Latest Posts by mmichog - Page 3

Masterlist

On The Run Series :

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

OTR Drabbles:

Breeding Season

Bed Warmer

Knock First

Clothing Preference

NEIGHBOR SIMON:

Injured w/ the 141

It was bad. Really bad. They'd barely made it out with Soap intact. He was bleeding pretty heavily from his side. Ghost was driving the jeep back to base a breakneck speeds. Normally no one in their right mind would let Ghost drive, but today's situation was dire. He was following the chopper that was carrying Soap back to base. Gaz and Price were in the air, you and Ghost were in the jeep.

Every bump and rock in the road left the two of you bouncing in your seats. No one spoke. There wasn't anything for the two of you to talk about without worrying your heads off. As the chopper began to veer off the designated course, Ghost radioed up.

"Price, what the hell is going on up there?!" He snaps.

"Change of plans. Saint Florian's is gonna receive us. They've got a landing pad. It's clear." Price explains.

"Fuck." Ghost mutters, yanking the wheel of the jeep and speeding toward the highway. "Got it. Saint Florian's. London, right?"

"That's the one." Price responds before the radio crackles quietly. Unfortunately, the sound doesn't cut out before Soap's pained screams come through the line. "Fuck fuck fuck." Ghost mutters, swinging wide onto an entrance ramp, his foot to the floor as the jeep barrels onto the highway. It was a good thing it was late at night with only a few people on the road, or else Ghost would've hit them.

"Still got eyes on the chopper?" He asks you, his tone thick with anger and worry. You glance out your window, seeing the flashing lights in the sky.

"Yeah. I've got eyes on 'em. Picking up pace." You report back.

"Can't this piece of shit go any faster?!" Ghost barks, his palm slamming the steering wheel. You couldn't help him with that.

The drive into London was highly precarious. Your seat belt was locking up and you had a firm grip on the door handle to prevent being thrown around. The speeds you were going were not conducive to the health and safety of either of you.

"Ghost, it's forty kilometers an hour!" You say, plastered back into your seat.

"So?" He barks.

"So? You're doing Ninety!" You squeak.

"We've gotta get to Johnny." He says, his voice more intense than ever before. You didn't want to piss him off, so you stayed quiet. He was taking turns at speeds that you were certain put the jeep on two wheels.

The exit and turn to the hospital was a sharp one, and Ghost had the two of you barreling at sixty.

"Ghost, brakes!" You say. He doesn't respond. "Brakes!" You shriek, reaching over to hit him. But he was determined. Tires squealed as the jeep skidded around the corner. You thought you might make it, but then you were higher up than Ghost. And the car flipped and rolled. You weren't sure if the sound you heard was the wrending apart of metal, or your own screams.

The speed of the crash didn't hurt. It was the stop. You were thrown around, the jeep only coming to a stop when it wrapped itself around two concrete street posts. That's all you could remember before blacking out.

~

"Bloody hell, what do you mean two more?"

"Same insignia, Sir. In a jeep?"

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck Goddamnit not them." Heavy footsteps thundered into the room.

"Shit..." a soft breath came from beside your bed. You knew it from somewhere. "Where's Simon?" He snaps.

"The driver is in surgery. Nothing serious." It sounded like a flustered nurse.

"Good. Can't lose everyone in one day." He smelled of a sweet smoke. "Recovery room 112. Move her there."

"Sir, that room is for-"

"I know bloody fuckin well who it's for! Bring all of them in there." He orders.

"I'm not sure we can..."

"Figure it out! You get my damn soldiers in my sight or so help me I'll shut this damn building down!" Ah. There he was.

"Hey Captian..." You say, your voice raspy as your eyes flutter open. You're met with the concerned expression of one Captian John Price.

"Hey Darlin'." He says, his voice much softer now as he brushed your hair away from your face. "How ya feelin'?"

Your bed started to move, Price walking alongside you. You kept your eyes on him.

"Ah, like shit. So normal." You chuckle, but stop because it hurts your ribs. He chuckles too, a smile finally gracing his face.

"Good ta know. Glad yer okay. I need good news." He says. They wheeled you into a room and began to hook up your machines once more. Gaz had been pacing around when you came in.

"She's okay?" He asks urgently.

"Couple a' cracked ribs, fractured collarbone, scrapes n' gashes. No worse'n a bad mission." Price explains.

"Thank goodness." Gaz sighs in relief, plopping in a chair next to your bed. "Any news on the big guys?" He asks.

"Ghost is banged up, nothing life threatening. Still no news on Soap. Still in surgery." Price informs Gaz. Gaz sighs, his hands running through his hair. You noticed that both of them were in civilian clothes now, and must've had a chance to shower. Gaz had on a powder blue hoodie and beige pants. Price had on a olive green shirt and jeans. Of course he wasn't without his hat.

"I'm gonna go out for a smoke." Price mutters.

"Cap, you're gonna kill yourself. You've been chainsmokin' all night." Gaz mutters.

"Don' tell me what to do." Price snaps roughly.

"Price, stay here please." You mumble, reaching for his hand.

"Alrigh'. I'm here." He says softly, taking your had in his own, careful not to bump the IV. He sits down on the edge of your bed, making sure to place the button for the pain meds in your free hand. You were disoriented and in pain. You hated how vulnerable it made you feel. Price's thumb rubbed over the tops of your knuckles. "You're gonna heal up jus' fine love." He reassures you softly. You nod.

"Thanks, Price." You say softly, a smile gracing your tired and pained face. A soft snoring came from the chair next to you. Gaz must've fallen asleep. You were all exhausted and worried, so it made sense.

"Go back to sleep Darlin'. Your body needs rest. We'll all be here when you wake up." He reassures you.

You nod, drifting off with his hand in yours. You wake up several hours later to the rumble of wheels on another bed. You slowly blink the sleep from your eyes, sitting up as they bring Ghost in. His mask had been taken off to treat gashes on his face. He was still out cold, left leg wrapped up tight.

"He's so pretty..." You mumble, drugs still heavy in your brain. Price chuckles.

"That so Darlin?" He says, walking back over to rub your shoulder. "I'm sure he'd deny it. But I bet he'd love to hear it from you."

You laid there, watching the two of them for a moment before scooting over and patting the bed beside you.

"Lay down Cap." You mumble.

"I'm alright Darlin. You're shiverin' though. Cold?"

"Yeah, a little bit." You admit. He nods.

"I'll go get some blankets from the desk." He says. You smile at him. He had to keep busy and stay in control. That was your captian.

When he returns he has five soft blankets in hand. He pulls one over your shivering form. He covers Gaz and Ghost too before sitting down with his own, and having one left for Soap when he arrived.

The four of you were in and out of sleep for several hours. Price and Gaz taking care to press the button that delivered pain meds when you or Ghost began to writhe in your sleep. It was nearly a full day later when they brought Soap into the room. The four of you were awake. They had even been able to take you off of a lot of machines. The four of you were trying to get to Johnny's bedside quick as you could. He was still knocked out, but you needed to see him.

That was put on hold as soon as Ghost stood up. His injured leg gave out immediately and he smacked into the ground.

"Ghost!" You cry, reaching for him. Gaz beats you to it, pulling Ghost back up onto the edge of the bed.

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mumbles. You fuss over his leg, and Price and Gaz check in on Soap.

He was still out cold as Gaz and Price checked him over, making sure he would be okay.

It took much explaining from several doctors before anyone was convinced that Soap would make a recovery. But once it was clear, huge weights had been lifted off everyone's shoulders. You all took a moment and spoke quietly to the still unconscious Soap, letting him know that everyone would be there for him.

As sleep crept in again, you found yourself curled up with Ghost, both of you nursing injuries. And Price and Gaz were sharing what used to be your bed. Everything hurt right now, but in the end, it would be okay.

~End

nsfw. price who takes pride in how well he takes care of his missus. it’s your world and he’s just living in it baby!

there’s not a day that goes by where you aren’t fucked and fed properly. will go to great lengths to make your life as easy as possible, which includes being selfless. which is why when he goes on long work trips he’ll ask one of the boys to take good care of you until he gets back. preferably simon; johnny is much too eager, and gaz is too much of a sweetheart to rough you up just how you like. he can’t bare the thought of having his girl waking up to an empty bed. which why he’ll leave simon with the keys to your home and a heavy pat on the back.

“I’ll be back in a few days. keep her entertained for me, will ya? if she starts getting fussy just means she’s due for a proper fucking. she’s a restless little thing. take good care of her now, yeah? I’ll be expecting updates.”

Godpleasemakeherappearundermychristmastreethisyear. !

the big apple ꩜ .ᐟ pt.5

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

pairing - ellie x reader

synopsis - you've just moved to nyc and ellie's your new neighbor. she hates you though and you don't know why :((

cw - mean ellie, toxic! ellie, side gig dealer ellie, weed, tattoo artist ellie, texts between reader and ellie, angst, smut

a/n - last part!! bro last part had a bunch of letters which were bigger and I kept fixing it then coming back to see some of them got big again?? it was like playing whac-a-mole I swear. also I just want to say thank you to everyone who read and interacted, it was so nice to share my writing with people who enjoyed it<33

-

Sitting before you was a cappuccino cup with a perfectly formed latte art leaf. You stared at it, slowly inhaling and exhaling the warm, sweet smell. It soothed you, but you could still feel a blade made of pure anxiety stabbing your guts. What were you supposed to do with the cup again?

“Hey!”

You turned your head to see your co-worker holding three iced coffees in his hands, gesturing his head to the pickup counter where a growing crowd of customers waited. It was the afternoon, one of the busiest times for coffee shops.

“Shit,” you muttered, and quickly brought over the cup to the counter and called out the customer’s name.

Your head this week had been either entirely filled with Ellie, that moment in your bedroom with the thumping and moaning, or absolutely nothing but a strong sense of dread you were too fuzzy to understand. And you hated it. You hated how pathetic it made you feel, to have someone who didn’t give a fuck about you occupying your mind 24/7, turning your new life into a mess after only having been in it for a few weeks.

You knew who Ellie Williams was from the start. Dina, one of her best friends, had told you. You knew she didn’t date, didn’t get attached or form romantic connections. It wasn’t like you’d been itching to make things official while you were still talking. You were still getting to know each other. You understood the two of you were not exclusive, and you yourself had not thought of giving a name to your relationship yet.

But you also understood yourself. You knew you’d caught feelings for Ellie because that was how you operated, and because it was Ellie, perfect and strong and raw, with her stupid green eyes and her freckles. The exact type of person you’d imagined you’d fall for. It was achingly, painfully obvious to you where you’d gone wrong. You had let the tiniest seed of hope grow in your heart.

From the way Dina and Jesse had talked about the other girls Ellie involved herself with, it had seemed like she didn’t text them as often as she did you. It hadn’t seemed like she would constantly invite them over, or invite herself over to theirs, or talk until late at night, or give them free weed just so she could get high with them.

But these were all assumptions. Dina hadn’t spoken about the topic since that night, and you hadn’t asked. You two did talk about what had happened the night of the smoke sesh, and about the constant texting and hanging out and occasional sex which had followed, but she never gave you any reason to think this meant more to Ellie than any of her other flings.

The seed in your heart felt like a shard of glass.

-

The walk home was cold and bitter. Your manager had sent you home early because you lacked so much focus she’d thought you were sick. Summer was reaching into Fall, and today was already colder than it should be. Not only that, but you had made the mistake of wearing another of your dresses which only went a little further than your knees and left your ankles bare. You were shivering and feeling glad you were almost home when your gaze fell on the bodega not too far off from your apartment. The bell tinkled as you pushed open the glass door and went straight to the alcohol section, finding yourself some cheap wine.

As you waited for the man at the cash register to ring you up, you stared behind him at the wall of cigarette boxes with graphic images and ‘smoking kills’ labels. You were the same as Dina, who never bought entire packs for herself so she wouldn’t smoke too much. At that point it didn’t matter enough to stop you. You left the bodega with wine and a pack of Marlboro lights, rushing to the elevator, hoping you didn’t come across Ellie.

She’d texted you thrice since that weekend. The first time on Sunday morning, apologizing for not having answered your texts, telling you she was fine. She asked you how you were. You didn’t answer. The second text came on Thursday, asking you if you wanted to hangout, and the last on that same day hours later. A ‘hi’ accompanied with three question marks. It had all been so strange. The lack of texts supplying you with updates on her day or raising questions about yours at the start of the week had made you sure she had, in fact, ditched you. The text on Thursday came as a surprise, but you ultimately knew what she wanted. It was the only thing she had wanted from you all this time. For you to be her fuck buddy.

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply. You couldn’t, because you knew if you did, you’d say yes, and you would go to her apartment and the two of you would have sex because you needed to be next to her so badly that you’d take whatever she gave you, let her have you how she wanted.

So when the elevator opened on your floor and she was nowhere to be seen, you breathed a small sigh of relief. You opened your door and you put your plastic bag from the bodega on the kitchen counter and looked for the corkscrew and singular wine glass. The first portion poured out was thick, three fingers tall. You kicked off your sneakers and downed it quickly as you watched the sky darken from your couch, not daring to come out onto the fire escape which was sure to be all ice-cold metal and biting breeze.

The more you slipped into a tipsy state, the more tears fell from your eyes, until you pushed past that and became the same amount of drunk you had been at that club. Too drunk to mind the cold, drunk enough to crave a smoke and a view of the sunset from the fire escape.

You thumped your feet to the kitchen where you got the Marlboro pack and the Bic lighter you kept in your purse, just in case. An unlit cig on your lips, a half full wine glass in your hands and the lighter interlaced within your fingers, you opened the window and drunkenly stumbled out of it, leaving the glass on the ledge as you flicked on the lighter. The wind and the cold bars of the fire escape against your sock covered feet were a welcome shock to your system.

You took a puff. As you blew it out, you noticed that Ellie was staring at you from her own spot on her window, leaning on the ledge sideways, one leg up. She wore a black jumper and had a pencil and a sketchpad in her hands as well a joint in her mouth. She pinched it with two fingers and puffed out a cloud which flew north, away from you and the sunset.

The two of you said nothing. The sight of her sitting there, the light bathing her in gold and lighting up her eyes was too much to bear. You made a silent prayer that she couldn’t see the redness of your eyes from where you were standing. Then you rushed back to your window, taking the glass in your hands so you could pass without it dropping.

“Hey, wait.”

You froze, half of your body still on the fire escape. There was an urgency to her voice that tugged at you. You wanted to reprimand yourself for being stupid again, but it was no use, you could already feel the glass in your heart smoothing over before it sharpened again, bigger than it was before.

You pulled your body back out of the window and sat on the ledge, taking a drag of your cigarette in search of the nicotine induced feeling of your blood-pressure lowering.

Ellie observed you with knit together brows. When she realized you were waiting for her to speak, she opened her mouth.“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” It was a sentence uttered so softly. It sounded fraught and out of place coming from her, who hadn’t made too much of an effort to contact you.

“I…” you started. “I didn’t think it mattered that much.” You stared at your thighs and the hand which rested there, holding your cigarette.

“Why the fuck not?” Ellie said, her voice flipping from soft and pleading to angry and raw.

Your head snapped to her, then back down, your hands rushing up to dig into your hair. “Just—Please, stop.”

She put out her joint and tossed it along with the sketchpad and pencil into her apartment then stood up, making her way to the railing closest to you. Her hands gripped the metal, knuckles turning white. “Stop? How am I supposed to just stop? I’ve been losing my goddamn mind this week. Why are you ignoring me?”

Hot tears gathered on your eyes, spilling over when you blinked.

“Hey, are you drunk? Are you even fucking listening—“ Ellie’s voice died off when you looked at her and she saw the wetness of your eyes and cheeks. She kept her grip on the railing, but her hunched shoulders slipped and she drew back, standing straighter.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. “What’s going on?”

Your chest heaved, sucking in a breath only to let it out jagged. Ellie’s eyes were so wide. She was the deer caught in headlights now. The desperation you felt fed into the glass, turning your heart into an irritated and angry wound. It didn’t feel fair, that she should look so worried and broken when you were the one who had been made a fool, the one who had let her affection and hope and yearning become so big it swallowed everything else.

So you went to the railing too, and you let loose all the words piled tight in your throat. “You want to know why I haven’t answered your texts?” You gripped the bar, not caring how frozen and stiff your fingers felt. “Because, Ellie. I heard you fucking that girl that night.” She flinched. “And you know, it’s fine. Dina had already told me how it works with you. And it’s not like we ever agreed on being exclusive. So you did no wrong there. But fuck, It hurt. And I can’t hold it against you. But I also can’t—“ One of your hands flew to your chest, squeezing there at the fabric. You gazed into the distance and shook your head, tears streaming uncontrollably now. “I can’t keep seeing you when I know you don’t feel the same way I do. I have to protect myself.”

When you looked back at Ellie, her eyes were glistening. She stared at you for a second until she stepped back and broke her gaze, rushing through the window into her apartment.

Once she was gone you stepped back as well, a shudder rocking through you. You sat down on your window ledge, defeated. You had stripped yourself bare on that fire escape, made it painfully obvious that you had feelings for her, and in the face of them she had run off.

You were sucking in another drag of the Marlboro light when you heard a knock at your door. You turned your body but stayed where you were, too drunk to think of what to do. Then came three more knocks, hurried and loud. You sprung into action, putting out your cigarette on the kitchen counter, too agitated to think much into it.

You swung open the door, heartbeat coming in quick as you took in the sight of her. Ellie, standing at your door with wet eyelashes and half of her hair in a bun, just the way you liked it.

“Can I come in?” she croaked out.

You nodded and moved sideways, too dazed to speak. She sat on your couch, staring down at the sketchpad in her hands. You pulled up a chair from your dinner table and sat right before her. She lifted it up so you could see. On it were drawings of different items, all in her style. A bottle of wine. A switchblade. Her lighter. An apple split in half, the core of it showing. All of them with the same word written onto them; ‘survival’.

“I kept thinking about what you said. That first time we went out.” She looked at you. “I think you’re a lot like me.”

You wiped at your face, which was now sticky with dried tears.

“I was fucking stupid.” Ellie sighed and set down the sketchbook. “I shouldn’t have fucked that girl, especially when you could hear it—“ She rubbed her hands on her face, her voice cracking. It was solid again the next time she spoke. “But I did it because I was scared. Dina told the truth about how it is with most girls. I wanted it to be different with you.”

“But I’d been such an asshole to you in the beginning, and I didn’t know what to do with that, and I certainly didn’t know what to do with how I felt for you, cause I hadn’t felt it in such a long time and I was so terrified of messing it up that I guess I just thought, fuck it. It’s not going to work out. Let’s just get it over with.”

You had your hands on your thighs, and you were squeezing the fabric of your dress hard.

“But then…” She wrung her fingers. “Then you didn’t reply. And I knew I’d done exactly that. So I tried to go on with my life.” She scoffed. “It was fucking unbearable. I couldn’t focus at work. Any design I made had you in it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how I might’ve hurt you, so I did the stupidest thing and instead of telling you how I felt I just asked if you wanted to hang out. Because I convinced myself that maybe it was all in my head and you didn’t even feel the same way I did.”

She drew in closer. “Look, I won’t lie to you. I can’t promise you I’ll be great for you. I’m not easy. But I do like you. A lot.”

You exhaled. Your eyes landed on your feet, then on her. Another tear trailed down your cheek. “Ellie…”

The look on her face broke your heart. She looked so vulnerable, like she was terrified of what you’d say next. So you just got up and walked over to her, placing your hands on her shoulders. She gazed up at you, keeping her hands to herself. You planted a small kiss on her lips. Then you drew back to look at her.

She was quick to wrap her hands around your waist, pulling you to her, kissing you hungrily. You were about to settle back into the couch when she hoisted you up, guiding your legs to fit around her waist. She stood up and kissed your neck as she carried you over to your room, laying you down gently on the bed.

Then your lips were meeting again, your limbs and torso moving in tune with hers. And there it was again, that sweet nectarine feeling coursing through you. She stopped kissing you just long enough to pull off your jacket while you pushed up her jumper, after which she went back in, ravenous for the feel of your mouth against hers.

Her hand went to your dress, tugging it up, then it was sliding up your thigh and you couldn’t help but let out a pleased groan at her touch. You felt the corners of her mouth move the slightest bit. Her fingers moved to pull at your underwear, dipping inside your folds. It was hard to keep in time with her then, as your body racked through with pleasure, you kept breaking the kiss to let out gasps and moans Ellie seemed desperate to swallow.

“El,” you whispered. She traveled from your cheeks to your jaw, planting pecks along the way, her nose pushing slightly against your skin.

“What is it?” she said, but when you didn’t say anything other than her nickname, she continued the thrusting motion of her fingers, deeper and deeper until she hit a spot which caused you to arch your back and whine. The orgasm built inside you and crashed down your legs, leaving them trembling. You inhaled and exhaled hard. Ellie withdrew her hand and brought her fingers to her lips, licking them. You hid your face, smiling.

She laughed and brought it back so you would look at her. You wrapped your legs around one of hers, so that your thigh was up against her warmth, making her grunt. When you began moving your body up and down, your thigh followed, and she hugged your arms, desperate to feel more of the pressure.

Your moans blended into each other. Ellie came first, and you came right after she started touching your neck and sucking the thin skin there.

Her hands went to your face, cupping it in her palms, her fingers brushing up and down your cheeks so her digits could feel the little parts which were still damp. Your own fingers studied the freckled bridge of her nose, the scar at her brow, the curve of her lips. Her eyes were red, and you didn’t know if it was from the weed or crying or both. Time passed differently. It didn’t matter how much of it you spent.

-

a/n - pls feel free to comment what you think!! I love receiving comments I might not reply to them all bc I don't want to be annoying but I promise I see them and I love them smm

@boobdrug @macaroni676 @appleofmyii @hemmo01 @elsmissingfingers @elliesapple @fatbootymuncher @d1psht @liasxeatt @metrolinha743 @nouvell-vague @salvatoreamoree @bforest

p.s. I love ur usernames...sorry if I missed anyone

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ AFLAME !

pairing : firefighter!ellie x rescued!reader

synopsis : your apartment goes up in flames and you're unlucky enough to have been on the top floor, your front door blocked by fire. thankfully, a certain firefighter finds you before it's too late

a/n : ok this literally took so long to write i cannot ,, but im so excited to finally be posting it bc i feel like u guys will like it !

wc : 7.7k

your back is pressed against the wall of your kitchen as you clutch your cat in your arms. she mews in your hold, growing more restless by the second. you can hear the frantic shouting of firemen running up and down the halls of your apartment, rescuing your neighbors one by one. but your door is engulfed in flames, making it impossible for you to show them any sign of you being trapped in here.

oxygen is slowly depleting as your breaths become less like breaths and more like sharp gasps of air. your throat burns and your skin stings with the heat.

your cat, amber, shifts in your arms, wanting to move and breathe without struggle. you hush her, fighting tears as you begin to lose hope in ever being rescued. amber continues to meow loudly, her voice becoming more raw by the second. you shush her, not wanting her to waste her breath on trying to get your attention.

you run a gentle hand down her back, coughing as you try to comfort her. tears run down your cheeks as her mewing doesn't cease. your hand begins to shake as you caress her fur.

sirens can be heard from the street, muffled by your closed window and thin walls. your initial thought had been to open your window for air, but you knew better than to feed the flames with oxygen, so you settled in your kitchen as far away from the fire as possible and fell to your knees with amber against you.

firefighters continue to walk down the hall, calling out things you cannot hear. you recognize the croaky voice of your neighbor. silently, you're glad she managed to get out safe. she'd always been a very kind old woman to you, offering you burnt cookies and warm stories of her grandchildren.

amber continues to scratch and paw at you. you blink away tears and give her a weak smile, feeling the lack of oxygen begin to get to your head. you're delirious and in pain. you'd hurt your arm when you pulled amber out of the debris that'd become of the bathroom. you cut it open on the splintering door, the wood digging right into your forearm without mercy. you can feel the warm blood running down your arm and between your fingers where you hold amber firm against your chest. you try not to focus on the pain, though, rather directing your attention to managing your low source of air.

you hear footsteps begin to descend down the staircase and you can't help the tears that begin to pool down your face at the thought of being left up here. your shoulders tremble as you sob into amber's fur.

you can't go anywhere near the door without being burnt alive. you can't open any windows without your entire apartment exploding with you inside. you can't scream for help because you know nobody would hear you anyway.

the sudden sound of someone pounding on your door brings your mind away from its decent into despair. you instantly sit up straight, amber still restless and eager for play. you watch with blurred vision and a throbbing head as someone bangs on your door. after a moment, it flies off its hinges as a red boot comes barreling through the wood.

"in here!" you shout, staggering to your feet as the firefighter enters your apartment. your body sways on your feet due to exhaustion as the person follows the sound of your voice into the kitchen.

they enter, a gas mask covering their face. they say something to you, but your ears are ringing with the disbelief that they were able to find you. their hands reach forward, offering to hold amber.

see, you know it's unfair and you know you shouldn't, but you refuse. you shake your head, holding amber closer to your chest. she'd always been your dearest possession, and is now your only possession as the rest have been burnt to char. the firefighter nods, not thinking it wise to put up a fight with you.

"ah, shit, your arm." the firefighter mutters. their feminine voice points out that they are, apparently, a woman. "okay, okay. listen, you hold your cat and i'll carry you."

you blink, "what? i don't⎯"

"don't be difficult, now." she orders, crouching down before you can deny her the chance. she puts one arm under your knees, the other across your back. then, bridal style, she hauls you into her arms.

the room swims around you, your head throbbing and your throat raw. not to mention the indescribable pain in your arm. everything swirls and blurs under your delirious gaze. you lean back into her chest, amber meowing loudly at the stranger holding you.

the woman walks toward the front door, making sure to cover your face with her gloved hand as she passes through the flamed doorway. you cough when you're in the hallway, your chest constricting with the amount of smoke in your lungs.

"shh, you're fine. you're okay, i got you." the woman mutters as she begins to descend the concrete stairway. and, for some reason, you believe her.

you turn your focus toward her, staring at what you can make out of her face through her blackened gas mask. you can see her pale green eyes narrowed as her lashes blink repeatedly as she rushes down the steps whilst simultaneously trying not to jostle you too much. her lips are pursed in concentration, the bridge of her nose catching the light as she turns a corner at a landing.

"how'd you know i was in there?" you ask, your words slurred and your voice groggy.

"ma'am, please. just rest." she instructs, her gaze flicking down to your face for a split second before looking back forward. "we don't need to make conversation when you're clearly disturbed and in pain. just relax."

"i can't rest. my head hurts too bad." you say, shaking your head. "just⎯ answer my questions and i promise to leave you alone."

"okay fine." she sighs. "i knew you were in there because your elderly neighbor was a rather feisty woman. she threatened us with her butcher knife, saying she'd stab us and sue our company if we didn't make sure to save you and your cat."

a small smile tugs at your lips. you shut your eyes, tipping her head back. "mm, sounds like her."

"she's quite terrifying." the firefighter comments.

"she's a good person, most the time. she has a huge family and cares for them deeply, she just⎯ she knows i don't have anyone so she treats me like a part of her family." you murmur.

if you weren't so high in delirium, there's no way you'd be saying all this to a random stranger. frankly, you're a rather private person. you only open up to those you're close with and feel comfortable confiding in. take your neighbor for example. you've lived beside her for the past three years.

when you open your eyes, the woman is gazing down at you. her footsteps have become less frantic as she watches you with parted lips.

the two of you have now reached the foyer. a few other firefighters are seen with hoses and blankets for the rescued residents. the woman carries you across the linoleum flooring, the heels of her boots thudding loudly as she crosses the space to get to the large glass door.

once you're outside, you can feel amber relish in the fresh air. her incessant mewing ceases and she begins to purr. your heart clenches as the sound, pitying the fact that she's so happy about something so little such as fresh air.

"williams!" a voice calls out as the woman ⎯ who is apparently named williams, though you're fairly certain that's her last name ⎯ carries you over to a nearby ambulance. "what the hell took you so long!? we were worried sick!"

"oh calm down." williams replies, easing you down onto the edge of the ambulance where the back doors are open.

a paramedics rushes up to you with a roll of gauze. with you now tended to, williams turns away from you to focus on the man in front of her. still, despite the attention you're getting from the paramedic, she refuses to stray too far from where you sit.

after a moment of you swaying back and forth gently as someone wrapping bandages painfully tight around your arm, you hear your neighbors shrill voice call out for you from across the parking lot.

"oh, dear!" she shouts as she rushes toward you, her floral shirt tattered and covered in debris, her grey hair laced with ash. overall, she appears unharmed and you relax a bit at the sight. "oh, i haven't been able to rest until i knew you were okay, but⎯" her eyes trail down to where blood is seeping through the gauze around your forearm. "turns out you're not unharmed."

"it's just a cut, agnes." you insist, still holding amber in your lap as your arm throbs with even more pain than before now that the paramedic has wrapped the bandage far too tightly around your skin. "i'm fine⎯"

"oh, you always say that." she waves a hand at you dismissively.

she then turns to williams, recognizing her to have been the woman that she'd forced into rescuing you earlier. anges tugs on her arm to get her attention, causing williams to turn to face her. she removes her gas mask to be more respectful when speaking to a resident. at the sight of williams' uncovered face, you nearly faint. she looks as though she'd been chiseled from stone and created by a sculptor who was desperately in love with their muse.

"yes, ma'am?" she inquires, turning to agnes with a raised brow.

"i told you guys to get her out of there unharmed!" she reprimands, seething with rage as she gestures toward where you're being tended to. the paramedic is now offering you pills and water for your headache.

williams blinks, taken aback by the blame suddenly pointed toward her. "i don't⎯"

"it wasn't her fault," you interrupt, "i hurt myself trying to save amber."

"still. had the firefighters been there sooner, you wouldn't have had to save your poor cat all on your own." agnes points out, insistent on blaming the woman in front of her.

"i sincerely apologize, ma'am, but you must know that⎯"

"i don't want to hear it!" she interrupts her, holding a hand out to stop her from speaking any further. "to make it up to her, you're now responsible for finding her a place to stay."

"but⎯"

"no buts!"

williams snaps her mouth shut, likely remembering the image of when agnes held her at knifepoint and threatened her entire career. you smile to yourself at the idea of such a sweet old lady scaring the shit out of some buff firefighter.

agnes turns to face you with a soft expression. "you don't worry about a thing, dear. she will figure it all out for you. she'll make sure you have food on your plate and a roof over your head. if not, i'll make her regret it."

she places a gentle hand on your shoulder as she speaks, the last sentence laced with passive aggressiveness to williams, who stands off to the side with furrowed brows. after her assurance, agnes trots off with her infamous prideful stride. the other residents of your apartment scowl at her as she walks by, nobody being a fan of her fiery personality aside from you.

williams sighs, turning to you with a raised brow. "a good person, huh?"

"i said most the time." you point out with a playful smile.

no longer losing a significant amount of blood or with a throbbing headache, you're far less feverish, now able to speak without slurring or letting random facts about yourself slip.

williams sits down beside you, allowing her head to tip back. you stare shamelessly, enraptured by the way her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths or the bits of ash and dirt smudged across her skin. after a moment, she turns to you, removing her gloves and pulling her phone from her pocket. "suppose i should start looking for nearby hotels for you, right?"

you scoff, "you don't need to do that. she was just being protective."

"no, no." she insists. "she was right about one thing. and thats the fact that you wouldn't have been hurt if i got there sooner."

"don't blame yourself, williams, i'm fine."

"ellie." she corrects you with a brow raised in amusement.

you narrow your eyes at her. "what?"

"my name." she tells you with a light chuckle shaking her chest. "call me ellie. only my coworkers call me williams. it's for formality's sake. and, quite frankly, i hate it."

"oh, i'm sorry. i just heard someone call you that and i⎯"

"its fine." she tells you with a small smile. she shakes her head and turns back to her phone, typing for a place to stay in the search bar.

she scrolls through the options for a few minutes. while she does so, you busy yourself with checking amber for any possible wounds or marks. you hold her in the air, making sure to put most of her weight on your uninjured arm as your other still aches with residual pain.

the paramedic didn't give you any ointment or stitches, though you likely needed them. he'd simply wrapped your arm, albeit painfully tight, handed you some pills, then sauntered off to the next wounded resident.

"damn it," you hear ellie mutter under her breath. you turn your attention back to her. she feels your eyes on her and she explains. "none of the hotels accept cats and all the motels are closed."

"i told you i'll be fine." you tell her, a pang of guilt shooting through you. "anges is just⎯"

"protective, i know." she finishes for you. she turns off her phone and stuffs it back into her pocket and turns to face you with brows furrowed in thought. "and don't you dare tell me not to worry after you just told me that you have no family. i know you have nowhere else to go."

you tense at the mention of your family, instantly feeling embarrassed and a bit ashamed even. you shakes your head, "still. it's not your issue to concern yourself with."

"it's literally my job." she points out.

you sigh, knowing you won't win this argument against her. she turns to face forward, staring at the starry sky in thought. meanwhile, you turn toward the opposite direction, seeing that the aflamed building has now been put out. despite that, it pains you to see the apartment you lived in for the past few years in shambles. not all the neighbors were as kind as agnes, but you still called that place home. and now it's gone.

you hold amber tightly against you, her warm fur serving as comfort against the chill of pain that traces up your spine. she purrs against you, nestling deeper into your chest for more pets.

"i have an idea." ellie suddenly blurts out. you turn to look at her, seeing her expression now overcome by newfound determination. "stay with me."

you're instantly taken aback by the proclamation, your brows shooting up as your lips part in shock. "what?"

"my house isn't far from here. come back with me to the fire station so i can change and pick up my car, then we can head over there and you can stay with me for as long as you need until you find yourself a place." she says, her tone making it sound as though it were obvious all along.

"you mean it?" you ask, voice small.

"of course." she confirms. "plus, how could i say no to such a cute cat?"

she reaches out and pets amber gentle behind her ear. she leans into the touch, shutting her eyes and purring loudly. you smile, allowing the two of them a moment to connect. especially considering that you have no idea how long you'll be staying with ellie for.

"this means a lot to me." you say, causing ellie to lift her head and peer up at you, still gently caressing amber. your entire body is overcome with a sense of gratitude for ellie williams and the unintentional safety her presence provides you with. "i mean it."

***

twenty minutes later, you find yourself amid chaos. you rode with ellie back to the fire station and now you're standing awkwardly as everyone files out of their respective trucks. some of them are covered head to toe in soot and grime. others appear unscathed. ellie herself is somewhere between the two ⎯ in need of a shower, but not repulsing in her uncleanliness. you, on the other hand, are extremely dirty and bloody and gross.

amber sleeps in your arms are you press your back against a nearby brick wall and watch the firefighters all bound around the space. some of them are changing right there in the locker room ⎯ which doesn't have a door, by the way, though it's around a corner. others are rushing to the parking lot, desperate to get home.

"sorry," ellie apologizes as she rushes up to you. she no longer wears her hat, short brown hair askew atop her head. she runs her hands through it, giving you a sincere look. "i forgot how hectic it can be to someone who's not used to this."

you have a hand, "ah, it's fine."

secretly, you're dying inside. not only because your headache is beginning to reform at the sudden mayhem, but because ellie looks so fucking good right now. she saved your life and you know it's likely disrespectful to be so attracted to her, but you can't help it. you know what it feels like to be held in her arms and looked at with delicacy and you can't stop yourself from yearning for more.

"you sure?" she ask. "because if you're fine with it, i might just⎯"

"woah there, williams!" one of her coworkers calls out, walking up and draping his arm over her shoulders playfully. "you kidnapped one of the residents?"

she rolls her eyes, though a small smile can be seen on tugging at her lips. "haha, very funny. no, asshole, i didn't kidnap her. she needs somewhere to stay so i offered my place."

the man raises a brow at this, intrigued. he removes his arm from her shoulders and peers down at you curiously. though, once his eyes land on the sleeping cat in your hands, he breaks out into a wide grin. he holds out his hands. "oh my god! please, please, please can i hold him?"

you shoot the man a scowl, turning amber away from his sight. "not a chance. and she's a girl."

his eyebrows shoot up at your protectiveness. he turns to ellie, waiting for her to defend him. she crosses her arms, shaking her head with a chuckle. "she loves her damn cat, man, can't do anything about that."

he sighs, but says nothing to win your favor. he simply grumbles under his breath about being filthy and scurries off to the showers, already stripping his shirt off on his way there.

with him gone, ellie turns to you with a smirk. "glad to see that i'm not the only one who's denied touching your cat at first."

"of course not." you say. "nobody gets to touch her after the tough day she's had."

"that's fair." ellie agrees with a light laugh. after a moment, she says, "anyway. i was going to ask if you're okay with me showering and changing here instead of waiting until we're back home. that way, once we get back, you can have the shower all to yourself while i prepare you a place to sleep."

you nod, "yeah, of course. do whatever works best for you, ellie, i'm not picky."

"okay." she replies, seeming grateful for your flexibility. she glances over her shoulder toward where the locker rooms are. "okay, yeah. you wait on the bench over here, i'll come out and get you when i'm done."

she gestures toward a wooden bench. it's rather ragged and positioned in the very center of the chaos, but you nod regardless. ellie is offering you a place to stay for an undecided amount of time. refusing her orders would be incredibly rude at this point. so, instead, you nod and walk over to the bench whilst she walks over to the women's locker room.

you cross your legs, allowing amber to sleep in your lap as you wait. you can hear the low hum of people talking from deeper within the building ⎯ likely where the offices and more professional rooms are located ⎯ along with the gentle flow of water from the showers down the hall. people are laughing loudly within the locker rooms, the sound of boots and hats and clothes hitting the floor easy to pinpoint.

you allow your eyes to examine the space around you. the floor is concrete, stained with random spills and dirt. hoses and ladders line the brick walls, hung up as high as they can go. then, on the ceiling, large industrial lights sway gently back and forth. the showers are down the hallway, the men and women's locker rooms on either side of the hall.

suddenly, a loud rumble is heard as the huge garage door is lifted up via pulley. your head snaps toward the sound, watching as a bright red truck pulls into the space.

another wave of firemen bustle into the building once a truck shows up and they're able to pile out of it. they rush in different directions, splitting up in groups of those wishing to change and clean and those who wish to go home as soon as possible.

you avert your eyes down to look at amber as the people walk around you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. though, that's rather inevitable as you stick out like a sore thumb. everyone else is in their uniforms while you're in normal clothes, ash and dirt on your skin with a bloodied bandage wrapped around your forearm that you're trying your hardest to ignore.

and, unfortunately, amber draws quite a bit of attention as you hear a few people murmur and coo in awe of the sleeping cat. you tell yourself to ignore it, uncomfortable with the attention.

"hey," someone says. you look up to see a man standing in front of you with two of his friends on either side of him. he's covered in dirt, the stench of fire filling your nose as he nears you. "cute cat."

"thanks." you say shortly, narrowing your eyes at him defensively.

"oh c'mon, i'm not gonna bite." he says with a laugh. you only deepen your glare at this, already able to know what type of guy you're dealing with here. "what's your name, little lady? come here alone? y'know, i could take ya home if ya need a warm bed for the night. we could share."

he takes a step closer, his knees knocking with your crossed ones. he hunches a bit to reach his hand toward amber. you instantly slap it away, not thinking before using your injured arm. you wince a bit, but fight not to show the pain it causes you. he yanks his hand back as though he'd been burned.

"fuck off." you snap. "at least have the decency to ask before touching her."

"watch it." he sneers. "i've been out saving people all day. i don't need some ungrateful bitch to tell me what i can and can't do."

you roll your eyes. "clearly you do, seeing as you can't tell for yourself what's acceptable."

"how dare you!" he gapes.

his friends both step closer, the three of them crowding you. your arm aches at your side from having used it so carelessly to slap him away. you don't falter, though, knowing that's exactly what they want you to do. instead, you hold your ground and scowl up at him, holding the man's gaze without blinking.

"it's common fucking etiquette to not touch someone without asking." you tell him.

"i didn't touch you, dumbass." he says, his voice growing louder with each word. a few people are beginning to turn toward the commotion, nosily wondering what's going on. "i touched your cat. big fucking difference, there."

"the principle still stands." you point out, keeping your expression neutral and your voice perfectly level ⎯ which only serves to make him more irritated. "you're supposed to ask before reaching your grimy ass hands toward me."

"fuck you!" he shouts, now gaining the attention of everyone around you. "i already fucking told you⎯"

"what the hell is going on here?"

all four of you turn to see ellie standing with her arms crossed. her jacket is off, a thin black tank top covering her top half while her baggy uniform pants cover her lower half. her hair is wet, chin dripping water droplets to the cement floor.

at the sight of her, the two friends seem to no longer be interested in the conversation as they suddenly disappear from the scene. the man in front of you frowns, taking a step away from you though his chest continues to rise and fall with angered breaths.

"answer me, smith." she demands, voice laced with venom. "i asked what the hell is going on here and i don't like being ignored by lower ranks."

"i asked to pet her cat and she⎯"

"no he didn't." you interrupt, the entire left side of your body engulfed in pain after having hit the guy's hand. and you didn't even hit him that hard, damn. "he reached out to touch her without asking. not to mention his horrible flirting."

ellie listens to you intently before casting her gaze over to the man, smith. "so you lied to me?"

"what? n-no! i just⎯" he stammers, eyes flicking between you and ellie, frantic for his coworker to understand. "why are you taking her side over mine, williams? we've worked together for⎯ what? two years?"

"yeah, and you're renown for being a complete asshole." she scoffs.

"but she⎯"

"she is a civilian. and it's our job to protect and respect them, is it not?" she points out, raising her brows as he nods, ashamed. "that includes not cursing at them, calling them bitches, or touching them without permission."

"it wasn't her!" he exclaims. "it was just the damned cat!"

"don't touch her fucking cat, man." calls out the guy who ellie had talked to earlier. the one she seemed to actually enjoy being around. he appears to have just gotten out of the shower, naught but a towel around his waist to substitute as clothing.

"gee, i had no idea." smith grounds out through clenched teeth, his fists balled at his sides. "i can fucking see that now. thanks."

"anytime, buddy." the other man says with a wink before disappearing back into the locker room.

ellie continues to stand behind smith her her arms crossed, her thin tank top showing off every muscle in her torso. you have to force yourself not to stare, distracting yourself by petting amber's back delicately.

"apologize." ellie demands.

"what? me?" he asks, confused. "but⎯"

"i'm not fucking asking, smith." she threatens. "apologize to the pretty lady or i tell miller about this whole thing and you lose your damn job."

apparently, the mention of miller seems to snap smith into obedience as he quickly nods his head and turns to you with a scowl. his fists continue to shake at his sides, his anger balled between his fingers there.

"i'm. sorry." he grunts.

you should accept it, you know you should. but you were never good at doing what you're supposed to. so, instead, you tilt your head innocently and ask, "sorry for what exactly?"

he appears on the edge of insanity as he clenches his jaw and rushes out a quick explanation. "i'm sorry for trying to touch your cat."

"without..." you trail off, allowing him to follow.

"without asking." he finishes.

you smile victoriously, nodding to ellie as to allow her to dismiss him. she obliges, turning to him and giving him one last lecture on respect and obedience before allowing him to make the walk of shame back to the locker room full of men who just heard that entire encounter.

when he turns the corner, ellie walks up to you with a playful grin. "damn, you surely stood your ground there."

"of course i did." you agree. "not just anyone can touch my cat."

she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at you fondly. "c'mon, lets get out of here. the shower was freezing anyway. all these assholes stole the hot water before i even had a chance."

"okay." you smile, shifting amber in your arms before standing from the bench.

the two of you walk out of the fire station and into the parking lot. the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the parked cars. you watch ellie as she pulls her keys from her pocket and unlocks her vehicle. the moonlight illuminates her skin with a soft hue, her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.

you reach the car and enter the passenger's seat, holding amber in your lap as ellie puts the key into the ignition the car rumbles into motion. she backs out of the parking space and heads down the road, one hand on the wheel as the other is lazily draped over the center console between the two of you.

you watch through the window as the city passes you by in a blur, cars and shops reflect the moon's glow, everything cast under its resplendent coloring. you turn to ellie, deciding to fill the air with conversation.

"so you're a high rank firefighter?" you ask. "sure looked like those guys respected the fuck out of you."

she chuckles, "i'm ranked high, yes. but they only listen to me because the boss will always take my side over any of theirs and they knows that."

"miller?" you question, recalling the name she'd spoken.

"yeah. joel miller." she confirms. "he's an intimidating man and you'd have to be a fool not to be scared of him."

"are you? scared of him, i mean."

"i was." she says. "but after a few years of working under him and getting to know him as a person rather than just his position of authority, i feel i know him too well to be scared of him."

you hum, "that sounds nice, though. you have power over everyone else."

"yeah. sometimes i wish they'd just respect me without joel's reputation looming over my every move." she confesses with a sigh, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel lightly. "most of my coworkers would rather die than respect a woman, though, so i'm a bit out of luck there."

"well, fuck them." you say. "if they can't see your worth outside of your relationship with miller, their opinions don't mean shit."

her eyebrows shoot up at this, shocked by your sudden ferocity. once the initial shock dwindled, though, she laughs. a full-chested laugh that fills the car. your heart clenches at the sound, musical and luminary in its significance.

"yeah." she says between laughter. "yeah, fuck them."

you laugh along with her, the conversation falling into an easy rhythm. you get to know ellie better and she gets to know you, the both of you simultaneously coming to the decision that it'd be best to get the small talk out of the way before you live together for an undetermined amount of time.

amber remains curled up in your lap, her fur still covered in ash. not like you're much better yourself, though, as your hair is coated in soot and your skin has a thick layer of filth atop it.

when ellie pulls into her driveway, you're shocked to see the house. it's a small cottage-styled building, made of cobblestone and white shudders. the sidewalk is framed with bushes and flowers that have clearly been tended to by their owner. if you were completely honest, you'd expected ellie to live in some sort of industrial building, hardened and dark like her personality.

she shuts off the car and you both exit through your respective sides of the vehicle, amber jostling awake in your hold. ellie unlocks the front door before allowing you entry, the lock clicking as she turns the handle.

you walk inside, the space small but cozy. one bedroom, one bathroom, an open layout for the kitchen and living room. the flooring is wood, antique carpets laid out over the larger spaces. plaid blankets are draped over chairs and couches, available to the user.

"this is cute," you say, looking around, "didn't take you for a homey decor type."

she chuckles, shutting and locking the front door behind herself. "well i've gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

you laugh, placing amber on the floor to allow her time to roam and stretch her legs. in an instant, she's disappeared and won't be found for the next few hours. ellie leads you to the bathroom, allowing you time to clean off.

the bathroom is small as well, a tiny sink surrounded by a messy counter beside the toilet and tiny shower. if you're being completely honest, you love the house. it's so small and yet so comfy and warm. the disheveled nature to the house makes it feel more like a home, lived in and used. you love it. ellie, on the other hand, has been subtly tidying up as you guys walk through the space. while you examine the shower, she stacks up the messily placed contents of the countertop. when you turn back around to face her, she instantly stops, quick to cover up what she'd been doing. you find it oddly endearing.

"well," she murmurs, "i'll leave you to it."

with that and nothing more, she exits the bathroom. she'd already showed you how to use the shower and where to find towels so you're well prepared to wash off. but, as you strip your clothes off, a fiery pain shoots down your arm and up your side. you wince, looking down at the bandaged wound. it's bleeding through the material, your fingers beginning to feel numb from how tight it's wrapped.

you ignore it and step into the shower, trying to wash off without any thought for the searing pain in your limb. you wash your hair and scrub your body with your uninjured arm, the scent of ellie filling the air. her shampoo and body wash now coats you, a certain intimacy to the domestic act of sharing bathroom supplies. for some reason, the flutter in your heart is harder to ignore than the physical agony in your forearm.

you finish showering and wrap yourself in the towel ellie had set out for you. water drips onto the tile flooring, creating a puddle around you. you hug the towel closer to your body, not wanting to make a mess in ellie's home. but your arm suddenly aches at the way you tighten your grip.

with a groan, you decide to unwrap the wound and check on how it's doing. seeing as ellie is a firefighter, you're sure she's got some bandages under the sink. you undo it, instantly grimacing at the sight of the gore. you wince as cold air touches the open wound.

"fuck," you mutter, taking in the lack of care the paramedic put into helping you. there's no way you should have walked off without stitches or some kind of cleaning.

you crouch down to the cabinet under the sink and begin rummaging through its contents. you feel horrible for going through ellie's belongings in such a way, but you assure yourself it's for a good reason. you eventually find a first-aid kit and you crack it open.

unfortunately, you have no experience with medical care. half the things in the kit are foreign to you, random rolls of gauze and unlabeled ointments. you frown, the pain in your arm only growing as more time passes. eventually, you decide to just bite the bullet and ask ellie for assistance. you stand from the floor and close her cabinet before calling out to her.

"ellie! can you come in here for a sec?" you shout, sitting down on the closed toilet seat with the first aid kit in your lap. within seconds, she's opening the door, now changed into a pair of shorts and a random band tee.

"hey, what's—" her words instantly cut off when her gaze lands on your bloody arm, the wound no longer wrapped and now reopened. "holy shit, what are you doing?"

she rushes over to you, her voice laced with concern and desperation to help you. your eyes sting at the sound, never having heard someone so worried about you. you blink it away, looking down as you struggle to explain yourself. "the paramedic didn't wrap it well and— it, uh, hurt really fucking bad, and—"

"shh, shh," she walks over to you with soothing tones and gentle hands, "you're okay, let me see."

you hold your arm out to her, allowing her to examine it. she holds your wrist delicately in her hand, turning your arm over to look at the wound. she sucks in a breath at the sight. you frown, "is it that bad?"

"no, just," she sighs, "don't worry about it, okay? i'll fix it as best i can."

she crouches in front of you, taking a few things from the first aid kit. you watch as she picks out a specific ointment, her knowing exactly what to grab despite them not having labels. she then grabs a roll of gauze and a bottle of something, but the label is faced away from you. she sets the ointment and gauze aside, uncapping the bottle.

"this is gonna hurt." she warns you as she grabs a rag from the disarrayed countertop and pours a bit of the liquid onto the fabric. when she places the bottle aside you manage to read the name of it. hydrogen peroxide. she notices your wary gaze and gives you a reassuring smile. "it's a disinfectant, it'll clean the wound to prevent any infections."

you nod, sighing through your nose as you hold your forearm out to her. she watches you with furrowed brows as she places the rag over the open wound. you instantly stiffen, wincing through the pain. your jaw clenches as the liquid seeps into open flesh. you squeeze your eyes shut, "fuck that hurts." you pant.

"i know, i know," she whispers, gentility laced between the threads of her tone. "it's okay, you'll feel better soon, just— just breathe,"

you try to do was she instructs, but your breath comes out choppy and uneven. you open your eyes to see her staring up at you with pursed lips and a knitted brow. the sheer worry in her gaze adds weight to the air that suffocates you. it presses down on your chest and further constricts your lungs, which only serves to deepen her worry.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the wall behind ellie's head. you stare at it intently, though you remain unable to shake the queasy feeling that comes with knowing ellie's eyes are on your face, tracing every feature that adorns it.

finally, she removes the rag from your arm and you're flooded with the relief of no longer being burned from the inside out. she sets the cloth aside and grabs the ointment, squeezing a small dot of it onto her forefingers.

"will this hurt too?" you ask tentatively.

she shakes her head, "no, this will soothe the pain."

"okay." you nod. "i'm far more excited for this part then."

"i don't blame you," she says with a light laugh.

she then leans forward holding you arm with an indescribably delicacy. you find yourself yearning to lean into her touch, wanting to collapse in her arms. but, somehow, you find the strength to hold back and remain sitting upright on the toilet seat. she runs her fingers down the soft part of your forearm, coating you torn skin in an off-white salve. the cool temperature instantly soothes the pain and you let out a soft sigh at the feel of it.

"oh yeah, this is so much better," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your mouth.

she looks up at you through her lashes, head remaining downcast as she carefully adds more ointment. "how'd this happen anyway? you just took the wrap off?"

"the paramedic wrapped it too tight." you explain. "my fingers were going numb and i could feel my heartbeat in my forearm. he didn't add any of this fancy shit you're adding either."

she chuckles, "ointment and disinfectant, you mean? it's hardly fancy. i'd have thought a paramedic would be smart enough to know that." her teeth grit slightly as she clenches her jaw around the mention of the incompetent medic who handled you earlier. she shakes her head, "i should've stayed with you and made sure he'd done his job right."

"that's not you obligation, ellie." you remind her. "and look. you're helping me now far better than any medic would have. i almost prefer it this way."

"oh really?" she asks, unconvinced. "you prefer to have some strange woman attempt to fix you up in her messy bathroom than a licensed and highly qualified paramedic in an ambulance?"

you shrug, "well he apparently wasn't that highly qualified."

"true," she agrees with a laugh.

she finishes coating on the ointment and twists the cap back onto it before setting it on the countertop beside the discarded rag and peroxide. she grabs the roll of gauze and begins to unravel it.

you watch her with lidded eyes, the events of today beginning to catch up to you. it's hard to believe you'd woken up this morning thinking it'd be a normal day. you'd just gotten back from work when you smelt smoke from one of your neighbor's apartments. the though didn't click in your head until you saw flames beginning to crawl into your home. one thing lead to another, and now you're here. in the house of someone who you hadn't known five hours ago.

"still," you murmur as she starts to wrap the gauze, "i prefer you helping me because you actually care about my wellbeing and not just making as much money as possible. you're kind, ellie. i'd be a fool to prefer a medic over you."

she lifts her head to meet your eyes, her movements coming to a sudden halt. her pale green eyes bore into your own, something sensual and momentous passing between the space that separates you. the bathroom is enveloped into a long wave of silence, nothing done nor spoken.

the weight of your situation presses down on you both. ellie, in her baggy shorts and stained band tee, having invited a wounded stranger into her home ; you, in naught but a towel, feeling more at home in ellie's vicinity than you ever did anywhere else.

a tether is tied between you as you feel the weight of the world pull you toward ellie. you lean in, just barely, ready for something you can hardly even process at the time being. she does the same, completely disregarding the gauze and pinning every ounce of her attention to you and the closing gap between you.

your noses brush and a spark ignites deep within you, something in your soul screaming that this is correct. a celestial puzzle clicks into place when your lips meet hers, the stars in the sky and the soil under mother nature screaming with victory as the two of you connect.

she tastes of fire and desperation, you of toothpaste and exhaustion. your wounded arm means nothing to you when you shift forward to wrap them both around ellie's neck and tug her closer. she does, rising to her knees as she places her hands on each of your hips, only a thin white towel separating her hands from your bare skin. she leans into you, allowing her hands to feel and memorize the curves of your poorly covered body.

"wait," she mutters against your mouth, "wait wait wait."

you pull back, staring at her with curiosity. her pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, lips wet. everything in you begs to lean back in, but you force that feeling down and oblige by her wishes to part. "what is it?" you ask.

"just—" she cuts herself off with a sigh, staring into your eyes with naught but adoration behind her irises. "i really like you and, uh," she looks down, blinking harshly as she tries to voice her thoughts without fucking it all up. your heart melts at the sight, remaining patient as she sorts through her jumbled mind. "i want to take my time with you. i don't want this to just be some fling. i respect you more than that."

you continue to stare at her, your eyes doing all the talking when your mouth is out of words to say. after a long moment, you finally say, "that's fine, ellie. we can do whatever you're comfortable with."

her shoulders relax at the sound of her name on your tongue, spoken with such careful delicacy that it sounds like music, like it should be praised and studied for hundreds of years to come. not only that, but she softens at your words as well, eternally grateful for your understanding.

"we can still kiss though," she's quick to add.

you laugh, shaking your head fondly at her rush to make sure that's out of the way. you lean in, still smiling as your lips touch. everything falls into place around you, nothing aside from ellie mattering to you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zombieegirl @elliestunna

He stares at you, eyes narrowed, teeth biting into his cigar. Your brain screaming that you've fucked up.

"I'm not sure I heard that correctly." He huffs out, "repeat it."

You fiddle with your fingers, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes now. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

"I...I asked if..if you would take my virginity...."

He sits back in his chair, his eyes bore into you.

(Base game version) Sims In Bloom: A Sims 4 Legacy Challenge ☆ﾟ*･｡*･

I won’t be play testing this one, so please let me know if you come across any issues!

( Original version )

General rules

For each generation complete the designated aspiration, career and skills.

Asterisk * marked points are optional, you can choose to complete these to make the challenge more difficult.

There are two colours associated with every generation. Use these for genetics (berry/vanilla), or just clothes and house decor if you wish.

Start each new generation with a small house/apartment and 1000 simoleons. If you want to make the challenge harder, you can start each generation on an empty lot with 0 simoleons (rags to riches style!)

Play on any lifespan you wish (short is not recommended).

If you decide to play this challenge @ me or use the tag #sib or #SimsInBloom if you want me to see!

Gen 1 - Daisy (white, yellow)

Gardening has always been your passion. Owning a large, healthy garden is all you’ve ever wanted in life, even if your nails constantly have soil under them and you have so many broken pots you’ve lost count. Your happy place is sitting in the shade of the fruit trees that you grew yourself from tiny saplings. You wonder what your family will grow to do, and hope that they will flourish just as beautifully as your garden has. This is the start of your family legacy!

Aspiration: Freelance botanist

Traits: Cheerful, Clumsy, Loves the outdoors

Career: Self-employed/None

Skills: Gardening, fishing, fitness

Earn money by selling the produce you’ve grown/collected yourself

Grow a cowplant and keep it alive for as long as you live (if it dies, immediately plant a new one)

Grow 5 perfect plants

Marry a sim who also has the ‘loves the outdoors’ trait

Grow a death flower

Keep reading

Can't stop thinking about Captain John Price, your good friend's boyfriend, listening to you talk about how you are considering getting a guard dog, and he whole-heartedly agrees with you. John likes you, you're a fantastic friend to his dove and you're sweet, and sweet girls do need protection. So he nods along and tells you he'll look into getting you one, a big one to protect you.

Two weeks later, you're invited to your friend's house, her telling you days before that John might have gotten you a dog, so to prepare! She wasn't sure, he just hinted at it on the phone.

Tell me why, after knocking at your bestie's door, she opens kinda pale and awkward, maybe even a little bit annoyed, inviting you in. Instead of a proper, legit, literal dog, John introduces you to Simon Riley, who stands there awkwardly but tall and intimidating while your friend apologizes, calling her boyfriend an idiot. But John isn't an idiot. For a while now, he thought you'd be perfect for his Lt., this just a funny way to introduce you both. And the only thing that took Simon to agree (after a sharp yet bored no when firstly asked) was to send him a picture of you at a bar, smiling.

Extra:

"So... you come with a leash?" You joke with the tall man, whose eyes wrinkle in amusement. He has been more on the silent side although very atentive, his intense brown eyes on you all evening. Now that you were both alone at the balcony, abandoned by the two love-birds, you tried to ease the tension.

"I don't do leashes but I can pull a spiky collar." He smiles as you giggle. Hell, he felt relief that you did. Even happiness...

"Yeah, it would fit you."

"Yeah?" His voice was low and buttery. "What about a tag with your name on it?" He leans down a little, just enough in your personal bubble, and your stomach flipped. You felt your cheeks warm.

"Can it be heart shaped?" You stare prettily at him and all he can do is to snort to ease the tension.

"However you want it." His reply was quick, eager.

"Deal. But first take me on a proper date."

"Perfect." He smirks.

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

There was this tiktok trend where kids and their mums would pull a prank on their dads by telling their mums to shut up...141 with a teenage son who tries it?

Anon, I am very aware of this prank. If mom is in on it, I consider it all in good fun, but omg, these guys would be absolutely stressed if they heard their teenage son tell mom to "shut up." Heads would absolutely roll over that!

Price is certainly old enough to have a teenage son on the older side. I would even say the same for Ghost. Gaz is old enough for a younger teenage son. With Soap's age...that's stretching it. BUT SUSPEND DISBELIEF Y'ALL. I'm aging Gaz and Soap up a bit for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in two double drabbles and two triple drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader (w/ children)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, pranks, domestic, dad!141, brief suggestive themes, marriage

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Ugh. Shut up, Mum.”

There is a brief pause between mum and when the television remote hurtles across the room. Your son doesn’t duck in time, the hard plastic hitting his shoulder before bouncing onto the kitchen island with a loud clack.

Before your son turns, Kyle’s baseball cap with the Union Jack, soars through the air like a frisbee. This one your son manages to avoid, but it’s quickly followed by a slipper. It flies past his head, and you catch it out of the air before it makes contact with the front of the microwave.

You and your eldest son turn in Kyle’s direction as he manifests in the kitchen entryway, the other slipper in hand, poised to launch it at the first sign of any movement.

“Wanna repeat yourself, mate?” Kyle appears calm and poised, but you notice the subtle tension in his jaw.

“It was a joke, Dad! Promise!”

Kyle’s arm holding the slipper starts to rise.

“Kyle,” you say. His gaze flicks to you. “Just a joke. No harm. I was in on it.”

His shoulders immediately sag. Kyle shakes his head. Rolls his eyes. Heading for the fridge, he opens it up, grabbing a can of his favorite beer.

Kyle sets the beer down on the island, pointing the slipper at you and then his son. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just an exasperated huff.

Kyle snatches up the television remote and sticks it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Keeping hold of the shoe in one hand, and his beer in the other, he gives the two of you his back, heading into the living room.

“No one bother me until the game is over,” he says over his shoulder. “And someone bring me my bloody slipper!”

John Price

"Fucking hell, Mum. Shut it."

John is up and out of his seat so fast you hardly see him move. He strides over to his son, yanking him off the stool by the scruff of his shirt.

"John! It's a prank!" you say quickly, reaching for his arm.

The boy is dangling in the air, toes just shy of touching the ground. "A prank?" asks John skeptically.

"Mum is in on it. Promise."

John sighs heavily and slowly lowers his son to the ground. The moment his feet touch ground, he tries to step away, but John holds firm, keeping his eldest child immobile. He leans forward a bit. Lowers his voice.

"Prank or no, you never talk to your mother, your sisters, or any woman in that manner again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy." John releases his son. "The lawn needs trimmed."

"Yes, sir."

Your son scurries away. It isn't until the door to the garage opens and shuts that John moves toward you. His arm drapes over your waist, hand landing firmly on your ass, squeezing hard.

"You're coming with me."

"To do what?"

He presses his lips to your ear. "For a different sort of punishment."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"You’re off your head, lad.”

With Johnny’s cold tone comes a tension to your son’s shoulders. He becomes rigid, sliding down into his chair like he can escape from his father by cowering underneath the table. Johnny comes around the corner, a bit of sweat on his brow. He's been building furniture all day for the nursery.

"Want to repeat that for me?" asks Johnny.

Your son’s voice cracks. "It was just a prank, Dad."

"It was what?" Johnny strides forward.

"It's a prank. I'm in on it. Promise," you say, attempting to soothe Johnny’s anger.

Johnny crosses his arms over your chest. "Is it?" He glances between the two of you and sighs, muttering, “Am pure done in.”

He disappears down the hall, returning with a stack of instructional manuals, dropping them into his son’s lap. "You're building furniture."

"But I—"

“You right scunner. C’mon.” Johnny yanks his son out of the chair, the stack of instructional manuals goes flying. Your son reaches for them all, desperately clasping them against his chest.

“Johnny," you call out, walking around the counter to intervene.

He glances over his shoulder, frown gown, sly smirk on his face. “Deal with you later."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Oi, Mum. Shut it.”

Your son is a wonderful actor. You’ll give him that. Even you almost believe him. Not that he would—he’d never—but his delivery reminds you of a completely pissed football fan ready to throw a punch at a member of the rival team.

He should consider theater.

Simon, your husband, is watching a rugby match in the living room. The television is on but at a low volume.

Within seconds of the words leaving your son’s mouth, Simon appears like a phantom guardian in the entryway. In one he holds the remote like a weapon. The other arm cradles his infant daughter. She looks like a small bean. Slightly curved as she snuggles closer against Simon’s chest as she sleeps.

He's not looking at you. He's staring at his son, gaze intense and full of fire.

You’ve seen that look before.

Mission abort.

"He's joking, Simon. It's just a prank,” you soothe, knowing you need to get ahead of this.

Not that Simon would hurt you or his son, but he rarely takes any shit. This prank was a gamble, and you’re completely regretting it.

"Don't mean it, Dad."

Simon just stares for a long minute. His daughter squirms and that is when he glances down, severing the connection. Observing her must change something in him, because his gaze returns to the two of you, and there is a calmness now.

Sighing heavily, Simon shakes his head, completely exasperated. The eye roll is so apparent it’s like a shout.

In the moment he was pissed—livid. But now he’s over it, more annoyed and unamused than actually mad.

Turning on his heel, daughter still cradled in one arm, Simon returns to his recliner, settling back into the soft cushions to finish watching his rugby match.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm

@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @spookyscaryspoon @enarien

Thank you Cari Roccaro for posting this gem

Alyssa Naeher secures USA the gold

Ellie asking you if it tastes good while you eat her out!☝🤓

Her pajama shirt is pushed up, over her tits. Your hand reaches up and gropes the cold flesh. Smiling against her clit, you look up, meeting her eyes. Look at that...Her pretty green eyes squinting and staring down at your face, her lips pouting, nose scrunched, and your mouth filled with her essence. Its dribbling down your chin with mixed in drool. "Oh fuck yeah..." She groans, grinding up into your tongue. You moan against her cunt. "Oh god" she sighs, reaching down to grab your hair and shove your face further into her pussy. "Yeah- fucking take it." She huffs, grinning down at you. "Tastes good? Ugh fuck" she moans, bucking her hips up. "Ah- I'm gonna cum" she whines, grinding against your tongue till her back arches and you feel the pearly cum drool into your mouth. You crawl back up her body, smiling so fucking prideful.

Inked- Ellie Williams

❥Pairing: Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: Ellie gets a stomach tattoo and then fucks you in a public washroom

❥CW: 18+ smut, oral sex (reader receiving), semi-public sex. 1.3k words

❥a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! I lowkey hate this and might edit later but here's the long awaited fic that I took way too long to post lol. Sorry if the formatting is weird- i'm posting from my phone. Hope u enjoy!

The tattoo parlour was a blend of buzzing needles and low conversations, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and ink. You walked in with Ellie, walking close behind her as you looked around. You had been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and adventures, and today was about to add another chapter.

Ellie was finally getting the stomach tattoo she'd talked about for months, and you were there for moral support, as always. The artist greeted you with a nod, already prepping his station.

Ellie seemed calm, but you could sense the underlying nerves. As she lay back in the chair, your hands instinctively reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

Ellie lifted up her shirt and pulled the waistband of her jeans down slightly, exposing the canvas of her skin. Your eyes trailed over her exposed skin, lingering on the slight v-line that disappeared beneath her pants. You felt a rush of warmth to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping Ellie didn't notice.

The session began, the buzz of the needle filling the room. You watched as the artist skillfully worked on Ellie’s skin, the blank ink slowly forming intricate patterns. You tried to focus on the tatto, but your eyes kept drifting back to Ellie's exposed skin, the taut muscles of her abdomen, the soft curve of her hips.

Ellie winced occasionally, her grip on your hand tightening. Each time you offered a reassuring smile, but inside you were battling your own desires. The way her body reacted to the pain, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath as her teeth worried her bottom lip–it was all too much.

You found your mind wandering, imagining what it would be like to feel Ellie's hands on you, her mouth exploring your body. The thought of her pinning you down, her fingers teasingly tracing your skin, sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes traced the V-line of her abdomen once more, and you could almost feel her pressed against you, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered your name.

Your body reacted to the fantasy, heat pooling between your legs as you shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking back to Ellie's face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in shallow pants as the needle continued its work. You wondered if she could feel your gaze, if she could sense the effect she had on you.

The thought of Ellie's hands gripping your hips, her body pressed against yours, her mouth claiming yours in a heated kiss-it was enough to make you ache with need. You clenched your thighs together, trying to focus on anything else, but the image of Ellie fucking you, her voice husky with desire, refused to leave your mind.

Ellie attempted conversation with you, but you were too distracted, not hearing her words as your focus zeroed in on her skin. Her grip on your hand loosened, and her fingers splayed against your upper thigh, squeezing slightly to grab your attention.

Your eyes meet hers, heat flooding your face at the contact. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Did she notice you staring? “I- Yes. I'm fine,” you stuttered out, sneaking another glance at her v-line before meeting her eyes again. Something in her gaze shifted and–oh god, you had to get out of there. The way she was looking at you through her lashes had your aching cunt soaking your panties. “I have to use the washroom.”

You got up abruptly, not waiting for a reply from Ellie as you beelined to the washroom towards the back of the parlour. Once inside, you leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The mirror reflected your wide eyed, lust fueled expression, your thoughts racing with the memory of Ellie's exposed skin.

Minutes passed, and you heard a light knock on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?” Ellie's voice was soft but laced with concern.

“Yeah, just…give me a minute,” you called back, trying to steady your voice.

Ellie's hesitation was palpable, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. Shit. You forgot to lock the door.

"I was worried about you," she said, her eyes scanning your face. "You seemed... off."

You bit your lip, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, really."

Ellie stepped closer, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at me," she murmured, her voice low. "And it's okay. You don't have to hide it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. "Ellie, I-"

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but demanding against yours. You melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shirt as you pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken desire finally breaking free.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Her touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. She pushed you against the wall, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking and biting gently.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"Ellie," you breathed out, your voice heavy with need. She pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked at you.

"Do you want this?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Yes," you replied without hesitation. "I want you."

Ellie smirked, her hands moving to unbutton your jeans. She slipped her hand inside, her fingers brushing against your soaked panties. "You're so wet," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

You gasped as her fingers slid inside your panties, teasing your entrance.

"Ellie, please," you begged, your hips bucking against her hand.

She slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moaned loudly, your back arching against the wall. Ellie's thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as she fucked you with her fingers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building inside you. "Ellie, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her words pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering as you came around her fingers.

Ellie didn't stop, continuing to finger you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally came down, she pulled her hand away, bringing her fingers to her lips and licking them clean. "You taste so good," she said, her voice filled with desire.

Before you could respond, Ellie dropped to her knees, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled your jeans and panties down. She kissed the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to tease your skin. "Ellie," you moaned, your hands gripping her hair.

She licked a long stripe up your slit, her tongue swirling around your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against her mouth. Ellie held you firmly in place, her tongue delving into your core, tasting you. She alternated between licking and sucking, her tongue expertly working you towards another orgasm.

Your legs trembled, your breaths coming in short gasps as the pleasure built inside you once more. "Ellie, I'm gonna come again," you panted. She hummed against your clit, the vibration sending you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Ellie continued to lick you, her tongue gentle now, helping you come down from your high.

When you finally caught your breath, Ellie stood up, her lips glistening with your arousal. She kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. "That was incredible," she whispered against your lips.

You smiled, your body still tingling with pleasure. "Yes, it was," you agreed. "But what about you?"

Ellie grinned, her hands moving to unbutton her own jeans. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

tell me not, ellabs and appledash are the same

to be honest i think if u put ellie in a little glass jar with some sticks and grass she would be angry and try to get out but if you put dina in there she'd make it a home and that is why ellie is not a nice person

LETS START PRIDE MONTH WITH THESE TWO LOSERS!!!!!!!

art creds: caspervi

omg stella telling her brothers she’s starting an only fans as a prank!! they would kill her

౨ৎ it’s just a prank!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff, humor. w; Stella being a little goofy and her brothers are being protective. wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg nonnie you are a genius, I had so much fun writing this !!! So sorry it took so long for me to get out. I hope you guys enjoy it !!! )

°. — ( in no way am I meaning to offend anyone who does do only fans or anything like that, by writing Stella’s brothers not being supportive of her doing only fans. I hope that makes sense )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

Stella was laying in her bed ⸺ well technically the guest bed in the guest room in her brother's jack and Luke's apartment. She was having her annual visit, and it was the time of day where her brothers were both napping, and she wasn't in the mood to go out by herself. She was honestly feeling quite bored not having her brothers around to annoy, that's why she was aimlessly scrolling through TikTok. But her boredom was quickly healed when she watched the latest TikTok lily sent her, a mischievous smile forming on her lips as her mind already formed a plan. 

Stella swiftly slipped out of bed and grabbed her hoodie and put it over her tank top before leaving the room. She heard the faint sound of her brother's voice coming from the kitchen, she could tell that they just woke up from their tone. Both of her brother's heads turned to her as she walked into the kitchen, Luke giving her a tired smile as Jack just groaned and rested his head on the cold island counter they were sitting at. “Can you grab us the milk?” Jack groaned tiredly and Stella rolled her eyes but got the milk for them, nonetheless, setting the carton next to the box of cereal the two were about to destroy. 

Stella pulled out a box of fruit snacks and set them on the counter, only using that as a distraction so she could prop up her phone to film them without them seeing it. She started the video and gave the camera a wink before she turned around and faced her brothers who were shoveling cereal into their mouths. Stella leaned back against the counter and asked, “Can one of you drive me too best buy?” 

 “Sure! What do you need at best buy?” Luke was quick to agree, wanting to spend more time with his little sister, Jack looked at Stella curious on what she needed at best buy, he was about to open his mouth to offer to give her his card, but she was already talking. “Oh! I need to get a ring light, i left mine at home.” 

“Why do you need a ring light?” Jack askes with a confused frown. Stella had to stop her lips from curling up into a smile at the genuine confusion, oh her poor brothers have no idea what they're getting into. Stella gave her brothers a smile and tries her best to sound as calm as she could as she speaks “Oh i need one to film my new only fans video and i left mine at home.”  

Stella bit her lip and turned to face the counter, pretending to do things, knowing that she would not be able to face her brothers without bursting out into laughter. The camera perfectly got both of her brothers' reactions. Luke choked on his cereal in shock and started coughing. Jack dropped his spoon in his bowl as his body went still in shock as he looked at the back of his little sister's head. 

“What did you just say?” Jack asked his sister, hoping that he and Luke heard wrong. There was no way she was serious ⸺ she couldn't be. Stella let out a quiet breath and tried to collect herself before turning around to face her brothers. She turned back around to face her brothers, holding everything in so she wouldn't laugh, she gives them a smile pretending to be unbothered “I need to get a ring light so i can film my on⸺” 

“We heard you!” Luke quickly cut Stella off after catching his breath from his fit of coughs, he shook his head in disgust he did not want to hear his sister repeat it. Jack looks at his sister in fear and shakes his head no, repeatedly muttering no under his breath. Poor boy was stressed. “Stella, you can't be serious! You can't have only fans” Jack nearly shouted as he placed both of his hands on the island counter. 

“And you sure as hell can't film your . . . your videos in our guest bedroom” Luke scoffs his face twisted in disgust, he did not need to know this about his sister, and he did not need to think of what she could be doing in their guest bedroom. “Gross” Jack whined in disgust at his younger brother's words. 

“Why not I really need the money” Stella did her best to frown, giving her brothers her puppy eyes that she knew always worked in her favor, but this time it was different, they were not going to fall for it. Jack's eyes nearly pop out of his sockets at his sister's revelation, she was doing this because she needed money? He quickly reached into his pocket for his wallet while Luke questioned her in shock “Money? Your doing this for money?” 

“Obviously” stella giggled with a shrug of her shoulder, gently biting her lip to hold in her laughter when she sees Luke hold his head in his hands and jack hold out his wallet for her “Here take my wallet, buy whatever you want as long as you delete your account.” 

“Awee you're going to buy my ring light for me?” Stella playfully cooed as she reached for the wallet, very much enjoying messing with her brothers. Luke's eyes widen and he quickly snatches Jack's wallet before she could grab it, over his dead body. Luke scoffs at the audacity “Neither of us are going to sponsor your bad decisions.” 

“Oh, trust me i don't need any more sponsors” stella stated as she tried her best to sound innocent and oblivious. Luke's mouth dropped in shock and Stella was sure she was going to see steam coming out of Jack's ears any second now. Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket with a mission “Thats it I'm calling Quinn, he can talk some sense into your delusional ass self.” 

Stella’s eyes widen and she quickly grabs jacks' phone out of his hands before he could get the chance to call their eldest brother, she also wanted to pull this prank on Quinn when she comes to visit, and she wasn't going to have them ruin that even though she wasn't really looking forward to it. Stella quickly shouted when she noticed the two heated stares from her brothers “Wait! Wait! It's just a prank!” 

Neither of her brothers believed her until she broke out into a fit of giggles and turned around to grab her phone, lifting it up and showing them that they were being filmed. A loud laugh leaves her lips at the sight of her brother's reaction to her phone. Both of their shoulders sag in relief and Jack drops his head onto the island counter and lets out a loud groan of annoyance, while Luke just crosses his arms and glares at his sister. Yes, he was relieved that it was all fake, but his heart was almost beating out of his chest from the stress she just put him through. 

Stella gives the camera a small smile before stopping it, she slides it into her pocket and clears her throat and gives both of her brothers an awkward smile. She could tell that they both were a little upset from the prank. Stella tries her best to sound enthusiastic as she asks her two now grumpy brothers “Who wants to help me plan out the same prank for quinny!” 

Now that got a smile on both of their lips . . . 

Now Stella was way more nervous to pull the prank on quinn than she was with Jack and Luke. Quinn was different. She knew it was just a prank, but she was still scared to see Quinn’s reaction. She was honestly going to blow the whole prank off, but she was starting to get annoyed by the many texts from an impatient Jack asking her if she's done it yet. Not only was she nervous to do it, but there was also just not a good time for her to do it yet. 

She has been busy almost every day, going out with her brother almost every day, Elias and Brock joining them. She was having a great time, so she really didn't want to ruin it by pranking her older brother by making him believe she was starting an only fans account. But she said she would, and Stella doesn't go back on her word. Ever.  

Stella quickly glanced at her brother who was focusing on the video game he was playing on the living room tv. They were spending the day inside, neither of them wanting to go out during the hot day. Stella discretely sets up her phone against a pillow next to her, her phone getting a good view of both of the siblings who're sitting next to each other. 

Stella lets out a nervous sigh before quickly starting the video and leans back on the couch, letting her phone get a great view of both of their side profiles. Quinn was leaning forward with his arms on his knees and a controller in his hand. Stella sat Criss cross on the couch and tilted her head to look at quinn as she spoke “Quinn i have to tell you something.” 

“Hmm yeah, what is it?” Quinn quickly glanced back and forth from his sister and the tv a few times before settling his gaze back on the tv. Stella nervously bit her lip for a second, quickly glancing at the camera before looking back at her brother. She spoke calmly “I think I'm going to start an only fans.” 

Quinn physically recoiled in shock at his sister's words, and the both of them were surprised that his neck didn't snap with how fast it turned to her. The controller dropped out of his hand and hit the rug covered floor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not believing the words coming out of his sister's mouth “Excuse me?” 

“I’m thinking of  ⸺ “ 

“Why the fuck are you thinking about that?” Quinn asked in a sharp tone as he fully twisted his body to face her. Stella felt her lips twitch up at how high his tone got; it always did when he was upset. Stella pursed her lips before she could smile and ruin the prank, she continued to speak calmly “A lot of people have asked me  ⸺ “ 

“Who the fuck is asking you that?” Quinn questioned stella, his tone angry as he thought of people trying to convince his little sister to start an account, fucking perves his hissed in his mind. No! Quinn was not going to let this happen. She must not be thinking straight, he continued to think. 

“You’d be surprised, apparently I'd make a lot of money!” Stella pretends to be excited at the thought, even giving Quinn a smile. Oh, he's so going to kill me, Stella thought to herself as she watched her brother's concerned expression turn into anger. Quinn shook his head in disbelief, bringing his hand up to rub at his temples as he closed his eyes, a sigh of stress leaving his lips before he opened his eyes and looked back at his sister. 

“Estella, you are 19 years old! You should still be playing with your barbies or somethin!” 

“The minimum age is eighteen . . . I’ve been researching it” Stella hummed as she nodded, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling at the dramatic exhale he let out.

“Oh, is that right” quinn muttered sarcastically under his breath, he didn't know how to approach the situation. He definitely did not agree with the idea of Stella doing that, but he also didn't want her to feel like he was judging her or was disappointed in her . . . but he knew it was a little late for that from his reaction. Quinn let out another sigh before speaking much more calmly “Stella . . . is this really something you want to do?” 

“I think so” she mumbled, starting to feel bad from how stressed he looked. 

“Well, I um . . . all I ask is that you really think about it okay?” Quinn spoke softly as he reached for Stella's hand, softly squeezing it. Yes, he wanted to forbid her from doing it, but he also didn't want to take her choice away from her, she had to make the choice herself, and he didn't want her to feel embarrassed to talk about things with him. He continued to speak as he locked eyes with Stella “This is a big decision, you know. Once things go on the internet, they never come off. Just really think if this is what you want to do.” 

Stella internally awes at Quinn's words, his initial reaction showed that he did not agree and was not happy with her words, but he calmed down and gave her a mature and sweet response. Quinn lets out a surprised “Oh!” when he feels Stella lunges towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder for a hug. Quinn is confused for a second, but he quickly returns the hug. Stella squeezes her eyes shut and speaks loud enough for her phone to pick it up “It's just a prank.” 

“What!?” Quinn exclaims as she pulls back from the hug, a giggle leaving Stella's lips at the confused look Quinn gives her. “It's just a prank quinny” Stella gets out between her loud laughter, her head tilting back against the couch. Quinn let out a heavy sigh, his body still tense even with the confession of it being a prank, he had to make sure “So you're not going to make an only fans?” 

“No, I'm not, don't worry!” Stella continues to giggle, her laughter only getting louder when Quinn lets himself lean back on the couch, his hand resting over his fast-beating heart. Quinn shuts his eyes and lets himself calm down, his body relaxing. “Oh, thank god!” 

“Why would you do that stella! Are you trying to kill me?” Quinn quickly shouts as he sits back up, many questions running through his mind. Who gave her the idea to do this? Why would she do this? And do you think I can guilt trip her into cooking dinner? 

“It was Jack's idea!” Stella was quick to throw her brother under the bus, quickly reaching to grab her phone to pause the video before it got too long. Quinn's eyes widen, and a look of betrayal comes across his face at the fact that she videotaped the whole thing. The last thing the camera gets is a shocked Quinn looking over a giggling Stella's shoulder. 

Stella tilts her head to look at her brother who got really quiet, her eyes widening at the glare he was giving her. She noticed a familiar look of mischief in his eyes, and she quickly got up from the couch and rushed down the hallway to hide in the guestroom, just as she closed the door, she heard the sound of his loud footsteps and the sound of him shouting. 

“Estella!” 

stellahughes has just posted a TikTok!

[caption: do you guys think jacks gonna be mad i blamed him? ]

username1 is Luke okay? I thought he was going to pass out from how hard he was coughing

username2 I- the way she blamed Jack. I can’t 😭

username3 they were stressing omg!

username4 the protective glare Quinn gave Stella when she said people were asking for it 🤭

username5 stella sweetie, are you okay?

Stellahughes no, I’m hiding from Quinn in the closet 🫤

Qhughes Hmm good to know

username5 did I just get Stella Hughes killed 😳

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°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @lovings4turn x )

That's Mine - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You get jealous and don’t like when people take what’s yours (based off of THIS request)

Warnings: jealous reader, suggestive

Word Count: 2.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Let me know what you guys think!

You and Caitlin had been dating for about 6 months now. The two of you met when you were helping your roommate take photos of the team. She was one of the student photographers who would photograph different sports teams on campus. She was in charge of women's volleyball, women's basketball, and track and field. It seemed like a lot but she juggled it well.

You got roped into helping her out for one of the media days for the women's basketball team. It was a Friday morning and you had no excuse to get out of it.

You joined your roommate, Sophie, at Carver-Hawkeye Arena. You were in charge of carrying around gear and getting whatever lens she needed ready. It was honestly pretty simple.

You helped her set up the space before any of the team got there. When you were done, you went to grab coffee for the two of you. On your walk back you bumped into a few of the girls from the team.

You started talking with them as you all walked to where the media day was being held. A few of them had classes with you, and the others got introduced. They were all super chill.

When you returned, you handed Soph her coffee and got to work. You gathered all the props that they had and handed them to the girls whenever they went to switch up a shot.

One of the girls came up to you to introduce herself.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for helping out today. Sophie mentioned you would be helping out today. I'm Caitlin." She says as she extends her hand to shake yours.

"Hi, I know who you are," you say with a little smile and laugh. "You are truly incredible on the court."

She smiles and you swear you see a slight blush creep into her cheeks.

"Thanks." She says. "Well, I better get back, thanks again for helping out."

You thought it was sweet that Caitlin came over to introduce herself. She didn't need an introduction as she was well-known throughout campus as one of our star athletes. But it was nice to know that she now knows who you are.

The rest of the media day goes smoothly. Everyone looks amazing and the photos are the best media day photos you have seen your roommate take - and she has taken quite a few.

At the end of the shoot, you help her clean up when Caitlin comes over again.

"Hey," you say as you start folding up one of the lights.

"Hi," she says and just stands there.

You don't think much of it and continue to tear down. She is playing with her fingertips and seems like she wants to say something.

"How did we look today?" She ends up asking, not getting to her real reason for coming over. You stopped what you were doing to continue the conversation with her.

"The team looked absolutely amazing." You say. "I think one of my favorite shots was of you actually." When you say it, noticing a blush that creeps up into her cheeks.

"Oh ya? Which one?" She asks, trying to regain her confidence.

"The one where you were midair for the dunk." You say with a little smile.

"Oh that one was fire, I think it is one of my favorites as well," she says. It is now or never. She takes a deep breath and mumbles, "Would you maybe want to grab coffee or something sometime?"

At first, you stare at her - your brain trying to process what she is asking. There is no way she is asking you out right now, she has to mean it as friends.

“I would love that,” you say with a sweet smile. You try not to think anything of it but it is hard when a gorgeous all-start basketball star is asking to hang out. The two of you exchange phone numbers and go your separate ways.

Over the next 8 months, the two of you really get to know each other. The two of you became friends and started dating shortly after.

That leads you today. The two of you are with a few girls from the team. It is one of her teammate's birthdays and they wanted to go out to a nice dinner and then to their favorite ice cream spot.

Everyone dressed up nice to go out to dinner.

When you walk into where Caitlin is getting ready - she takes your breath away.

You walk up behind where she is sitting and place your hands on her shoulders, rubbing her arms.

"You look stunning." You say as you look at her through the mirror. She looks at you through the mirror with a smile. She is putting on some light makeup, not that she needs it, that compliments her well.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she says checking you out.

You lean over and kiss the top of her head.

"Are you ready to go?" You ask as you sit on her bed.

"Yep, just finishing up," she says. "Can you come help me put this necklace on?"

You get up and help her. It is a necklace you got her for her birthday. It was a diamond circle that fell beautifully on her chest.

Once the necklace is on, she turns round to face you. She takes in your appearance and takes a deep breath. You don't know how she does it but it brings butterflies to your stomach without even trying. You crumble beneath her gaze.

She leans down and places the lightest kiss on your lips. You lean into her wanting more. She gives in and lets you take the lead. When things get a little too heavy, you break away from her. Your breathing is uneven and your eyes are still closed.

"If we don't go now, we won't make it out the door," you say taking a few steps back from her.

She just gives you a look, knowing you are right.

The two of you head out and meet up with the other girls.

The night is nice, you are all enjoying dinner and each other's company. Following dinner you all head to THE ice cream spot. When you all arrive, there is a line around the corner. The is nothing new and you all head to the back of the line.

As you are waiting in line and talking to one of Caitlin's teammates, something catches your eye.

You glance over at Caitlin who is in conversation with the girl in front of her. At first, you think nothing of it as it didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. You brush it off and get back to your conversation.

After about 10 minutes, you notice Caitlin is still talking to the same girl only this time, the girl's hand comes up to touch Caitlin's arm. Caitlin just laughs at something the girl says, making no effort to remove her hand.

You know it is harmless, but part of you was hoping your girlfriend would politely step back or remove the girl's hand from her body.

You try to shake the rising sense of jealousy that is building within you but it doesn't subside. Even though you are still in the conversation with Caitlin's friends, your ears and mind are trained on Caitlin and the girl.

After another five minutes, you hear the girl talking about how amazing Caitlin is on the court and how she has been following your girlfriend this past season, making sure she was at every game.

Caitlin being Caitlin, was very kind and to anyone else would look like she was flirting back. Deep down - you know she never would, but the insecurity that the jealousy brought, had you raving to get your girlfriend out of that situation. You wanted to stake your claim.

Your final straw was when the girl asked for a photo with Caitlin, which she happily agreed to. When the girl pulled out her phone, she leaned into Caitlin, putting her head in the crease of her neck, and tilted her head in. She was posing as if Caitlin was hers.

You had enough and excused yourself from your current conversation. You make your way over so you are standing right behind Caitlin.

You have a slight advantage since Caitlin is taller than you, so you could sneak up behind her without the other girl knowing. And when you do, you ever so lightly trail your fingers from her lower back all the way up to just below her neck. You see the skin on her neck stand straight up as her speech becomes uneven.

The dress she is wearing makes this all so easy. There is a large open slit that goes from her lower back up to her neck, right where your fingers just trailed and tied at the top. Your fingers begin to play with the strings as your other hand comes and plays with the bottom of the slit, hands teasing her waist.

You can feel every muscle in her body tense and you know that isn't the only part of her that is affected. You go on your tippy toes, just close enough for her, and only her, to hear what you say.

"Looks like I need to show you who you belong to tonight," you whisper in her ear. Caitlin's mouth goes dry as she politely excuses herself from the fan she was just talking to.

As she turns back to the group and you all approach the front of the line, she tries to grab your hand - wanting to make any sort of contact with you to ease the tension that builds inside her. You notice her hand coming to meet yours and move it - keeping up a playful conversation with the girls. The lowest of whines comes from your girl as she is becoming visually flustered and frustrated.

You knew exactly what to do to get her going, and once she was going, there was no turning her off.

The thing about your relationship with Caitlin is that when you two are intimate, it is usually sweet or based off of a mutual need for one another. And if there was any dominance, Caitlin would always be the one to take the lead. It has never been the other way around, until tonight.

You can see hands begin to fiddle with themselves and then come to the bottom of her dress, straightening it out and smoothing it over. She is doing everything in her power to keep it cool.

As the group enters the ice cream shop, you let her go first, placing your hand on her lower back, and guiding her in. She slows her movements, hoping to lean into your touch more yet nothing more than your fingers grace her body. She is itching for your touch.

She can barely focus as she is trying to decide what flavor to get. You are standing right next to her, your perfume overwhelming her. She wants to bring her arm around you and pull you into her body but is nervous about what repercussions that would have later that night. Your choosing to be the dominant one is new and the excitement that comes with that alone is enough for her to excuse the two of you to take you home to find out more.

When it is your turn to choose a flavor, you look over to Caitlin to let her go first.

"Ummm, can I please get....umm," she says, not knowing what to choose.

"She'll have a single scoop of your cherry vanilla," You say, not acknowledging Caitlin's look wondering why you weren't getting any.

"Can we also get a pint of that to go please," you ask the man who's taking your order, he gives a light nod and gets your order all set.

He hands it all over to you as you pay for it. You hand Caitlin her scoop and the paper bag holding the pint while mumbling something along the lines of 'tasting something sweeter tonight'.

Caitlin tries to engage in the conversation as everyone is sitting at a table that is too small for your group but can't focus on anything other than you. How your knee hits hers and your hand occasionally comes to her thigh when you laugh at something one of the girls says.

She leans over to you and quietly says, "Can we please go home?"

Her need for you continues to grow with each touch.

"I don't think I am ready yet," you say, finally looking into her eyes. Even the simple action of eye contact has her fighting back a squirm.

"Please," she whispers in your ear, practically begging.

You see how her thighs are pressing together and her hands can't keep still. You take a second to contemplate her request and cave. To be quite honest, seeing her in such a needy state has you riled up as well.

You stand and Caitlin immediately follows suit.

"We are going to head out, Caitlin doesn't feel too good," you say which isn't completely wrong. Everyone says their goodbyes and you say happy birthday to her teammate and begin the journey back. Everything was within walking distance of her apartment which made it an easy trip back.

Easy in the sense of the distance. Borderline unbearable to Caitlin as you still wouldn't hold her hand. She followed you like a lost puppy.

When you got back to her place, you didn't say a thing to her as you put the ice cream in the freezer and began looking through your phone. She expected you to have her pinned against the door the second you walked in the place, showing her who she belonged to just like you said you were going to.

She didn't know what to do when you didn't immediately jump her.

"Ummm," she doesn't know what to say but knows she wants you.

You look up from your phone and just stare at her. There are your eyes again, unraveling her without a single touch. Her heart rate going a mile a minute. You walk over to her and look her up and down.

"What do you want baby?" You ask low and slow, your hand coming to brush her own.

The control Caitlin wants to take is taking every ounce of willpower she has to subdue.

"Touch me," she says and your eyebrow raises. "Please, touch me."

Your hand comes to hold hers now, and her eyes flutter close. Her breath picks up and becomes uneven. She takes in the feeling of your skin on hers, even if it is just her hand. You then bring your other hand up to where the pads of your fingertips are skimming her neck, tracing her ear. Her neck tilts and she lets out the sweetest moan.

"Go get on the bed," you say as you grab one of the strings of her dress and pull it undone.

She immediately does what you say. You take your time in the kitchen, wanting her to sweat a little.

"If I find any evidence that you have touched yourself, that's it." You yell to her. You hear her groan in response.

You make your way to the freezer and grab the ice cream and a spoon. Once the freezer closes, you make your way to your girl in the bedroom.

AN: I hope this did the prompt justice. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

Yall.

Boyfriend

Paige Bueckers x Fem! Reader

Summary: Paige is just the definition of boyfriend.

Warnings: Nothing? Maybe kissing and some smutty talk?

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

Paige is the definition of boyfriend. Which might seem weird to some, because she is a girl, but not to you.

Ever since y'all have became friends in high school, she has always looked out for you, got you anything you wanted and asked for, took you out to dinner and paid for the two of you when y'all would go shopping. Even thought she didn't want to.

Anyother way she was the definition of boyfriend. She did anything you wanted, whenever you wanted.

She is insanely whipped for you, always has been.

Thats the reason people found out about y'alls relationship...

--

"Paige can you go out to the car and grab my phone charger?" You asked sitting on the couch, your legs dropped over her legs and she was playing a game on the TV with KK in the teams apartment.

"Yeah, of course." She said almost immediately, throwing the controller on the couch and leaving the game and KK abandoned.

KK's mouth flew open in shock as she stood up like she got shot.

"Wow P, we were almost done with this game and you just leave?" Paige turns around while grabbing the door handle, "She needed a charger." She says as she shrugs her shoulders and makes eye contact with you while smiling, turning around and leaving out of the door, towards the car.

"Don't think I don't see what's going on." You hear KK say as she crosses her arms and squints her eyes.

Smiling innocently, you say "I don't know what you're talking about."

--

Another time y'all were caught is when the team and some friends went out for a pool day. Of course Paige invited you, and some of the team did too, enjoying your company because you were always over.

As you and Nina lazied out in the sun tanning and talking about current life status, you hear Azzi yell from beside y'all.

Looking over you see Paige and Ice have thrown water balloons at Azzi.

You see Paige raise her hand, a ballon in it, readying to throw, you stop her.

"Paige Madison Bueckers, don't you throw that at me. Put it up." Her face drops and she lowers her hand at your cold expression.

"Okay." Ice, Azzi, Nika and some others who watched what just happened turned to Paige in shock. Nobody could ever get stubborn Paige to listen to them like that.

"Ooouuuu." Heads turn to Kk who is hugging herself and making kissy noises, earning a push in the pool from Paige.

"I see you two." Azzi says with a wink to Paige, making her smirk and look at you, sending you a wink and walking away to put the ballon back up like you said.

--

The final time, which assured everyone of your relationship, was the WNBA draft.

You, Paige, and Azzi went to support their teammates start their professional basketball carrers.

"Babe, come on were going to be late." You hear Paige yell from outside of the bathroom in y'alls private hotel room.

"Coming." You yells as you open the door, "Can you help me zip up my dress, love?" You ask, moving your hair, giving her a clear view.

She whistles and walks up to you, grabbing your hips and pulling your back against her front. Smiling, and enjoying the view, she looks at you through the mirror and starts kissing your neck.

Seeing where this is going, you push her away. "No babe, just zip it up for now. I promise when we get back we can have as much fun as we want too." She rolls her eyes at your words, zipping up your dress anyways.

"You owe me for making me deal with being able to look at you in this dress and not being able to touch until later tonight."

-

When y'all arrive to the event, she can't keep her hands off of you. Wanting everyone to know you're hers, and only hers.

"Get a room" You two hear when y'all reach y'alls seats, her smacking your ass right before you sit down did not go unnoticed by her curly haired friend.

"She says not until tonight." Paige says, earning her a slap to her shoulder and an embarrassed you hiding your face in her neck.

She has always been a flirt, a teaser. Always letting you know when you look good, how you make her feel, and more.

It all just adds onto the conclusion, Paige is just the definition of boyfriend.

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Part 2? If you enjoyed this lmk! I just returned after some time, and thought I would give y'all some long awaited Paige talk.

cold feet

caitlin clark x black!reader

A/N: this isn't my first time writing, just my first time writing and publishing it publicly like this! hope you guys enjoy it!!! let me know what you think!

-

you stood attempting to block the glare of the sun from your eyes with your bouquet in hand. 

“kate it’s fucking hot. why did we let her choose to have a wedding in hell’s kitchen?” you questioned, leaning toward the blonde who suppressed a laugh.

“stop it. caitlin’s literally getting married. hold the jokes in for 10 more minutes.” she whispered, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes playfully, looking toward your best friend who stood in a white wedding gown with her hair pinned behind her ears. 

she looked stunning 

“do you connor mccaffery take caitlin elizabeth clark to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest questioned as you stood just a few feet away, a heavy feeling in your chest suddenly. 

caitlin turned around, glancing at you and kate with a small smile, her face being struck with something as she turned back around. 

“i do. i really do.” he said, looking toward you as your body stiffened. you never really liked him, and frankly he triggered your fight or flight, but caitlin was you best friend, so as long as she was happy, you stood by her. 

“and do you, caitlin elizabeth clark, take connor mccafferey to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“i-“ she began, pausing briefly and glancing to her parents and brothers who sat in the audience, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as she hesitated. 

“caitlin?” the priest questioned as she dropped connor’s hands, whispering before backing away and running down the aisle, the train of her dress in her hands. 

“wait what the hell just happened?” you questioned aloud, looking toward connor as he ran his hands through his hair, turning toward the groomsmen as you look between kate, anne, and brent.

-

you stood outside the bridal suite, kate, caitlin’s parents and brothers behind you as you knocked lightly. 

“coco? it’s just us, let us in! are you okay?” you asked softly, leaning against the door, hearing sniffles from the other side. 

“honey, we just wanna talk. what’s going on?” anne questioned, stepping closer as you listened to a sob escape from her mouth. 

“i don’t wanna talk mom. just- leave me alone!” you heard, her voice receding as you assumed she walked away from the door. 

“caitlin. we just wanna help. if it’s just cold feet-“ kate began, a sudden bang being heard against the door, heavy enough to be a shoe.

“go away! leave me alone!”

“okay, well i’m not dealing with her bullshit today. i stood out in the sun for her. kate hold my flowers.” you spoke, shoving them into the girls chest as you ripped a bobby pin from your hair, leaning down to pick the lock. 

hearing the click, you swing the door open, stepping into the room and scanning with your eyes. 

you spot her curled up on the balcony, her legs pulled to her chest. 

“hey guys, give me a minute. i wanna see something.” you say softly, receiving nods of approval, shutting the door behind you. 

“caitlin?” you ask, watching as she jumps noticing your figure.

“how’d you get in here? get out!” she exclaims, rising to her feet as you show off the pin in your hand. 

“you taught me how to pick a lock, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.” you joked, registering the runny makeup on her face as a smile formed on her face. “what’s going on coco? if you won’t talk to your parents, talk to me.” you encourage, moving some pillows from the couch and sitting down as she cautiously makes her way toward you. 

“promise you won’t tell?” she ask, her attitude a bit lighter as you give her a knowing look, patting the seat beside you. 

“i haven’t told a soul your secrets since grade school clark. start talking.” you said leaning back as she began to pull pins from her hair, getting frustrated as you moved to help. 

“i just. i hesitated. i have love for him, but when it came down to saying i do. i mean, i don’t think i can marry him. so many thoughts flashed through my mind. i know he’s not your favorite person in the world, and he made me happy for so long. my family loves him, and he loves me. i know that. but it just went through my mind that he can’t be it for me.” she said, twiddling with her hands, a nervous habit of hers as you placed a hand on top in comfort. 

“do you think there’s any chance of this being cold feet? you’ve been so excited. you had me up at 6AM picking out flowers, i flew out to new york to pick up your dress because you had a game. i’d do it all over again a million times, because i love you. but are you sure?” you ask, watching as fresh tears brim in her eyes

“there’s also been something else on my mind, and it’s kind of scary to think about. but um, i’m not sure how long it’s been a thing for me. but i just haven’t found him attractive, in like any way lately. i’ve had the shortest fuse, and we brushed it off as wedding stress, but i don’t know.” she said, letting out a sigh, laying across your lap. 

“so you guys are in a rough patch. that happens, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t marry him. you do love him caitlin.” you reassure as her body shoots up, her eyes shifting toward you, red and puffy. 

“what no- i don’t. i realized i don’t love him the way that i love you.” she responded, biting at the skin on her lip as you felt your breath get caught in your throat. “i thought. maybe it was the same type of love that i had for kate, but it was just different because i've known you since we were kids. but i love you. i realized that at the end of the day, i want to be with you, always. when we’d talk about kids, our kids separately started to become our kids. i want to grow old with you, and do life with you. i want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up in them. i miss that. i miss that feeling that i got back in high school during sleep overs, not realizing that that same feeling is what i felt croatia.” she spoke, your mind rewinding to the summer in croatia where you along with most of the team got pretty tipsy, caitlin included.

you believed yourself to be a pretty decent drinker, being able to handle your alcohol, but there was something about croatia that had you waking up the next morning with a naked caitlin curled into your side. 

you had talked about it, remembering bits and pieces, but came to the conclusion that it was drunken curiosity. 

“i’ve thought about that night, or at least what i can remember, every night since it happened. i can’t get it out of my mind, and i honestly don’t think i ever wanted to. i can’t marry him, because im in love with you.” 

“so what do you want to do?” you questioned, caitlin scooting closer as you took a breath, processing the information. 

“do you love me? in that way?” she asked, her voice barely audible as you suppressed a smile, giving a slight nod. 

“yeah i do. i’ve loved you since we were 15. but you’ve had a pretty solid record sheet with guys and showing me that you’re straight, or so i assumed. so i just accepted it and let it go.” you stated transparently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned into your hand. 

“you have no clue how happy that makes me. i also don’t care if you’re not ready for marriage yet, i know i said yes to this whole thing, but i feel like it’s because i felt like i needed to. i’d walk down the aisle with you in a second, but i get if you’re not ready.” 

“im not. but i think i will be sometime soon. what do we do from here?” you question, a lot of the tension in the room subsiding, watching her brown eyes roam the room. 

“come here.” was said as you’re pulled down to the floor in front of the couch, a giggle escaping your lips as she crawled in her dress across the room, grabbing a stack of papers from the coffee table. 

“what are you doing? you have people waiting for you to get married, or at this point announce that you’re not.” you say, reprimanding the girl as she rips the paper apart, rolling up small pieces. 

“just give me a second. okay, give me your hand.” she demanded, offering a hand before slipping a makeshift paper ring on your empty ring finger. “there. it’s like high school, but instead of promising to be each other's best friends, i’m promising to give you more than that.” a smile on her face as a knock is heard on the door. 

“caitlin? babe?” is heard as your eyes widen, watching her breath intake sharply. 

“is it bad that i forgot about him?” she questions, a fearful look on her face as you smile, standing to your feet. 

“talk to him, talk to your parents. i’m going to go talk to kate, and we’ll let everyone know there will be no wedding.” you say, helping her to her feet with a smile, turning on your heel. 

“hey. wait.” she said quickly, turning toward her as she presses a kiss to your lips, grasping your face with both hands before pulling away. “i love you”

-

you sat awkwardly in the lounge, kate staring at you from her spot on the couch. caitlin had bought her family and connor in at the same time to talk to them and the guests were dismissed from the ceremony but invited to enjoy the catered food they had planned on serving.

you felt anxiety in the pit of your stomach, shifting in your chair as kate continued to stare, her eyes narrowing. 

“kate stop looking at me like that.” you demanded, frustration in your tone as she churned her head, smiling softly. 

“you guys fucked in croatia didn’t you?” she questioned, your eyes widening at the question. 

“KATE!” 

“i knew it! you were both walking around weird that morning, the tension on that plane ride was crazy. but i’m assuming her calling the wedding off was for more than just a one night stand?” the blonde quizzed as you nodded silently. 

“she loves you, doesn’t she?”, another nod of the head. 

“i kept telling her she was gay, she kept denying it. i was right! but seriously, i think this will work out. maybe not right now with everything going on, but it will.” 

you heard the door open, turning to watch as connor stormed out, his face red as you could tell he’d been crying, followed by caitlin whose face was also tear stained and her family trailing behind her.

“so are you guys getting married or did i buy this suit for nothing?” colin jokes, walking and plopping down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he leaned against you, pressing a soft kiss against your head. 

“colin leave her alone. this is definitely news, but you’re still family and we don’t love you any less. if you guys are happy, then that’s all we can pray for. it’ll take some getting used to, but i feel like it’ll feel like our normal in no time.” anne speaks, offering a smile as she places a hand on your shoulder, brent nodding along. 

“and hey, i don’t have to sit through a boring reception dinner. no offense cait honey.” brent says, caitlin waving him off as she grins at you. 

“i think we should go see what’s left from the catering, and go back to the hotel. also let’s make sure connor isn’t starting world war 3 on twitter and try and relax.” kate suggest, standing and squeezing caitlin’s shoulder as she smiles at you. 

 “ i think that sounds good.” you agreed, standing to your feet as caitlin mirrored you. 

-

you stood staring at the different options, the room pretty empty except for you, kate, caitlin, and her immediate family. there were still some stragglers, but it looks like most people either just left, or took food to go and were on their way. 

you felt a hand on your lower back, turning to see caitlin standing beside you, a soft closed smile on her face as she leaned into the crook of your neck. 

“thank you. for everything.” 

“of course, you’re one of my favorite people in this world.” you say, her hair falling down your shoulder as she hugs you. 

“do you think connor would be okay with me taking you to australia over him?” 

“i don’t think he really gets a say if you and your family paid for most of the wedding.” 

“wait you’re so right. where’s my phone?” she questioned as you gave her a warning look knowing her notifications would be a war zone themselves. 

“let’s just get some cake right now. yeah?” you suggested in place as she pulled away, a bit of a pout on her face as she agreed to your statement, picking up a plate of her own. 

“hey. i love you. like a lot.” she says, a smile resting on your face as you hummed. 

“i assumed you did, otherwise i don’t think you would have left your fiancé at the alter for me.” you joke, hearing her laugh loudly in response as she presses her forehead to yours, a bright grin on her face. 

“i’m glad we figured out it wasn’t just cold feet.” 

caitlin clark x reader where the reader is very feminine and people don’t realize that shes 💅

She likes girls . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: although you’re a raging gay, you don’t typically look the part. if you had a nickel for every time you and caitlin got mistaken for beings besties or sisters, you’d be rich

A/N: thought this would be a cute little blurb, so anon, if you want me to edit this and make it longer, please message me :)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“i don’t know maybe i’m doing something wrong?” you asked caitlin, legs draped over her lap. it was a sunday afternoon spent on the couch, relaxing after brunch with her family.

“baby” she patted your leg “you’re not doing anything wrong!”

“then why do people not take us seriously?” you were incredibly frustrated “if someone treats us like we’re best friends one more time i’m going to lose it”

it happened often, definitely more than you wished. you would be mistaken as caitlin’s sister or her best friend constantly. at first it just started when you started dating publicly. you’d receive comments like “you and your friend have a nice day!” or “she’s a good friend, keep that one around!”. it was sweet at first, but then cait introduced you to her team. they thought she was kidding when she announced you as her girlfriend. it wouldn’t necessarily have been a big deal, but it hurt your feelings that they didn’t genuinely believe that caitlin would date you. even when you met her family, the entire lot of them thought caitlin was bringing home a roommate for the holidays.

“i’m so sorry! you just don’t…look gay” her mom would exclaim, trying to apologize. you tried to not look hurt, you understood even.

“mom” caitlin interfered, already knowing how you were upset once again that you were mistaken for a friend. “it’s ok, but can we just drop it? please?”

now, today at brunch, the waitress asked for caitlin’s number right in front of you. while her parents and brothers were talking about work and school and while you and cait were discussing plans for next week, the young woman scurried over to hand caitlin a napkin with her number on it. caitlin had one arm around your shoulder, another fiddling with the rings on your fingers, and the waitress still didn’t catch a hint. after unfolding the crumpled napkin and seeing the bold black numbers, caitlin immediately declined and motioned to you, she was taken.

“oh my god,” the waitress said “i thought you guys were like friends or something i’m so sorry”

you weren’t surprised.

“i feel like something IS wrong though!” you reply to caitlin, running your hands through your hair in annoyance. “i hate that people don’t even see me as your girlfriend and it sucks!”

“i know, but we’re together either way and that’s all that matters” her words of reassurance were doing little to change your mind.

“maybe it’s the way i dress? i know i’m very feminine and stuff, so maybe that’s the issue”

caitlin laughed “YN, it doesn’t matter how you dress, ok? just because people assume we’re friends or assume you’re straight doesn’t mean that it changes your identity at all. i love the way you dress and i don’t want you to change just because people are blind.”

“you’re right, i just want people to know that we’re together” you sighed.

“me too,” she agreed “but at the same time, i really like saying ‘she’s my girlfriend’ to people”

god she was so sweet, “i really like that too”

this picture made me choke on my hibachi and hyperventilate😋😋

You Showed Up

summary: your boyfriend is playing in the world cup but your own career conflicts with his games. he thinks it's an issue of commitment but little does he know, with the help of one of his teammates, you'll be there in time for the final

requested: yes, by @thehappygrungelife

⚠️: none, bland ending ? help

pairing: lionel x shy!supermodel! reader

authors note: in this, reader is a supermodel so uber busy and uber famous. her and leo are dating but aren't exactly public

the end is like fluff in the sickening sweet way i do it LOLL

-

It was a late night at your place. All the curtains were drawn in your Parisian apartment and the lights were on the lowest setting. You were on the sofa with your boyfriend, your head on his shoulder while you both scrolled mindlessly on your phones. With a sigh and looked up and saw his packed bags by the door.

The constant reminder that this was the last time you’d be together until the tournament ended.

Frowning, your eyes remained on the packed bags causing Lionel to look up. "What's wrong bebé?"

“Just gonna miss you when you leave." you replied.

He smirked. "Easy solution. Come with me."

You pursed your lips and gave him a matter of fact look. "You know I can't, I have fittings and castings all throughout January."

Lionel sighed. "Yeah well it'd be nice to have you watch me. You know, help make our relationship public."

A nervous laugh escaped your throat. Aside from being who you were and the career you had, your personal life was completely private. No one knew much about you or your relationships and you liked it that way. You weren't comfortable enough like Lionel to have the media and fans know every single thing about you so when the two of you began dating, he had agreed to keep the entire thing under wraps.

He saw the indecision on your face and nodded. "You don't want to."

"It's not that." you weakly smiled. "I'm just private."

"Too private to let everyone know that you’re in a relationship?”

You said nothing, running a hand through your hair. This was not the argument you wanted to deal with before his departure.

"We've been dating for a year and a half and you still dont want to go public?" he continued.

"Leo-"

He shook his head. "Are you concerned about what the media will say? Are you embarrassed?"

Your face scrunched up in confusion. "What? Get real.”

"I mean, we never go anywhere together. And if we are in the same place, you never acknowledge me in public and you refuse to even admit we're even a couple until we're in the privacy of your own place! Not even mine."

"Okay." You pushed yourself off of the couch. "This is not an argument worth having so I'll see you in bed."

Leo rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Y/n, stop. Come here."

"I'm tired, I've been working all day. I'll be in my room."

You didn't even bother looking back at him as you walked straight to your room. Being as petty as you were, you took an insane amount of time getting yourself ready for bed. Lionel was already in your bed before you even finished and said nothing as he watched you make multiple trips back and forth from your room to the bathroom.

When you finally finished, you shuffled to your bed where he waited, his hands folded behind his head.

"Nice pajamas." he smiled.

Looking down, you pulled the hem of one of his training tops that you paired with one of his pants.

"Thank you. A special man gave them to me." you joked, getting into bed beside him.

Once you were comfortable enough, you reached over him to turn off the lamp and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Night."

"Dulces suenos mi amor." he whispered. (sweet dreams my love)

You smiled at the endearing words and laid against him with closed eyes, falling asleep.

The night went by and in the morning, you awoke to an empty bed. Confused, you sat up and yawned as you glanced around the room.

Did he leave? He wouldn’t really leave without saying bye?

“Leo?” you croaked, your morning voice raspy.

No response.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and to your bathroom, giving yourself a few minutes to freshen up. When you finished, you shuffled out of bathroom and passed though your room, making a direct path to your kitchen.

On your way there, you glanced at the door and frowned at the empty space where your boyfriends bags were placed not even ten hours ago.

Letting out a breath you moved around the kitchen, preparing an easy breakfast until the sound of your front door slammed shut.

“Hey. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” Leo said, a bit out of breath.

You turned around and smiled. “That would’ve sucked."

He chuckled and rested his hands on your waist. "Don't miss me too much. I'll be back home before you know it."

"No, you won't. You have a cup to win."

Leo pressed a short kiss against your lips. "I love you."

"Love you too. Call me when you can."

"I will."

The distant sound of a car honking from outside caused him to groan.

Sighing, you gave him one last kiss. "Go. Make me proud."

He said nothing more, squeezing your waist before turning on his heel. You remained against the counter and waited to hear the front door click shut.

You were honestly disappointed that you wouldn't be there for his games, seeing that your job was incredibly demanding. Even if you tried, every ticket for the games was sold and every hotel was booked. There was no way around it. Unless you got some help.

Abandoning your breakfast, you went looking for your phone, thinking of the person you’d call.

It didn't take long to find since you left it on your sofa. Grabbing it, you unlocked and swiped through your contacts until you found the person you were looking for.

You found the name of your boyfriends teammate and closet friend and clicked, waiting for it to ring.

It only took a moment for it to ring until he picked up.

"Hola Y/n! Como estas?"

You blanked and went back to your high school Spanish and smiled. "Bien! Look, I need a favor."

"For my best friends girlfriend? Anything."

-

You waited as the phone rang on speakerphone, blowing on your wet nails.

"Bebé?"

Shooting up, you grabbed your phone, briefly forgetting about your nails.

"Congratulations! You did amazing!"

He laughed on the other end of the line. Argentina had just beaten Croatia 3-1, Lionel scoring once and Julian scoring twice.

"That goal was for you."

You laughed to yourself and stuck out your free hand to examine the dark red you chose for the winter. "It was very impressive. I followed the whole thing live."

"You know what would be even more impressive?” he asked.

"Hm?"

"If you actually came to a game and watched me. You know, so you don't have to worry about the livestream buffing or anything."

You lightly sighed. "Leo.."

He huffed. "It was just a suggestion. You know, kind of solidifying-"

"Yes, our relationship.” you interrupted. “We've been over this."

"Yeah but it's like you're scared."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. "I'm not scared, I just.. I'm not ready."

You couldn't see but your boyfriend on the other end of the line, all the way in Qatar had his hand through his hair as he paced around the locker room, obviously annoyed.

"It was only a suggestion. And what do mean ‘not ready?’ What are you not ready for, what are you scared of?”

The end went silent and you gave yourself a second before smiling to yourself. "Goodnight honey. And congratulations, once again."

Lionel dragged his free hand down his face with a sigh. "Carino,"

"Goodnight." you repeated, adding extra emphasis on the word.

You heard him sigh and before he could mutter an apology, you spoke up. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Hanging up, you tossed your phone aside, glancing at your packed bags by the door.

Little did he know, in just a few hours, you'd be on a plane to Qatar, just to see him play the final.

No one knew except for Ángel, a close friend of Leo's and yours. He helped you with everything, a place to stay for your brief stint in Qatar along with good seating.

You were excited. A little bit nervous, but excited nonetheless.

-

The minute you entered the stadium, you only needed to flash a badge and you were almost immediately escorted to the seats where the players' family and friends were. It was crowded seeing that you got there near the end of the first half and it was 2-0. Leo put it in the net at at the twenty-third minute and Ángel scored at the thirty-sixth minute, a moment you enjoyed watching on the way to the stadium.

You thanked the man who escorted you to the proper row and saw one open seat. Next to his mother.

Smiling, you excused the people you had to pass in front of and sat down beside her.

Celia tore her eyes from the match for a second to see who sat beside her and when she did, her hands flew to her face.

“¡Mi niña hermosa! You came!” (my beautiful girl)

“I did!” you exclaimed, pulling her into a side hug.

The woman shifted in her seat to face you and pulled you away with a large smile. “Does he know you’re here?”

With a shake of your head, you held her arm tightly. “No, it’s a surprise! I’m gonna see him after the match.”

Celia pulled a hand away from you and rested it on her chest. “He’s gonna love this. You know he’s crazy in love with you, right?”

You laughed to yourself, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah?”

The older woman’s smile never left her face and she nodded, turning her focus back to the game. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I saw a ring on your finger.”

“Aha.”

She winked and you couldn’t stop smiling at her words as you turned to the pitch, mulling over her words.

-

The minute the whistle for half time blew, it was like the entire crowd was on needles.

So far, Argentina was the one with points on the board and to you, this looked like an easy sweep.

In the wait, you headed to the restroom and when you returned, you chatted with your boyfriends family who were all incredibly happy to see you.

While you were chatting and catching up with his family, Leo on the other hand was a mess in the dressing room.

After he gave a pep talk to the team, he went to his respective spot and sulked. No one seemed to notice except for Ángel.

Hermano mío, ¿qué pasa?” the man asked (my brother what’s wrong?)

Lionel sighed. “Ella no es,” he paused for a minute before shrugging in defeat. “Ella no está aquí.” (she’s not- she’s not here)

Ángel turned his teammate around. “¿Está seguro?” (are you sure?)

Leo nodded. “Sí. No pude verla cuando salimos del campo.” (yes. i couldn’t see her when we left the pitch)

His friend said nothing. There was no way you didn’t show. Ángel had just texted you before the game to make sure you were coming and you confirmed. Hell, you even sent a ridiculous selfie of you at the airport in Qatar giving a thumbs up.

Lionel frowned at his friends silence and rolled his eyes. “Lo que sea. No importa. Tenemos un juego que ganar.” (whatever. it doesn’t matter. we have a game to win)

His friend said nothing and nodded and the team manager whistled.

“¡Vamos! ¡Vamos por la copa!” (let’s go! let’s go get the cup)

Cheers erupted from the group of men as they all clapped each others shoulders and passed words of encouragement as they filed out of the dressing room.

The two teams walked onto the pitch and the whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half.

The second half of the game was nearly a heart attack waiting to happen. It was nearly deadlocked the entire time and it felt like every sudden move was a make or break.

You watched with focused eyes as the players on the field moved back and forth. Whistles were blown, obvious insults were traded and the players seemed agitated and on edge, especially the ones who played for France.

At the eightieth minute, Kylian Mbappe, one of your husbands club teammates found the net. You groaned and you were even more surprised when he netted the ball not even a minute later.

The game soon went into overtime and you were nearly silent the entire time, not uttering a word to anyone, just focused on the game, praying for a good outcome.

It was at the one hundredth and eighth minute Lionel finds the ball and puts it in the net. Screaming, you stood to your feet and hugging his mother who also standing.

The two of you cheered and jumped around in pure joy.

As the game went on, substitutions happened and yellow cards were given. It wasn’t until later when the scored was equalized again, thanks to Kylian.

Your eyes found your boyfriend who looked on edge. It wasn’t like him and you watched as his jaw clenched before sighing. You just knew going back to club football wasn’t going to be a walk in the park with those two.

The extra time runs out and the game soon goes to penalties and you were literally on the edge of your seat, your body shaking with anticipation.

France took the first kick, Kylian bringing it home.

Argentina was next and you barely cheered as Lionel made the shot. You were too focused.

France’s Conan missed and Dybala scored for Argentina. Tchouaméni misses for France and Argentina’s Paredes scored.

You took a deep breath and exhaled as you eyes Muani take Frances’ fourth penalty. It’s almost silent as he preps to take the shot and when he does, the ball goes in.

A mix of cheers and groans erupt all around the stadium and your heart pounds even faster. Celia grabs your hand tightly and you glance at her. She glances back before focusing back on the pitch.

You let out a low whistle and watch in anticipation as the Gonzalo Montiel prepares himself for the pitch. It’s like everyone’s on pins and Celia grips your hand even tighter, causing you to wince.

Montiel lets out a breath before taking the shot. You held your breath as you watched and it was like everything was moving in slow motion. When the ball hit the net, the blood rushed to you ears as you let out a scream that was immediately drowned out by everyone else in the stadium.

Celia stands to her feet, picking you up with her as she hugs you tight, her face wet with tears. You hug her back and to your own surprise, you’re crying as well.

After minutes in each others arms, Celia pulls away from you and rests her hands on your cheeks, shaking your face with excitement before letting go and turning to her husband.

His other family members around you embrace you tightly and when they release you, you’re watching the man you love on his knees with tears in his eyes, a smile never leaving his face.

Your thoughts circle back to his mothers words to you and you smile to yourself until Celia grabs your hands.

“¡Vamos a verlo!” she exclaims, dragging out of the row and down to the pitch. (let’s go see him)

You nod and let the older woman lead you down as you take in the energy and reactions of the crowd.

Almost everyone sporting some sort of Argentinean merch are either crying or screaming with joy. The entire way to the pitch was blur and when you felt the grass underneath your shoes, you sighed and took it all in.

“Do you want to see him now or do you want to keep it a surprise?”

You glanced at her with a smile. “You go first. Go congratulate your son.”

Her face softened and squeezed your hand before running to her son. You watched as she grabbed his arm and he turned around in shock.

The man smiled and wrapped his arms around his mother, making your heart melt. Celia pulls her sons head down as he walks her away from the commotion on the pitch.

You shove your hands in your pocket and watch as he suddenly straightens. He cocks his head and points to the ground, saying something to his mom. She nods and he begins to look around frantically.

“Leo!” you call out.

He immediately recognizes your voice and turns around, seeking for you.

Taking a few steps his way, you pull your hands out of your pocket and cup them around your mouth. “Lionel!”

His eyes continued to search until his mother turns him around in your direction.

When he turned and saw you steps away, his eyes widened. Looking at his mother, he looks your way again, earning a nudge from the older woman.

“Go.” she nodded with a warm smile.

He says nothing and smiles, letting go of his mother. He began to walk to you, slowly at first before breaking into a full spirit towards you.

Naturally, many cameras followed him and documented the sight of him quite literally jumping into your arms.

You stumbled back and wrapped your arms tightly around him before he fell to his knees, consequently bringing you down with him.

With the both of you kneeling in the grass, Leo slightly shook in your arms, his emotions taking over him all at once.

“I can’t believe it,” he sobbed. “you actually came.”

You nodded and held him tighter. “Yes honey, I’m here.”

He said nothing and continued to cry in your arms, bringing forth a multitude of cameras. Normally you would’ve told them to go away but this was too precious of a moment to let a few cameras ruin.

Pulling away from him, you cupped his face and brought him close, your forehead touching his.

“Congratulations. You played fucking amazing.” you whispered with a smile.

Lionel smiled, mumbling a thank you before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "How'd you get here- the seats, my mom-"

"I had some help."

He shook his head with a laugh. "From who?"

"Your friend. Your hermano." you teased.

Turning to look for his friend, you both were caught by surprise by a camera being shoved in both of your faces along with a microphone and an all too eager reporter.

"Lionel Messi, World Cup winner!" he grinned. "First, let me extend my congratulations."

Leo nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course! And you, Y/n L/n, famous model, queen of the runway. What brings you here and if you don't mind, what is Lionel Messi, the new World Cup winner to you?"

You and Leo shared a look before he stood to his feet and helping you up. Once you both were standing side by side, you rested a hand on his chest.

"This man here is the love of my life. My boyfriend."

Lionel's eyes widened and he glanced at you, his eyes dampening once more.

By now, more cameras were surrounding you and the original reporter looked incredibly pleased. "That's some news! For how long?"

You lightly nudged your boyfriends who answered the question. "A little more than a year, next month makes two years."

"So are we expecting a ring soon?" one reporter asked.

A chorus of mumbles erupted around the two of you, causing you to shyly turn into your boyfriends chest with a laugh. Lionel caught on and chuckled, walking the two of you away from the cluster of reporters.

"So this makes us official?" he joked.

You rolled your eyes and pulled him close for a kiss. "Go get your award."

He glanced over his shoulder to see the platform being set and turned back to you with a grin.

"Again," you spoke up. "congratulations."

"Lo hice por ti." he whispered with a teary smile. (i did it for you)

You mulled over his words and slightly shook your head. "Get up there."

Kissing your check, he gave your hand one last squeeze before jogging over to his teammates.

You stood there watching him with receive hugs from his mates with the biggest smile on your face, paying no mind to the few cameras catching your smile as you watched.

After the ceremony, Leo brought the trophy to you and you shook your head.

"No, Leo, don't." you warned.

He held it out to you. "Just for the pictures carino."

You glanced around. "No, it's a family thing, I can't."

Your boyfriend scoffed and lightly pushed the coveted cup in your hands and smiled. You smiled as well and after a few flashes you gave it back to him but of course, photo ops were never finshed.

He led you around the pitch, stopping for photos and interviews all with his arm around you.

He managed to get the pair of you away from everything and the two of you made your rounds, walking around the pitch..

"Te amo mucho." he said, kissing your cheek. "Mas que cualquier otra cosa en el mundo." (i love you so much. more than anything else in the world)

The sweet words made you grin and you squeezed his hand.

"Te amo." you replied.

He laughed at the way the words came out of your mouth. Even with almost two years of being together, your Spanish was awful.

"Expect a ring in your future soon."

You stopped and your mouth dropped. "Leo."

He stopped beside you and nodded. "Serious."

With a scoff, you continued walking. He walked up beside you and held your hand, fingers intertwining with yours.

"You're funny." you said with a laugh.

He chuckled and said nothing, keeping tight lipped about the ring he already showed his mother just days before.

The two of you continued to walk hand in hand, in silence and peace until it was time to go back to the hotel.

Once inside, he helped you move your stuff to his room which was only doors down, thanks to Ángel. The two of you showered together and once you were in bed, you quickly fell asleep but he couldn't.

Lionel was over the moon. His life was everything he ever dreamed of. He finally won the one thing in his career that really mattered and all with the love of his life watching. He couldn’t even close his eyes as he laid back with a silly smile on his face.

Because you showed up.

-

argh i hate ending things

expect a cheesy, sappy, romcom fic soon

ghost comes home

the 141 needs a place to sleep for the night and your house happens to be here. (simon introduces his secret wife to the task force, and it gets steamy after)

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

ghost trudged up the hill, already regretting his decision. the 141 needed a place to lay low for the night, and of course they happened to be a mile from your remote summer home. he had a feeling you’d be there too, and here he was bringing four killing machines to your door in the middle of your summer vacation.

they had stopped before the door, and soap was itching with curiosity. it was a cozy lake house, two stories tall and perfect for a small family. there was a car in the driveway and the front porch lights were on, but he didn’t have any clue as to what, or who, awaited them inside. even though ghost had his mask on, soap could still sense how reluctant he looked. “don’t ask questions. come here.” ghost led them around the house to a small shed, wood on the outside but surprisingly modern on the inside. he opened up a military standard weapons storage unit and pointed at it. “every single gun, knife, grenade, weapon. in here.” price had started removing his weaponry but gaz and soap did a double take. “l.t. you’re saying go completely weaponless? what if-“ “if you can’t defend yourself with your bare hands that’s your problem, not mine. if you want to sleep outside, go ahead.” ghost said definitively. gaz and soap complied, and soon the group looked a lot closer to four guys on a camping trip than a ruthless task force. they went to the front of the house again, and ghost pulled out a key. “don’t make noise, don’t touch anything, don’t sit. the lights are going to be off. shoes off at the door.” the anxiety was getting to soap, he had no clue where they were but with how protective ghost seemed, he had a feeling he was going to know a lot more about his l.t. soon.

ghost opened the door, instantly greeted with the after smell of those lavender candles you always lit. it was dark except for the lowlights he had installed last june so that you could see when you came downstairs at midnight for a snack. he saw your books on the breakfast table and your slippers in the living room, the comforting feeling of home covering him like a warm blanket. he took his shoes off and walked quietly to the stairs, knowing every squeak and how to avoid them. a door upstairs opened and he swore underneath his breath, not wanting to wake you until the morning, but of course you’d seen his location and wanted to say hello.

it was midnight, and you had just finished a particularly smutty chapter in your romance book when you got the notification that the door had been opened. you checked simon’s location and of course it was him. you flung of the covers and opened your door, greeted with a silent house except for the sounds of fabric moving. you looked down the stairs and there he was, skull mask shining in the moonlight. you rushed down the stairs and jumped into his arms, reveling in the feeling of home. “hi si.” you said breathlessly, legs tightening around his waist. “hi, dove. did i wake you?” you pulled up his mask for a long kiss, heart beating finally finally. “no, i was reading.” “aye, one of those dirty romance books, hm?” you giggled as he knew you so well. “maybe so. you’ll just have to come upstairs and…” you trailed off, having looked over his shoulder into the living room where three giant men stood awkwardly. you climbed out of his arms (simon huffed), intrigued by the situation at hand. “you brought company?” you turned on the lights to reveal the three strangers.

soap blinked and couldn’t believe his eyes. there was his l.t., a 6’4 killer on the battlefield, with his mask half up his chin, hand around your waist, and love in his eyes. and of course, there was you. you didn’t seem nervous to have three intimidating men in your living room, if anything you looked excited. you seemed molded to ghost, your movement reflecting each other for maximum physical contact at all times. quickly, you pulled down ghost’s mask so the team didn’t have the chance to glimpse his face. you moved forward with a small smile, head cocking as you analyzed the men in front of you. “dove, this is-“ “the 141. i’ve heard a lot about you. didn’t expect to meet you all in my pajamas.”

“you’re much better looking than us anyways.” soap replied, diffusing the tension. he didn’t miss how ghost’s hand tightened on your waist and his eyes narrowed. this was going to be fun.

“well it’s lovely to meet you all, though i’m not sure why it’s right now. i’m -“ “mrs. riley.” ghost cut in. “you will address her as such.” you smacked his chest playfully as he looked down at you, eyes switching from cold protectiveness to endearment. “nonsense. you can call me by my name.” you said, extending your hand to price. “you must be captain price. and you’re wearing your hat!” the greetings continued in a similar fashion as you remarked upon everyone’s unique physical indicators, known from simon’s constant stories about the group. after realizing the military was in fact in your living room, a slight tension curled up your spine. simon noticed immediately, of course, and turned you both around, giving you a sense of relief. “guns in the house?” you whispered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. that was the one requirement you had. “never, love. they’re in the shed.” you relaxed instantly. “okay, they can stay. are you staying?” your thumb laid over his hand, tracing the veins you had memorized thousands of times before. “you’ve got me for one night. transport comes at noon tomorrow. you sure you’re okay with this? we can camp outside. just happened to be near the house and needed a place to sleep.” “of course i’m okay with it, si. i trust you. and now i have you for one night.” you ended with a smirk, knowing your husband would not get a lick of sleep tonight. “we have two guest bedrooms, so you’ll have to share.” you announced, turning back to the group. “i’ll go ready the rooms.” simon whispered into your ear, squeezing your waist once before going upstairs. he didn’t want to leave you alone but he trusted his men, and didn’t want you to work more than you had to. he never did.

“well,” you plopped down in your favorite chair, the men still standing awkwardly. “sit down. we’ve got about five minutes to answer your questions before my husband whisks me away for the night.” soap sat down eagerly, bouncing with energy as he readied all his questions. gaz took in the scene before him, and only had one burning question. “captain, why aren’t you surprised?” price turned to him with a small smile, taking his hat off out of respect. you answered for him. “john and i have talked before, just never in person. there’s a lot of paperwork to do when you want to marry a ghost who’s in a secret task force.” you played with your ring finger unconsciously, and though your ring was off as you had been preparing for sleep, they could all see the tan outline on your fingers. “i’ve known about mrs. riley here for a while, but her existence is the only thing ghost told me.” price added in. he was big on respect, but even he was excited to meet ghost’s secret wife. the one who has extended secret protection whenever he was deployed, the one whose ring he wore next to his dog tags. 

“i think you want to rapid fire interrogate.” you said with a smile, turning to soap. “let’s do it”.

“where’d you meet?”

“manchester.”

“how?”

“i spilled my drink on him in a cafe. might have been on purpose to get him to talk to me.”

“you’re the perfect lass for him. how long have you been together?”

“four together, two married.”

they all exhaled a breath at that. for four years, ghost had been carrying a secret. with his past, or as much as he told them, they knew why, but it was still a blow.

“he loves you guys. he wanted to tell you all, we’d been planning it. just not like this. he kind of hoped someone would notice the ring on his dog tags and bring it up, but i had a feeling you all were a bit scared of him.” you could sense the tension and wanted to show simon’s thinking process to them as much as you could without spilling his secrets. with his past, he had been so worried about you being in danger. it was one of your agreements that he’d tell them in his time, and never before.

“what do you do?”

“i’m an author, hence the books.”

there were books everywhere. the shelves, the tables, the floor. in fact, with the lights on, soap now noticed a small ball of fur cuddled with a book under the coffee table.

“did ghost build this place?”

“basically. it was a fixer-upper. he gave it to me for our honeymoon and he’s been working on it ever since. it’s my getaway when i want to write.” soap spotted ghost coming down the stairs, and wanted to make the last question less personal, just in case.

“how do you deal with the bad jokes?” you opened your mouth to reply, but simon’s hand rested on your shoulder and you closed it. “enough. your rooms are ready.” simon said in a gruff voice, wanting to be alone with his wife already. you knew what that tone meant, and you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. you guided the men to their rooms, gaz and soap splitting one, making sure they had everything they needed. then finally, finally, you went into your room with simon and locked the door.

“hi again.” you said shyly as he gathered you into his arms. “you good? overwhelmed?” he asked, knowing he had intruded on your solitude without warning. “i should be asking you that. are you okay?” you guided him to your bed, sitting him down on the edge. he sighed, and you slowly pulled off his mask, giving him time to stop you. with his face finally revealed, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, moaning at the taste of your husband. “i’ve missed you.” simon finally said, avoiding your last question. “me too.” you kissed his forehead, his hairline, trailing down to his cheeks and chin. reverent. it had been two months, not the longest you’ve gone without him, but still you never got used to the time alone. his hand twitched as he showed the number three with his fingers. a while ago, you had a long conversation about showing your emotions. when either of you were too overwhelmed, you used your hands to show it. one meant needing alone time, two meant panic attack, and three meant being together and moving to a different subject. you gave him a small smile, running your hands through his hair, shorter now that he was deployed. “let me make you feel good.” you whispered, and he nodded, putting his trust in you easily.

you unclipped his gear, slowly, surely. slipping off his vest, guiding his arms. you slid off his gloves one by one. simon loved how you treated him delicately, so different from his life in the military. there were no threats, no enemies to think about, just you and him in this quiet room. he’d soundproofed it last year after the incident with your parents, so there were no worries about disturbing his teammates. with his gear off, you took off his shirt, bringing it over his head and throwing it into the corner. his scars were fully visible, and you kissed each one with pleasure. “let” kiss “me” kiss “make” kiss “you” kiss “feel” kiss “good” kiss. he was slowly coming back to his body, the overwhelmed feeling disappearing with your love and affection. “yeah, love? gonna make me come?” he grinned, pushing the hair out of your face as you lowered yourself to his crotch. 

he helped you take off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxers while you were still fully clothed, the contrast making him hard. you breathed over his hardness, a contrast to the cool ac. he gathered your hair in one fist, giving him a full view of you hungrily looking at his cock. “take it out.” he ordered, and you complied, untucking him from his boxers. “i’m glad you introduced me to everyone today. you did so well.” you said, your words warming his heart. he liked praise, sometimes, and you were trying to make this as good as possible, not knowing when you’d see him next. “had to make sure they knew my wife who sucks my cock so well.” he replied. “you gonna actually suck it, or you just gonna kneel there, looking so pretty on your knees?” you chuckled at his words. slowly, you licked him from base to tip, satisfied with the groan he gave you in return. “spit” you said, offering him your hand. he complied, and you brought it down back to his cock, working your hand up and down. you started with kitten licks, feeling him jerk in your hands at every touch. wetness pooled in your pajama shorts, and you shifted, letting the seam of the fabric work at your aching clit. “stop teasing or i-” he stopped with a moan as you put his entire length in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. you hummed and his cock twitched. you worked your mouth up and down, using your hand when you couldn’t go all the way. seeing him undone was turning you on as you shifted on your knees, letting your shorts work your clit. you swirled your tongue around his tip and went back down, your other hand gripping his balls with a short squeeze. 

he bucked into you, and you knew he was close as he started fucking your face. he reached the back of your mouth and tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t make him stop. your hand left his balls and went down to your clit, pushing your palm against it to find the friction you were chasing. “does getting your face fucked turn you on, dove? my little wife?” you whimpered and he moaned, pulling you closer to his cock. “gonna come on your face, open up.” he withdrew, sticky strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you put your hand back on it and stroked, ropes of cum landing on your face and neck. your tongue darted out to taste him and he groaned, laying down fully on the bed. “that was so good, lovie. you did so well, come ‘ere.” you climbed on top of him, thighs messy with your own wetness. “need you inside me, si. need to come.” you stripped off your shirt and shorts, tits bouncing in his face. he took your nipple in his mouth and you groaned, hands pushing against the headboard to keep yourself upright. simon’s hands came to your hips, sitting you down with his half-hard cock against your ass. “give me a second.” he said in a raspy voice. “okay, old man.” you replied cheekily. he slapped your ass and you giggled. laughter turned to moans as his hand slid down, putting two fingers inside you. “look at you, so greedy for my cock. have you been fucking yourself with the toys i got you?” his other hand tweaked your nipple, a bit of pain in a rush of pleasure. “i have, thinking of you. been missing your cock.” his thumb circled your clit just the way you liked it as his other hand went up from your nipple, choking you. “show me.” he withdrew his fingers and you whimpered as he licked them. you shifted backwards, impaling yourself on him. “si, its too much.” you had forgotten how big he was, and you felt so full, stuffed with his cock. “you can take it, wife.” you both sat there for a minute, letting your leaking cunt adjust to his cock. his hands massaged your nipples, getting you wetter and wetter. “wait, i have a surprise for you.” you leaned over to your bedside table, still full of simon, and pulled out a small box. simon sat up a bit and opened it, smirking as he took in the contents. he withdrew the gold clamps, setting the box aside. his hand grasped your left tit as he sucked it slightly, then withdrew. he opened the clamp and closed it around your hard nipple, an electric shock of pain running through your system. “you like wearing jewelry for me, hm? looking pretty, all stuffed with my cock while the boys are sound asleep next door. wonder if they’re thinking about you, wife.” you gasped, images of being shared with simon’s teammates running through your mind. you had had threesomes with simon before, but never with that many participants. while you were distracted, he closed the clamp around your other nipple. he tugged on the chain connecting them, bringing your mind back to him. “they wouldn’t fuck you like this, though. won’t get you dripping after they fuck your face.” his hips started moving upwards now that you were adjusted to his length, hands resting on your hips. with the feeling of the clamps, his dirty talk, and your stimulated clit, you were right on the edge. “si, i’m gonna come. please let me come.” his hand moved from your hip to your clit. “come for me, dove.” you shattered with a moan, glad for the soundproofed walls. your thighs trembled as you sat back down on his cock, and simon could feel you weakening. 

he flipped you both over, staying inside you, and started fucking into you with abandon. his hand slipped under your head to protect it from hitting the headboard as he got rougher and rougher. your tits bounced, the clamps holding steady with every thrust. your hands came around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “my husband.” you groaned, never tiring of calling him that. your hands scratched his shoulders, urging him into you more and more. he changed the angle so he grinded against your pubic bone, and you could feel your second orgasm coming. “si, come with me. i want you inside.” he moaned into your shoulder, keeping the pace. “right there, love, im right there.” he panted, needing just a bit more. “fill me up, si. i’ll be making breakfast for the boys and they’ll see your cum running down my thighs. i’m yours.” you both came to that image as he pumped into you, making you leak with his cum. “fuck.” he collasped into you, holding off his weight as to not squish you. cock still inside, he removed the clamps, licking each nipple after. “did you think of me when you bought these?” he said, growling. “i got so horny i had to get off in the public bathroom right after. thinking of you the whole time.” you replied. “gonna make you wear these all the time now so your cunt is always ready for me.” he slipped out and you both sighed. 

he left and came back with a warm washcloth, cleaning you both up. you yawned, so tired from the night’s events, glad to have your husband home. simon turned off the lights and tucked you both in, ready to sleep with his love in his arms. “i’m home, dove.” he whispered, kissing your forehead and tangling his feet with yours.

“i’m home.”

Hi lovie! Your writing and blog aesthetics are incredible! I visit every morning to get some motivating energy. May I please make a request for Jack Hughes? May it please be with a girl who is quiet/introverted but not a pushover. She doesn't start conversations/speak much in public, but is chill with herself and doesn't waste her social battery with those she doesn't vibe with. If that makes sense so sorry! The plot can be anything you wish! Please change or ignore this I know it's odd and choppy.

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM Jack’s in love with his blunt girlfriend, and isn’t afraid to show that.

Fem!reader, as per requested the reader is quiet and doesn’t give two shits about it, use of y/n, poor Trevor getting ignored bad and then rutger taking his spot, ngl this was kinda hard to write cause I am literally the most friendly person ever, anon I love u thank u sm for this req I love soft Jack, hope I did this ask justice!

WC: 1.8K, not proofread 🐚

♪ GOOD DAYS - SZA

“Still standing here?”

“Mhm.”

Tonight was great. You went with Jack to this beach party he was invited to and despite thinking you were gonna hate it, it was actually pretty fun. Though you would never admit that to him.

The warm air of summer brushes past you with a soothing coo of relaxation. The music from the party being distant in your ears; hearing chatter and the crashing of the waves in harmony.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” A boy says, one of Jack’s friends named “Trevor” or something—honestly you didn’t mean to forget but it just didn’t stick to you at the moment.

“Not really.” You say and then turn around to walk back into the crowd. After a few minutes of just wandering you bump into the chest of another person. “Excuse me-“

“Well hello pretty lady, you alone?” He says, and you lift up your head a little bit to see the gorgeous sight of your boyfriend, Jack. His smile widens as you two meet eyes and they crinkle at the side a little bit with how hard he’s smiling.

“Hmmm, not too sure if I am….” You tease and he wraps an arm around your waist to bring you closer to you. “Where’d you go? Outside?” nodding your head and bringing your arms to wrap around his neck you give him a small kiss

You two part slightly when a girl makes her way over to the two of you, not even sparing you a glance.

“Jacky! How are you-“ she stumbles—trying to purposefully trip herself into him, but only getting surprised when he grabs you and quickly moves the both of you out her way, causing her to fall flat on the floor.

A few people around her look down confusingly, and you mentally smile at her slightly embarrassed look. She quickly jumps back up to her feet and coughs a little to clear herself up.

“Um, anyways. How are you doing, Jacky?” She says, and looks at you for a second while her face shifts to displeased when she sees his arm around your waist.

“I’m fine. Me and my girlfriend, y/n, are doing pretty well-“ “Jack! Tell your brother he sucks at pool.” A tall brunette says with Luke trailing behind him with a grumbling smile “I do not suck! You definitely cheated!”

“Yeah okay Luke.” Your boyfriend snorts and the random girl is very swiftly pushed to the side while the two boys take over her spot in front of you.

“Hi y/n” Luke says and gives you a small hug while you smile at him in greeting. “Hi, I’m rutger! You can call me rut, Nice to meet you.” The boy takes out his hand and his demeanor is incredibly friendly, shooting him the same smile you gave to Luke “I’m y/n. You’re a pool expert?”

“Nah, but I could definitely beat you if you play like this dude over here.” He jokes while nudging over to Luke and he replies with a ‘so not true’

“You’re so on!” The two of you run over to the table, already joking around about which one of you would get which side.

“That’s new? She doesn’t really click with people like that…” Luke says and Jack nods, looking at the two of you. “It is rare, but sometimes it happens. Rutger has that younger brother vibe which is probably why they clicked so fast. Y/n has a soft spot for family.”

“Jack! Get over here! I am not having Luke as my partner again” “that’s my boyfriend!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were alone? I would have came too!”

“Rut, I like my alone time outside” you giggle, seeing him plop down on the seat next to you, making an ‘O’ shape with his mouth.

“Well, Jack was looking for you earlier. And Trevor was complaining that you didn’t like him?” “It’s not that I don’t like Trevor, I don’t really know him like that.”

“you don’t know him either!” A muffled voice comes from behind the glass window you’re in front of, turning around to see Trevor (apparently) and Jack looking at the two of you.

Jack grins, mouthing a ‘hi Baby’ to you while Trevor freezes and backs up from the window. “…a little creepy.” “I didn’t even know he was there.” Rutger laughs and you scoff

“He’s kinda right though, I only just met you at the party two days ago.” Rutger says, leaning back into his seat. “Yeah, but you give off like a friendly sibling vibe. Whoever that is gives me random dude vibes which is true cause he is.”

“Can you at least make an effort to learn my name? As Jack’s best friend I think I deserve some respect!“ Trevor whines and Jack opens the door, already tired of talking to you through the window. “you are not my best friend.” “Then who is?” “You are, obviously.” Jack says to you in response to your question.

“Y/n! Come here, I need help with my hair.” Ellen calls you over and you gently excuse yourself from the porch as the boys talk amongst each other.

A few minutes later, the same girl from last night slides into your spot and everyone stops talking. “Hey guys, what’s going on?” “Um, nothing much. Just waiting for y/n to get back I guess. Where did you come from?” Rutger says and she fakes confusion, purposefully ignoring his last question. “who’s y/n?” “My girlfriend. You saw her last night at the party.” Jack says and she furrows her brows.

“Oh, her? I talked to her outside too, not very friendly.” “Yeah, you just have to get close to her. Unless you’re Rutger apparently.” Trevor sighs and Rutger lets out a little laugh “I don’t know, she really seemed like she didn’t like me.” “She might warm up to you eventually.” Jack cuts through shortly, not wanting to leave a space where she could talk negatively about you.

He thanks everything when he sees you walking back up to them, another smile gracing his lips. “Your mom is literally the best Hughes.” “Should I take offense to that or no?” He jokes and you shrug.

“Hi.” The girl sitting in your seat says and you nod your head back in greeting. “Can I get a hi too?” “Hi Travis.” “My name is Trevor!” Giggling, you let out a small ‘oops’ and Trevor knows for a fact you’re messing with him now.

The girl eyes you down carefully, as if she’s trying to pick out a flaw while you stand there and look at something on your phone.

“Oh shit, we gotta go. Promised Luke I’d go with him to watch a movie. You wanna come, babe?” “Nah, I’m good. I’m probably just gonna relax.” “I can go.” The girl says with an exaggerated ear piercing voice, and Jack can’t help but cringe. “Um, Luke said guys night only. Bye! Bye babe.” He kisses you goodbye before shoving rutger and Trevor out and away so the girl couldn’t question him.

You stand there and watch while the boys pull out of the driveway, waving a goodbye and seeing them drive off. Eventually, the boys leave and it’s just you and this mystery girl here.

You move to go back inside, and she follows you from a distance.

Walking into the kitchen, you take out a pack of strawberries and wash them off before grabbing a cutting board and beginning to cut them into pieces, trying your best to ignore the weird girl behind you.

“Do you even like Jack?” She questions and you pause before turning around to look at her. “Who are you?” You say, before turning back to your strawberries. “I’m Kianna. I live next door. I don’t think you’re a good fit for Jack.” “Good thing I don’t care what you think then, Kianna.” She huffs and you slide your diced strawberries into a cup, moving to take ice cream out of the freezer and scoop it into a bowl.

“That’s rude.” “It’s not rude, I don’t know who you are. Why would I care about what you think if I don’t know you?” You respond, and place your strawberries on your ice cream before leaving to go upstairs into Jacks room. “You don’t want to get to know me?” “Why would I want to get to know someone who’s trying to steal my man?”.

You can hear Ellen open the front door when you disappear up the steps and slow down so you can hear their conversation.

“Oh! Kianna, honey… what are you doing in here?” Ellen says and she freezes “um, I was talking to Jack’s girlfriend and she just went upstairs.” “Oh, y/n! Isn’t she great? I just love her so much, such a sweetheart! Jack’s just so in love with her too.” Ellen says and you can feel the awkwardness radiating off of Kianna. “U-um, Mrs. Hughes, I’m gonna head home now. Bye.” She mumbles before making her way out the door.

You snicker before walking up into Jacks room and turning on the latest episode of your favorite murder tv series.

You wake up to feel Jack laying down next to you, Arms wrapped around you and his body slightly squishing yours.

“Hey. Had a nice nap?” He buries himself into the back of your neck, smiling when he hears you giggling with a sigh.

“Was soo nice. You have fun at the movies with Luke and the others?” “Yeah. Was a great movie. Would’ve been better if you were there though.”

Silence is the only thing heard between you two. The tv doing all the talking you need to fill in the empty air.

“My mom said Kianna was in here earlier. She trouble you at all?” You roll onto your other side to face him properly and play with his hoodie. “Nah, she tried to intimidate me but it didn’t work.” “Intimidate you how?” “Tried telling me she didn’t think I was good for you or whatever, but I literally don’t even know that chick. Why would I care?”

Jack hums in agreement as he snuggles closer to you. “She’s just upset cause I’m not dating her. I’ve never liked her, but I’ve been nice because she’s like my summer neighbor or whatever.” You smile and nod in acknowledgment.

“I don’t care what she thinks. Like I said, I don’t know her.” “My mom secretly hates her too, but don’t tell her I told you that.” He whispers and you smile.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles into your neck and you sigh in contentment. “I love you too, J.” You two share a few kisses before you hear knocking on the door.

“Hey. Tell y/n her favorite Hughes brother just came home.” “Quinn!” “Hey! I’m here too!” “Shut up Luke!”

© copyright of ilythena. Do not repost or translate onto any other websites.

EMERGENCY CONTACT

SUMMARY! in which luke finds out that he’s not his girlfriend’s emergency contact and instead it’s jack which makes luke jealous and upset

INVOLVED! luke x reader 

WARNINGS! mentions of anxiety & meds

BEFORE YOU START! don’t know how the hughes act irl this is just an imagination!

extra! some more luke blurbs bc i’ve been enjoying writing it!

find my masterlist → here!

You don’t even remember what started this conversation. One moment you were cooking breakfast for you and your boyfriend, the next moment he was on the verge of tears over something you didn’t realize was quite so deep.

I guess it all started when Jack gave you a phone call over some directions that the doctor had told him (something that happened everyday) and he had the responsibility of passing it onto you. You had been in and out of hospitals for your entire life– due to you being anemic and low-iron as well as taking anxiety meds, so it wasn’t normal for multiple people to check in on you and your medications. 

“Hey, Jack,” you sang into the phone, putting it on speaker so you could continue making your breakfast.

“Hey,” Jack called back. 

“What’s up?” you asked the older Hughes boy, looking up as you heard your door open and saw a sleepy Luke emerge from the bedroom.

“The doctor called me this morning,” Jack said, his tone turning more serious. “You need to call them back whenever you can. They told me they had a few questions about how you’ve been feeling with the new meds and what not.”

“New meds?” Luke asked from across you, clearly listening to the conversation.

“I’ll tell you later,” you explained, trying to listen to what Jack was trying to say.

Luke sat on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island and looked at you with a confused face.

“Anyways, the nurse kept telling me to make sure I keep doing these daily morning check-ins with you until the end of next week just to see if there are any changes.”

“Yeah, I mean I’m fine. I’ve been taking them every night before bed just because I’ve noticed I just get more tired if I take it during the day so that’s been the only change so far. I’m good though and the meds are really helping,” you absentmindedly told Jack while fixing a plate for Luke. 

Your boyfriend had narrowed eyes as you continued chatting with Jack. The two of you said your goodbyes so you could finally pay attention to Luke who was picking at his food.

You couldn’t notice, but Luke’s head was swimming in hurt and disbelief.

“What was that all about?” Luke asked, clearly hurt about not being kept in the loop with whatever was going on with his girlfriend. 

“Jack’s been checking up with me every morning for the past few days now,” you mentioned, sitting next to Luke. 

“Why?” Luke scoffed out.

You were confused at his odd behavior. The two of you were secure in your relationship and Luke knew better than to get jealous over his older brother.

“What’s wrong, Luke?” You asked him, turning your seat to look at him.

“Well I just want to know why my brother knows that you’re on new meds and I as your boyfriend don’t,” Luke grumbled out, crossing his hands over his chest.

“He’s my emergency contact,” you said, not thinking much of it. “I just got upped my dosage for Zoloft and the doctors just want to make sure that it isn’t affecting my anemia medication. Just a small precaution. Nothing to worry about.” 

Luke’s face went blank and you could tell something was off.

“Luke?”

“Why is he your emergency contact?” Your poor boy choked out. “Why isn’t it me? For god’s sake I live with you and your my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I have a better idea of how you’re feeling on a regular basis instead of Jack?”

You couldn’t understand why he was upset over such a small matter.

“Luke,” you said, trying again to reach out to the boy who was clearly spiraling over not being your emergency contact.

“Do you not trust me?” Luke asked, his voice breaking.

“Is that even a real question? Of course I trust you,” you said, trying to calm him down.

“Then why is he your emergency contact and not me?” Luke asked once more, his eyes red and tears fighting to fall down his face.

“Oh baby. Jack’s been my emergency contact even before we were dating,” you said, trying to soothe the poor boy. “I moved to Jersey not knowing anyone besides Jack and I really needed someone to make sure that I would be taken care of if something ever were to happen to me,” you explained, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“When we started dating, it was your rookie year and Jack and I both came to the understanding that you were under too much pressure with hockey and I didn’t want to burden you with all my issues. Jack offered to continue taking me to the hospital and my check-ins.”

“How many times did need to go to the hospital without me?” Luke asked, his voice raspy from holding back his tears.

“Just once,” you said. 

“You could have called me,” Luke shouted. “I would have dropped everything to take you to the hospital. I would do anything to make sure you were going to be okay.”

“Yes and I understand that, Luke,” you said, grabbing his hand and intertwining it with yours. “But you need to realize I just wanted you to not worry about me and just focus on yourself.”

“You still left me out of the loop, y/n.” Luke mumbled out, still clearly upset.

“I know and I’m sorry but I thought it would be for the best if you didn’t know your girlfriend had passed out and had to be rushed to the hospital,” you mentioned, haphazardly. 

Luke’s eyes shot up to meet yours.

“You passed out and the ambulance was called and no one called me?” Luke whispered out.

“They called Jack,” you said, wincing at your own confession. “They called Jack and I told him not to tell you.”

“When did that happen?” Luke asked, concerned and furious over the fact no one even bothered to tell him that you had a serious emergency.

“Remember that time when Jack had to leave during day one of media training?”

Luke nodded as he tried to remember the reason Jack gave him for leaving.

“Jack told me that something happened to his apartment complex and he had to evacuate his stuff,” Luke said. “I didn’t think anything of it, but he was clearly panicked and he seemed like he was hiding something.”

You waited patiently as Luke started to connect the dots.

“The hospital called him, huh?” Luke asked.

All you could do was nod.  

“I’m sorry for keeping you out the loop, Luke.” You apologized. “I didn’t know if you cared about all those emergency contact stuff.”

“You’re my girlfriend. You’re my biggest priority,” the boy said. “I need to know these things just to make sure that you’re alright,” Luke said. 

“I know,” you sighed out, dragging your hands over your eyes. 

“And you need to let your doctors know that they need to keep me in the loop as another emergency contact,” he said.

He wrapped you into a hug as you snuggled into his arms.

“I’ll put you down as an emergency contact,” you said, grabbing your phone to call the doctor’s office.

- - -

“Hi I was just calling to list another emergency contact down under my name,” you said to the receptionist, the phone being on speaker for Luke to hear.

You have her your information and it took a second for her to find you in the system.

“Under your emergency contact field, we have a Jack Hughes and a Quinn Hughes listed already. Would you like to add one more?”

You winced after she said Quinn’s name– forgetting that Quinn was also listed as your emergency contact from way back then. 

Luke shot you a look after hearing not just one of his brothers was listed as your emergency contact, but both were.

You shot him an apologetic look before rattling off Luke’s information and thanking the sweet lady before hanging up.

Luke’s arms were crossed once more.

“So you’re telling me that not only Jack was listed as your emergency contact, but Quinn was also listed?” Your boyfriend sassily asked.

“Ummmmmm,” you muttered out, clearly stalling, trying to think of an excuse.

You were definitely going to get another earful from Luke.

WC: 1.3K

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

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

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

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That should be it.

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have tougher targets to tackle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

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

“No!” You blurt.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. Okay, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you’ve a moment, love?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee. 

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry. 

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure. 

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch. 

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing. 

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged. 

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs. 

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return. 

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming. 

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else. 

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily – 

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face. 

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him. 

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs. 

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. 

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious. 

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering. 

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy. 

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static. 

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent. 

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry  kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside. 

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is. 

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you. 

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him. 

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in. 

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much. 

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today. 

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach. 

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest. 

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him. 

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies. 

“Thank you.” You mumble. 

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.