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luveline · 4 months

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Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?

fem, 1k

“Gideon has a new prodigy.”

Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?”

“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.”

“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.”

Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.”

“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?”

Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action).

“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along.

“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?”

“Here they are now.”

You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute.

“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.”

He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile.

“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking.

He frowns at you.

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.”

“I don't shake. Sorry.”

You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?”

Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.”

“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.

You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?”

“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.”

“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–”

“Hey.”

“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.”

“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says.

You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.”

“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.”

There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love.

“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life.

“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?”

“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask.

His lips part as yours had when you first saw him.

He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.”

You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”

“I see.” He waits.

You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team.

“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.”

You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation.

“Was she messing with me?”

Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.”

"Oh... She's nice."

"You have no idea."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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the-raindeer-king · 1 month

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Okay, So I'm the only girl on my team at work. And I'm telling y’all, regardless of age or relationship status, guys absolutely get excited when you give them stuff. Even if they act like they don't. All I can do is imagine how this would work with the 141.

Like imagine you make Gaz a bracelet. It's nothing too crazy, just a single strand of green pony beads. It didn't even take a lot to make it. Just some small, homemade thing that you give to him while you've got some down time between tasks.

He absolutely lights up, smiling wide, eyes bright. He thanks you with a side hug and a kiss to your temple. It's more than what you were expecting, but you're not gonna complain.

You don't think much of it, and move on with your business, nearly forgetting about the bracelet… until Soap interrupts you at the gym, demanding to know why Gaz got one and not him.

You didn't think he wanted one, and you certainly didn't think he'd be so distraught over something so silly. So, you promise him a bracelet, and you deliver it to him the next day. A single strand blue bracelet.

Johnny's ecstatic, grinning like a kid on Christmas. He gives you a bear hug, and a messy kiss to your cheek, practically singing your praise as he leaves.

Price is next. But thankfully you don't give him a chance to ask. You had noticed the way his gaze lingers on the bracelets that Gaz and Soap have, the small frown he's got after talking to them.

You make him a yellow one, and drop it off on his desk with some paperwork. No need for all the fanfare or even the chance he might reject it. He doesn't. He does bring you your favorite drink, his way of saying thanks. And the yellow bracelet is on his wrist the whole time.

Ghost is last, only because you didn't think he'd want one. But ever since Price got his, Ghost has been waiting with baited breath for one. He's not going to outright ask, will even scoff if Soap or Gaz brag about it. But he wants one!

It's late, when he drops by your barrack, quiet when you open the door. It takes him a moment to gather the courage. But eventually, he holds his hand out, asking where his bracelet is.

When you admit you hadn't made him one, he's a little hurt. You're teammates. Why wouldn't he want one? But you invite him into your barrack, letting him sit with you as you make the bracelet. It's just black, his color of course, but he leaves, smiling under the mask.

Oh, and when you show up for the next briefing with your own bracelet, a repeating pattern of green, blue, yellow and black, no one comments on it. But it's hard to ignore the way they all smile at you, a soft look in their eyes.

#poly!141 #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #this is 100% inspired by me making all my coworkers bracelets and the way they all lit up when i passed them out #gaz cod #soap cod #price cod #ghost cod #maybe a little ooc but i dont give a fuck

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diejager · 9 months

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Hiii I wanted to know if you could do a ghost x hybrid!bunny reader?

Where she’s unaware she’s going through her heat cycle (her first) an she’s giving off a dandrufflike sex pollen, so she goes around the base trying to find him. The recuites are following her like dogs an eventually when he finds her (cause she got lost) he realizes that’s what’s going on and helps her out with her problems ☺️

And honestly if you could do anything with ghost x hybrid!bunny reader I would love love looove it 💗💗

Thank you so much for writing! 💗🐰

Bunny

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

Cw: non-con drugging (unintentional really), sex pollen, heat cycles, bunny hybrid reader, Wc: 1.4k

Fun Fact! Bunny was originally and still is a British term of endearment for girls and young women.

For someone who’d joined Price’s TF for months now, you still couldn’t find your way through these winding halls and sharp corners that made the British base. It was like a maze to your twitching nose and droopy ears, always sending you down the wrong hallway or turning the wrong corner simply because they looked identical, and there wasn’t a plan for the whole base. You’d know, you had asked Price for one after getting lost trying to find the Mess Hall and having the fortune of stumbling into Gaz after wandering the halls of your temporary base.

You, once more, got lost on your way to the gym, the last place you had to search to find Ghost. You had searched the armoury, jumping between soldiers (mostly recruits who’d been sent to your base to train. Most sergeants and higher-ranked soldiers were given their small batch to overwatch.) while looking for your lieutenant, ignoring the dark stares the recruits sent your way. Their pupils dilated and face flushed when you walked past them, bumped shoulders and talked to them.

While your search for Ghost in the armoury had been fruitless, the other - as equally flushed as the recruits when you spoke to them - sergeants and corporals about him, they advised you to look for the gym and training grounds, knowing the lieutenant would be there if he wasn’t in his room, his office or the armoury. With a grateful nod, you skipped down the corridor, having randomly chosen a path while completely lost. In your small, dazed mind, body heat skyrocketing, skin perspiring and cheeks flushed, you were oblivious to the longing stares people gave you when you walked past them and the number of recruits that had followed you.

They marched in synchronisation metres behind you, acting like a single-celled organism composed of many that followed its prey or another of their kind. Their hands were clammy, their skin heated to a burning red on their ears and cheeks, their hairline stuck to their skin, and their eyes were wide like lost puppies following a treat.

You lost your way, having to stop and catch someone for directions. Coincidentally, a fellow operator was heading towards the training area, having to meet a teammate for their next briefing. She led you down a familiar hall (was it? Every wall looked the same to you, every spot and crack looked the same on every wall, it had your head spinning in every direction. You were still confused as to why others easily found their way around the whole base.) and pointed out some rooms for you to use as checkpoints when you travelled these halls alone. You thanked her profusely when you found the wide doors to the area you were trying to reach, grasping her hand and giving her a sweet smile, ears flopping at your optimistic movement.

When you reached for the door, you peeked your head through the door, squeezing out when you saw how crowded it was. Ghost preferred solitude and quietness, such a busy and filled room would be a nightmare for a reserved man. He dreaded interacting with people unless he had to (or unless you were part of his loving Task Force 141). Your scent streamed into a wide area, urging heads to turn your way, glazed eyes landing on your head, nose twitching and ears framing your face. They fleeted the room when you left, head tilted towards your scent, ripe and sweet.

You turned to look for the gym, remembering that it was on the other wall, the words gym displayed in bold letters on the door’s sign. You smiled giddily, practically jumping towards it, knowing it was the last place you had to look at. You found him the second you pushed past the door, his broad back standing out around smaller figures around the room even if he seemed to curl into himself on his place on the bench. You went straight his way, the soles of your boots thumping on the slick, shiny floor. It gave you away to the lieutenant who’d heard you walk towards him.

“Ghost,” you smiled, stopping beside his turned body, his sinfully slim hips twisting his skin-tight shirt that stuck to his abdomen like a second skin. “I was searching for you, L.T.”

He muddled silently at you, dark chocolate eyes wandering over your body, over your plush thighs, your round hips, your small stomach, your pressed breast, your naked collar and your face. He flickered to the men that filed in after you, a group of hungry, happy trigger recruits after someone way higher than them. He reeled in the need to growl, watching the way their eyes craved you, fucking you in their mind in every position possible.

Then his eyes rolled back to you, seeing your flushed cheeks, dilated pupils and sweet grin. The scent that fell from your body was downright delirious, a sickeningly sweet musk that rolled off your body in waves of thin particles of your scent. The stare in your eyes was dazed, dream-like in the way that you gazed at him. It riled him, made him hungry and predatory.

”You’re in heat, bunny,” he greeted back, voice coming out deeper and raspier than he intended, the low vibration in his chest appearing by itself from his restrained hunger.

He couldn’t fault the recruits that followed you like lost, hungry pups. You were delicious in the haze of your heat (the first one you’ve ever had, he thought. You’d spoken to him once about never having felt the full brunt of heat, they were supposedly painful and made the hybrid needy from what he’d learned. That scared you.), your scent enveloping you in a cocoon of arousing odour, pheromones that attracted males of your kind of human males to satiate your needs.

He couldn't, doesn't mean he wouldn’t because he would. He was faulting them for staring at you so shamelessly, eyes hungering for you. He wasn’t a perfect man, he was far from it, he was the worst kind to be deemed a perfect model. He was imposing, dominating, possessive and deadly, he was a ghost, the dead that came back alive, having no name or face to call his own. Just like the recruits, he wanted you, to take you for himself in the privacy of his dark room. He wanted to bite into those, soft, fluffy ears of yours, always drooping around your face, but never restraining you in combat (you fared surprisingly well, nearly as merciless as him, in combat, tearing down men twice your size with a knife if needed. You were ruthless to your enemy or those that aimed to hurt your little TF.). He wanted to make you cry, to grab your round tail and yank on it until you begged him to stop. He wanted to bite into the scarless skin of your neck, a perfect place for his mark.

Bunnies liked marks, no? They loved affection and being taken care of, didn’t they? Although you were a hybrid - mostly human with some bunny genetics in your body - you still had some rabbit-like behaviours. He’d seen how you preferred veggies over meat, though you did eat meat on occasion to keep up with the growth of your muscles. He’d seen how you liked soft and smooth things, you had many blankets and personal items you were gifted or bought. He knew you liked jumping and scouting, a bunny's natural curiousity made it peek from beneath the tall grass at things that caught its attention.

He, however, hasn’t seen how you act in the throes of painful heat, would you submit to a needy, aroused bunny that would ask anything of him; or would you jump him and demand attention, using him as you like. He stopped himself from wandering down that dark path, or at least for now until he got both you and him to his room for privacy.

“C’mon bunny, let’s go,” he stood up, bag slung over his shoulder while his other hand rested on your lower back, the dip of your vertebrae and the start of your jerking tail.

He glared at the cowering recruits as he moved between them, they has separated to form a path for you and Ghost. Black-painted skin, dark eyes and a skull-drawn balaclava made them flee, tails tucked between their legs. He held you closer to him, your hip flush to his as he led you to his quarters. That would teach them who you belonged to (perhaps you would show them who he belonged to).

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #bunny hybrid reader #heat

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drvscarlett · 1 month

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Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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rileyslibrary · 5 months

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Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

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skipper1331 · 5 months

Text

Reputation // Alexia Putellas

a/n: based off this request.

Alexia Putellas.

La reina.

Queen of football.

Fan favorite - everybody’s favorite.

It was simple: Alexia doesn’t get rejected.

Or so everyone thought. While in fact, Alexia was asked out often, she was usually the one who would decline the offer. Most of them not interested in her as a person but as the media girl.

Yet that didn‘t stop her from having fun, very fun nights.

Alexia Putellas had a reputation - the fuck girl.

Which is why everybody warned you about her.

"Keep your distance"

"She‘s no good"

"She has a reputation"

"A teammate nothing more"

Alexia’s eyes follow you as you entered the gym.

You looked good, the barca gear made you glow.

"Don‘t even think about it" Lucy warned, stepping in front of Alexia. Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she glared at la reina. The midfielder looked confused before a smirk grew on her face, realizing what the defender meant. "I‘m warning you, Alexia. Do not dare" the english growled.

"I‘m not doing anything" she grinned, eyes back on you as she watched you talking to Patri.

Lucy was aware of Alexias bad reputation and she knew that the sunshine you were, it was most likely for Alexia to shoot her shot. But Lucy would be damned if she didn‘t try to stop it.

The defender and you always had a close relationship, you had played together at City and for the lionesses. Lucy had to protect you. There was no bad cell in your body, you were a ray of sunshine - smiley, sweet and positive. She’d never forgive herself if anything happens to you.

"Enjoying Barcelona?" a voice asked, a hand touching your back before they sat down. Alexia.

The team was out in a restaurant as they celebrated Fridos birthday.

"It‘s nice here" you answered. The older woman chuckled, "here" handing you a drink.

"Oh, I don‘t dri-" you tried to explain before the midfielder cut you off, "it‘s water" she smiled, scooting closer.

What both of you failed to notice was the glare that Lucy sent Alexia, the way her eyes burnt holes in the captains head. Yet what Lucy failed to notice was the blush that started to cover your cheeks, Alexias gaze wandering over your features. "Tell me about yourself, y/n" she smiled softly, sipping on her own drink.

The night was about to start.

"When did you leave last night?" Lucy asked as she walked beside you towards the pitch.

"I don‘t know, actually. I left with Ale" you replied.

Lucy stopped in her tracks, grabbing your wrist, "what did you say?!"

"She drove me home"

"That‘s it?"

"That‘s it" you confirmed.

"Stay away from her, she‘s not the girl you think she is"

Again something you had heard more than once before.

"Hey" the Catalonian greeted, pressing a kiss to your cheek. In respond, you blushed furiously, shyly looking to the ground as the girl giggled at your behavior. "You look pretty" she flirted, eyeing you up and down. Something about the way the Barca outfits hugged your body made her heart race, skin tingle and mind spin with thoughts of what she wanted to do with you.

"Thank you. You look also nice" you smiled. The simple smile you sent Alexia made heart her burst with emotion. She wanted to make you smile everyday.

Just as she was about to ask what you‘re going later, a certain English defender called your name.

"I have to go" you stated, walking to Lucy. The captain growled, Lucy was getting on her last nerve.

In the bus, you starred out of the window as you waited for your bus buddy.

you loved the bus, something about the rides and the bonding made it so special. While you weren‘t one of the louder ones, you loved to observe everybody on the bus.

In the front, coach and staff, talking and analyzing.

In the middle the quieter ones, the ones who enjoy reading, studying or sleeping.

And in the back, the extroverts, the ones who would never shut up and couldn‘t sit still.

It surprised you when you felt a different presence next to you, not the one who it was usually. A familiar scent hit your nostrils, a scent you learned to like, a scent that made you inhale sharply.

"Hola" Alexia greeted, slumping down in the seat next to you. You looked around, searching for your bus buddy who was sitting next to Alexia’s bus buddy, shrugging her shoulders at your questioning look. "What are you doing here?" you asked rather harshly.

Alexia gulped, "do you not want me here?"

"N-no. I- um" nervously you scratched the back of your neck, "you usually don‘t sit next to me" you smiled shyly.

"But now I want to" she explained, her eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. There was none. "I watched the movie you recommended"

"Did you like it? Who‘s your favorite character?" question after question left your mouth. Each one la reina answered happily. She loved talking to you, how passionate you got and how interested you seemed to be in whatever other people said.

Alexia couldn’t stay away from you.

Not when you smiled at her, the way you do.

Not when you laughed, the way you do.

Not when you just existed.

Her mind was consumed by the thoughts of you. Everything you did made her heart race.

Alexia Putellas, la reina, the queen of football, was falling you.

And even though she was known for her fun nights and had a bad reputation because of that, ever since you had entered her life it stopped. She didn‘t look nor acknowledge other women, she only had eyes for you.

Movie night at Patri‘s.

You arrived exhausted, eyes already heavy as you took a seat on the bean bag. The team was gathered around the living room, the curtains closed as snacks were standing on the coffee table. You didn‘t know why you were so tired, you just were. It didn‘t take long for your eyes to fully close. As your body started to lean down, almost falling off the bean bag, Alexia reacted without a second thought. Quickly, she left her seat on the couch and kneeled next to you. Instead of your head falling against the floor, it fell against her chest. The girls were too occupied by the movie to even notice the change - besides Lucy. The English woman watched the scene in front of her, Alexia scooping your small figure up and positioning the two of you on the bean bag, her arms securely around you, your head resting against her chest as she looked down at you, a loving smile across her features.

For once, Lucy didn‘t glare at the midfielder but had a small smile on her face. Maybe Alexia was indeed not the person who she thought she was.

Barcelona was facing Athletic Bilbao and while you were in the starting eleven, Alexia rested on the bench.

The game didn’t start the way she wanted it to - too much chaos. It didn‘t ease her nerves either that every time you had the ball, you were smashed to the ground a second after. It made her mad actually, furios even. In her mother tongue she started to curse, at first it was just an angry whisper until it turned into mad shouting. What the fuck was wrong with that ref?! Was he blind?

"Calm down, he already warned you" Lucy told her firmly, pulling her back to her seat. "She‘s getting hurt!" the midfielder huffed, crossing her arms.

"I know" it took every inch of self-control in her body not to join Alexia‘s shouting.

The Catalonian looked at Lucy, eyes so full of helplessness, "this is personal" she whispered.

With raised brows, Lucy questioned Alexia‘s statement. What was personal? How? "Look at number 6. We have, um, history?"

"You fucked her?"

"Yes"

"And she wanted more but you didn‘t even remember her name?"

"yeah…"

Lucy turned away, her gaze back on the pitch - observing

"She is different" Alexia whispered, "I don‘t know. My heart is- so incredibly happy by just seeing her smile. I want to make her smile. I think I’m in love-"

Just as Alexia was about to admit her love for you, something she had never done nor felt before, Lucy and the whole bench jumped from their seats, yelling furiously.

Harsh tackle.

Your ankle connecting with cleats. Cleats who belonged to number 6.

Your body was shaking violently while you clutched your ankle, crying. The girls on the field tried their best to comfort you, medics already examining your foot. Nervously Lucy and Alexia walked along the sidelines, biting their nails. Even though anger flashed through their bodies, their one priority was your well-being and it didn‘t look like you were feeling well, not at all. The decision was clear: you‘re coming off. Mariona and Marta supported you as you hobbled with tear stained cheeks off the field, where Alexia and Lucy immediately took over their part.

Thankfully, it wasn‘t something too serious. The medics gave you a boot and crutches, so you wouldn‘t injure your foot any further on your way back to Barcelona.

Relief washed over the teams body as they saw you back with them, smiling. That tackle looked harsh and nothing but a yellow card was shown. "Should‘ve been a red" some of the girls grumbled as you joined their huddle before they swarmed out, interacting with fans.

"Little one, how are you feeling?" the English defender asked, looking at you skeptically. "I‘m alright, just need to rest" you stated.

Alexia watched you from afar while she talked to one of the medics. She had to know everything - down to the detail. She addressed it as captain duties, what was best for her team but in reality, she needed to know for her sake. Were you alright? When will your recovery start? How will your treatment look like? Will you be back for the el Classico (not because she wanted your talent too rushed back on the field but because she knew how much the el Classico meant to you.) Alexia asked every question that popped up in her mind and even though the medic was annoyed because most of her questions were already answered, just a little bit differently explained, he was happy that she cared for you so deeply.

Though when a third person entered your conversation with Lucy, she became alert, her latest question long forgotten. "What the fuck" she growled, marching over to where you were, arm snuggling around your waist as she glared at number 6. you gasped slightly at the cold yet gentle touch around your back.

"Alexia" the woman said, to which Alexia only gave a nod.

"Can I talk to you for a minute in private?" number 6 asked you nicely, ignoring the murderous glare Alexia sent her, who was joined by Lucy‘s glare. "Sure" you replied, walking out of earshot.

"Lo siento" she started, gesturing to your boot, "I didn’t mean to" she apologized sincerely, "how bad is it?"

La reina was going crazy - why the fuck was she standing so close to you? Even worse, touching your arm! Jealousy filled her body, a deep frown displayed on her face. It only deepened when you started giggling with the enemy.

"Are you not going to do something about it?" Lucy asked, crossing her arms.

"I absolutely will!" when number 6 pressed a kiss to your cheek, the midfielder lost it. Within seconds she was by your side, shielding you from the other woman who was way too close to you. "You can go now!" she growled, intimidating number 6.

She left.

She wouldn‘t risk it to fight la reina.

"Hey! I was talking to her" you grumbled.

"She was kissing you!"

"She apologized"

"By kissing you?!" her voice level raised, fingers resting at the bridge of her nose.

Everything started getting too much for Alexia, why was she so angry? why couldn’t she control her emotions? She always could! Why not now?!

"I have to go"

As quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared again.

Alexia avoided you on the way back to Barcelona. Like she used to she sat with her friends in the back, your bus buddy next to you. La reina seemed to have forgotten you existed, occupied by other things - though that wasn‘t true at all. For the midfielder there was no one else existing but you.

She felt the urge to sit next to you, explain herself and to wash that stupid kiss off your cheek - to pepper her own kisses all over your face. She did none of it, she just watched you in silence while the girls talked and talked and talked.

The bus arrived in Barcelona hours later, it was already dark outside, only a few cars left on the road. Every girl was eager to get out of the bus and go home, the day has been long and everybody was exhausted.

You were standing in the bus, waiting for everybody to get out, Alexia behind you. Occasionally, her hand would brush against yours as you waited for the girls in front of you to exit the bus. Your breath hitched when you felt Alexia’s pinky intertwine with yours - you didn‘t turn to her, your gaze fixed on Mapi‘s back. The only reaction she got was the blush that arose on your cheeks which you quickly covered with coughing. "You alright?" Mapi asked, holding her arm out to help you down the stairs as your crutches were safely stored away near the suitcases. "Yeah, thank you" you smiled.

With sad eyes, Ale watched you leave.

"How is your ankle?" the Catalonian asked, watching you walk out of the physio room.

"It‘s good. I don‘t have to rest anymore" you replied sweetly, happy to be able to train with the team again. "that‘s great" the captain stated, following your steps to the changing room. She wanted to say so much yet no words left her mouth. The effect you had on her was something she never experienced before. It wasn‘t just your smile or laugh that made her heart race, every time she was near you her knees went weak, her palms got sweaty and she became a nervous wreck.

The el Classico win felt euphoric. A 5-0 win, wow. Barca had destroyed Real and the team couldn‘t be happier.

It was an unspoken rule for the team to celebrate after winning against Real Madrid. Which is why the team met at their local club, all of the girls dressed up, ready to eat, drink and dance.

You considered not to go - you weren‘t the type of person who enjoyed going out much but then again, dressing up, eating and little bit of dancing didn’t sound too bad, did it?

That‘s how you found yourself in the filled club, friends and strangers around you. You sat next to Patri and Pina, talking about something when Alexia joined the table again. She looked breathtaking, her outfit hugged her body perfectly - everybody was drooling, including you.

Throughout the night numerous people asked her to dance or for her number, each time she would decline politely, searching for your eyes shortly after. She wanted to talk to you, so desperately.

As another woman appeared who started talking to Alexia, even laughing with her, you left the table, "I’m getting something to drink, does anybody want something?" you asked.

Making your way over to the bar, you took a seat on one of the bar stools, "one water, vodka on ice, a martini and mojito, please" you ordered.

Alexia watched you like hawk, the rather abrupt leaving and the quick steps catching her attention.

She wanted to follow you, she really wanted to - she didn‘t.

You came back with all of the wished drinks, walking past la reina and the girl she was talking to.

"Let‘s dance!" Ona suddenly yelled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you on the dance floor, the girl already more than just tipsy. Nonetheless, you accepted her dragging you to the dance floor, arms around your neck as she danced. "Arms around my waist, chica!" you did as she wished, not having a clue about dancing but happily doing whatever the younger girl requested. It was her first derby win, let the girl celebrate.

La reina didn‘t enjoy that at all. Seeing the young defenders arms all over you and the close dancing made her burst with emotion. That should be her. She should be dancing with you. Nobody should talk to her besides you.

It should be you and her.

"Fuck it" walking over to you, the midfielders arms snuggled around your waist, pulling you against her front as you left Ona‘s touch completely. "Can I steal her for a moment?" Alexia asked in her mother tongue, smiling nicely at her national teammate who nodded, continuing her dancing.

"You look so beautiful, mi amor" she whispered in your ear. You looked at her with wide eyes, frowning.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"You‘re-" you cut yourself off, not knowing what to say, "Just- leave me alone" left your lips. Wiggling out of her grasp, you walked towards the exit, Alexia close behind. Outside the club, she gently grabbed your wrist, "what do you mean with that?"

"Leave me alone! What game are you playing, hm?!"

"Que?"

"Don‘t you think I know about your little reputation? Barcelonas star footballer loves to fuck random girls" you gritted through your teeth, hidden feelings bubbling up.

"I‘ve been warned about you. And I ignored each warning because you were so nice and caring." you told her, the captain taking back by your sudden outburst, "I don‘t want to be part of your stupid reputation!"

"Stop talking" the midfielder stopped you, face stern, "fuck, do you think I‘d use you?!"

"I don’t know what to think! In one second you‘re getting mad at me because someone kissed my cheek, then you ignore me and then you‘re so lovely, just to talk to some woman again! You‘re so confusing!"

"I haven’t looked at other women since you joined Barca! You‘re the only person I want to look at!" she inhaled sharply before she dropped your hands, resting her forehead against yours, "I don’t want to be confusing" her hands found their place on your waist.

"Are you going home with that woman?"

It was the question that had bothered you the whole night, you just had to know. "No, of course not. She‘s a friend from Alba. I haven’t- you know, not since you‘re here." la reina admitted, "I‘m in love with you and this is all so new, I don’t know how to do this but I’m willing to learn."

You stared at her, was this real? Your heart was racing, breath hitching at the slightest movement of Alexia’s hands, her breath fanning - so close to you.

"No"

"No?"

"No."

Taking a step back, you left her embrace. This was too much - you couldn’t think straight. You wanted to believe her, you really did but you had to protect yourself. You couldn’t be one of her flings. It would hurt too much, to see her and knowing what you‘ve done.

"I‘m sorry, Alexia"

you left without turning back.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, already regretting your choice, the sad look on Alexia’s face haunting you.

Her eyes followed you until you were out of sight. She felt numb. She sat down on the nearest bench, head resting in her hands as she tried to contain herself.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to go home, she wanted to hide under duvet the rest of her life. She embarrassed herself and that wasn‘t who she was.

She was Alexia Putellas.

La reina.

Queen of football.

Fan favorite - everybody’s favorite, just not your favorite.

From all the names she‘d been called, your favorite would have been the best - the greatest honor, actually.

"Hey, are you alright?" a thick english accent asked, sitting down next to her.

"Sí! Sí, I’m good, i‘m good" she rushed out as she looked up, wiping away the tears that had left her eyes just seconds ago. "What‘s happened?" Lucy asked.

"She- she rejected me" Ale whispered, shoulders sagging - exhaustion written over her features.

The defender was silent for a few minutes, letting Alexia calm down and gather her thoughts.

"You know, you can’t blame her" Lucy explained, "your reputation isn‘t the best"

"I don’t blame her. It just hurts so much"

the english woman laid her arm around the midfielders shoulder, trying to comfort her. Lucy knew you liked her but you feared that you‘d be a someone on her list. Also, she knew how awful it felt to get rejected. "She‘s scared"

"Of me?"

"Of your past"

The Catalonian gulped, why had she been so stupid? Why did she build up a reputation? She hated herself for it. All she wanted was you. You weren‘t like the girls whose namens she couldn‘t even remember. You were so, so much more.

She remembered everything you once told her.

She remembered the way you like your coffee and tea.

She remembered your favorite book, movie and show.

She remembered your stories.

She knew which flowers you liked.

She knew that you didn‘t like drinking.

She knew every detail about the things you told her.

"She‘s special" the Barcelona captain stated, firm with her words as she spoke facts.

"Show her."

Over the next few weeks, Ale did what Lucy told her to. She showed you how much she respected you, bought you flowers and did little things. She‘d tie your shoes, she‘d refill your glass, and so on. She did everything in her power to make you realize that she was worth a chance - that her past didn’t define her. And that she won‘t continue this path.

"How are you feeling about the win and the teams performance?" the interviewer asked Alexia who smiled politely at the lady.

"The team performed great, we played very well. We created a lot of chances which we ultimately took advantage of" she replied.

The interview continued like that, analyzing the game, talking about the impact the subs brought with them and the things the team could’ve done better.

It seemed like a normal interview until it took a turn, much to Alexia’s dislike.

"You haven’t been seen with any girls lately - what‘s happened to this version of yourself?"

Unfortunately for the interviewer, you were in earshot. Your body filled with rage. How can someone be this inappropriate? In an instant you marched over, your hips pushing Alexia slightly out of the camera angle, arm protectively around her waist. "This interview is ended" you stated sternly. You weren’t a media person at all, never knowing what to say, more of a private person - that question was enough for you to throw everything overboard. This was nothing but disrespectful.

You grabbed Alexia’s hand, about to pull her fully away from the media as she instead stepped back in.

"That version fell in love"

with that being said, she let you drag her away into the tunnel.

You grumbled something to yourself, angry about the fact that the lady had the audacity to ask something like that, "why did you answer that? You gave her so much satisfaction by answering!"

"Stop pacing around, please" gently she grabbed your wrists, frowning as the scowl didn’t leave your features.

"It was the right thing to do" she answered calmly while her index finger tried to erase the wrinkle between your brows.

"No- she-"

"I am in love with you and i want everyone to know that," she stated, "I‘m not that person anymore!"

You inhaled, closing your eyes as you relaxed in her close proximity.

"I know you‘re not"

"One chance, that‘s all i ask for" she pleaded, her hand cupping your cheek.

"Okay"

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Both of you smiled shyly with cheeks crimson red.

Alexia stood next to the door, waiting for you to exit the Barcelona facility.

Finally, when she saw you leaving the building, she pushed herself off the wall and quickly slipped her hand into yours, "hi" she smiled, teeth showing as you matched her smile. "I was thinking… um, would you like to go out? With me? On a date?" She had been nervous all day long, wanting to ask the question.

Your smile grew wide, "I’d love to!"

"great!" the captain beamed, "I’ll pick you up" she left your touch, happily walking towards her car before realizing something. Hurriedly, she made her way back to you, "tonight, 6pm, i mean"

She was Alexia Putellas.

La reina.

Queen of football.

Fan favorite - everybody’s favorite.

"Amor, say it." she whined, pressing multiple kisses over your face. You wiggled in her grasp as she straddled your waist, your giggles filling the room - heaven for her ears.

"Noooooo"

The captain looked down at you, a mischief smirk making its way on her face.

"Don‘t you dare, Ale!" you laughed, but it was too late - the tickle fight broke out. It was obvious that your girlfriend was winning, no chance for you to win as she had you pinned down on the couch.

"Say it, mi amor"

"only if i get a kiss…" you grinned.

Within seconds Alexia leaned down, pecking your lips.

giggling, you added, "…or two"

she leaned back down, pecking your lips once more. "or three or four or five" you sing-sang, laughing at the midfielders playful glare. After multiple added kisses, Ale had enough. She cupped your cheeks, lips pressing against your own with a gentle force. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Her thumb caressed your cheeks and you couldn‘t help but smile into the kiss as she kissed you with so much love and appreciation.

"you’re my favorite"

———————

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #lucy bronze #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femení #fc barcelona #barca women #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona women #barcelona femeni #barça femeni #fc barcelona femenino #fc barcelona women

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love-that-we-were-in · 1 month

Text

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes.

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.”

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.”

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see.

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party.

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly.

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.”

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.”

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets.

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.”

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead.

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick.

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?”

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table.

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game.

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win.

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet.

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?”

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.”

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond.

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more.

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this.

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night.

“Why aren’t you ready?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.”

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?”

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way.

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around.

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap.

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more.

“Fancy a rematch?”

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.”

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.”

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.”

“How many beers have you had?”

“Three, I think?”

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you.

So you say it anyway.

“I bet I could outdrink you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition.

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight.

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?”

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.”

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.”

“Are you going to?”

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?”

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.”

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.”

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head.

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once.

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch.

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest.

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building.

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting.

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again.

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms.

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway.

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?”

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes.

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.”

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.”

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.”

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system.

“You ever blown a smoke ring?”

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now.

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes.

“We can share.”

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea.

“You’re on, Castellan.”

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular.

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore.

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you.

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close.

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby.

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen.

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.”

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.”

“I know you hooked up with Luke.”

“Seriously?”

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.”

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.”

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.”

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight.

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy.

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend.

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight.

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does.

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?”

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t.

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it.

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter.

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

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thesoftestpunk · 1 year

Text

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?”

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating.

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?”

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class.

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.”

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering.

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile.

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head.

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago.

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you.

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks.

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you.

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough.

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is.

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings.

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today.

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s.

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?”

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table.

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today.

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense.

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday.

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame.

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either.

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now?

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it.

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?”

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks.

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence.

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?”

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you.

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands.

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault.

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop.

His little sheepies. Which means…

Fuck.

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away.

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!”

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved?

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation.

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.”

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted.

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water.

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows.

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.”

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.”

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you.

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.”

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.”

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open.

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?”

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength.

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head.

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.”

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.”

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap.

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!”

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air.

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves.

“You cheated.”

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water.

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.”

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock.

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.”

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed.

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long.

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him.

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.”

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water.

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile.

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent.

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.”

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long.

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.”

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.”

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #my writing.

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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 1 month

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i'll look after you | charles leclerc

prompt: everyone close to y/n is worried. she doesn't eat or drink enough and those are two extremely important things, especially this weekend. she will be racing in qatar at all time high temps. most worried is her best friend and teammate lando and secret boyfriend charles leclerc

warnings: discussions about not eating/ taking care of self, angst, fluff, cursing, injury, throwing up?, fear, fluff

No one expected Qatar to be so hot. Y/n stepped off of the plane, sweatshirt and sweatpants immediately causing her to sweat. She put her sunglasses on. “Who would’ve thought it would be this hot in the morning?”

Her teammate Lando Norris responded, “Not me.” He pulled at the front of his black t-shirt. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead before climbing into a car. “Hey.” He tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.

“Yeah?” She looked away from the window.

“Are you alright?” He frowned. “You’ve just been off. You seem tired and-” He looked down at her figure, “have you been eating enough and drinking? If it's this hot on Sunday you’re gonna need to be fully nourished.”

“I’ve made the weigh-ins every weekend, so don’t worry, I’ll get us points.” She snapped.

“That's not why I’m worried.” He shook his head. “I want you to be alright.”

The start of the weekend had been more peaceful than usual. Media had less sexist questions, the car felt good, and y/n had been more open to eating. She kept her head down as she went to her first meeting after FP3. She sat across from her trainer as he slid her a vegetable plate across the table. “Eat.”

“You’re wasting my time.” She glared at him. “I thought this was an actual meeting.”

“It is.” He nodded. “I need you to eat and drink as much as possible these next few days. This race is going to be so hot, you’ll lose a lot of water and a lot of weight. I know how serious you are about your racing and with your lap times these past three practices you have a good chance at qualifying front row.”

She sighed, staring down at an unappetizing plate.

“Just take it to your driver's room with you and take a cold shower.” He pleaded.

“Okay. I will.” Y/n agreed. As she stood up her phone pinged.

Charles: Come to my room?

Y/n: Sure.

She managed to subtly sneak herself into Ferrari hospitality and into Charles’ drivers room. “Hi.” She smiled shyly.

“Hi.” He hugged her before kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“Lucky, you’ve gotten to shower.” She smelled his freshly washed hair, a comforting smell. She watched him as he glanced at the plate of food in her hand.

“Let's eat.” He smiled, grabbing the plate from her and placing it on a table, ushering her to sit.

“I’m not very hungry…” She breathed. “I would really love a shower though.”

“We’ll shower after I see you eat a bit.”

She took a bite of celery with hummus. Charles brushed a piece of her hair behind her hair, his movements so faint it tickled. He had convinced her to eat a few more vegetables before she decided it was time to wash herself off. He stood up with her, hand on her waist, ready to guide her to the bathroom. “Is it okay if I shower alone?” She whispered, touching his hand. “I’m just really tired and I need a cold shower and I know how you feel about those.”

Excuses to keep him away. “That’s fine.” He smiled. She smiled back at him, a hint of a sparkle. “Can we talk about something after you get out?”

“What is it?” Her smile flickered.

“M’just worried about you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “This is going to be a tough race.”

“Why are you acting like I can’t do it?” Y/n shook her head, feeling betrayed.

“It’s not that you can’t do it! It’s that you’re not taking care of yourself!”

“Whatever, Charles.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to shower and I hope you clear your head while I’m in there.” Y/n washed herself, feeling a relief as the cold droplets of water relieved her hot skin. Her head drooped as she tried not to fall asleep cleaning her face. She slowly pulled on a white blouse with jean shorts, easing them onto her achy limbs. She pulled her hair into a braid, knowing the heat outside would dry it within minutes. Charles had passed out on the couch, y/n tiptoed around looking for her shoes.

“Baby…” He mumbled, slowly waking up, “Where are you going?”

She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ve got to go get some sleep before qualifying tomorrow.”

He grabbed her waist before she could walk away. “I thought I was bringing you to the hotel.”

“Charles.” She tensed.

“What?” He sat up, offended.

“I’m stressed and the idea of us being seen together makes me even more stressed.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Charles’ brows furrowed.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

“Are you sure about that?” He frowned.

“I have to go. I love you and I’ll text you later.” She walked away, shooing off his insecurities.

The next day, Y/n had made it to Q3 and was starting in third the next day. She was disappointed she didn’t make the front row, but shrugged it off. Lando had pulled her into a hug before she hit the media pin. “Congrats!” He rubbed a hand on her back.

“Thank you.” She hugged him back.

“You’re very hot…” He moved his hand to her face. “Here, take the rest of my water.” He forced it into her hand, knowing she didn’t drink water enough throughout the day.

“Thanks.” She accepted it, immediately taking a sip. Lando's eyes widened, surprised at her immediate acceptance. She stood outside the media pin and chugged Lando's water, searching for a cooling feeling. She felt a cold towel brace her neck and groaned at the relief. She turned around to see who had applied it and watched as Charles winked before entering the media chaos, no hard feelings from the night before. She followed shortly after.

After an hour of answering cryptic questions, denying answers about her personal life, and bragging about her grid-place she was able to escape. Charles waited for her to get out of meetings and strolled next to her. “Can I come to your room tonight?” She asked.

“Trying to distract me from the fact you’re starting a place behind me?” He joked.

“Just nervous…” She fiddled with her rings. “And you always help with my nerves.”

“Of course you can come to my room, Y/n.” He affirmed. “Always.” A wave of relief flooded over him when he realized he could monitor her closely.

Y/n walked down the hall to his room and knocked on the door. It was quickly opened and she was greeted with a kiss on the lips and a glass of water. “It’s freezing in here.” She shivered.

“Sorry.” He wrapped a hand around her waist. “Y’know who I saw today?” He looked down at her.

“Who?” She held eye contact, his watercolor eyes gleaming. His eyes grounded her onto this earth.

“I saw Daniel after qualifying.”

“How is he?”

“He thinks he might be given the opportunity to take over De Vries’ position at Alpha Tauri.”

Her eyes widened. “Jeez.”

“Yeah it’s rough.” He shook his head. The couple continued their chit chat as y/n slowly tucked herself into his bed. Charles sat on the other side of the bed, pulling out a carton of strawberries. “Here.” He gestured her to open her mouth and slowly fed her the fruit.

“God, that's good.” Her eyes fluttered.

“You need to request some for your room next time.” He smiled. Her mouth formed a line as she delved deeper under the covers, turning the lamp on her nightstand off. She kept her eyes closed for a couple of minutes before feeling Charles’ arms wrap around her. She nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck. “I love you.” He mumbled.

“I love you too.”

Y/n pulled on a Mclaren shirt and a pair of jeans. “Fuck.” Charles cursed. “What is it?” She folded her collar before checking on him.

“It’s going to be over 100 degrees in that car tonight.”

“It’ll be fine.” She shrugged.

��Do you know how hot that is?” His face was deadpan.

“I’ll figure it out.” She joked.

“No. You’ll drink water and you’re going to eat breakfast with me so I know you eat before the race.”

“Calm down.” She folded her sleeping shirt, breathily laughing.

“This isn’t a joke you could seriously get hurt.”

“Okay.” She played along with his seriousness.

Charles had watched her eat breakfast before they got to track and he had to say his goodbyes. They did their pre-race ritual together. She hugged him, racing suit tied at her waist, his tied the same way. “Be mindful today.” He whispered into her ear. “Be safe.” He reaffirmed.

“You too, Charlie.” She kept a hand in his hair.

“I have to go.” He kissed her quickly. “I love you no matter what.

“I love you.” She tugged at his hand before letting him go.

Y/n’s engineer came to see her in the car before the race started. “Drink. That's all I ask of you.” He fastened the bottle of water into the car. “If you begin to feel sick at all, radio us. It is going to be up to 120 degrees in that car, we are not going to blame you for any safe moves. We want you to be safe.” He gave her gloved hand a squeeze. She nodded, pulling her visor down.

She had a good start to the race, keeping her starting position. 10 laps in she called in.

“The visor is super foggy, guys. It’s sweaty in here!” She half-joked.

“Try to wipe it when possible.” Someone responded.

After 40 laps she was told to pit.

“Pit.Pit.”

“Okay.” Her breath was shaky. “Yeah, the hard tyres wore out pretty quickly.” She tried straightening out her breathing patterns. Drink. She tried to will herself, but her body wouldn’t do it. It was too focused on other things. She had dropped down to fourth place, behind Lance Stroll. “My seat feels like it’s on fire!”

“Do you need to retire?” Zak responded.

“No, just throw some water on me or something!”

It was lap 56, two laps left and she had caught up to Lance.

“He’s struggling on these corners.”

“Be careful around him.” Her engineer radioed. “Something must be wrong, he’s acting erratically.”

She was able to overtake him.

Lap 57. Last lap. Last turn. Y/n reached the final straight.

“P3, P3!” People cheered over the comms, but she swore it was muffled. Everything was blurry as she pulled into the space dedicated to 3rd. She noticed her lover's red car in 2nd and Max Verstappens in first. Charles took his helmet and balaclava off, shaking the hand of Max. The commentator waiting for interviews began to grow concerned when the third driver had still not gotten out of her car. He whispered around and soon enough word got around to the drivers. She reached her hand up to grasp onto the halo, but fell short.

“Y/n.” Charles peered into the car.

“Yes?” She wheezed. “Just-Just give me a minute-to-get out…” She began to grab at the car again. Multiple stewards gathered around her, plus Max and Charles. Charles placed his hands underneath her arms and pulled her up. “I got sick in my helmet.” She coughed.

“Shhh…” He took off her helmet quickly. A stretcher was brought to her.

“I don’t want to leave.” She hiccuped. “I have a podium to cele-” She dry-heaved, nothing to throw up, “Celebrate.”

“I’m so proud of you.” He pleaded with her to get her onto the stretcher. Her face turned ghost-white.

“I’m really scared.” She whimpered. “And-and I feel like I’m going to faint.” Charles placed his hand behind her head as her body went limp, heart breaking while paramedics attending to her vitals. It was a scene for sure. Blue and red lights from an ambulance blocked the screen below the podium, people from Mclaren that were preparing for a podium celebration were now freaking out for their driver, and Charles Leclerc seemed to be the most worried for someone who wasn’t even his teammate. Those who could only see in from the outside watched as he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead before composing himself. Love.

“I’m going to come see you as soon as I can get out of here.” He assured her. “I’m sure everyone will.” Throughout the interviews and the celebrations Charles bit his tongue. He noticed the other worn out drivers. Lance had passed out on the corners towards the end of the race, Logan had to retire, Esteban got sick in his helmet, and the rest of the grid was laying on the floor with wet towels and gallons of water. This was just unsafe. He got away from the track as soon as possible, rushing to the hospital. “Y/n.”

Tears filled her eyes as she saw him enter the room. “Charlie.” She dropped the strawberry in her hands. He rushed to her, quickly but carefully embracing her. The doctor came in, informing him that she was dehydrated and hadn’t had enough protein. She listened as Charles, the entire grid of drivers, and her trainer coached her on how important a meal plan is and how a meal is not something you can forget. That night Lando fell asleep on the couch and Charles held her as tight as he could.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #lando fluff #lando imagine #qatar gp 2023

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luveline · 5 months

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i have a request for bombshell!reader if you're up for it!! <33 maybe somehow the team finding out that they're *actually* together and their reactions to it!! it would be soo funny i think naisnakaka 😭 thank you and i hope you have a good day!!

thank you lovely, you too ♡ fem

Emily isn't expecting it. She's been betting on you both for months, she has money in the pool, but knowing you're together versus really truly seeing you together are surprisingly separate things.

Spencer has you up against a wall. It's funny but it isn't, how shockingly intimate the moment is, how you're looking at him like he's hung the moon just for you. “It's not a bad thing,” you're saying, a hand pressed softly to his front.

He's not kissing you or anything salacious, he's not even really shoving you, he's just got his hands on you, one on your shoulder holding you to the wall and the other just under your arm. “I know it's not, don't worry–”

“I do worry. I don't want you thinking that anything about you is wrong.”

Emily should walk away. This is clearly private, but she's just never seen you both like this. She had her suspicions, that behind the shy touches (and the more confident ones from you) and secret smiles was a real, intimate relationship, but to see it displayed in front of her has her jaw dropping.

“I don't think that," he says quietly, ducking his head in a way that forces you to make eye contact. Emily might call it brave, but it would be better labelled as comfortable. Spencer's not shy because he knows he can be vulnerable with you, and he's reassuring you now because you can do the same. “Why would I think that?” He kisses you.

It's sudden. Emily almost gasps.

He pulls away, says, “You don't need to think about that kind of stuff, angel, I know who I am,” over your lips, and then he kisses you again.

“I just love you,” you say, words half lost in the kissing and the quiet.

Emily shakes herself and backs away, guilt like lead in her fingertips. She should not have watched so long, no matter how curious, but it's not as though you're in a private place, it's a shared conference room—

“What's with the face?”

Emily waves her hand, as if to say, don't talk, but Morgan's a fiend and JJ not much better, looking over Emily's shoulder eager for the drama. “What, Prentiss?” Morgan asks.

“Y/N and Spencer,” she whispers, giving in.

Morgan's face is a picture, and predictable. He shuffles around Emily and JJ follows, her lips parted in surprise.

Morgan peeks inside, and doubles back, pushing JJ before she can get a look. “Wait!” she insists in a whisper shout.

“That's not PG viewing.”

Emily saw it herself, but she still can't believe it. Nor can she believe when you appear from the conference room together unabashed ten minutes later, Spencer's hair in disarray, his cheeks (and his whole face) a rosy pink. You sit at your desk and Spencer touches your shoulder, promising you a cup of coffee.

You're smiling as you reapply your lipstick. Your teammates look on in poor acts of casualness.

“You guys are perverts,” you murmur, rubbing your lips together to spread the colour evenly.

“I– we–” Emily sits back in her seat, defeated. “You could've told us.”

“Should've,” JJ says.

“Thought you guys already knew.” You put the cap back on your lipstick and beam at them. “I'm not subtle, am I? But don't tease him too much, okay? We wouldn't want to torture him.”

“Come on,” Morgan laughs.

Spencer returns with your coffee. He's not subtle, either, come to think of it, putting your coffee mug carefully on your coaster. “That okay?” he asks.

You don't even try it. “That's perfect, handsome, thank you.”

He strokes the soft line of your jaw with the back of his finger, a split second touch that practically glances off of you, and heads back to the kitchenette. Morgan gets up, presumably to chase him down for congratulations, while the girls move in.

“It's actually funny how it happened,” you say immediately. “I kissed him by accident.”

“How do you kiss someone by accident?” JJ asks. Emily nods furiously in agreement.

“Surprisingly easily,” you say, looking as pleased as a person can be. “It was a few weeks ago, we were in the police precinct in Jacobsville…”

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tetsuslove · 1 year

Text

🖤: Can’t stop thinking of Simon with a breeding kink:( so I needed to write this short Drabble about it sobso

Suggestions are always welcome, especially if it’s about Simon <3

︙Husband! SIMON RILEY x Wife!.Reader

Warnings: nfsw! (18+ ; mdni!), breeding, talking about pregnancy, biting, praise, soft! Dom Simon because I love him, pet names, no editing! ( will do it in the morning )

“Go on, love”, Simon groans besides your ear while he speed up his moves, “tell me what we are doing”. Your eyes are maybe closed because how intense everything is right now but you sure can hear and feel his smirk, knowing that he got you there where he wanted you

“Bab-“ you gasps because Simon of hard bites down on your shoulder “what was that, hm? Tell me” he says in a more teasing way but sure sounds like an order to answer him and of course the man he is, he sure gets what he wants

“Baby!”,you scream louder, “we are making a baby!”. And for now your husband is satisfied, loving the idea and action that you can get ( and will be) pregnant with his children, already thinking how you will look all round with his child. Breats full of milk to feed the child. It turns this man into an animal, wanting turn his pretty wife into a pretty mama

“good girl- what a good wife” he chuckles and sits up again so he can see your tits bouncing while you try to hold on the bedsheets with your dear life. “It feels good making a baby, right love? Going to look so pretty with our child- going to spoil you more- urgh.. going to spoil you more than you already are”

And he is a man who keeps his words. Maybe you are already a spoiled wife but you sure can be a spoiled mama too. Trying to make sure you eat and drink enough, so you and your baby are doing fine. You see cute baby clothes? He will buy for you and your child right away. Your feet’s are hurting? Lay down on the couch and he will give you a good massage. Some carvings at 1 am ? Don’t worry, he will drive you everywhere you want, just don’t go by yourself!

— It’s all started when one of his coworkers showed him and the other teammates some photos of his newborn proudly at the pub few weeks ago and somehow the whole baby thing started to haunt him. Like one day, a little boy thought that Simon is his father so he hugged Simons leg giggling while Simon just wanted to buy you some flowers at a flower shop, noticing the child on his legs and calling him “papa! Look at the flowers!! ”. Or when he only saw for a whole day commercials for baby products on the TV and every time he tried to change the Chanel, a new commercial popped up.

But the most important thing why it all started for him to want a baby is because he had a dream of you and him.. and a third family member in your arm. You looking beautiful and carrying the child in your arms, smiling at Simon with so much love that he even fell in love with you all over again in his dream. “Look, Papa is here” you said to your baby in the dream and tried to show your child to Simon but only to wake and to realize what he dreamed about

With all these thoughts he doesn’t realize how strong his poundings are but it sure feels good enough that your brain turns into liquid. He moves a hand from your hips away to massage your one tit. Squeezing it so you feel him everywhere and to make sure if you still have the brain to now what’s going on (spoiler: you don’t)

“Si-Simon, can’t no more” trying to look at him but fail, with the tears in your eyes, you just can see things blurry but that okay, just let your husband take care of you<3

“Go on, love- it’s okay, let yourself feel good.. let go” he huffs and groans while trying to reach his high too, cumming inside your walls and now giving you his babies

“Fucking hell-” he groans while you came too, squeezing his dick inside and finally reaching you climax and relaxes again.. finally your brain can turn into its normal form again

While you both try to catch your breaths, Simon looks at you, at his cute fucked wife. How beautiful you look even if you would say otherwise but no, you are always beautiful and he sure enjoys the view. You and your body in sweat and his cum inside, his babies

He cups one of your cheeks so you look at him, you don’t say anything, just to busy trying to catch your breath but your and his eyes are communicating, telling each other how much you love the other one and giving one last kiss to end the whole making love thing

“You good, love?”he asks, looking a bit worried hoping that he didn’t hurt you in any way but seeing you nodding and smiling, he lets out a sighs of relief. Giving a kiss on your forehead and of course always praising you “you were perfect my love, my sweet wife” and starts his ritual of after care

“Here, something to drink, love. I will now clean you up, okay” he gives you a comforting smile, putting some hair away of your sticky forehead and goes to the bathroom

Now it got you thinking how Simon would be as a dad and you know, that the Lieutenant would do anything to complete his mission

#— su’s writing #devils.eyes #cod headcanons #cod smut #cod x reader #simon riley #simon riley headcanons #simon riley fluff #Simon Riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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f1goat · 1 month

Text

more than friends ; lando norris + part eight

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven

“Still nog dating Lando?”

You let out a soft chuckle. Lando is walking in front of you, while you’re slowly walking behind him. Oscar is walking right next to you, which gave him every chance to ask his new favorite question. Together with Lando, Oscar and multiple other team members you’re doing the track walk. Normally you skip this part of the day, but Lando almost begged you to come with him. So here you are - and Lando isn’t even paying attention to you right now. You wonder why he wanted you to come with him.

“Still single,” you answer.

Oscar has made it his new found mission to keep track on everything between Lando and you. After you picked Lando and him up that night, he has asked you a couple times how things are going. It’s nice to talk with someone about the things between Lando and you. You didn’t tell him about the sexual part, but some how you suspect that Oscar already knows about that.

“Still waiting for him to make a move,” Oscar states.

“True,” you confess.

Oscar lets out a loud laugh after hearing your blunt answer. You can’t help yourself and laugh with him about it. Lando is quick to take a look behind him when he hears your laugh. It surprises him to see you talking and laughing with his teammate. He decreases his pace until he’s walking next to Oscar and you.

“What are you talking about?” Lando asks curious when the two of you stopped laughing.

You don’t know what to say at first. You can’t be honest with him - because that would mean confessing that you were talking about him and dating him, but you’re also a terrible liar. What are you going to answer? Before you can think of an answer, Oscar is already talking.

“Pierre,” Oscar answers with a matter of fact tone. He brings it if it’s not even weird that he’s talking about Pierre with you. Lando is quick to ask a follow up question, “Pierre?” He asks confused. He wonders why you’re talking about Pierre with Oscar. A strange feeling comes up inside of him, he feels ashamed for his quick reaction but he wants to know everything right now.

“Yeah, I’m trying to get her on a date with Pierre,” Oscar continues. He knows he’s taking a risk right now, a big risk even, and that Lando will get mad at him but he’s done with the way his friend is handeling this situation. He isn’t going to standby and watch for years until one of you finally does something. Oscar has decided that Lando needs a push and quick.

“But you already said no to Pierre, right Y/N?” Lando questions you confused. He feels himself getting annoyed with the subject Pierre and with his teammate. He told Oscar about his feelings, right? So why is Oscar trying to set you up with Pierre.

You are also getting a bit annoyed with Oscar his answer. What is he trying to do? You know that he’s waiting for Lando to make a move on you - just like you do, but you told him not to intervene. When you look at Lando and notice his frustrated look, you suddenly start to think that Oscar might have done a good thing. Lando is waiting for you to answer. He looks annoyed en his relaxed smile that normally lingers on his lips is also gone.

“Yeah,” you tell Lando, “but Pierre asked again.” It isn’t even a lie. Pierre texted you again this morning. His text was stupid and a big cliche, you didn’t even answer it yet. It’s something in the line of you needing to give him a chance, because he wanted to settle down and get to know you. This time he didn’t even said something about the way you look, while his earlier messages all said something about that.

“Why would you change your mind?” Lando asks you confused, “I thought you already decided that Pierre wasn’t your type.”

“You decided that,” Oscar butts in. Lando sends his teammate an angry glance to his teammate.

“Maybe I should give him a chance to prove himself,” you shrug.

You don’t know why you just said that. Why did you say something as stupid as that? You can only hope that Lando is going to say something against it, because you really don’t want to go on a date with Pierre. There’s not a single cell in your body that likes the thought of you going on a date with Pierre. Impatient you wait for Lando his reply. In the mean time you look at him. It’s clear that he is pretty frustrated, but he doesn’t act on it. Yet. Suddenly you start thinking about Lando being this frustrated with you while being alone with him. Would he punish you in a sexual way? You shiver while thinking about it, but you can’t stop thinking about how much you would like it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Lando replies frustrated, “He’s a fuck boy and only wants sex with you.”

The frustration is obvious in his voice. In some weird way it only causes you to say something else about Pierre. Oscar doesn’t even need to say anything anymore, he can just watch how this mess unravels.

“According to him he’s changing,” you inform Lando. It’s not like you believe it yourself, but you still say it to Lando.

“He still wants to fuck you,” Lando says with a more angry tone this time.

“Maybe I want him to,” you reply sarcastically.

Lando doesn’t realize that you’re talking sarcastically. He can’t stop sending you angry glances. You’re also a bit shocked from your own sharp answer. This isn’t you. But in some way, you don’t know how to behave yourself right now. Lando is annoying you, why doesn’t he want you to date Pierre? You want him to be honest. Maybe it’s just because of your own hope that it means more for him as well… Oscar is looking at all of the drama unfolding before his eyes. He wonders how this work out. Maybe Lando will finally confess? He doesn’t think so, his teammate looks way too mad to say anything good right now.

“You don’t,” Lando mutters angrily.

“How would you know?” You ask annoyed.

You don’t know why you’re getting mad. It’s going about nothing, about fucking Pierre - who you don’t want to date let alone fuck. But Lando annoys you right now and you have the urge to annoy him back. Lando stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you from walking further as well. He stands in front of you right now.

“You told me I’d be your first,” Lando eventually says to you with a softer tone. His eyes are begging you to agree with his words. He needs to hear you say it - he still wants to be your first. “You can’t expect me to believe that you suddenly want to have your first time with a fuck boy like Pierre,” Lando adds when you’re not answering fast enough according to him.

You let out a soft sigh. “You’re still going to be my first Lan,” you tell Lando. It’s not hard to miss Lando his expressions brighten up a bit. “But maybe I want to date someone,” you add while thinking about your words, do you even want that? “I mean I have to get some experience on dating and Pierre can be useful for that.”

“No,” Lando states firmly, “You’re not going on a date with Pierre. End of discussion.”

“And who says you can make that decision for me?” You ask.

“Come on babygirl,” Lando sighs, “not him.”

“Okay,” you reply, “then I’ll say yes to Logan.”

“No,” Lando says again, “you told me you wouldn’t date him.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you state.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters. You don’t say anything. “After the track walk I’m taking you on a date and I swear to God, I don’t want to hear you about any other boy for the rest of the day.”

Oscar lets out a loud laugh. You almost forget that he was here as well. Lando sends him an angry look. He knows Oscar is enjoying his meddling between you two, this must have been his idea. He will talk about this with his teammate later. When he wants to make a sneer directed to Oscar, he starts to notice your look. You have a small smile plastered on your face and you seem quite happy with yourself. It makes him forget about Oscar. Did you do this on purpose? Maybe you wanted him to snap like this? Lando realizes that you’re more of a brat then he knew, he can’t stop thinking about how much he likes that.

Lando gets a bit closer to you. “And after that date, I’ll deny you your orgasms until you’re screaming out your apologies for even talking about them,” he whispers in your ear.

Fuck. What have you gotten yourself into?

+++

“We’re going to try something new,” Lando states. The two of you are in the hotel room. You’re standing in front of the mirror, looking at the dress you’re wearing for your date with Lando. It’s fitting you tightly, maybe a bit too tight even, but you want to show off your body to Lando. While applying your mascara, Lando takes place on the bed. “Come here babygirl,” he tells you.

You don’t even think about it, within seconds your standing in front of Lando. He takes a good look of you, admiring your beauty and the way your dress is fitting you. It’s making him hard already. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him.

“I want you to get on my lap,” Lando informs you. You start to move towards Lando, but when you try to take a seat on his lap Lando stops you. “Not like this,” he continues, “Lay on my lap and make sure you’re ass is high up.” Nervous you do what Lando says. You feel Lando caressing your ass, the only thing in the way is your dress and underwear.

It doesn’t take long before Lando pulls your dress up, sliding it above your ass. Slowly he traces on your string.

“I want to try something, do you trust me?” Lando asks you suddenly. “Yes Lan,” you tell him without even thinking about it. “Before I’m going to do something, we’re going to work with colors. Okay babygirl? If I ask you for your color, you will answer me with green, orange or red. Green is continue, orange is for taking a break and red is to stop,” Lando explains. You tell him yes again.

Your stomach tightens when you wonder about what Lando is going to do. You have no idea about what’s going to happen. Lando caresses your ass in the mean time.

“If I’m not asking, you can still tell me a color if you want,” Lando adds. You tell him another yes.

Then Lando softly slaps your ass. You let out a soft cry when he does. It didn’t hurt, you’re just shocked.

“Color?” Lando asks you, “Green,” you answer within a second.

Lando repeats his earlier movements, only this time the slap is a bit harder. You feel a small sting on your ass. Lando slaps you again, even harder this time. He asks you for your color again, you reply with the same answer as before.

“You know what they always say right?” Lando asks you, “Bad girls get punished, good girls get rewarded. I think you’ve been quite bad this afternoon, don’t you think so?”

Before you can answer Lando slaps your ass again. After the hard spank he caresses it. You let out a soft moan. “But I believe you’re enjoying your punishment,” Lando remarks, “Isn’t it babygirl?” You nod. “Words,” Lando reminds you.

“Fuck,” you stammer, “Y.. yes I enjoy it.”

“Want more?” Lando asks you.

“Yes please,” you reply.

Lando spanks your ass even harder. He slaps it multiple times after each other. It causes you to let out multiple moans. Maybe this is exactly what you hoped for when you got Lando frustrated earlier today. It feels good that he’s taking it out on you.

Lando lets out a soft chuckle, he lets his finger slide through your slit. “You like this, don’t you babygirl?” He asks you. “Yes,” you confess quickly. He gives you another slap on your ass. “Look at you,” he says, “all worked up because of me, all horny because of the way you’re getting treated. Fucking hell babygirl, you should know how hot you look right now.”

After that he stops. You let out a whimper when Lando his hands aren’t touching you anymore. Then he pulls something out his pocket. You’re still laying on his lap with your ass up. Lando pulls your string a bit aside. Suddenly you feel a soft vibration against your cunt. It causes you to let out a surprised yelp. You realize that it’s a small vibrating toy that’s being hold by Lando against your entrance right now. What’s going on?

Lando slides the toy inside of you. He gives you a soft slap on the ass and pulls your string back. Then he also slides your dress back over your ass. He helps you to get back on your own feet. After that he opens his phone and you feel the vibrations increase. You let out a soft moan.

“You okay with this?” Lando asks you.

“Green,” you tell Lando with a small smile.

“Good girl,” he states proudly. Lando presses a kiss against your forehead. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he continues, “Keep acting like this and maybe you’ll deserve to cum. And now we’re going to the restaurant.”

“I’m going to a restaurant with a toy inside me?” You ask Lando surprised.

“A toy which I can control,” Lando adds.

Fuck. This will be a difficult dinner.

“Color?” Lando asks just to be sure. When he hears you say green, he grins. You’re everything he wanted, now he only needs to figure out a way to keep you forever.

+++

Lando is trying. He really is. But why is it always when he takes you somewhere, that there are so many people interested in you? When he took you to a Grand Prix for the first time, it was his own teammate - Carlos Sainz, who was interested in you. When that faded there were others, new found friends of his who wanted to get to know you better. There’s always someone interested in you. On the grid right now, he knows that Pierre and Logan have interest in you. He hoped to escape from that tonight, but it seems like the waiter has found you as well.

He tried so hard to think about a nice date for you. He took you to a good restaurant and made sure to check the menu, so he would know for sure that you’d like the food. He acts like a gentleman, opening the car door for you and seating you. It seemed like things were going really well, but now there’s this stupid waiter who is flirting with you. Lando is sure he’s going to lose it soon. He tries to ignore the waiter, but every time he comes around Lando is reminded that your not his.

Earlier this evening Lando stopped the toy inside of you, but now that he sees the waiter coming again an evil idea comes up. He grabs his phone and opens the right app, when the waiter is standing by your table, Lando turns the toy on again. You are quick to get flustered, the setting is low but it’s enough to make you tremble. Lando takes a look at you, hoping that you’re alright with this. You show him a small nod.

“Do you want anything else to drink?” The waiter asks Lando, he orders another soda. “And what about you?” The waiter asks you, Lando swears that he saw him wink. He opens the app again and changes the setting to a higher one while you’re telling the waiter about your order. It causes you to stutter while saying the last words.

Lando chuckles. When the waiter walks off, you show him an angry look. “Dick,” you mutter. Lando changes the setting again, even higher this time. It makes you let out a soft moan.

“Color?” He asks you. “Green,” you answer again.

He smiles at you. You show him a small smile back.

“Such a dirty girl,” Lando softly says to you, you can only nod.

Lando decreases the settings of the toy for you. He doesn’t turn it off completely like before, there’s still a small vibration inside of you. It’s making you slowly go insane. The vibrations aren’t enough for you to get close to a orgasm or to be loud, but it’s still all you’re busy with. The feeling is nice, but it keeps reminding you that you still haven’t orgasmed. Lando has been teasing you since you’ve been in the hotel with him and it’s making you loose your mind. When you remind what he told you earlier at the track today, you wonder if he’s even going to give you the pleasure of an orgasm today.

When the waiter comes to bring your drinks, Lando can’t help himself and starts to feel annoyed again. He’s so sure of that the guy is flirting with you. It’s not that you’re flirting back, but Lando still feels really annoyed by the situation. You try to make a conversation with him, but he keeps fading out of it.

“What’s going on Lan?” You eventually ask him.

It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts about the waiter - and all the other boys who want you. Lando tries to shrug it off at first, but when he notices your strict gaze he realizes that he won’t get away this easily.

“It’s just that everywhere I take you, there seems to be someone who tries to get with you,” Lando confesses with an annoyed sigh. He sounds childish. He doesn’t have the right to complain about it.

You show Lando a small smile. It’s really bothering him apparently. Can that mean that he’s jealous? “I’m not interested in any of them,” you tell Lando, “so just ignore them.”

“Promise?” Lando asks you. “Promise,” you reply.

“Not even that waiter?” Lando asks you, he needs to be sure.

“Waiter?” You ask surprised, “Which waiter? I thought you were talking about Logan and Pierre.”

“The one who just brought us our drinks,” Lando explains.

“What’s with him?” You ask confused.

“He’s trying to flirt with you,” Lando tells you.

You let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t notice,” you tell Lando, “but still, don’t worry about them Lan.”

“Sure?” He asks you.

“Yeah, if I was interested into one of them then why would I be here with you and a toy inside of me right now?”

“That reminds me,” Lando jokes while pulling out his phone of his pocket and increasing the setting from the toy. Now he’s making it harder for you. The vibrations are increasing and making you feel more pleasure then before. Earlier it was just a small thing in the background, now the vibrations are doing a lot more to you.

The evening is progressing quickly. When Lando and you walk away from your table, you’re shaking. The toy inside of you is making you go crazy. Lando slides his arm around your waist, walking towards the exit together with you. You can only hope that he’ll make you orgasm when you’re back at the hotel. You can’t go on like this much longer. When you notice that Lando his expressions change, you’re quick to follow his new angry glances. They are directed at the waiter. You notice that the guy is walking towards you. Maybe you have forgotten something at the table? Lando is worrying about other things, he knows for sure that the guy is going to ask for your number or something.

“Uh hi,” the waiter greets you again, “I wanted to ask if you’re still single? And if so, can I get your number?” He asks.

Oh fuck. Lando was right apparently. You feel the way his grip on your body tightens. He pulls you even closer to himself. It’s almost if Lando is trying to show the guy that you’re his. But you’re quick to realize that you’re probably imagining things. You’re not his. Something that seems to be a growing problem.

Lando can’t stop his movements. After pulling you close to himself and sending angry glares at the guy, he’s still nervous about your answer. What are you going to tell the guy? What if you do want to date the waiter? He feels himself getting more stressed.

“No sorry,” you reply.

“Protective boyfriend,” the waiter remarks while nodding at Lando, “Sorry wasn’t sure before, but it’s pretty obvious now.”

That’s not what you meant. You just meant that you didn’t want to give the guy your number. Why does he think Lando is your boyfriend? Before you can say anything about it, Lando is already talking.

“Glad that it’s obvious,” Lando says annoyed. He can’t help it. He knows he’s crossing the line, but he can’t stop thinking about you being his. You just play along to his words and try to hide your confused feeling. Lando starts to walk off with you in a fast pace, wanting to leave the place as soon as possible.

He takes you back to the hotel with him. You’re feeling a bit tense because of what happened earlier, but you’re quick to forget when you see Lando pressing something on his phone. It’s the toy. Now you’re back in the car, Lando feels save enough to push you a bit more. And maybe he just wants to hear your moans for him, he can use a reminder of those sounds for him. You let out a loud yelp when the vibrations increase a lot more then before. Fuck. Moans are trembling from your lips and you feel your body shaking in the passengers seat of Lando his rental car. Lando lays his hand on your thigh in the mean time, softly squeezing it. You stare at him for a bit. Could it be possible that Lando likes you back? After today you have gotten a bit of hope. His jealousy is making you question everything.

When the two of you are in the parking lot of the hotel, Lando looks at you. “If you can get back to the room without making a sound, I’ll let you cum,” Lando tells you strictly. You nod desperately. You’re in desperate need to orgasm. The teasing is almost getting to much. “Not even the softest moan babygirl,” Lando continues. You show him another nod. “Good girl,” he mutters before pressing a small kiss against your cheek.

Lando is quick to get out of the car and open your car door as well, you take his hand and together you walk inside. Walking towards the elevator went fine, but as soon as the elevator closes Lando is holding his phone again. He looks at the app from the toy and doubts for a few seconds. He takes a look at you and decides that he is going to try it. Without giving it another thought, he puts the toy on the highest setting. He notices the way you start to tremble. Your lips are pushed onto each other, it’s causing you a lot of effort to keep silent. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you in front of himself.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. After that he presses a kiss against your neck. “Only a couple more minutes,” he continues to whisper. He peppers multiple kisses against your neck and shoulders. “So good for me.” “The best I’ve ever had.” “Fuck.” “You look beautiful like this.” He keeps continuing to praise you.

When you’re finally back into the hotel room, Lando helps you onto the bed. He pulls up your dress, lifting it to above your ass.

“How do you want to cum?” Lando asks you.

“I don’t care,” you whimper, “just make me cum.”

“Me or the toy?” Lando continues to ask.

“You.”

Lando is quick to take your words into action. He slides your string aside and pulls out the toy, quickly tossing it aside after putting it off. Within seconds his fingers are inside of you. Instantly you feel more filled up then before, you let out a hard moan. He presses his lips onto your clit and softly sucks it inside his mouth. When he releases your clit, he looks up to you. “So beautiful for me,” he mutters again. You barely hear him.

“So close,” you tell Lando.

Lando decreases his pace. “You know what to do baby,” he instructs you. Without thinking about it, you’re begging Lando for your release. Pleading him to increase his pace again and to make you cum. He doesn’t. “Maybe I would be nicer if you weren’t talking about dating Pierre and Logan earlier today,” Lando suddenly says.

Fuck. You knew this would be coming back to bite you in the ass.

“Sorry,” you whimper without thinking about it, “Shouldn’t have said that,” you continue. “Only did it to get your attention,” you even confess.

Lando increases his pace. “My attention?” He asks you. You nod frantically. Lando lets out a deep chuckle. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he says, “don’t do that ever again.”

“Sorry,” you whimper.

“You always have my attention,” Lando states. He shows you a small nod to let you know that you can cum now. It doesn’t even take more then five seconds before he feels your pussy clenching around his fingers.

The two of you are silent for a bit. Lando lays down on the bed as well and pulls you on top of him. You feel yourself relax against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, you let out a relieved sound. Lando presses a small kiss against your cheek.

“You’re still ready to lose your virginity?” Lando suddenly asks you.

“Yeah,” you reply, “as long it’s with you.”

He doesn’t reply further. What you don’t know, is that Lando is starting to think about the perfect way for him to have sex with you the first time. When you fall asleep later that night, Lando turns to his phone and starts to figure out the first things.

part nine

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