he didn’t want to tell you, because he knew you’d freak out like this. “Can you let me finish?” he asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You waved your hands at him, signaling for him to continue.

“It was after practice one day, Neil, his dad had come to watch our scrimmage game,” Steve spoke.

Steve never forgot that day. Neil Hargrove looked like the biggest dick of a father anyone could have, and the way he spoke to Billy that day confirmed it.

"Billy, stop being a fucking pussy and get on defense!" Neil screamed, as if he were the assistant coach or something. Steve knew Billy could play defense; hell, he was the one who taught him to plant his feet properly.

Steve had the ball, with Billy defending closely. As Steve dribbled, scanning for an opening, he noticed Billy's distant and uneasy expression; it wasn’t filled with arrogance and a cocky smile like it usually was. "Hey man, you alright?" Steve asked, still dribbling. Billy's response was a glare of rage, yet he seized the opportunity. With a swift move, he snatched the ball from Steve's hand, pushing past him, sending Steve on his ass. Smoothly dribbling past him, Billy scored.

When Billy scored, he yelled and smiled as he usually did, then looked to the sidelines where his father stood, seeking some sort of approval or applause from him. However, he received nothing. Neil walked out, acknowledging nothing and Billy’s smile faltered immediately.

Coach Williams called an end to practice, and everyone left for the locker rooms to shower. Steve stayed for a couple more minutes to stretch his legs. As he walked out, he heard some yelling. Curious, he peeked over the wall to his right and saw Neil and Billy. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he did see Neil push Billy into the wall. Although he wasn’t close enough to hear the exchange, Billy looked frightened, and Neil appeared angry at God knows what. Steve witnessed Neil slap Billy once in the face, causing even him to flinch. With that, Neil left, leaving Billy there. Billy’s head hung low as he looked at his shoes and wiped his eyes.

Steve didn’t know what to do but he did what felt right. Again he asked like a broken record. “You alright?”

Billy flinched at the sound of Steve’s voice. “What did you see?” Billy spat with rage. Steve was confused and even hurt by his response. He was just asking if he was okay? Jesus Christ, was this kid always angry and defensive? Steve thought.

Steve decided Billy was a lost cause. He rolled his eyes, turned his back on him, and decided to just leave.

"Are you deaf?" Billy spat, his voice filled with anger, as he followed behind Steve and forcefully pushed his back, causing Steve to stumble and fall once again.

Steve's empathy ran out, replaced by anger. He got up and pushed Billy back. "Looks like you got some fire in you after all, Harrington!" he laughed manically. Steve noticed Billy's bloody nose, but it wasn't from him; it was from Neil.

Billy then charged at Steve, landing a punch on the right side of his face, and Steve retaliated almost instantly. They grappled and exchanged blows for a couple of minutes until Tommy H. and another teammate intervened to break up the fight.

You let out a deep sigh as Steve finished speaking.

Your heart broke for Billy; his father was a despicable, abusive piece of shit. You felt like an idiot for not seeing it earlier, but it still didn’t justify him taking it out on you. Did his father say something about you? You glanced sympathetically at Steve, who had tried to help and ended up with a blow to his right eye. Billy had no right, and while you don't excuse his behavior, you can't help but empathize with him.

"Just be careful with him, y/n," Steve said, his tone filled with concern. "He’s erratic and unpredictable," he added, his worry still evident.

Billy wasn’t a monster; you knew that. You also knew you could handle yourself; you didn’t need protection. After all, you had experience in this department; you dealt with a verbally abusive mother once upon a time.

You smiled at Steve. “I can handle myself. If I can handle the demogorgon, demo bats, and Vecna, I can handle Billy Hargrove,” you said, grabbing his hand that was resting on the center console and squeezing it gently. “Now let’s get to first period before clickety-clackety marks us late.” You finished letting go and opening the passenger door.

Steve did the same. “You know I hate when you and Robin call her that,” he said, now closing and locking his car. “It sounds nerdy,” he explained, speeding up to walk next to you.

Steve grabbed his hand attempting to calm the tingle he felt it in after your touch.

"Too bad," you said, playfully sticking out your tongue as you headed to class, earning you a classic Harrington eye roll. “Wait, how is that nerdy?” You chimed in again, sparking a lively banter between the two of you that continued until you reached class.

.

You got through your classes today only to be bombarded with more work.

The day you’d been dreading all week: the opening game of the season for Hawkins High.

You only ever enjoyed it when Steve played, but with him not playing tonight, the day seemed even worse. However, I suppose you could try to look on the bright side because it was Billy’s debut.

You walked around the gym, proud of yours and Billy’s work; the banners looked great. You double-checked that everyone was in their rightful place. Cheerleaders? Check. Band? Check. Student council? Check. Eddie Munson? Wait, Eddie Munson? At the Hawkins High opening game? No, it couldn’t be.

Eddie strode your way, wearing his infamous hellfire tee, paired with black ripped jeans and a silver chain that hung at the loops of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You questioned, smiling, genuinely surprised to see Eddie Munson at the opening game.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m thinking about convincing coach Williams to let me join the basketball team,” Eddie said, mimicking shooting a basketball poorly. “Gotta work on my basketball moves,” he added, moving on to mimic dribbling, which was downright horrid.

“Clearly,” you said, laughing at his terrible performance. “Your form is so off, and you look like you have no rhythm,” you added with a chuckle.

“Oh, I have rhythm. But it’s all in the fingers, baby… And trust me, the ladies love it… both ways,” he said with a smirk, punctuating his words with a wink.

You roll your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

“Why are you really here? Is it Chrissy?” you say, raising your eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. “Or oh no, wait a minute, are you swooning over Billy Hargrove too?” you tease.

He scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing at the mention of Chrissy’s name.

“No, but if you must know, O’Donnell said if I checked in with her after the game tonight, she’ll give me extra credit,” he explained, wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a dork he was.

But as you conversed, you couldn't help but notice the glares directed your way, especially from Carol and her friends, who were whispering about the two of you. Admitting it was difficult, but you found yourself affected by the things people said. It stung deeply; the cruelty of others weighed heavily on you, especially considering your own past involvement in similar behavior, which made you feel like you deserved the treatment you were receiving.

You shook off the thoughts that invaded your mind and refocused your attention back to Eddie.

“Wanna sit together? I have good seats in the student council section,” you said cheesing, reaching out to poke his stomach.

"Wow, Eddie Munson getting invited to the VIP section at his first Hawkins high basketball game? Count me in," he said, falling into step behind you as you headed towards the student section.

“You are such a dork.”

You and Eddie made your way to your seats, exchanging greetings with Robin as you passed by. Shortly after, the band started playing, and the basketball team began to roll in.

The team then huddled up and Coach Williams sent in the starting lineup, you felt the anticipation building. The game was about to begin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Billy. Ever since Steve gave you a little insight into who he was, he had been on your mind all day. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t turn his head once to look at you in class today, You had hoped to catch him after class, but that ditz Tina beat you to it. Seeing him all over her made you physically sick. It was nothing new, but today it stung a little more.

.

Billy’s facade of arrogance and confidence was beginning to crack.

He wasn’t prepared for this game, his mind consumed by the events of the previous night. His father had never offered him approval, kindness, or any form of support. But he did for you, which only fueled his bitterness toward you. Billy had dedicated himself to sports, hoping to earn his father’s affection and love. And the only commendation his father ever uttered was about you, summed up in just two words.

“Nice girl.”

Billy came to the conclusion that that’s why his father made those comments about you, realizing that Neil was drawn to submissive, weak, and timid women. It gave him a sense of control, a power trip that he relished, and it was the only valid reason.

But, he knew you weren't weak; you stood up for yourself, you were resilient, but it unsettled him. Since the age of 13, Billy had been consumed by anger after his mother left. She abandoned him, leaving him with a void. In you, he found a sense of safety similar to what he felt with his mother. He was unexplainably drawn towards you. Yet, the thought of attaching himself to you terrified him, fearing you might leave just like his mother did.

The thought of his father wanting you for him unsettled him deeply and fueled his desire to rebel. His mind was a war zone; he was caught between conflicting feelings that were tearing him apart.

He couldn’t help but think that Neil wanted him to follow in his footsteps.

Tommy nudged his shoulder snapping him back to reality, “Hey? You ready to kick some ass Hargrove,” Tommy asked excitedly.

Billy nodded, mustering up everything within him to get his mind straight, but then he saw you in the crowd next to Eddie Munson.

His heart ached a little, he felt guilty about this morning, and he started to feel jealousy course through his veins as he watched you laugh with the mop-headed boy. He kept his eyes on you for so long that he completely missed the sound of the whistle going off.

Shit.

The opposing team took had the ball in play and Billy’s mistake was seen by the entire school resulting in the opposing team making their first point.

The crowd was visibly upset with their screams and yelling and this made Billy’s adrenaline increase and his heart rate was speeding up drastically. His father wasn’t present, dinner with his coworkers was much important than his sons first game but why was he hearing him in the crowd?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BILLY? WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

“YOU ARE WEAK JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER, SHE LEFT ME WITH A GOOD FOR NOTHING SON.”

“Pussy. Get up pussy.”

“Nice girl.”

His father's words echoed in his mind, panic rising. In the midst of the play, he signaled the refs with his right hand while clutching his tightening chest with his left, the crowd's screams growing louder.

“TIMEOUT. TIMEOUT.” Coach Williams screamed and the game came to a halt. The crowds screams turned into whispers and murmurs.

“Billy what’s gotten into you boy?” Coach Williams asked, “Can you do this or do I need to pull you out?”

“I need a minute.” Billy said gripping the chest of his uniform, making his way towards the nearest exit.

“HARRINGTON GET YOUR ASS UP YOU’RE IN,”

.

Billy held his gaze on yours, and yours remained locked with his. You both were so lost in each other’s eyes that the sound of the ref’s whistle made you jump. You cringed as Billy messed up, not because you cared about basketball, but because you knew how harsh the crowd could be.

Eddie looked from Billy to you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Okay, what was that? ” Eddie spoke up, curious about the exchange of longing between you and the jock.

You sighed deeply.

“Eddie, I have a question,” you stated, your voice catching slightly. "Can I ask you about your dad?" you asked carefully, not wanting to upset Eddie or stir up painful memories.

“My dad?” Eddie questioned clearing his throat, confused at the sudden subject change, “Um yeah go head shoot,” he said as he crossed one arm over another. You looked over at Billy which didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

“After you got away from your dad, what was your personality like? Was it hard to trust people, let them in?” You asked refocusing your gaze to him.

Eddie briefly mentioned his dad while we were in the midst of hot-wiring his neighbor's RV a couple of months ago. And when you guys were gearing up for the upside-down, you had downtime leading to a deep talk about your parents, getting to know how bad Eddie had it growing up with his father. He was a schizophrenic, dope fiend, off his meds, obviously. His mother died of alcohol poising when he was about 7 years old, and he knew his father to be an addict his entire life, always in and out of jail, erratic, delusional, always up to trouble. His father didn’t take Eddie’s mother's death well; his mental state started to deteriorate, the drugs clashing with his illness more and more, and he started blaming Eddie for his mother's death, beginning to put his hands on him. Cigarette burns, bruises, black eyes—you name it, he had it.

CPS got involved, and his father was thrown into a psychiatric home. Eddie was alone, abused, for eight years until his uncle Wayne took him in at 15.

“Oh yeah, definitely. It took me a while to trust anyone,” he said with a dark chuckle. “My uncle Wayne was a patient man. I was rebellious, and I started to follow in my old man’s footsteps. It scared the shit out of me because I was hurting my uncle Wayne, but it was all I knew.” Eddie said, “My uncle Wayne taught me what love was, what it meant to be a true father. If I didn’t have that or some type of good in my life, I would’ve been screwed,” he reflected eternally grateful his uncle saved him.

You pulled Eddie in for a hug, grateful that he had shared with you, and he returned the gesture. After letting go, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity as you connected the dots.

“Billy’s in the same boat,” you admitted, “but he’s not letting me in,”

Eddie let out a sigh, looking at you sympathetically.

“You’re still a kid, y/n, and you’re not responsible for him. It took my uncle Wayne a while to snap me out of it. It wasn’t easy,” he said, looking over at you with genuine concern.

“Eddie, I’m far from a kid. I practically raised myself since my mom left. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” you said, slightly irritated at his reaction. Eddie regretted his choice of words, but he still meant them. You weren’t responsible. “He needs people like us around him. He’s not a bad person; he just doesn’t know any better, just like you at one point.” You said, your words making Eddie feel sympathy for Billy Hargrove.

.

The ref’s whistle blew, signaling the game was about to begin once again, and to everyone’s surprise, Steve was in?

“Holy shit! Yeah, Steve!” You exclaimed, leaping up from your seat in excitement. “Look, Eddie, Steve’s in!” With a playful slap on his chest, you urged Eddie to stand and join in applauding Steve’s entrance onto the court.

Eddie rolled his eyes and threw Steve a thumbs up filled with fake enthusiasm. You slapped his chest again, but this time it wasn’t playful; it actually hurt.

As the game commenced, you glanced over to the bench, Billy nowhere to be found. Concern gnawed at you, but you opted to give him his space, especially since he made it clear he didn’t want to be near you. You also needed time; you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to go about it.

"I don’t understand the love for this stupid game. Don’t people know about D&D?" Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, feeling ashamed he was even here.

“Oh, people know about it alright,” you said sarcastically, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “devil worshipper.”

Eddie dramatically gasped. "Take it back now or I’ll scream," he threatened, his voice filled with mock horror.

.

The night was an absolute blast. Steve's buzzer-beater brought the crowd to their feet, while Eddie's extra credit points from O’Donnell raised his grade to a D+. Principal Higgins even praised your role in the evening's success.

Steve confidently informed you about Billy’s failures, claiming he caught a bug that prevented him from continuing to play today. However, this seemed odd to you, considering he appeared perfectly fine this morning.

Billy was obviously lying.

You congratulated Steve as you bid him farewell, somewhat pleased to see King Steve back in action. Not wanting him to miss out on tonight's fun, you asked Eddie to give you a ride home.

The ride was nice and quiet which was much needed after todays events.

He dropped you off at home, and you made your way to your door. You jangled your keys until you found the right one and stuck it through the keyhole.

You found your way inside and you were welcomed to an empty house yet again, the same note still stuck to the fridge.

You went to your room and started to tidy it up until you heard the sound of Billy’s car pulling up, music blasting from it. He drove like such a maniac, he reminded you of Eddie.

You took a peek out your window and saw that he wasn’t alone.

Oh?

Tina was with him, and they were making out like fucking animals. This angered you beyond words. Did he have no consideration for his neighbors?

You opened your curtains aggressively, then your window which made a loud noise when it hit the top. You didn't know what came over you, but you couldn't care less.

"Hey! You two, mind shutting the fuck up?!" You yelled with all your might from your window, pulling Billy and ditzy Tina away from their heated make-out session.

"You mind fucking off?!" Billy yelled back. Your laughed bitterly which was then accompanied by a defiant middle finger thrown his way, to which he replied the same. With a frustrated sigh, you shut your window and cranked up the volume on your Walkman, drowning out the rowdiness from outside.

.

Your interruption infuriated him, rudely disrupting his moment with Tina and making things much more difficult between them.

“Billy maybe we should go somewhere else?” Tina purred, “Maybe lovers lake?” She implied, shoving her tits in his face.

"Nah, here will do. I can’t wait, doll," he said roughly, ripping the bra off her chest along with her panties. Billy’s dick was rock hard, it angered him so much, because all he could think about was you.

Tina lay sprawled out in his backseat, completely nude, and he couldn’t help but think about you, right next door, likely to hear every bit of it.

He lined his dick up at her entrance and hissed at the feeling. He closed his eyes and began to thrust mind falling back to you.

The way your nipples poked through your shirt that night, your perky tits filling his mind with so much imagination. Your flushed face and the way you clenched your thighs when he spoke to you, oh doll you don’t know what you’re missing. He was sure you hadn’t been touched properly with the way your body responded to him, hell, you probably hadn’t been touched at all.

Fuck, he thought, as he thrusted harder into the poor girl. If only she knew who he was imagining instead of her.

Her moans filled the car, echoing through the entire block. Billy was in for a treat tonight with his father.

"Oh god, Billy, right there, yes, yes!" She exclaimed with pleasure. Billy drowned out the sound of her voice and replaced it with the way you screamed at him a couple of minutes ago, you turned him on so much, especially when you were jealous.

Anger quickly consumed him again as he started to think about everything that took place yesterday, today’s game, and you. God, you were infuriating. You invaded his brain like some parasite, and he couldn’t decide whether it was a butterfly larvae destined to flutter around inside of him or a brain-eating parasitic worm who would gnaw at him for a eternity.

He fucked Tina harder, and harder feeling her clench beautifully around his cock. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his tan chest, the feeling quickly filling his body with pleasure, his movements starting to slow.

Unable to contain himself any longer, his groans grew louder.

“Ah, shit, fuck y/n,” he said with his eyes closed, tilting his head back cumming hard into the condom. As his high came down, he mentally scolded himself and closed his eyes once again, but this time in irritation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tina screamed, pushing him off of her, “You’re fucking that freak?!” She yelled dramatically.

Billy rolled his eyes.

"Need a ride home, or are you walking?" Billy asked, his tone nonchalant as he completely disregarded her reaction, casually pulling up his pants and getting dressed.

Tina rolled her eyes back at him. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Hargrove. Take me home,” she huffed, quickly redressing herself.

Billy smiled, hopping into the front seat, and drove off.

.

Once he was done with that, he drove back home, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

"Left eye? Right eye? Nah, too noticeable. People will start asking questions. The stomach? Yeah, that's more of Neil's style," he laughed bitterly, talking to himself.

This is what he wanted. He didn’t care anymore. He always managed to piss his father off somehow, and it would never be on purpose. This was him taking his power back. He’ll give him something to be upset about, he thought, determination coursing through him.

Stepping out of the car, Billy was enveloped by the quietness of the night.

He walked up the steps of his porch and took a deep breath before opening the door. As he entered, there was Neil, seated on the couch as if he were some kind of king. Billy closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

The silence stretched on for a few tense seconds, with nobody daring to break it. Neil waited for an immediate apology, hoping to see Billy cower in fear, but as the apology failed to come forth, Neil's anger only grew more intense.

"You know, with the amount of times I've beaten you, you would think that respect is drilled into that thick fucking brain of yours," Neil spoke up, his voice laced with venom and rage.

Billy stood there unfazed by his father’s words, bored even.

"Don’t you get tired, Dad? Tired of being a shitty fucking father?" Billy spat, laughing bitterly. Neil's eyes widened, and he stood up. "When you act like a shitty parent, this is what you get—a shitty son," Billy finished, his words dripping with resentment and defiance.

Billy’s heart pumped vigorously.

“I pity you. You’re a coward,” he spat out with contempt.

Neil charged at Billy, causing him to fall onto his back, and started throwing punch after punch at his face. “Who do you think you are, huh?!” Neil stopped to grab the collar of Billy’s shirt, bringing his face up to his.

"Your son," Billy spoke, his voice wobbly, blood coming out of his nose, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He was deeply saddened by the poor excuse of a father he had.

Neil laughed dryly. “God, you’re a spitting image of her. You’re just like her too, pathetic,” he spat. “And I’m a coward? Are you forgetting that she abandoned you? She left you with me. What does that say about her?”

Billy now fueled with rage pushed Neil off of him and punched him dead in the face. All hell broke loose after that, with both men fighting seemingly to the death. Billy ended up on his back again, and this time Neil didn’t stop. Billy's vision started to blur, and the last thing he heard was Max and Susan's frantic voices as they attempted to pull Neil off of him.

.

You were drifting into a deep sleep until a loud banging on your door jolted you awake. Your eyes widened, and you got up immediately, the sound of your Walkman still playing in the background.

You ran towards the door as if it were instinct, and there stood Max. She was sobbing, tears staining her red cheeks.

“Max, what’s going on? Is he back?” you asked, reminded of what still lies beneath this town. Max shook her head vigorously.

“No, it’s Billy. Please, y/n, you need to help me and my mom get him into his car. Neil just beat the shit out of him and took off. We need to take him to the hospital!” She cried.

Without hesitation, you grabbed her hand and ran to the house next door. As you entered, you saw broken frames, beach shell decorations scattered everywhere, and broken glass littering the floor.

And there was Billy, his face bruised and gushing with blood. You wanted to sob instantly. The beautiful boy, with the most mesmerizing smile, lay unconscious on the floor, broken.

“I’ll take his arms, you two grab his legs. We need to move fast,” you said, suppressing every ounce of emotion and acting on pure instinct.

You all carefully descended down the steps, giving it everything you got, Billy wasn’t exactly light but you pushed with everything in you to get him into the back of that car. You fell into the back seat with him his head falling in your chest and Susan hopped in the drivers seat and max in the passenger seat.

You search Billy’s pockets and grab his keys, tossing them to Susan.

"Step on it, let's go! We have to hurry!" you said, your voice remaining calm but urging Susan to make haste.

Susan backed out of the driveway and stepped on the gas pedal of Billy’s car hauling ass to get to the nearest hospital.

You checked his pulse and confirming it’s still present, you notice his breathing is a bit light, sparking an overwhelming amount of anxiety within you.

You whisper softly in his ear, “You're going to be okay,” feeling tears welling up, but you quickly wipe them away, pushing your emotions down once more.

"Hey Susan, take a right here and pull into that spot," you instruct, recognizing the familiar surroundings.

You’d been here one too many times.

We pull right up to the emergency room entrance. Max rushes out, calling frantically for help. Two male nurses immediately respond, rushing out with a stretcher and opening the back seat of Billy’s car. You help him sit up slowly, and they swiftly pull him around with urgency, their movements slightly rough in their haste.

"Hey, watch it! Be careful with him!" you yell at the nurses, frustration and concern evident in your voice.

"Ma'am, please let us do our job," they respond firmly, their tone professional but reassuring.

We all hurriedly follow behind the nurses as they wheel Billy into the emergency room. A doctor approaches Susan, hoping for some insight into what happened so he can provide the best care possible. Susan tells him everything, providing as much detail as she can to assist in Billy's treatment.

"Please wait in the waiting room. We'll call you once we've assessed him and he's stable," the doctor says sympathetically, reassuring you as you reluctantly make your way to the waiting area.

You, Susan, and Max waited anxiously. Max buried her face into the crook of your neck, unable to contain her sobs. You brushed her hair gently, trying to offer comfort, but you were struggling to hold yourself together as well.

Being there brought back uneasy memories, and the uncertainty of Billy's condition only deepened your depression.

Over 25 minutes had passed, each second feeling like an eternity in the tense waiting room until,

"Miss Hargrove, miss Hargrove?" called a nurse, breaking the tense atmosphere. But as the nurse approached, her expression unreadable, a chill ran down your spine, leaving you to wonder what news she was about to deliver about Billy's condition.———————————————————————————

Taglist: @jennapancake @writethrough @callsignwidow @strlightfilms

Tags:

[ismellbitches]

Albatrio headcanons because I say so (all canon btw trust me I’m grizzlyplays)

Jay:

- she braids hair when she’s nervous. Especially in the Black Sea, Gillion and Chip have been walking around with little braids in their hair and Jay has an intricately braided bun with feathers, beads and wire intertwined with her hair.

- she loves baked goods. Every island they visit a small, wrapped box of regional pastries will show up in the kitchen. Her favourite has been a warm, iced cinnamon log from Joaldo.

- She reads the newspaper.

- She speaks primordial with a similar accent to Caspian. Since the water genasi are so nomadic, it would make sense for her to have teachers breeze through on short contracts to support their tribes, so she picked it up from her various teachers.

- she had a flower garden with Ayva before she passed. The garden became Jays passion project, a way to cope with the loss of her sister. She converted it into a memorial, with a small fountain and a bed of forget-me-nots. While Jay has been out at sea, May has been using some Druidic magic to keep the garden alive.

- she used to have cat named “Sugar”. It turned out to be a Quasit belonging to the local warlock.

- Jay collects sea glass

- she has aphantasia.

Chip:

- he has frequent nightmares about his crew and co-captains dying. It is not uncommon to hear quiet footsteps around the Albatross in the wee hours of the morning, as he checks the breath of each member of his crew.

- He doesnt remember his parents. But he has given them names, in his head, just in case they didn’t give him up. He’s told Reuben about that. He called it dumb. Chip never told anyone else.

- he has a stash of non-perishables in the floorboards of the captains quarters. Just in case.

- sorry these are all so sad but hhhhh he has body dysmorphia. He’s never felt “good-looking” and no one’s ever really told him, so he has a lot of anxiety about his appearance and uses the bandana constantly. This was made worse with his undeath.

- May cooked Chip a steak when they were at her tavern c.a ep 98, to help him and Jay decompress after the stress of Gillion’s near-death. It’s the best meal he’s ever eaten.

- He loves crabs. They remind him of when Arlin used to take him crab-spotting in the southern sea beaches. When they got back to Canella, Chip took Ollie too.

- Reuben used to teach him sea shanties he’d heard in and around the taverns by the port on Skullslice. He remembers all of them.

- there were a good 3 years from when chip was 9-11 where he wasn’t hugged once.

- he’s really good at darts.

- Chip has cried in front of four people in his entire life: Arlin, Reuben, Jay and Gillion. He has only ever really lost it to Reuben though. It was on his 14th birthday when he momentarily forgot what Arlin looked like.

- he has a lip ring. That’s it.

Gillion:

- Gillion would love Spider-Man.

- he really enjoys spicy, fermented, and salty foods. They remind him of home.

- Gillion didn’t talk for 3 days after shattering his Callnch.

- the elders wanted him to learn more languages, but it was a struggle for him to pick up common, so they abandoned the idea. Gillion still tries to learn celestial though, managing some very broken phrases from Chip.

- He loves pillows, but they can’t really be a thing in the undersea, so hes been working with Jay on making a waterproof pillow for him and pretzel.

- His coral gives him headaches.

- He suffers from asthma and joint pain due to the change in his environment

- Gillion had a small collection of mini stone leviathans he had been carving his entire life. He was almost done with Pelegus before he was exiled

- he has a love of history. It was his favourite subject growing up.

- He had so many imaginary friends.

- he and Edyn made up a secret language to communicate to each other without the elders knowing. He remembers every word.

[eightstarr]

hi zoe :)) im here to request some general jealousy hc with ellie and abby

i personally have never been jealous a day in my life 😇😇

hi emi :)) i love you and because of that i will agree that you've never been jealous ever 😇 also because i think it's hot what who said that??? anyway i came out of retirement (momentarily) to answer this so i hope you enjoy <3

first thing that came to mind is that everyone thinks ellie will go insane and pull out the pocket knife but have you seen that girl when she saw dina talking to jesse… sorry but jealous ellie is looking at her feet and going fully non-verbal except for little annoyed huffs. perhaps has a kendall roy bathroom breakdown moment. maybe. probably just kicks something. you wouldn't know because she won't bring it up and you won't really notice a change but she's a little more quiet? that's kind of weird? but as soon as you’re alone she lights up, because she loves you and she loves your attention and she knows you love her and she's just being silly— but whatever, she's a sensitive girl! (she hates it so much she could throw up). perhaps you’ll leave the party and walk together to the car and she’ll say “oh fuck, i forgot my wallet in there” and “can you come with me?” and perhaps she’ll take your hand and pretend to be shocked when she finds said wallet safely in her jeans pocket but you’re already there! so you might as well stay for the rest of the song and yeah, she’s definitely going to kiss you where she knows whoever you were talking to will see. maybe. definitely.

abby is not afraid of confrontation, but she's highly annoyed by it. she’ll roll her eyes and it's never at you, you’ve done nothing wrong (and if she thinks about it, the person talking to you is also not doing anything wrong by simply making you laugh, but she's not thinking about it— she’s annoyed). a pout will form instantaneously and it should be cute, but have you seen her face? how does she make a pout look scary? i don't know but she does it. abby will pull you closer by wrapping an arm around your shoulders and raise her eyebrows when both you and the person talking to you give her a questioning look. “what?” she asks, and her head is turned your way but she's looking at them.

[newobsessionweekly]

something old

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Tim Bradford x bestfriend!reader Series: Something old, new, borrowed, blue Fandom: The Rookie Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for years, but your friendship is jeopardised when you caught feelings for him and Tim decided he wants to propose to Lucy.

Angst

A/N: How I LOVE this one. I've been so exited to post it, I really couldn't resist any more. I hope you like it as much as I do. Feel free to give some feedback and if you have any ideas for the next parts, I'm all ears. Thank you so so much for your support, I appreciate every single one of you. Lots of love, bubs! ❤️ Warnings: eating disorder briefly described, getting drunk ? not proofread yet Requested: not really, yes maybe - here Words: 4k

You buried your head into cases, one after another, working overtime and exhausting yourself on purpose. Keeping your mind occupied with work and the treacherous world outside, you didn't have time to think about your own life. And it was for the best. For the past months you watched the man you've been in love with for years fall for someone you've considered your friend. Of course, neither one of them knew about the feelings evolving inside you with every sight of him, but it doesn't make it less painful. And it still keeps you up at night.

Tim has been your best friend since you can remember. You've been there for each other through thick and thin, always finding solace in each other's arms. He's been your shoulder to cry on, the first person to share your happiness with, and the only one who's got your back. Until now. Sitting at your desk, you checked your watch and sighed. It's almost ten pm and the bullpen is just as quiet as a grave. Your grave, plugged up by your own misery. You didn't catch sign of Tim for weeks, the last thing he said to you was a distant 'morning' thrown in a rush as he left for patrol duty with Lucy. It's funny how you imagined that seeing Tim and Lucy on a daily basis at the station would tear you apart, because right now, not seeing Tim for weeks broke you even more. They kept their distance at work, showing only professionalism as their sparkling glances filled with so much love and joy spoke volumes. Laughter slowly broke the silence, the well known voices echoing through the station. You raised your head a little, to take in the sight as you watched Tim and Lucy bantering. But you noticed something was not right, his smile didn't reach his ears as it used to, eyes don't seem filled with emotion and she didn't seem to notice. You knew Tim like the back of your hand. You could sense something's going on between them, but you lowered your head just in time, before your eyes could meet Tim's. Your intention was not to avoid him, not necessarily, but seeing him so late after his shift ended, surely caught you off guard. Just as his hand on your shoulder did.

You raised your head, startled by the unexpected sensation of warmth as his smile grew on his face, genuine you might say. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he excused himself softly as his eyes searched yours, going back and forth between you and your desk, "What you doing here so late?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden closeness, the warmth of Tim's hand on your shoulder seeping into your bones. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in the depths of his gaze as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Just... catching up on paperwork." you managed to reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling in your mind.

Tim's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher passing through his eyes before it was gone, replaced by a mask of sarcasm. "Doing the homework for the whole department, Detective?"

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling forced even to your own ears. "Something like that," you replied, offering him a weak smile in return.

Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he pulls up a chair beside your desk, his expression serious. "Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind as you nod, motioning for him to continue. "Of course, Bradford. What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing with uncertainty before he finally meets your eyes. "It's about Lucy," he says softly, his voice tinged with nervousness.

His eyes darting away from yours before finally meeting them once more. "I want to propose to Lucy," Tim admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared, scared that I'm not good enough for her, scared that I won't be able to protect her."

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain of your unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface once more. But you pushed it aside, forcing a smile onto your face as you reached out to take his hand in yours. "Tim, you're more than good enough for her," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "And as for protecting her, well, I think you've proven time and time again that you'd do anything for her."

Tim's eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in their depths. "But what if something happens to her because of me?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart feels like it's been wrenched from your chest at his words, a dull ache settling in the pit of your stomach. You've known for a while now how deeply Tim cares for Lucy, how much he loves her. And yet, the thought of him spending the rest of his life with her, fills you with a sense of profound loss.

You shook your head, a sense of determination coursing through your veins. "Tim, you can't live your life in fear of what might happen and you can't blame yourself for the dangers of this job," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "Lucy knows the risks. She chose to be with you, despite them."

His eyes searched yours, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty shining in their depths. "Thank you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the din of the bullpen. "I needed to hear that."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently before releasing it, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. "Anytime, Tim. You know I'm always here for you."

You smiled, pushing the pain aside, burying it deep beneath the surface where no one could see. Because in the end, all that mattered was Tim's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

As Tim stands up from the chair, a playful glint dances in his eyes, and he can't resist teasing you. "You know, Detective, it's past your bedtime. Shouldn't you be tucked in by now?"

You roll your eyes with a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Oh please, Bradford, like you're one to talk. Last time I checked, we're both adults capable of burning the midnight oil."

Tim chuckles, his laughter filling the room with warmth. "Touché, Y/L/N," he concedes, his smile genuine. "But someone gotta keep you out of trouble."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin at his antics. "Like I need you to keep me out of trouble. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. I'm a grown adult who can stay up past bedtime if she wants to," you tease, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Suddenly, Tim's attitude shifts, a concerned expression playing on his face as he leans forward, his voice soft and earnest.

"Seriously, though, Y/N," he says, his tone gentle. "Don't stay up too late, get some sleep. You're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

You're taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, the warmth of his concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the playful banter, you can see the genuine worry in his eyes, a reminder of just how much he cares about you, even if he doesn't always show it.

You smile softly, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Tim," you say sincerely, your voice warm with gratitude. "I'll make sure to hit the hay early tonight. Wouldn't want to dethrone you as the grumpiest cop."

Tim's lips quirk up in a small smile at your teasing, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes. "Hey, watch it." he says softly, his voice gentle. "But take care of yourself, okay? Promise me."

You nod, a sense of warmth settling in your chest at his words. "Promise," you reply, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "And you take care of yourself too, Tim. Don't forget to look after your woman."

With a chuckle, Tim nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he turns to leave your office. "I won't," he promises softly, his voice carrying a warmth that fills the space between you. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

The station buzzed with activity around you, the usual hustle and bustle of the station fading into background noise as you sat at your desk, lost in a sea of memories and emotions. You've seen the bullpen and the files of criminals more than you've seen your own bed, the caffeine taking place of your breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Since Tim told you about the proposal, it's been radio silence from him, not a word exchanged between the two of you. The weight of his words hangs over you like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything you do.

You glance down at your hands, absently tracing your fingers over Tim's dog tag from Afghanistan. He had offered it to you when he safely returned home from the war, a silent acknowledgment of your friendship and the bond you shared. And now, as you hold it in your hands, it feels like a cruel, constant reminder of everything you had lost and everything you could never have.

The tag feels heavy in your palm, a tangible reminder of the weight of your unspoken feelings for Tim. You close your eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they only come rushing back with even more intensity. Memories of late nights spent talking and laughing, of shared secrets and stolen glances, of a friendship that had once meant everything to you.

You've lost weight in the past weeks, the stress and heartache taking their toll on your body. Dark circles ring your eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, haunted by memories of Tim and the friendship you fear may be slipping away.

Angela, your only remaining closest friend and confidante, joins you at your desk, her presence a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside your mind. "How you holding up?" she asks softly, her eyes searching your frame with concern. "I, uh, heard about Tim and Lucy."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile onto your lips as you clear your throat. "I'm really happy for him."

Angela raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Liar," she mocks gently. "You don't look fine."

You sigh, the facade slipping for a moment as you meet Angela's gaze. "It's just... been a rough couple of weeks," you admit, the words heavy on your tongue.

"I know, I'm sorry," Angela says sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. "You know, I'm here if you need to talk or something. Or drink it away. Whatever suits you," she adds with a chuckle.

You spot Tim across the bullpen, his back turned as he converses with another officer. A surge of emotion wells up inside you, a tangled mess of longing and heartache that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You know what?" you say suddenly, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "I could use a drink." You pause, a plan forming in your mind. "Or maybe ten. But I have to take care of something first."

Angela looks at you, confusion flickering in her eyes as you rise from your desk and make your way towards Tim. "Y/N!" she calls after you, but you ignore her, your mind made up as you steel yourself for the confrontation that lies ahead.

Outside, the sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the pavement as the city begins to quieten down. But for you, the night is just beginning, a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions swirling around you as you prepare to face the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of uneasiness and determination swirling inside you. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something familiar in his eyes, a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sergeant Bradford, may I have a word?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Tim turns to face you, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in your appearance. The other officer excuses himself, sensing the gravity of the situation.

The circles under your eyes and the weariness in your expression send a pang of guilt coursing through him. He's been so consumed with his own turmoil that he failed to notice the toll it was taking on you.

"Everything okay?" Tim asks, his voice soft with concern.

"Yeah, just wanted to talk to you about something," you reply, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside you.

As Tim's concern for your well-being rises, so does his guilt. He knows he's been distant, preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions. But seeing you like this, so worn down and fragile, hits him harder than he expected. A surge of emotions threatens to overwhelm you, as well, the love you've buried deep down resurfaces, overshadowing the pain and frustration that have consumed you for weeks.

"Hold on a second, Y/N," Tim says, his voice tinged with worry. "When's the last time you slept? Or ate something?"

You feel a surge of anger bubble up inside you, a mask to cover the hurt and vulnerability that threaten to spill over.

"Okay, Bradford. Don't pretend like you care," you snap, your voice sharper than intended. Deep down, you're grateful to know he still cares, but the pain is too raw, too fresh to acknowledge.

"I just thought it's best for you to have this back," you continue, taking his hand and placing the dog tag in his palm. Your voice trembles slightly as you speak, the weight of your words heavy in the air. "You know, for the wedding. Something old. Like... our friendship."

Tim's heart sinks as you push the dog tag into his hand, your words ringing in his ears like a painful echo.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you turn and walk away, leaving Tim speechless and confused in your wake. Deep down, you know you've made the right choice. It's time to let go of the past and move forward, even if it means facing a future without the man you've loved for so long.

He knows he messed up, knows he let you down in ways he can't even begin to comprehend. But as he watches you disappear into the crowd, he's filled with a determination unlike anything he's ever felt before.

He won't let you slip through his fingers, won't let your friendship crumble away to nothing. Whatever it takes, he'll make things right, even if it means facing the painful truth that he's been in love with you all along.

The night air is thick with the scent of alcohol and laughter as you stumble out of the bar, Angela's concerned gaze following your every move. You've had way too much to drink, the alcohol coursing through your veins and clouding your thoughts with a haze of euphoria and pain.

But despite Angela's disapproving glances, you press on, drowning your sorrows in the numbing embrace of alcohol. It's a temporary escape, a fleeting moment of oblivion in a world that seems determined to crush you beneath its weight.

As the night wears on, the alcohol begins to take its toll, your movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated. Your laughter turns to tears, the pain of losing Tim as a friend hitting you with a force you can't begin to comprehend.

And then, just as the world begins to blur around you, Angela's voice cuts through the fog, her words a lifeline in the darkness. "Bradford, get your ass here and clean the mess you've made," she says over the phone, her tone tinged with worry.

Tim's voice responds, filled with concern. "What happened?"

"Y/N's a bit drunk and I can't deal with her by myself," Angela replies, her voice tight with concern.

"Give me five," Tim says, his urgency palpable even over the phone.

As Tim rushes to the bar, his heart pounds in his chest with a mixture of worry and guilt. He can't shake the feeling that he's somehow responsible for the state you're in, that his actions—or lack thereof—have pushed you to this point.

When Tim arrives at the bar, you're a total mess, the alcohol having stripped away all semblance of control. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, tears at his heartstrings in a way he never expected. He can't help but feel a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he's played a part in your pain.

He helps you into his car, his touch gentle yet firm, a rush of conflicting emotions floods through you. His hands are warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold reality of the night air.

You feel a pang of sadness as you meet his eyes, clouded with worry and concern. The distance between you feels insurmountable, a chasm widening with each passing moment.

"Come on, Y/N. The party's over. Let's get you home," Tim says softly, his voice filled with concern and they wash over you like a soothing balm, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, he's still there, still willing to help you pick up the pieces.

But you protest, your words slurred and disjointed as you gaze at Angela through heavy-lidded eyes. "Why did you call him?" you mumble, frustration evident in your voice.

He buckles you up, his movements careful and deliberate, a flicker of hope stirs within you. Maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance to salvage what's left of your friendship, to bridge the gap that's grown between you.

Tim exchanges a look with Angela, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Where are her keys?" he asks, his tone serious.

Angela shrugs innocently. "Yeah, that's the problem. She lost her purse. Don't you have a spare key?"

Tim's jaw tightens with frustration. "No. You?"

Angela shakes her head, her expression apologetic. "Obviously not, that's why I called you." she smiles at him playfully, "Good night, Bradford."

As Tim starts the car and pulls away from the curb, the world outside blurs into a hazy kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. You bumble something incoherent through the drive, your words slurred and disjointed as you struggle to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

He helps you out of the car and guides you inside his house, his touch is both gentle and reassuring. Each brush of his hand against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your soul. You lean on him heavily, your legs wobbly from the alcohol as he guides you inside.

Tim leads you to his bedroom, his movements gentle yet firm. He helps you out of your shoes and jacket, his touch lingering longer than necessary as he tucks you into his bed, tracing invisible patterns along your arm, pulling the covers over you. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones, soothing the ache in your heart and calming the storm raging inside you.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. "Do you need anything?"

You mumble something incoherent in response, your words slurred and barely audible. As he sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his touch becomes hesitant, unsure of how to navigate the tangled web of emotions between you. His hand hovers over yours, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he debates whether to reach out or pull away.

"You," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's heart skips a beat at your words, a surge of excitement coursing through him as his touch falters, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. But all he finds is raw honesty, a vulnerability that takes his breath away and leaves him feeling exposed.

He maintains a serious expression, his concern for your well-being overriding any other emotions.

"You're drunk, Y/N," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But you're insistent, stumbling over your words. "I know," you say, your voice tinged with desperation. "I know I love you and I know I need you."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you. But he knows you're not in the right state of mind to have this conversation now.

But you shake your head stubbornly, your words slurred as you try to leave the bed. "I need to go. What would your fiancée say" you insist.

"Take it easy, Y/N," he says gently, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "You need sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

But you plead with him, your eyes searching his for any sign of reassurance. "Please don't go," you whisper, your voice tinged with desperation.

With a sigh, Tim gives in, knowing that arguing with you now would only make things worse. "Fine," he says softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'll humor you and sleep on the floor."

You pat the empty side of the bed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Here," you say, your voice soft and pleading.

Tim chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement. "You're so drunk," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you close. "And you're definitely gonna kill me in the morning."

Tim settles into bed beside you, his touch is gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back. The warmth of his embrace envelops you like a cocoon, comforting and familiar, and you find yourself leaning into him instinctively, seeking solace in his presence.

"But it's definitely worth it," Tim whispers softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter with each passing moment. It's as if every brush of his fingers against your skin is a promise, a silent reassurance that you're not alone, that he's here for you no matter what.

And as you bury your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace you haven't felt in weeks. In this moment, with Tim's arms wrapped around you, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you alone in the darkness.

But beneath the surface, a storm rages within you, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatens to tear you apart. Guilt gnaws at your insides, knowing that you've burdened Tim with your drunken confessions, knowing that you've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

His touch is tender yet tentative, as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds you together. He can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms, clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for love.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside you, there's a sense of rightness in this moment, a feeling that you've finally found your place in the world. In Tim's arms, you feel safe and loved, cherished in a way you never thought possible.

[percevalec]

THIS WONT STAY IN VEGAS {part 3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You went clubbing with your friend, celebrating her moving to Vegas. You got drunk and don't remember anything. The next morning you find yourself in bed with a stranger and a ring around your finger

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, smut, not proof read.

18+, please don’t read in you’re underage

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

You stand there by the sink, left puzzled by Arthur’s cryptic words. You try to remember who Alexandra is, but nothing comes to mind. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

----------

As you're walking back to Charles' room your mind suddenly reminded you that you do know her, well not personally. You remember reading something about her being his ex girlfriend during that google search you did on your way to the airport. 

As you enter the room, you see Charles laying on the bed, his phone in his hand. “Hey” you say as you walk over and lay next to him. By this point none of you found it weird or uncomfortable to spend time together, it was like second nature to always be close to each other. Mostly because you had to keep the act up in front of Pascal. Also you simply enjoyed each other's company, but you'd never admit that to yourself. 

Charles looks up from his phone as you enter the room, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Hey" he replies, setting his phone aside. He watches as you plop down on the bed, his eyes following your movements. “Guess what” you say, lifting your head to look over at him. Charles rolls onto his side to face you, his interest piqued by your tone. "What?" he asks, his gaze fixed on your face. “Arthur knows” you say in a surprisingly casual tone. Charles' eyes widened in surprise at your words. He wasn't expecting that. "Wait, what?! How does he know?" he asks, extremely confused as to why you’re so calm. “He overheard our conversation from three days ago, but he said he didn’t really care and he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone”. Charles takes a moment to absorb the information, relief washing over him at the fact that Arthur had promised to keep the secret. "Well that's good at least" he sighs. "The last thing we need is the media or my mom finding out." 

You respond with a slight guilt in your voice “Yeah, I think your mom likes me which makes this whole thing even more complicated than it already is” Charles nods in agreement, sadness in his expression. "She does, she loves every little thing about you." He reaches out and takes your hand in his, his fingers tracing your ring. "It's hard because she would be upset with both of us if she knew the truth." You sigh at his words, know "Right," he says quietly, disappointment in his voice. He had forgotten that he wasn't supposed to touch you like that, not when it was all pretend.  “Oh, i almost forgot, remember the party your mom is hosting next sunday” Charles furrows his eyebrows at the sudden change of conversation "Yeah, why?"  he says, his mind already drifting to the thought of the event. “Arthur told me to let you know that alexandra is coming, who is she?”. You still ask despite knowing the answer. You were curious to know what he would say.

Charles's eyes widened at the mention of the name "Alexandra." He hadn't expected you to ever say her name, he was left momentarily speechless. Groaning before answering. "She's an ex-girlfriend" he says, his tone guarded. “...Can I ask what happened?” you ask as you look down at the bed, avoiding his gaze. Charles lets out another deep sigh. "It's a bit of an old story," he says, his voice becoming quieter. "We dated for a few years, and then we just grew apart and eventually, it ended”. You nod your head as you listen to his story unsure on what to say. You look up at him and decide on “I'm sorry”. "It's fine," he replies, offering a small smile, though you can tell there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It was a long time ago." He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “So why is your mom inviting her? especially now that we’re “married”. Charles sighs “She's the daughter of one of my moms friends, so she's always been around, even before we were dating. I'm surprised she even agreed to coming, we’ve been avoiding each other for a while”. 

You could tell this wasn't a simple story of a failed relationship. Maybe she meant more to Charles than you thought. “Maybe it's because she’s seen the articles about our perfect love story” you say laughing. Charles chuckles dryly, "Oh, I'm sure that's why," he says, rolling his eyes. "And she likely can't wait to make some snarky comment about it". “We can just avoid her, either way we have to be extremely convincing about our relationship during the party” Charles nods, taking your words to heart. "Yeah, well we can try to avoid her as much as possible, but she will probably want to talk to us." He sighs, contemplating the situation. "And you're right, we definitely have to sell this whole “perfect love” act even more at the party."

“Do you think it will be hard?” you ask.

Charles leans back against the headboard of the bed, mulling over your question. "Honestly?" he says, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I don't know. Pretending to be in love with you in front of our families has been... easier than I thought. But with Alexandra there, it could get complicated. She has a way of getting under my skin."

You’re not sure why his words made your stomach turn, but they did. So you ask the question you really don't want to know the answer to. “Do you still love her?” 

Charles is caught off guard by your direct question, his initial instinct was to deflect. But looking at your face, he knew he couldn't lie. "I don't know," he admits quietly, shaking his head. "There are still... feelings. But it's complicated ." He looks back at you, searching your eyes for any hint of jealousy or annoyance. “Well maybe she can be the reason for our divorce” you suggest, trying to make a positive out of a negative. You needed an excuse for the divorce either way, You had originally thought about a big public fight but this made things easier, Charles leaving you to be with his true love. It would be the first thing both of you didn't lie about.  

“You’ll realize you love her more than you loved me, that’s something the media will buy”. Charles hears the tinge of sadness in your voice and looks at you, his face softening. "You think so?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of guilt for answering your question about Alexandra in the first place. "You'd be okay with the world thinking I fell for my ex girlfriend while being married to you?". Not truly wanting to answer his question, you reply “it doesn’t matter what i think, it's just an excuse to get out of this” Charles let out a deep sigh, the thought of having to explain to the world that he fell for someone else while being married to you didn't sit well with him, but he had no choice. "Yeah, I guess that's the best way" he finally says, reluctantly agreeing with your plan. “I’m sorry I'm in the way of you and her” you say in a low voice, almost whispering. Charles shakes his head, reaching over to take your hand in his. "You're not in the way," he says firmly, looking into your eyes. "This whole situation is just... complicated. And it's not your fault. It's not like you wanted to be fake married to me." You nod your head forcing a smile “yeah, of course”. 

Charles's heart twists at the sight of your forced smile. He wishes he could do more to ease your pain, but he knows that the situation is out of his control. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “You love doing that don’t you” you ask chuckling, referring to him putting your hair behind your ear. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips as he realizes he's been caught. "Yeah, I guess I do," he admits sheepishly. "It just... feels natural, I guess." He lets his hand linger against your cheek for a moment, his touch tender. "Sometimes I wonder," you say, your voice soft and full of unsaid feelings. "What if we had met in a different way?” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued "I wonder where we’d be now". Charles lets out a wistful sigh as he contemplates your question, his mind wandering to the what if's. "Me too," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on your face. "If we had met under different circumstances... I wonder what could've been." 

 Neither of you say anything. You just stare into each other's eyes. 

"You're staring" he finally says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re staring back” you reply, laughing at his words 

Charles lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. "Fair enough," he concedes, his eyes never leaving yours. “I'm getting sleepy, it's been a long day. Goodnight Charlie” you say before kissing his cheek and turning over. Charles’s heart skips a beat at the feel of your lips on his cheek, a small shiver running down his spine. He looks at your turned back, his gaze lingering on your form. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, the hint of a smile on his lips.

WEEK 2 DAY 3 

You and Charles wake up around the same time as always. You both get ready and head downstairs to the kitchen. That’s when you both realize that you're the only one home. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves today," he says with a hint of surprise in his voice. “What should we do?” you ask as you walk closer to him.

Charles and you have now spent 14 days together, counting from the day you saw each other at the club, and you’re becoming inseparable. Despite not letting yourself, you still feel attracted to Charles and everyday it gets harder to suppress your feelings. Even after he confessed he still feels something for Alex. What you don't know is that he only started thinking about her again to not think about you. He started this ever since you turned him down the other day. He remembers your words perfectly “this could never work”.

Charles thinks about your question for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "Well, we've got the whole house to ourselves," he says, a hint of excitement in his tone. "Why don't we make the most of it?". 

You walk closer. “Yeah? And how would we do that?. Charles grins as you walk closer to him, his eyes sparkling with a hint of playfulness. "Well, let's see," he says, pretending to think. "We could watch a movie, bake something, or..." He steps closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “Or….?” you whisper. Charles closes the remaining distance between you, his body just inches away from yours. He looks down at you, his gaze intense. "Or we could do something... more fun," he says, his voice a sultry whisper. “Actually, I think I'm craving Italian, take me to dinner” you say laughing as you step back. Charles feigns disappointment for a moment before chuckling softly. "Fine, Italian it is," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "But only if I get to pick where we're going”. “You know this place better than I do anyways” Charles grins, happy to be the one who gets to choose. "Exactly," he says, a hint of smugness in his voice. "I know all the best spots in this city." He held out his hand "Ready to go?". 

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

On your way to the restaurant you surprisingly only get stopped 3 times for pictures. Charles seems completely unfazed, smiling and waving graciously each time. As you finally arrive at the restaurant, he leads you inside, a hand placed on your lower back.

Charles and you are led to a secluded table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. He pulls out a chair for you before taking his own seat. "I've been here many times," he says, looking around the elegant space. "It's one of my favorite Italian spots in the city." You look around taking in the beauty “You know, i'll definitely miss Monaco when this is over”. "Yeah," he says quietly, his gaze drifting to the window outside. "But you'll come back to visit, right?" His ask, eyes flicking back to you. “Only if you bring me back here” you joke. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips. "Of course," he says, playing along. "This is definitely the best Italian food you'll ever have. You'll be craving it for months after you're gone." 

You order your meals and continue talking as you eat, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you. 

Charles leans back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You know," he says suddenly, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're not bad to be married to. We make a pretty convincing couple." You laugh at his comment “Shut up” you say smiling. Charles mock-gasps in exaggerated surprise, placing a hand against his chest. "Hey, it's not my fault we're so good at pretending!" he protests, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Everything continues going fine when suddenly your heart drops as you hear a voice calling your name. No one knew you here except Charles and his family. So it could only be one person, Leonardo.   

“Y/N Y/L/N … or i guess it’s Y/N Leclerc now” he says chuckling “Never thought i would see you here again, especially married” Charles head snaps up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, his muscles tensing almost instantly. He looks at you and sees the color drain from your face. “Leo, i never thought i would see you again either” you say giving Charles an apologetic look. This is the one thing you should have told him. The real reason you came to Monaco the first time. 

A few years back you were madly in love with Leonardo. You both met in New York, his mom used to Co-own the magazine company with your mother. Everything was perfect, whenever you thought about getting married you always pictured him waiting at the altar. So you agreed to move back home with him in Monaco, that's when your relationship started falling apart. He would come home late and blame it on the crazy traffic “so many tourists” he would say, trying to use it as an excuse. You believed him. Until one day you walked in the house and found him fucking some random girl. Your world came down and you swore to never return, he ruined you, you were a mess after the incident. You always turned down anything to do with Monaco in fear you would run into him in the small country. Charles dragging you here is what made you come to love Monaco, you realized the only bad thing here was Leo.

Charles looks at you, confusion and a hint of hurt crossing his face. He had no idea about your past with the man who had suddenly appeared. He remains silent, watching the interaction between you and Leo. “I couldn't believe it when I first read the articles and saw that you got married to a F1 driver,” he says, looking back and forth to you and charles. “Well unexpected things can happen” you say, giving him a fake smile. “How is she?” Leo asks Charles. “Well she's better with me than she ever was with you” Charles replied. He took a gamble with his response, he knew nothing about the man standing at your table, but by the look on your face he could tell you wanted him gone. 

“Hmm right, I'm sure she told you all about me, I just can't believe you convinced her to move back” he says laughing. “Just go leo, there's nothing we need to talk about, besides, i know you have bad luck and get stuck in traffic” you say glaring at him. “I will go, but not because you're telling me to. Tiffany is waiting in the car, you’ve met her Y/N." Leo says smiling as he nudges your shoulder and leaves. You hold in your breath as he says the last few words, assuming she's the girl you caught him with. Charles watches the exchange between you and Leo, his jaw clenching tighter with each word spoken. He can sense the tension in the air, the history that lies between you and Leo. His mind is racing with questions

Charles is left speechless as he processes what just happened. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He stares at Leo as he leaves the restaurant. Finally, he turns to you, his gaze a mix of confusion and hurt. "What the hell was that?" he snaps, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can we just go, i'll explain on the way home” You say as you stand up. Charles lets out a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists. "Yeah," he mutters, getting up from his seat. "Let's just go."

The walk home is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Charles's mind is reeling with questions, his body tense with anger. He glances over at you, his jaw set in a tight line as he listens silently to you laying out the details of your past with Leo. His eyes stay fixed on the sidewalk. When you finish speaking, the walk falls quiet again as Charles processes everything he's just heard. “I'm sorry i should have told you” you say breaking the silence. Charles sighs, his grip on his fist loosening slightly. "Yeah, you should have," he says, his voice betraying a hint of hurt. "I can't believe you kept something like that from me, especially with all the time we've spent together”. “I didn't think it would be important for you to know,” you say, slightly agitated. Charles turns to you, his eyes flashing with a hint of anger. "You didn't think it was important for me to know about your ex-boyfriend who lives in Monaco?" he says, his voice strained. "You don't think that's something I should've known about?" your eyes tear up “How was i supposed to know we would run into him” Charles glances at you, seeing the tears welling up in your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his hand twitching slightly as he fights the urge to reach out to you. "Yeah, whatever" he mutters, his tone softening a bit. "But it still would've been nice to know that I could’ve been confronted by your ex at some point".  “You don't get to be mad with me about this, you also didn't tell me about Alex, or how you still love her” 

Charles bristles at your words, his jaw clenching at the mention of Alexandra. "That's different," he snaps, his eyes flickering between you and the road. "I eventually told you where my feelings stand. You never told me anything about Leo". You hold back tears, “There was no point in telling you anyways, there's only 2 weeks left before I never have to see you again”  Charles’ heart clenches at your words, the reality of the situation washing over him yet again. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's right. Two more weeks of pretending until we can go back to our separate lives, right?" “Don't make me regret agreeing to this” you say as tears run down your eyes. You watch the anger and hurt falter from Charles at the sight of your tears. His heart aches at the sight of your pain, and he feels a pang of guilt for lashing out at you. He lets out a deep sigh. "I don't want you to regret anything," he mutters, his voice softer now.

The rest of the walk is silent until you reach home. 

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

Charles follows you upstairs and into his bedroom. The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the air. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he gazes at you. You walk over to the nightstand, taking off your earrings before glaring back at him. He watches you silently for a few moments, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. He looks conflicted, a mix of anger and longing on his expression. After a moment, he crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to join him. You comply and join him, letting out a sigh as you sit down next to him, the mattress sinking under your combined weight. He reaches out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice full of remorse. "I shouldn’t have gotten angry”. You let the silence linger a bit before replying “It’s fine, I should have told you.” Charles looks down at your joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "Yeah, you should have," he says quietly. "But I can understand why you didn’t. It’s not exactly easy to talk about past relationships”. You dont reply and simply rest against him. He hesitates for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer, watching as you turn your head up to look at him. He looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He takes in the sight of your face, so close to his own. His gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his heart starting to race. Charles can feel the heat radiating off your body, the sound of your breathing filling his ears. He looks down at you, his lips parting slightly as he fights the desire to close the distance between you. He clenches his jaw, his hand unconsciously tightening around your waist, his other hand on your cheek feels warm and soft. His thumb tracing small circles on your skin. He pulls your face closer, now just inches apart. He inhales deeply, the scent of your perfume filling his nostrils. 

“Charles we ca-” Charles’ hand moves from your cheek to your chin, holding it tightly. "Shut up, shut up Y/N. Stop reminding me that I can't have you". His words leave you shocked, you expected him to let go like he's done other times, but part of you is glad he didn't. “Kiss me” you whisper. Charles's heart thunders in his chest, his breaths quickening at your words. For a moment he hesitates, warring with his own feelings, but in the end, he gives in. His hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he jumps at the sound of someone knocking the bedroom door. You also jump at the sudden noise ruining the moment. “We’re home” Arthur yells through the door. Charles lets out a curse word under his breath as he hears Arthur's voice from the other side of the door. He reluctantly pulls away from you, his hand sliding off your neck as he calls out, "Okay whatever”. 

You slightly move away from Charles as you laugh. He shoots you a mock-annoyed look, his lips twitching in a faint smile despite his best efforts. "Oh, you think it’s funny, huh?" he teases, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can never have a moment can we” you say smiling. Charles lets out a short laugh, his arms dropping back to his sides. "No, apparently not," he mutters, shaking his head. "Someone’s always interrupting us”. Without hesitation you bluntly speak your thoughts “i wish i could remember the night we hooked up”. Charles almost chokes on his own breath at your sudden words. His mind goes blank for a moment as he processes what you just said. Then, he laughs hoarsely. "Y/N, you can't just say things like that without warning”. “Please, I know you've also thought the same thing”. Charles is speechless for a moment, rendered speechless by your comment. He has thought it, the memory of that night a blur due to all the alcohol that was consumed. But hearing you say it out loud, without any hint of embarrassment, throws him off. He shakes his head, a mixture of amusement and desire flickering in his eyes. 

WEEK 2 DAY 7

The days pass and Sunday, the day of the party, quickly approaches. Charles' mom is in a frenzy, preparing for the event. Charles himself is nervous, the thought of seeing Alexandra again making him visibly uneasy. 

The night approaches and both you and Charles get ready in his room. Charles stands in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting his tie. He glances at you, taking in your appearance. "You look good," he says quietly, a hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you” you reply while trying to cover the blush creeping in on your face. “We should probably head downstairs” you suggest as you walk towards him. Charles's eyes move over your figure. He swallows, his mind flashing back to the memories of you almost kissing him yesterday. Charles nods, tearing his gaze away from you. "Yeah, we should," he mutters. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead. He holds out his hand for you to take. "Ready?" You take his hand and smile as you walk towards the party. 

The Party is buzzing with chatter and laughter of guests, music playing in the background. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sparkle of champagne. Charles tightens his grip on your hand as you walk further into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

A few minutes go by and not much has happened yet. Just random guests congratulating you or boring you with small talk. While Charles is talking to one of the guests, you whisper “I'm going to go get a drink” in his ear. Charles nods, understanding your need to escape the boring talk for a moment. "Yeah, okay" He lets go of your hand reluctantly, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. You leave and make your way to the drink station. As you’re pouring yourself a drink you think about how in a few hours this whole situation was going to end in a week. You were going to miss Charles more than you wanted to admit, your mind thought back to the conversation you had with him about how it was “never going to work” but maybe it could work. He made you happy and you needed to accept that. You need to stop pushing him away. So you decided on telling him how you felt tonight. 

But as you come back with your drink, you notice Charles engaged in conversation with Alexandra. They're standing close together, their faces mere feet apart. Charles' expression is polite and guarded, Alex's lips twisted in a smile. Fuck you thought to yourself. The stupid “plan” of letting Charles flirt with Alex to win her back had completely slipped your mind. What if maybe he did want to get the divorce?, after all there he was talking with her. 

Charles turns at the sound of your footsteps approaching, his eyes locking on yours as you come to a stop next to him. A flicker of nervousness passes over his face, replaced quickly by a neutral expression. Alexandra looks up at you, her smile faltering slightly as she takes in your presence. “Hey” you say politely greeting the woman your husband was going to eventually leave you for. "Hey," Alexandra says, her voice cool and aloof. Her gaze moves between you and Charles, a hint of contempt in her eyes. Charles stays silent, his hand unconsciously clenching at his side. “I’m Y/N” you say, extending your hand to greet her. Alexandra looks at your hand, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your gesture. After a moment, she reaches out and shakes your hand, her grip strong and deliberate. "I'm Alexandra," she says with a harsh tone “I used to date Charles”. He watches the interaction between you and Alexandra, his jaw clenching at the slight hostility coming from her. He doesn't like the way she's looking at you, the jealousy in her eyes. “I know,” You respond in a calm tone before turning to Charles “i hope i'm not interrupting anything” "No, of course not," Charles says quickly, shaking his head. He glances at Alexandra, who purses her lips and says nothing.

You softly smile “well i'm going to excuse myself, enjoy the party”. Charles reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you back. "Wait," he says urgently, his voice low. “What” you whisper back. He leans in close to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't go," he murmurs, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "Please." You swallow as you say words you don't mean “This is your chance to win her back Charles. It will help our little divorce story”. Charles looks torn at your words, his gaze flickering between you and Alexandra. His heart is torn between wanting to keep you with him and wanting to keep up the façade and follow through with a plan he doesn't even want part in. He's only agreeing because he thinks you’re never going to give him a chance. Not with the way you dont let him touch you or say sweet things to you, and how you always have to remind him none of this is real, and you never gave him any hope that this would  last more than 4 weeks you agreed to spend with him before going back to Vegas and finalizing the divorce.  

"I know," he mutters, his voice strained. "Just... don't go too far. Stay somewhere I can see you." You nod and make your way through the crowd of people. Charles watches you walk away, his heart heavy with mixed emotions. He turns back to Alexandra, who is watching you leave with a hint of happiness in her eyes. 

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

A few hours pass and Chales and Alex are still talking with each other. You can't stand the sight of him making her laugh or how her hand lingers too long on his arm. You need a distraction from this, so you make your way to the bathroom, taking a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is racing with a mix of emotions, the sight of them together stirring up feelings of jealousy and pain you never thought you would experience at the hands of a fake relationship. You make the irrational decision and decide to pull out your phone and dial Leo's number. 

“Hey leonardo, its Y/N” 

Leo picks up on the other end of the line, his voice deep and smooth. "Hey Y/N, what's up?"

“I sent you my location, can you meet me here” 

Leo's curiosity is piqued at your request. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a few minutes".

“Hurry” is all you say before hanging up the call. A sense of dread washing over you. 

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

You check your phone and see that Leo has texted you, letting you know that he's arrived. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. Leo walks in through the door, his eyes scanning the room as he takes in the sight of the party. He spots you immediately, his face breaking into a smile as he walks over to you. “Hi” you say in a low voice. "Hey," Leo replies, his voice just as low. He glances around, making sure no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. "What's going on? Finally realized I'm better than that F1 driver?" he says laughing. Why, just why did you have to do this.”'Let's talk somewhere more private” You say as you drag him to a vacant room. 

As Charles continues talking with Alex, his eyes instinctively drift towards you. He observes you in the distance, walking with someone to the empty room. A puzzled expression forms on his face as he wonders who you even know at the party. Minutes go by, and Charles notices that you haven’t left the room. His curiosity piqued, a sense of worry creeping in, he excuses himself from the conversation and makes his way towards the room you’re in."

You and Leo walk through the crowd, Leo following you as you lead the way to an empty room. As you enter, you shut the door behind you, the noise from the party outside quickly fading to a low murmur. “I just need to get my mind off him” You say as you walk closer to him. Leo looks at you, a hint of curiosity and confusion in his eyes as you approach. “What exactly is the reason you invited me here?" You close the distance between both of you “I don't know” you whisper. He grabs your face “Want me to kiss you?”

 Charles was simply talking to Alex, nothing more, yet here you were about to kiss your ex, all because you don't believe Charles actually likes you. 

You nod at Leo's words, but as he's about to close the distance you hear the door open. 

Charles enters the room, his footsteps halting suddenly as he takes in the sight before him. His eyes widen in shock as he sees you and Leo so close together. He stands frozen for a moment, unable to speak. His mind is racing, processing the scene before him. He looks from you to Leo, anger and hurt warring in his expression. “I- I can e- Charles it's not what you think” You say as you back away from Leo. Charles clenches his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The sight has struck him like a blow to the gut, bringing up a tidal wave of emotions. He says nothing as he grabs your wrist and drags you up the stairs to his room. 

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

12:00 AM WEEK 3 DAY 1 

Charles pushes you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you with a loud thud. The room is plunged into silence for a moment as he turns to face you, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “Charles, I'm sorry” you say as you turn around to face him. He stares at you with dark eyes and an intense stare. "Sorry?" he repeats, his voice low and harsh. "You're sorry for what, huh? For kissing another guy?". Tears formed in your eye “I didn't kiss him. And even if i did it's not like we are actually together”. Charles lets out a strangled laugh at that, his expression hardening. "Oh, so that makes it okay then? You could just kiss whoever you want because we're not together?" Silence lingers before you speak up “I saw you talking to Alex for hours and i got jealous, i acted on impulse i fucked up i know”. Charles takes a step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because that's what you wanted me to do, try and fall in love with her so the divorce can have a reason behind it” He yells “But did you ever think that I don't want to leave you”. His words still somehow caught you by surprise. 

“What?” you whisper. Charles lets out a sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "Jesus, do I really have to spell it out for you?" he snaps. "I don't want to leave you, I never did. I want to be with you, always. But you... you always turned me down. Did you even think about how I would feel?".

“You told me you still loved her” you reply.  Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Love her?" he says, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I said that to see if you would just finally admit your possible feelings for me. But It was all an act, a performance to please you so we could have an “excuse” for our divorce. ... You were the one I truly want”. “I'm sorry” is all you manage to say. Despite everything his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you. "Sorry doesn't fix everything, you know," he mutters, his voice laced with a hint of pain. “I wasn't thinking, I was jealous of her, I thought she was the one you wanted, and you’ve been with her longer and know her better. I didn't think I stood a chance next to her” Charles's expression softens further as he hears your words. "You thought I didn't want you?" he asks, his voice quieter now. "That I'd rather be with her than you?" He takes a step closer to you, his eyes roaming over your face. "You've really been that blind?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "All this time, you really thought I didn't want you?" He reaches out, tentatively taking your hand in his. “You tried to tell me so many times, in so many ways. Yet i never tried to give us a chance” you whisper

Charles nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Yeah, I tried. But you didn't listen," he says, his voice a mixture of anger and resignation. "You were so fixated on the divorce, on this act, that you didn't see the genuine feelings I had for you." You say nothing, you simply just look into his eyes. Charles lets out a sigh, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Did you really think all those looks, all those little moments between us, were just pretend?" he asks, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of hurt. “I’ve always felt something for you” you finally admit. Charles's breath hitches at your words, his eyes searching your face. "Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You nod “I tried to avoid the feelings because I was scared about what the media and your fans would say, and I didn't want to keep up the lie of how we met but I don't care, I don't care anymore because all I know is that I want you”  

HIs expression softens further as he hears your confession, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "You idiot," he mutters, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You wasted all this time trying to deny what you really want, all because you were scared of what other people would think?"

You can't help but laugh at your stupid actions. Charles smiles at the sound of your laughter, the tension in the room slowly beginning to ease. "You just had to make everything so complicated, didn't you?" he teases, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I won't mess up again” you say leaning into his touch. Charles's eyes hold a fierce determination as he speaks, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I hope not, because I'm not going to let anyone or anything come between us again. No more lies, no more hiding. Just you and me." You smile at his words “I like that idea”. Charles grins at your response, his hand sliding down to cup your chin. "Good," he says, his voice taking on a huskier tone. "Because I've been dreaming about having you all to myself for far too long”. 

You feel a sense of desire wash over you as he speaks. Now that both of you have made it clear where your feelings stand, you can finally give in to the attraction you have for him. The desire that you've been trying to convince yourself doesn't exist. “You know… everyone is downstairs so no one is going to interrupt us if we kiss” you tell Charles in a low seductive voice. Charles's grin widens at your suggestion, his eyes darkening with need. "Finally. no interruptions" he responds, his tone matching yours. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips move towards yours. You spent so much time pushing him away so it's only fair that you make the first move. After 3 weeks since the last kiss, your lips meet again. Charles responds eagerly, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. There is a hint of desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's trying to make up for the time he's lost. His hands slide your lower back, pulling you against his body. Neither of you care about the party downstairs.  

The kiss deepens, Charles's tongue tangling with yours as he devours your mouth. The only sound in the room is the mingled gasps and moans as the kiss becomes more intense and passionate. “I need you” you whine as you break the kiss. Charles's eyes widen at your words, a primal desire igniting within him at the needy tone of your voice. He tightens his grip on you, his hands roaming your body without restraint. "You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you to say that" he says as his lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You guide Charles backwards, never breaking the contact of his lips on your skin. You steer him towards the bed, your movements purposeful and full of want. As the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he pushes you onto the bed, climbing on top of you in one fluid motion. You waste no time, you quickly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. His breathing quickens at your actions, his body responding eagerly to your touch. His hands roam your body, desperate to once again feel your skin against his. He nips and kisses at your lips as he pushes your dress up over your head, discarding it carelessly on the floor beside the bed. 

“Please touch me” you say in between kisses. Charles' eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh now you want me to touch you" he says, his voice thick with lust and humor. His mouth continues its descent, his tongue tracing a path over your chest and down to your stomach. His hands move lower, gripping the waistband of your panties, as if silently asking for permission. You eagerly nod watching his fingers quickly push them down over your hips, leaving you bare. His eyes roam over your body, a look of pure hunger in his gaze. “So beautiful,” he whispers. Charles stands up to take off his pants, his eyes watching you intently as he throws them aside. He shifts his body as he comes near you again, pressing himself against you, his skin now flush against yours. His hands wander down to your hips, gripping them possessively as he pulls you closer. You moan at the feeling of having him pressed up against you. Charles smiles at you , his eyes fixated on yours. "Just relax, I've got you." He lifts himself up with one arm, his eyes roaming over your body as he positions himself with your entrance. 

You can't help but moan at the feeling of him going inside of you. He looks down at you, his eyes locking on yours as he slowly applies speed, his lips parting slightly as he lets out a gasp. "Are you okay?" he asks huskily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah” you reply in a shaky breath as you watch him thrust into you. Charles groaned, his head falling back as he felt you on him. “O-oh fuck.” He gasps, his hands automatically moving to your hips guiding your moves. 

After moments of continuing like this you feel yourself reaching your high “Charles in gonna…” you say in between your sounds of pleasure. Charles smiles at you “Fuck, me too” he says, his voice desperate. His thrusts become harder making you both reach your climax. He moans against your ear as you move your hips to ride out your high. 

“I needed that for so long” you moan as Charles lays next to you, his chest heaving with exhausted breaths. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. 

“Could have done this a lot sooner ” he says, his voice hoarse and raw. “Whatever” you say as you chuckle. Charles moves away from your neck, his eyes looking into yours with a warm expression before speaking. “I'm sure this made it clear but i don't want to go back to vegas, i don't want to get divorced”  You grin widens at his words, your eyes lighting up with pleasure. “Is that so?” you say, your tone light and teasing. “You’re sure you don’t want to go back to pretending we’re in love?” you joke. Charles laughs at your words “Stop it” he says as he pokes your side. You laugh along with him, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sorry, sorry," you say, your tone unapologetic. "I just couldn't resist. But in all seriousness,” you continue, your expression growing more sincere. “I don't want a divorce either. I want you, all of you. For real this time”. 

“No more pushing me away,” he says in a low voice.

You shake your head, your eyes fixed intently on his. "No more pushing you away," you agreed, your voice firm and unwavering. "No more games, no more secrets. Just us, no pretending, no Vegas." You smile as you continue your sentence “But when we meet someone new, and they ask about us. Will we still keep up the lie on how we met?” you ask Charles. He laughs at your question “Well yes, we still can't have anyone finding out the truth”. You nod your head in understandment “Well then there's still one more person we need to lie to” 

Charles raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth “Yeah? who?”

“My mom, in New York” You reply smiling 

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

A/N: Finally the end! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed and loved writing it. I'm new to the writing community and the love you guys have showed me is amazing and it really motivates me. Thank you <3.

TAGLIST: @tsireyasgf @v4mp1r3bl0g @asparklysoul @sltwins @janeh22 @aleatorio1234 @perfectlycoralsheep thank you for reading, I appreciate it so much :)

[adoredawn]

✧˖° — adventures in babysitting

pairing: joe goldberg x fem! reader

type: imagine (1.6k+ words)

requested: no

summary: joe and love decide to get a babysitter for henry after dottie’s breakdown. who would’ve thought she'd spark joe's interest?

warning(s): one-sided pining (-ish). rushed plot / dialogue. no use of y/n.

note(s): not my gif. not my divider. this takes place during season 3! i’ve seen sooo little joe love on here, so i thought i’d write some! i haven’t written a full fledged fic in nearly 4 years, so please bear with me while i try to regain my skills. reblog & comment if you enjoyed it / want a part 2!

adoredawn’s masterlist

“if you want to make some calls to any previous parents i’ve worked with, there are some cell numbers i can give you,” you said with a smile, looking between the husband and wife before you. you sat opposite them on a plush loveseat as they were side-by-side on their gray sofa adorned with decorative pillows.

“oh that doesn’t seem necessary, we’ve heard great things.” love grinned as she patted joe’s knee lovingly. “cary and sherry just could not recommend you enough!”

you giggled and shook your head, smoothening out your summer dress. “i did have my hands full with those twins, that week and a half was a wild one…”

there was an uncomfortable silence. the house was eerily quiet for a toddler to be living in it, though it was his nap time. your eyes drifted down to what trinkets littered their coffee table. coasters, a book on home décor, and toddler toy keys.

as you had walked in earlier, you noticed their home was eerily clean. a family portrait of the three was already hung in a hallway and other pictures were framed on bookshelves and end tables. their home was modern, yet vintage at the same time. it felt like a showroom, but one you could call home.

you could feel their eyes on you, studying you, as you gazed around their home.

joe cleared his throat and sat up straighter, love looked at him expectingly and you mimicked his movements, snapping out of your thoughts. “so… how soon can you start? how’s your schedule?”

you opened your mouth to answer, reaching beside you to grab your purse and look at the calendar on your phone, but a cry rang from upstairs.

love sighed, “sorry about that, i guess nap time’s over! i’ll go get him and we can introduce you.” she sprang up from her seat and made her way up the staircase, glancing back once to eye joe.

joe watched as his wife traveled up the stairs to soothe their toddler, and as he turned back to look at you, he caught your stare. you momentarily forgot what he had asked, flustered. “oh-uh, well i can start as soon as you need. i’m available all week really. i’m taking a break from school for a semester.”

joe seemed to perk up, and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “huh, what’re you studying?”

“education, with a focus on advanced literature in secondary education”

he licked his lips and you couldn’t help but watch. your hands balled into fists in your lap, crescent moons forming in your palms from your nails digging in.

“you enjoy reading?” his voice buzzed lowly with curiosity and you nodded softly.

“mhm, i plan on being a high school teacher or a professor once i graduate.” you paused, looking behind joe at the staircase, and wondering what was taking love so long. you shook your head slightly, focusing your attention back on joe, trying to remain cool. “do you read?”

“i do. i was a bookstore manager for some time.”

“really? that must’ve been fun-“

“here he is, say ‘hi’ henry!” love came down the stairs carrying henry on her hip. joe turned and watched them both come down, reaching for henry once love had sat beside him again.

you waved at little henry, and he barely paid you any mind, focusing on his mother and father. love turned him around to sit facing you, where you could see that his white pajama onesie was covered in blue moons and yellow stars.

“henry, say ‘hi,’ bubba!” love encouraged him, grabbing his arm to wave at you, causing you to smile and wave back. she looked up from him, to you, a serious look on her face. “do you want to hold him? he’s not very fussy around newer people.”

you hesitate, looking back and forth between love and joe, as if asking for permission, even though love has already granted it. meanwhile henry babbled, spitting drool over his onesie. “sure sure, i’ve got him,” you said confidently.

you stood and bent over the coffee table separating you from the couple, reaching for their toddler. as love passed him to you, henry giggled, flailing his legs and flapping his arms while he’s in the air, causing the three of you to also begin laughing.

you felt joe watching you as you held henry, and you tried your best not to return any glances, wanting to maintain your focus on henry.

you sat back on the loveseat, bouncing henry on your lap a few times. “hey, henry, how’re you doing, buddy? i’m gonna be your new babysitter.” you tell him your name, chanting it as you point at yourself a few times. he looks at you and smiles, grabbing at the bottom hem of your dress and tugging.

you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched as you had henry in your lap. of course you were being watched, you told yourself. joe and love just wanted to make sure they would be leaving henry with someone who knew what they were doing. and you very much did.

after a few minutes of holding henry, he began to stretch his arms out, pleading to go back to his parents. you held him back safely as he whined and yearned to reach the other side of the coffee table.

joe grunted an “i got ‘im,” before he walked over to you and picked henry up off of your lap, his hands brushing yours. you felt a pang in your heart as you touched, but squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to ignore it.

once joe got a hold of him, henry began to shriek. joe tried to calm him down, patting his back and rocking him side to side, but he didn’t let up. love quickly got up from her seat and took henry from joe, patting his back.

“it’s okay, forty, it’s okay, momma’s here…” love soothed him, and whispered “sorry!” she sat back on the couch, trying to calm him down.

joe ran a hand through his hair, frowned, and sighed. you watched him with a frown, and he caught your gaze, to which you stood and stuck out your hand. “it was really great to meet you you both.”

joe took your hand in his and shook, smiling softly at you. “it was nice meeting you, miss... i’ll walk you out.” you blushed lightly as he recalled your name and turned to love and squeezed her shoulder goodbye. she muttered a soft “bye” and you rubbed henry’s back and said bye to him as well.

joe kissed love on the cheek as she settled henry down and followed behind you. you reached for the doorknob, and joe followed suit, his fingers brushing against yours again. they lingered for a second, and you turned to look up at him as you retreated your hand.

he smiled gingerly as he grabbed hold of the knob and twisted the door open. you’re both greeted by the gorgeous california sun and birdsong and you take a step outside. you turned, expecting to say your final goodbyes, but joe followed you out.

“thank you, again, for coming out to see us and meet henry. i assume love already gave you our numbers?” he asked as he closed the door behind him. he leaned against the door frame with both hands in his pockets and quickly looked you up and down.

you nodded, “yeah, it was no problem. and she did. do you have mine?” you began pulling your phone out of your purse before joe spoke.

“yes, i can send you a text to make sure it’s the right one?”

before you could agree, joe pulled his phone out of his back pocket and began typing. soon enough, you heard a familiar ding! from inside your purse, and went to read the message:

Hello, you.

you smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “i’ve got it, thanks.” you turned away to leave before stopping abruptly. joe had already turned to leave as well, and faltered as you came back. “sorry, uh, i was just wondering when would i be starting?”

joe stuck his tongue in his cheek, in thought for a moment, and you took this time to fully drink him in. he had one hand in his pants pocket, the other rubbing his chin. his dark curls fell perfectly over his forehead, and you wanted to brush them away to get him to look deeply into your eyes. his gray sleeves hugged the curve of the muscles on his arms so right, that you nearly melted at the thought of being trapped in them.

you couldn’t be thinking like this, you scolded yourself. you'd never suddenly gotten this rush of feelings when meeting someone before. he’s happily married with a kid that you’ll be taking care of. get. it. together!

“how about monday? i’ll be home for a few hours, and i don’t think love would mind if i stay and show you henry’s schedule.”

you nodded eagerly, “absolutely, just let me know when to get here. thank you, again, for having me!” you waved goodbye as you trekked down their concrete walkway and to their white picket fence toward your car. you covered your eyes from the sun and once you made it to your car, you searched for and waved at joe from across the street.

joe waved to you and watched as you settled into your vehicle. he didn’t take his eyes off of you until your car had driven out of his sight, eager for the weekend to fly by and see you on monday.