#romance

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Rudy Francisco

[theeroticlover]

Let's get into the shower together... :)

[eleganceofhersoul]

[dailyflicks]

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE 2019 | Céline Sciamma

[ifonlyyuweremine]

Captain’s Girl. [Part I]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

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

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

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

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sisters.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, “Yeah, why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help you?”

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

Damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Funny.” You said sarcastically.

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit.” You breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ghost smirked, “Sounds like you care.”

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

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

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

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

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

It was Price, because of fucking course it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pit of your stomach dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Captain’s girl.

What. The. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“[Name]!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, wait! Don't go!

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

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

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

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

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[hottq]

[celestie0]

Hey!! Do you have any ihm headcanons for gojo and y/n?

I honestly love them both so much especially reader. Your writing is amazing

suuure!! i mean they're not like officially in a relationship yet so these will just be kinda random facts about them i supposeee, some separate and some together :0 but i hope they're still interesting haha <33

in holy matriphony headcanons

ᰔ note. for anyone new here, these headcanons are based off of my gojo x reader long fic series called "in holy matriphony"!! header art by @/3-aem

ihm!gojo woodworks in his free time. he’s building a coffee table right now. he passed out in his workshop last weekend because he accidentally inhaled too many wood stain fumes

ihm!gojo already has a college fund set up for his future kids (he started it when he was 26 lmfao)

ihm!gojo on that note is veeery financially responsible (unlike ihm reader hahaha)

ihm!reader only chose nursing for her post undergrad plans because she dressed up as a nurse once for halloween and it drove choso crazy and that’s basically what she ended up rolling with for the rest of her professional career 👍🏼 (a questionable yet relatable decision)

ihm!gojo’s ex-wife, who shall still remain mostly a mystery, is actually someone he’s known since he was four years old (childhood friends to lovers type beat)

ihm!gojo’s favorite weekend pass times are hanging out with juno, taking his boat out to the lake, and watching SNL

ihm!reader secretly really wants to go for a ride on the lake on ihm!gojo’s boat but she’s spent so much time yelling at him for parking it halfway across her driveway curb that she feels like asking would be damage to her ego

ihm!gojo & ihm!reader were actually veeeeeery civil with one another when they first met, like very sweet neighbors, but then obviously things became sour down the line haha

ihm!gojo eats a generally pretty clean diet other than the occasional takeout on a friday. he PIGS out when he’s sold a house though. also, he’s a massive slut for home baked goods especially if they were made just for him. one time juno brought him a plate of (very burnt) chocolate chip cookies and he damn near cried (it’s the thought that counts)

ihm!gojo became a real estate agent fresh out of college but his actual major in college was entirely unrelated to marketing, sales, or business (shall be revealed later) 

ihm!reader was voted prom queen not once but twice when she was in high school and she believes that’s when she peaked in life

ihm!gojo gets sent on business trips to foreign countries pretty often by his brokerage firm to assess new housing markets and he always tries to bring back souvenirs for everyone in the neighborhood (except reader because he once brought her a stuffed animal from the airport in taiwan but he saw her throw it away in her garbage bin on trash day :( …she’s so mean sometimes)

whenever ihm!gojo & ihm!reader have arguments over things, they always vent about it to their neighbors in passing, and reader gets so pissed off when neighbors take gojo’s side because she’s literally lived there her whole life and yet they have the audacity to advocate for HIM

ihm!reader holds a lot of resentment towards her father because he was a heavy smoker for the entirety of his marriage to her mom, and so she suspects the reason her mother has cancer in the first place is because of the secondhand smoke 

ihm!gojo is obsessed with avocados. he eats avocado toast everyday. and he makes a meaaaaannn bowl of guac. he only has one avocado tree in his backyard right now but he would like to have a whole farm of them someday

ihm!gojo is really social, he loooves to talk to people and get to know them and ask them for their whole life story even if he just met them like two minutes ago lol, but his actual close knit  group of friends is only like 3-4ish guys

ihm!gojo gets frequently invited to his clients’ dinner parties, christmas parties, thanksgiving meals, kids birthday parties etc lmfaooo but he often has to politely decline

ihm!reader’s doctor is very concerned for her symptoms of insomnia (due to her abnormal sleeping schedule from nights shifts) because she already has risk factors for alzheimer's from her mother and insomnia only increases that risk

ihm!reader’s favorite store ever is costco. she wants her ashes to be spread across a costco parking lot

a/n. hope u enjoyed :0 much love!!

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, could you write a Carlos x reader story where the reader is an actress and she’s promoting her latest film with her co-stars? There are a lot of rumors that her two main co-stars are very close to her, especially the lead actor, and they even went to an award ceremony and walked the red carpet together because Carlos couldn’t attend at the time. Carlos has a hard time dealing with the rumors, but the reader reassures him. However, during a viral interview, the reader’s co-star admits to having had a major crush on her and says he thinks she’s the most beautiful actress in the film. Carlos goes crazy, as does the internet, and he decides to accompany her to the Venice Film Festival to silence the rumors and show the guy that he’s the reader’s boyfriend.

{ i loved this one so much }

love bites and interviews (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, arguments, inappropriate comments, comfort

Carlos Sainz had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At least, not until Y/N came into his life.

She had this effortless way of bringing out his softer side, pulling out the parts of him that even he didn’t know existed. It was as if everything clicked the moment he met her. The busy life of a Formula 1 driver, filled with races, media obligations, and constant travel, felt more grounded whenever she was around.

It wasn’t just that Y/N was stunning, though she certainly was. It was the way she made him feel. When he’d come home after a grueling race weekend, tired and worn, she was always there, waiting with a warm smile and open arms.

Carlos could still remember the first time they realized what they had was something different, something extraordinary. They’d been dating for about six months, her rising star in the film industry clashing with his career’s demands. But no matter how hectic things got, they always made time for each other.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her closer to him on their couch one night after a particularly long day. They didn’t need to say much; words weren’t necessary when they were together. The way she curled up against him, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on his chest, was enough.

"I missed you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing something profound.

"I’m right here," Carlos replied, his hand running through her hair. "I’m always here."

And that’s what they were—each other’s constants. They laughed, teased, and supported one another through everything. He would be on the track, pushing the limits of his car, and Y/N would send him little messages of encouragement just before his qualifying lap. She understood him in a way no one else could, and Carlos, in return, was her biggest fan, always there at her premieres, on the red carpet, or watching from the sidelines with pride glowing in his eyes.

Y/N loved how Carlos was both her biggest cheerleader and her calm in the storm. When the pressures of her own career weighed on her, she knew he’d be there, offering a sense of security she had never experienced before.

"Don’t worry, cariño," he’d say, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead whenever she was feeling overwhelmed. "We’ve got this. You’re not alone."

Their relationship wasn’t without challenges—between her film sets and his races, they were often separated by continents. But they never let it come between them. Instead, they embraced the distance, always making time for each other. Late-night phone calls, quick weekend visits, and thoughtful surprises were part of their routine. It was a love that thrived despite the odds.

"How did we get so lucky?" Y/N asked one evening as they sat by the fire, her legs draped over his lap, a content smile playing on her lips.

Carlos looked at her, his eyes softening in that way they always did when he was around her. "I don’t know. But I’m not letting it go."

And he meant it. He loved her fiercely, with all the passion and loyalty he poured into everything else in his life. Carlos Sainz might be known as a skilled racer to the world, but to Y/N, he was her best friend, her biggest fan, and the man she wanted by her side for the long run.

"Te quiero," she whispered, nuzzling closer.

Carlos smiled, pulling her even tighter against him. "Te quiero más."

There was no place he'd rather be than right there with her, no race more important than the one they were running together—building a life full of love, trust, and the kind of partnership people only dreamed of.

time skip

Carlos sat on the edge of his hotel bed, his helmet lying discarded on the floor. It had been a long day of practice laps and debriefs, and all he wanted to do was check in on Y/N. She was promoting her latest film tonight—one of her biggest projects yet. He had seen her glowing face on the live stream just before he hopped in the car for his final practice session, and she had looked stunning.

But now, scrolling through his phone, Carlos’s jaw tightened. The comments on her latest red-carpet appearance had shifted from admiration to something darker. Rumors.

"Y/N and Liam are so close! They should totally date." "Did you see the way he looked at her? Definitely more than co-stars." "Where’s Carlos? Trouble in paradise?" "Carlos didn’t show up. Maybe she’s better off with someone who can make time for her." "Look at Liam and Y/N—perfect red-carpet couple."

Carlos’s stomach twisted as he read through the comments. His fingers hovered over his phone, scrolling past photo after photo of Y/N, dazzling in her gown, standing next to Liam, her handsome co-star. The two of them looked great together, but the press seemed to think too great.

He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face as he switched to Twitter. It wasn’t any better. In fact, it was worse.

#YNLiam trending. "It’s like they’re already a couple! Where’s Carlos???" "Y/N looks happier with Liam than she ever did with Carlos. Just saying." "Carlos who? Liam’s the real leading man."

Carlos’s eyes narrowed as he read the flood of tweets. He tried to remind himself that it was all just noise—fans making drama where there wasn’t any—but it hit him harder than he expected.

"Where’s Carlos?" He could almost hear them taunting. He hated that he hadn’t been able to be there. He should have been the one standing next to her, not Liam. But racing came first, and the schedules had clashed. That’s how it was in their relationship sometimes.

Still, seeing people speculate—no, assume—that he wasn’t there for her, that Liam was somehow taking his place, it made his blood boil.

The door to the room clicked open, and Carlos quickly turned off his phone as Lando Norris walked in, slinging his backpack on the chair.

"You alright, mate?" Lando asked, glancing at Carlos’s tense expression.

Carlos tried to shake it off, but his frustration bled into his voice. "Have you seen the posts? About Y/N and her co-star?"

Lando raised his eyebrows, pulling out his phone. "No, but… I’m guessing it’s not good?"

Carlos let out a bitter laugh. "Not at all. People think… They’re acting like she’s with him, like he’s taking my place just because I couldn’t be there."

Lando frowned as he started scrolling. "Ah, I see what you mean. Man, the internet is a crazy place. You know it’s all just nonsense, right?"

Carlos nodded but didn’t say anything. He knew Lando was right—fans made up stories all the time. But this felt different. Seeing Liam next to her, the way people talked about them like they were some perfect red-carpet couple, it gnawed at him.

"It’s not the first time, you know?" Carlos muttered. "They’ve been like this since filming started. Always hinting that there’s something more between them. But this… It’s everywhere now. And I’m stuck here, in a completely different country, doing laps while they’re making up stories about my girlfriend with someone else."

Lando leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Mate, it’s just rumors. She’s your girl. She wouldn’t give them a second thought."

"I know," Carlos said, though his voice lacked conviction. "But the fact that people even think it’s a possibility… I hate it. I hate that I’m not there to shut it down."

Lando nodded, understanding the frustration in his friend’s voice. "Look, Y/N is your girlfriend. She’s with you for a reason, and everyone else? They’re just looking for drama. You’ll see her soon, and it’ll blow over."

Carlos didn’t answer. He glanced at his phone again, his eyes narrowing at one particularly snide tweet: "Carlos better be careful, or Liam’s gonna steal his girl."

Shutting off his phone with a sigh, Carlos leaned back against the bed. "I just want this to stop, Lando. I don’t like people questioning what we have."

"You’re the only one questioning it," Lando pointed out. "Y/N isn’t."

Carlos stared up at the ceiling, knowing Lando was right but still feeling the weight of everything press down on him. The race, the distance, the rumors—it was a lot to handle.

He just hoped Y/N knew that, no matter what anyone else said, he wasn’t going anywhere.

time skip

Y/N had just wrapped up another full day of press junkets, her phone buzzing in her hand as she walked into their apartment, exhausted but eager to see Carlos. She immediately spotted him in the living room, scrolling through his phone, his jaw set tight.

"Hey," she greeted with a soft smile, kicking off her heels as she walked over to him. "Long day?"

Carlos barely glanced up, his eyes glued to the screen. "Yeah," he muttered, but something was clearly bothering him.

Y/N sat down beside him, tucking her legs under her as she gently placed a hand on his arm. "Carlos, what's wrong? You’ve been distant all day."

Carlos finally looked at her, his brow furrowed. He hesitated before handing her his phone. The screen was paused on a viral clip—Liam, her co-star, sitting in a live interview, grinning like he just revealed something monumental. The headline underneath it read: Liam Opens Up About His Massive Crush on Y/N.

Y/N's heart sank. "What is this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she clicked play.

On the screen, Liam laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. "Yeah, I’ve had a huge crush on her from the moment I met her. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s not only talented, but the most beautiful actress I’ve worked with."

The interviewer’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly eating it up. "Wow, so are we saying there was some real chemistry on set?"

Liam winked. "Let’s just say… it wasn’t all acting."

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her stomach flipping as she watched. What the hell was he thinking? This was inappropriate—totally unprofessional. She couldn’t believe he’d said that, let alone in a live interview.

Carlos’s voice cut through the silence. "He thinks it’s funny," he said, his tone edged with frustration. "He thinks he can just say that, and people will laugh it off, like it’s a joke."

Y/N immediately placed the phone down, turning to him. "Carlos, I had no idea he was going to say that. I swear, I’m as shocked as you are."

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "This is exactly what I was worried about, Y/N. People already think there’s something going on, and now he’s feeding into it. That crush comment? It’s not a harmless joke—it’s fueling the rumors."

Y/N could see how upset he was, and it broke her heart. She grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. "Carlos, I’ve told you before—there is nothing going on between me and Liam. I don’t know why he said that, and I don’t find it funny. At all. It’s inappropriate, and I’m going to have a word with him about it."

Carlos shook his head, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "It’s not just about what he said, Y/N. It’s about the fact that he’s doing this publicly. He knows we’re together. He knows how this looks, especially after everything the press has been saying."

Y/N sighed, knowing he was right. Liam had crossed a line. "I’m going to fix this," she said softly. "You know how much I love you. None of this means anything to me. Liam is my co-star, nothing more, and I’ll make that clear to him."

Carlos glanced over at her, his eyes dark with frustration. "I don’t doubt that, but the world doesn’t know that, Y/N. And I don’t like how comfortable he feels saying those things. It’s disrespectful—not just to me, but to you."

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "You’re right. It’s not okay, and I’ll handle it. But please, don’t let this come between us. We’re stronger than some stupid comments Liam made on TV."

Carlos exhaled sharply, his eyes softening as he reached for her hand. "It’s not about us, cariño. I trust you, I really do. But this… it’s just hard to ignore when everyone else is making it into a bigger deal."

Y/N moved closer, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I hate that you’re feeling like this," she whispered. "But you’re the only one I want, Carlos. Always."

He leaned into her, his arms wrapping around her waist. "I know," he murmured into her hair. "I just don’t like seeing people act like we’re not solid."

Y/N pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. "We are solid. Don’t let some stupid interview change that." She leaned in, pressing her lips softly against his, and for a moment, Carlos melted into the kiss, all the tension draining from his body.

But as they pulled apart, Y/N’s eyes hardened with determination. "I’m going to fix this, Carlos. I’ll talk to Liam, and I’ll make it very clear that this kind of behavior isn’t okay. No more rumors, no more inappropriate comments. Just us, like it’s always been."

Carlos sighed, his forehead resting against hers. "Thank you," he whispered. "I just need this to stop."

"It will," Y/N promised. "I’m on your side, always."

time skip and location change to - venice film festival

The Venice Film Festival buzzed with excitement, the flashing cameras and a sea of glamorous stars lining the red carpet. Y/N walked confidently alongside Carlos, who, for once, was right by her side at a major event. Fans had been waiting for their appearance together, and the internet was already on fire with the pictures flooding in.

But what really had people talking was the little love bite just peeking out from the collar of Y/N’s elegant gown. It wasn’t obvious, but anyone paying close attention—and the fans always did—could see the faint mark on her neck, and they definitely noticed Carlos’s proud, smug smile every time the cameras clicked.

As they made their way down the red carpet, hand-in-hand, the fans went wild, chanting their names, and Twitter exploded with hashtags like #CarlosandYNGoals and #CoupleOfTheYear. Carlos had kept her close all night, making it clear to everyone, especially to those starting rumors, that Y/N was his, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

"Smile, cariño," Carlos whispered into her ear as they posed for yet another set of photos. "The whole world’s watching."

Y/N grinned, turning her head slightly, showing off the faint love bite more boldly than before. "I think they already got the message," she whispered back, giggling at the cheekiness of it all.

Carlos chuckled, his hand gently squeezing her waist. "Let’s make sure they don’t forget."

But amidst the excitement, Y/N had another matter to attend to. As they reached the entrance of the festival, she spotted Liam with the rest of the cast, standing just inside the grand hall. Her expression hardened slightly, and she felt Carlos tense beside her when he saw him too.

"I’ll handle it," she murmured, giving Carlos a reassuring glance before slipping away from his side. He nodded, though his eyes stayed locked on Liam, clearly displeased.

Y/N approached Liam with calm determination. He turned to her, smiling, clearly unaware of the storm he had created. "Y/N! You look amazing tonight."

"Thanks, Liam," she replied, her voice cool. "We need to talk."

Liam blinked, surprised by her tone. "About what?"

"About the interview," Y/N said, crossing her arms. "The one where you said you had a crush on me and implied that we had ‘chemistry’ off-screen."

Liam shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that… I didn’t think it was a big deal. It was just a joke, Y/N. You know how the press is—they eat that stuff up."

"It wasn’t a joke to me," Y/N said firmly. "Or to Carlos. Do you have any idea what kind of rumors you started? People think there’s something going on between us. You made it worse."

Liam frowned, clearly taken aback. "I didn’t mean to—"

"But you did," Y/N cut him off. "And it’s disrespectful, not just to me, but to my relationship. Carlos is my boyfriend, and what you said crossed a line. We’re here to promote a film, not feed gossip. I need you to stop."

Liam’s face flushed, and he looked away, clearly uncomfortable now. "I… I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize it would blow up like this."

"Well, it did," Y/N said, her tone softening slightly. "I need you to be professional from here on out, Liam. No more comments like that, okay?"

Liam nodded, looking genuinely apologetic now. "Okay. I get it. I’m really sorry, Y/N."

"Good," Y/N said, glancing back at Carlos, who was watching them like a hawk from across the room. "Because you’re about to get another conversation, and it won’t be as nice as mine."

Liam followed her gaze, his eyes widening when he saw Carlos approaching. "Oh, crap."

Carlos strode over, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something much more intense. Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him as he approached. She gave him a small nod, signaling that she had said her piece, but Carlos clearly had something to add.

"Carlos, man," Liam started, already sounding nervous. "I—"

Carlos didn’t let him finish. "You thought that was funny? Saying you had a crush on my girlfriend on live TV?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it that made Liam visibly shrink back.

"It wasn’t like that, I swear," Liam stammered, trying to backpedal. "It was just—"

"Just what?" Carlos took a step closer, towering over him now. "Just you feeding into rumors? Just you making her uncomfortable? You know we’re together, and you still did it. Not cool, man."

Y/N could see Liam growing more and more flustered under Carlos’s icy stare. "I already apologized to Y/N, Carlos," Liam said, his voice shaky. "I didn’t mean to disrespect you, honestly."

Carlos’s eyes narrowed. "You didn’t mean to? You should’ve thought about that before running your mouth. Don’t let it happen again. If you care about your career, keep things professional. I don’t want to hear anything like that from you ever again."

Liam nodded furiously, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. "It won’t happen again, I promise."

Carlos gave him one last hard look before stepping back, his hand automatically reaching for Y/N’s again. "Good. See that it doesn’t."

As they walked away, Y/N squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips. "You didn’t have to go that hard on him, you know."

Carlos smirked, his fingers brushing against the love bite on her neck as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I’m just making sure everyone knows you’re mine."

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension melt away now that it was all out in the open. "I think they got the message loud and clear, Sainz."

As they entered the grand hall, the cameras continued to flash, capturing their every move. Fans were already going wild on social media, uploading the pictures of them together, Carlos looking impossibly proud, Y/N smiling with that cheeky love bite on full display.

Twitter exploded with admiration:

“Carlos accompanying Y/N to the festival?? Power couple!” “Did you see the love bite?? Carlos is marking his territory 😂” “I need someone to look at me the way Carlos looks at Y/N. 🥺” “Carlos putting that co-star in his place? YES, KING.”

As they took their seats, Carlos leaned closer to her, his hand resting on her knee beneath the table. "I told you we’d shut this down, didn’t I?"

Y/N smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "You did. And you were right. No more rumors. Just us."

Carlos pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice low and content. "Just us."

[asteenik]

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Nipuna Mehta (via @nipsyyy)

[dariothecat-blog]

Well I was going to submit this art to @welldrawnfish directly. However, I discovered the only way to send a chat message. Was if she followed me. (Before you check. She doesn't)

So in response to this "Goldine" ship art competition. I decided to post my art anyway. It was supposed to arrive tomorrow. But posting seems to be the only way I can submit this! And submit it I MUST!!!

Here is Goldine the Dragon/Fish HRT ship. ♥

[eleganceofhersoul]

[dailyflicks]

PRETTY WOMAN 1990, dir. Garry Marshall

[aniesvision]

𝟓- 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒙?

𐂂 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝'𝚜 𝚎𝚡 𝚐𝚏

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑, 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒙 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒔!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒉𝒐𝒍, 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍), 𝒐𝒉 𝒏𝒐! 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒅..., 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕 (𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒕), 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗, 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 (𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍), 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔... 𝒐𝒉 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍! 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟕), 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑, 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔'𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅?

I met the triplets a long time ago. We became friends in high school and even though we went separate ways after it ended we kept in touch, mostly because me and Matt were dating. They tried being youtubers and I went to college, and the first year was great, but then it all went downhill.

I was at their house, talking to their mom as we baked some cookies together, like it was normal for us almost every time I went there. She seemed upset, but I didn't want to ask what was wrong and make her feel worse since she was clearly trying to distract herself from our baking. As soon as we placed the cookies in the oven, Matt showed up and asked me if we could talk in private.

That's when it happened. Our breakup.

Matt and his brothers were moving to L.A, he wanted to take the channel more seriously, they were growing so fast and it was his dream. I could never be mad at him for what he did, it was the best thing he could do for himself, but it hurt like hell.

The next months were awkward and sad, the three of them left to spend a week in L.A and learn new things to their channel, we said goodbye, but we all kept in touch, even me and Matt. It was hard because I still loved him so much, and he was far away, living his dream.

Some days I felt like trash, discarded, stressed with college and unsure if I was doing the right thing with my life when he was out there living the life he always wanted to. But he deserved it, and he didn't do anything wrong.

A few months passed, and even though I was still a bit shaken by all that happened, my feelings for Matt were slowly turning into friendly feelings again. It was easier to maintain a friendship with him and his brothers now, the anger and the envy passed, we were all on good terms and it was peaceful.

I kept following their social media, they were so big already, getting recognized, making fun collabs, I was proud of them. All three of them deserved it.

After they moved for real to Los Angeles I kept visiting their mom, she was so sweet and we often talked about them. I became even closer to Nick and Chris than expected, but me and Matt didn't talk as much, considering he was now my ex and we were both moving on.

A whole year went by, and in one of our daily facetime chats Nick asked me to go visit them.

-It's been a year, Matt's fine, you're fine, just come over, we all miss you. -He asked through the screen.

I considered his words for too long, but almost a month later I decided that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go see them. Nick and Chris are my best friends, we all met so long ago, and me and Matt are fine, we don't talk too much, but we're still friends, so why not?

After buying the tickets and packing my things I texted Matt to pick me up in the airport in a few hours when the plane was supposed to land. He's still the only one who drives.

I slept all the way from Boston to L.A and the girl sitting next to me woke me up when we landed. I called Matt and he explained where he was and not even twenty minutes later I was face to face with my ex.

-Hey.

I giggle, noticing how I still could tell when he was nervous, and finding it a bit funny that after almost a year and a half after we broke up he continued feeling a bit shy to talk to me.

-Hi, Matt. You good? -I ask, throwing my backpack in the backseat and bucking my seat belt.

We made small talk for a while and slowly he felt comfortable again to talk normally with me, which was a relief. I could barely look at him too much, also not knowing exactly how to feel, but it wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, we were still friendly and knowing each other for a long time helped.

Soon enough he parked in the garage, helping me with my bags and guiding me through the house to where Nick and Chris were waiting for me. My heart almost stops when I hear explosion noises and a lot of confetti falls everywhere. Nick was the first to hug me when I was still processing what was happening. Matt took my bags from my hands and I hugged Nick back, laughing when I saw all the colorful confetti on the floor.

As soon as he pulls away, Chris pulls me into a hug too, squeezing my body against his. He was always the one who liked physical contact the most.

We all sit down on their couch and talk about our last months. It was good to be close to them again, it felt just like our hangouts in high school. When we were done talking, Nick decided to give me a house tour and then we could hang out in his room. He said he wanted me to meet one of his friends, Madi, she was the first L.A friend he made and previously told me they were going to a party tomorrow night and I was obligated to go with them.

The next day we did absolutely nothing until it was time to get ready. I tried to look a little bit better considering it was an influencer's party, but nothing too much, because I also wanted to be comfortable. I finish my makeup with dark red lipstick and spray some perfume before getting out of Nick's bathroom.

We all get in the car and Matt drives us to the party, giving me a few looks through the rearview. I tried not to care and just looked through the window, enjoying the music.

The party was crowded, the songs were extremely loud, the scent of smoke and alcohol filled my nose and there was not a single familiar soul out there. Well, not exactly, I've seen some faces on videos before, but I didn't know anyone.

Nick dragged me through the crowd with him, leaving Matt and Chris alone, and I just went with him until we stopped next to a circle of girls. He introduced me to the Madi girl and some others and we got along instantly. They were so sweet and made me feel included, which I wasn't expecting at all from L.A people. We talked for a long time and then I decided to go grab a drink, I don't usually go for alcoholic drinks but maybe one or two shots wouldn't be so bad, I needed to let loose.

I was about to ask Nick to come with me but he was so immersed in the conversation he was having that I decided to just go alone. I was slightly nervous to be here, but as soon as I saw Chris's face I could feel my heart beating like normal again. I ask for a tequila shot to the bartender, staying side to side with Chris.

-You're drinking tonight? -He asks with a smile, waiting for someone to bring him his pepsi.

-Yeah, I think I need it to let loose a bit, influencers' parties are new to me.

He giggles a bit, nodding. The same bartender who got my order brought Chris's pepsi and my tequila shot. We silently cheer and I drink all of it at once, making a face at how strong that thing was. I licked my lips and decided to take it easy, not wanting to be drunk.

-Where's Nick? -He asked, pulling me with him to a corner since other people wanted to get to the bar as well.

-Talking to Madi, I didn't want to interrupt their conversation. What about Matt?

He smirks, leaning against the wall and crossing one leg behind the other.

-Wanting to know where your ex is, huh? -He teases, raising his eyebrows twice.

I roll my eyes with a smile, shaking my head in denial.

-Not like that, just wondering because you were with him.

He hums in response, turning his head and nodding in a certain direction. I look at it and find Matt sitting with a few of his friends, his eyes already on us, but they drift off as soon as he notices me looking.

-Kid can't even hide it. -Chris says, making me look at him confused. -The jealousy, he's not even trying to hide it.

I laugh, also leaning my back against the wall.

-I would be jealous if I was him and saw me with you too. -I reply, shrugging.

I didn't exactly mean to flirt with Chris, just to simply make a joke out of Matt's clear jealousy, but it came out differently than I thought.

-Oh, yeah? And why's that?

Chris smirks down at me, clearly open to go with the joke, not making it awkward at all, which I appreciate. I think about a response, turning my head to the side to look at him.

-Let's put it this way, if I had a twin sister I'd be at least a bit suspicious if my ex was talking to her at a party.

Chris' eyes widen a bit, but he just laughs at it, shaking his head a bit.

-Fair enough.

We talk a bit more and in between I take another shot, the last one, just to feel more of the alcohol. Chris went back to Matt and I went back to Nick and Madi. The party was alright, I was actually having fun, I met new people, me and Madi shared our socials, Nick invited her to sleepover as well and soon enough all five of us were back at the triplets.

-So, I didn't think of that. -Nick says, looking between me and Madi.

We were so caught up in the moment at the party that we forgot there was no space for both of us in his bed. And after arguing with him, he was for sure not sleeping with any of his brothers to leave the bed for me and Madi.

-I can sleep with Chris. -I say, crossing my arms and wanting to just go to sleep already.

All five of us were discussing it for about five minutes now and I was getting tired.

-You're not sleeping with my brother. -Matt dives in, raising an eyebrow at me like I just said the most absurd thing ever.

-I'm not sleeping with my ex. -I reply, giving him a look.

Yes, we're friends now, and that's exactly why I know I can't share a bed with him, the way he's still nervous around me, the way he was jealous at the party, the way it took me so long to get over him, I'm not throwing all my work away, I can't mess things up between us. And he knows it too.

His eyes soften, although his jaw is clenched, but he just nods and crosses his arms.

-Yeah, you're right. -He whispers, immediately going to his room.

All four of us share a look and Nick breaks the silence to say he is tired and we should all go to bed. I quickly grab a few things in Nick's room and go to Chris'. I waited for him to be done changing so I could go to his bathroom and do my thing as well. I decided to wear a simple set of black pajama pants and a white shirt, took my makeup off and brushed my teeth before walking out.

With the sound of the door opening, Chris looks at me and we smile at each other. I set my things on his desk and take a seat next to him, plugging my phone to charge.

-Are you okay?

I look at him, getting under the blanket and lying down facing him.

-Yeah, I'm good, are you? -I ask back, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

It was definitely different to be here with Chris and not Matt or Nick.

-Yeah, just wondering since... you know, the Matt thing. -He gesticulates.

I laugh at him, not really sure how to feel about the way Matt reacted.

-I mean, I don't even know how I would feel in his skin, so... -I shrug, turning to lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, noticing the little stars on it.

-You keep saying stuff like that like I'm a threat.

We both laugh and I feel his eyes on me, but I don't look back.

-You kind of are.

We stay in silence for a few seconds, his eyes still focused on me and mine on the ceiling. I'm a bit nervous, probably because of all the events that have happened since I arrived. Not much, but still enough to make me think.

-I'm not stealing you from Matt. -He breaks the silence, his voice lower.

-I'm not Matt's.

Silence again. There was a clear tension going on and this was driving me crazy. It's been almost a year and a half since I and Matt broke up, but of course, there's never the right amount of time to be in such a situation with one of my ex's brothers.

-Does he knows that?

I sigh, why is this so hard to talk about? Even when I'm so sure I have no romantic feelings for Matt anymore?

-He should. It's been too long, Chris, we moved on, I moved on. I don't want him like that anymore.

He nods, also looking at the ceiling now, turning off the room lights and keeping his TV on so there is still lighting in the room.

-Yeah, I guess so.

The stars were shiny on his ceiling, it was cute. Made the room a lot more comfortable, and it was distracting me from the tension that was still there.

-He'd be so mad, though.

I finally turn my head to look at him, but he doesn't look back this time.

-What do you mean?

-You know, if we did anything, he'd be pissed. It would be a fucked up thing for me to do as his brother.

I bite my lips, having the confirmation I needed that this tension wasn't just in my head. I knew since high school that Chris also found me pretty when we all met, but it was just that and nothing more, nothing compared to what Matt thought of me, and it was a good thing, I also thought he was good looking of course, nothing as I thought of Matt, but there's no Matt in my romantic life anymore.

-Yeah, he'd probably kill you.

We giggle, our eyes finally meeting each other. It was like no words needed to come out, it was just us, right there, under his shiny stars. It was almost like a desperate move, his hand finding its way to my cheek and giving me no time to pull back before slamming his lips against mine.

Chris treated this moment like it was the last time he'd ever touch a girl ever again, his lips moved with urgency, tongue brushing against mine, hands moving up and down my body. He was so needy.

My hands played with his hair as he got on top of me, grinding his hips and making me feel how rock hard he already was. One of his hands slid under my shirt, teasing my nipples and squeezing my breasts harshly.

My shirt was quickly discarded to his floor, his tongue was swirling around my nipples slowly, taking his time now. He was sucking it and giving each boob the same amount of attention before moving down and throwing my pants next to my shirt on his floor.

Before he could even think, I lifted his shirt over his head and changed our positions, straddling his lap and kissing him again. Chris's hands immediately grabbed my ass, squeezing it harshly and helping me grind on him. My fingers curled in his sweatpants, sliding them down his ankles, and I used one hand to palm him over his boxers.

-Fuck, I need you right now. -Chris whispers, his voice hoarse.

I smirk down at him, joining our lips together and reaching a hand under his boxers to stroke him. He was so hard, so veiny, his tip was dripping precum and his groans against my lips were driving me insane. He gripped my wrist and stopped my hand, changing our positions again and taking off his boxers and my panties.

-All fours, beautiful.

He gets on his knees, helping me turn around and smacking my ass, soothing the skin before aligning with my entrance. I moan softly, tilting my ass and throwing my hair over one shoulder. He teases me with his tip, feeling how wet I am, and pushes in without warning. Our moans were hopefully muffled by the TV volume and he kept one of his hands on my hips while the other kept him up as he leaned down until his chest was touching my back.

He preps kisses on my skin, biting and sucking my neck while slamming his hips hard and fast in me, his forearm propping him up when he needed to cover my mouth with his hand. He felt so different than Matt. Matt was soft and sweet, taking it slow and keeping eye contact. Of course Matt was my first and for a long time the only experience I had, I was in love with him and it was perfect every single time. I had only two other experiences in the last year, but the way Chris was fucking me was new, I haven't felt this, not like that.

-Fuck, feel so fucking good clenching around me like that, Matt was a lucky bastard, holy shit.

-C-Chris. -I whine, receiving another slap on the ass.

My shaky moans were getting louder as I got closer to the edge, and he knew I was close, fastening, even more, his pace and reaching a hand to rub my clit.

I was throwing my ass back, fucking myself on his dick reaching for my climax, it felt all too good. My head was thrown down in pleasure and he used it as a chance to straighten himself and pull my hair, his grip on my waist getting tighter and probably going to leave marks.

The sounds of him slamming his hips against mine were mixing with my shaky moans and his groans. My legs started to shake uncontrollably under him and I felt myself releasing all over him. My orgasm was enough to make him reach his own and with one last thrust he pulled out and painted my back with his load.

Chris cleaned me with a towel and when we were both lying down again, catching our breaths, he started laughing. I laugh with him without even knowing why and we put our clothes back on.

-Matt's gonna kill me, but it was so worth it.

I roll my eyes, trying to understand what the hell happened.

-You're unbelievable. -I whisper back, closing my eyes and feeling him wrapping his arm around me.

He pulls me closer to him and we fall asleep without even discussing what we did.

I'm used to waking up early, so when I reached for my phone and noticed it was already 10a.m I was surprised. I stand up and do my mourning routine before waking up Chris and waiting for him to do the same. I was still sleepy and tired when we got to the kitchen, Nick and Madi weren't there, but Matt was.

I silently walk to the fridge to get myself something to drink when I feel Matt getting closer to me and brushing some of my hair to the side.

-Why do you have a hickey on your neck? -He asks, my heart skipping a lot of beats at his words.

I didn't even have time to think of a response before he started talking again.

-Wait, that thing wasn't there when we came back home last night.

I close the fridge, looking at him and noticing his eyes turning to Chris. I also looked at Chris and he was clearly looking guilty, all of us were silent, just looking at one another, it was so obvious.

-Did you fuck my ex girlfriend?!

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @flow3rsturns13 @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @starnoirr @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700 @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713

[skelliefrankie]

aleksei loves his wife (she is not his wife)

[animentality]