#strictly unprofessional
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Obsession (alexia putellas x reader)
Set in the same universe as Strictly Unprofessional. Several months on from your first date, you and Alexia are still obsessed with each other.
———
You look up from your laptop when you hear the front door open and shut, the sound of Alexia dropping her bag by the door followed by the jingle of keys as she leaves them on the dresser in the hallway. Moments later, she appears in the living room and slumps herself at the other end of the couch.
It’s her apartment, but you spend most of your time here, letting yourself in with the spare key she gifted you a couple of months ago after finishing work earlier than Alexia today. You’ve been sorting through some of the recent training photos you’ve taken of the Barcelona team, organising them on your hard drive in case you need to look for them later.
“Hi baby,” you greet your girlfriend. “How was your day?”
You can predict the tone of Alexia’s response before she gives it from the grumpy frown on her face.
“Long,” she answers. “Tiring. And I missed you.”
You’ve adjusted pretty well to balancing your relationship with Alexia at work in the seven and a bit months since you actually started dating. It helps that she’s a player and you’re part of the back office staff, meaning that you get a good balance between seeing each other at work but also having time apart. You know there are couples on the team but you don’t know how they do it, certain that you and Alexia would be bickering all the time if you spent all day every day at each other’s sides.
Today was one of those days where you didn’t see each other much at all. It was a media day for the new Champions League season, meaning that although you helped out with the setup of the studios and some of the equipment, the actual photos and video content were taken by the DAZN team rather than you and the rest of Barcelona’s in-house media team.
“But you love media day,” you tease Alexia, knowing that your girlfriend hates the spotlight that comes with being such a high-profile footballer, that she only tolerates all the media because she knows how important it is for the growth of the game.
“Only when you’re doing it,” Alexia reminds you.
Your heart swells at this. Even after several months of dating, you still get a thrill every time you’re reminded that you’re her person. That Alexia is just as obsessed with you as you are with her.
“What are you doing?” Alexia asks, sliding closer to you on the couch so that she can peer at the screen of your laptop.
“Organising my hard drive,” you tell her.
“Sounds boring.”
“This is my job,” you remind her. “You know what media days are to you? You don’t like them but they’re a necessary part of your job? That’s what this admin is for me.”
“But you can do it later?”
It’s not like Alexia to be clingy, it’s normally you who gets needy when Alexia is busy with media appearances or returns from an international break, but you can tell from the tone of her voice that she needs a bit of love.
“Were all the cameras today not enough attention for you?” you tease her. “You need some from me too?”
“Always need attention from you,” Alexia says. She decides to take matters into her own hands, lifting your laptop up and ignoring your protests as she sets it down on the coffee table, before filling the space left behind by straddling your thighs. “Let’s try this again. Hi, baby.”
You let your hands rest on her thighs, knowing what she wants but willing to wait a little longer to force her to make the first move.
“Did you need something?” you challenge her, keeping your hands still even though they’re itching to slide further down and cup her ass.
Alexia pauses for a moment, then swings her legs away and stands up. She hates not being in control and you know it, which makes it all the more exciting for you when you feign disinterest and manage to resist her advances.
“Nothing I can’t do myself,” she answers, before she turns and walks out of the room.
You glance at your laptop, at the rest of the work you’d planned to get done tonight so that you can start tomorrow afresh, and though you like to tease, you know for certain that there’s no way you’re choosing work over the girlfriend who has just silently invited you to join her in her bedroom after making it very clear how much she’s missed you today.
As you push yourself off the couch and chase after Alexia, catching up to her before she even makes it to the bedroom, work is far from your mind.
———
Alexia is back to her normal self the following morning. The mattress beside you is empty when you wake, which doesn’t surprise you. Alexia has always been more of a morning person than you, choosing to rise early to prepare for the day with the kind of focus only a professional athlete could channel.
You slowly rouse from bed and stumble through Alexia’s apartment until you find her exactly where you knew she would be, sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in one hand and an empty breakfast bowl sitting on the coffee table.
“Morning,” she says, looking up from the laptop on her knees and greets you with a warm smile. “There’s coffee in the kitchen for you.”
You mumble a sleepy thanks and go to investigate, grateful to your girlfriend when the first drop of caffeine hits your tongue. You decide to make yourself some breakfast while you’re there, rooting through the cupboard for a bowl but you don’t get much further than that when you hear Alexia’s voice call out from the adjoining room.
“Baby, what’s this?”
You abandon the idea of food and wander back through to the living room, the few sips of coffee you took in the kitchen having woken you up enough to realise that it’s your laptop that she’s looking at. You panic, desperately trying to rack your brains to remember if there’s anything bad in your internet search history that she might’ve found, but draw a blank until you’re close enough to see the screen too.
Alexia looks up at you with a curious frown on her face and you look at the screen, realising that she’s got the folder from your hard drive open, from where you were tidying it up last night. And you know there’s nothing untoward there, just folders neatly organised, some with player names and some with the dates of specific matches but there’s also the folder that Alexia has open. The folder that is named nothing more than a red heart emoji. The folder that contains a smaller collection of candid photos of Alexia from training and matches that don’t make it onto any of the official social media channels.
The folder that nobody but you is supposed to know exists.
Well, now it’s you and Alexia who know of its existence.
“I…” you stammer, trying to come up with an excuse. There’s an actual ‘Alexia’ folder on your hard drive too, photos that you’re happy to share with the club and the rest of the world, but taking pictures of Alexia is one of your favourite things to do so of course you sometimes end up taking more of her than the other players. And so what if you keep some of those photos for yourself, a collection of some of your favourite images of your girlfriend captured completely in her element, for your eyes only.
“Have I got myself a little stalker?” Alexia teases you.
“It’s not what it looks like,” you pout.
“So you’re not obsessed with me?”
“Says the person who went a few hours without seeing me at work yesterday and was climbing into my lap barely five minutes after getting home,” you point out, in an attempt to save some of your dignity.
“Oh, I’m not denying my infatuation,” Alexia replies. She flicks through the photos in the secret folder, stopping on one which is a side profile of Alexia, laughing candidly about something during training a few weeks ago. “This is a nice one.”
“They’re all nice, that’s why I keep them,” you say, as Alexia continues to scroll through them. “Sometimes I take pictures of you that I really like so I keep them all in a special place for later.”
She stops on another, this one taken during a game, where Alexia has lifted the hem of her football jersey up to wipe at her face, revealing the enticing set of abs beneath. You feel your cheeks start to heat up as Alexia tilts her head and shoots you a knowing smirk, and you’re caught between making eye contact with her, or staring at the abs on the laptop screen, each option only flustering your further.
“I suppose you think this one is ‘nice’ too?” Alexia asks, arching an eyebrow. “And on your work laptop too, naughty girl.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Alexia says, in a tone that makes it sound like she doesn’t believe you at all. “You definitely don’t take photos like this for when I’m away with the Spanish team and you’re really missing me…”
“I don’t,” you insist, shutting the laptop firmly and moving it out of Alexia’s reach, before sitting down beside her and curling into her side. Your cheeks are burning slightly at the suggestion, and thinking of the slight accuracy to Alexia’s words, you add in a murmured voice, “I’ve got much dirtier pictures of you in a private folder on my phone for that.”
Alexia turns her head, reaching for your jaw and tilting it upwards to look at her, her eyes dark at the suggestion.
“Want to show me what you do with those?”
The laptop is forgotten, the embarrassment of Alexia finding the secret folder on your hard drive dedicated just to her at the back of your mind as it’s replaced by far more interesting thoughts.
“You’re insatiable, cariño,” you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by her advances.
Alexia pulls you into her lap effortlessly, and it’s far from the first time that you’ve been grateful for the hours that she spends in the gym. And her moves aren’t the only thing that’s smooth, because the words she utters next are like honey in your ears.
“Look at you, how could I not be?”
Alexia’s words, intended to seduce, successfully coax your lips onto hers as you meet her in a deep kiss.
There might come a day when the initial excitement of your relationship with Alexia fades into comfort and domesticity as you build a life together, a day when Alexia doesn’t crave your touch after a day apart or when you don’t save all your favourite photos of Alexia in one place to look at when you miss her.
That day is definitely not today, so you’re content to keep being obsessed with each other.
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#established relationship#strictly unprofessional
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already having issues with my applied prof and we havent even had a lesson yet god fuck her
#it just seems kinda sus that 3 freshmen + a music minor managed to pass the junior & sophomore who were in wind ensemble last yr#when that is the exact number needed to push us out of it into the lower ensemble#& when she is mad at the 2 of us for (respectively) 1) complaining to admin abt her frankly EXTREME unprofessionalism#and 2) playing an instrument other than flute more than is strictly necessary for the major#ari opinion hour
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Reigan to Baxter the day Ethan announces he's leaving for the Amazon AND Rafael breaks things off w them to be w Sora
#i think that bc E&B agreed that their relationship is Strictly Professional Now#Baxter finds out about him leaving the same time everyone else does. not for Ethan's lack of trying but it was just kinda. Hard.#as far as he was aware Baxter was perfectly fine w things being professional only (& tbh they were)#so he just found it really hard to tell em the few times they were alone together the month between the trial & him leaving#bc it was always in professional settings#him leaving was mostly so He Himself could get back in the mindset bc it hurt to see how easy Baxter seemed to be taking it#Baxter was taking it pretty okay bc i mean. out of their whole relationship only like Two Nights were unprofessional#& then the day Ethan announced he was leaving Baxter realized just how Not Okay they were#i mean to some degree they were okay? but it still hurt for him to just suddenly..... leave#and then Rafael and Sora just had Absolutely Terrible timing of wanting to get back together so Baxter's day went from terrible to horrible
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solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)
summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?
words: 6.4k (she's long)
warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.
"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."
Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.
Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.
"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."
Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.
She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.
"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"
"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."
Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.
As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands.
Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.
For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.
"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.
"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."
To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."
His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.
Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."
"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."
Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.
She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.
By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.
As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."
Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."
Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.
But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."
As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.
Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter.
At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.
However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.
For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.
One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.
"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."
The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."
Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now.
Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.
"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.
To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.
"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"
Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.
Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"
If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...
The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.
When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.
But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.
"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."
Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.
"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"
Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"
The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.
By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.
"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."
Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense.
"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."
Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."
She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.
Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.
"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."
He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.
"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"
Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.
Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"
Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.
"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."
The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.
"Then it's official. We're a couple now."
Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?
"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.
To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."
He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.
"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.
Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."
The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.
***
Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.
They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.
One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.
To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile.
"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"
Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"
"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"
Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.
"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"
Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."
The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously.
After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.
By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.
That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.
"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."
After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.
"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."
Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.
Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.
It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.
After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.
One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.
Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.
"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."
While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.
By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.
Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.
"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude.
She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.
Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.
"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."
Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed.
This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.
By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.
Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.
Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.
She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.
When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.
"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."
Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.
"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.
Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.
"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."
"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.
The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.
"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."
As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.
Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.
Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.
"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."
Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.
Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.
She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.
"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."
Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.
"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.
Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.
His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.
Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..
Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.
"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."
Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.
"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."
The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.
Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.
"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"
Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.
Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.
"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."
With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.
"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."
His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.
"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.
True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.
Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.
By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.
Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.
"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"
Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words. He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.
Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.
"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."
Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.
She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.
“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”
She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.
“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”
Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.
She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.
Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.
“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.
“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.
“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.
“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.
“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.
She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.
“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”
He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.
“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.
“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.
“Just a little longer, Almost done”
He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.
He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.
He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.
***
The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.
There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?
Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.
"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"
The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.
"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."
But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.
What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?
The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)
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Physio’s Daughter pt 3
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Read part 1, and part 2
Warnings: some arguing, some cursing
WC: 3.2k
A/N: hi, I think this is going to have 1 more part, maybe 2 if I end up with enough writing for it.
“Am I really that bad of a flirt that you thought all those conversations we had were strictly professional?”
“What?” Sounding like a stuck record you repeat yourself. You couldn’t believe the sentence you had just heard come from Jessie’s mouth.
“Do your other coworkers offer you their jacket? And stay late to talk with you?” She’s staring at you like you’re an idiot, like you should have known she had a crush on you. She’s acting as if she was walking around with a sign with it spelled out for you and you were in the wrong for not knowing.
You’re skeptical, there was no way she was actually interested in you. Your Mom was right, you didn’t have a career yet, you were so much younger than her, you were her physio, she was a professional athlete with her whole life sorted out. Maybe this was a test, maybe your Mom had sent her in here to see what you would do. Maybe she was joking with you, maybe she knew you had a crush and she was teasing you. Seeing if she could make a fool of you. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time.
“I’m going to go. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, pretend I didn’t.” Jessie’s soft voice breaks your mental spiral. She pushes her chair back starting to stand up.
“No, wait.” You put out a hand to stop her. “Sorry, I just, it's a lot to process.” You’re not sure what to say next, she sits back down and you both sit there looking at each other.
“Why didn’t you just say something before?” The question comes out of your mouth as nearly a whisper.
“Because like you, I've also been told it’s unprofessional to date a teammate, let alone a staff member, my whole life.” She adds a small sigh, her breath moving some of the hairs that had fallen in front of her face out of the way. “Plus I couldn’t tell if you were feeling the same. You spent a lot of time with me but I couldn’t tell if you were just doing your job or if you were too nervous to tell me to shut my mouth and leave you alone.”
“I was, I do feel the same, it’s just, it’s complicated.” You sigh, you know you’re about to open yourself to the complexity of having mutual feelings, when you both know you shouldn’t. “It’s just, this is my job and you’re Jessie Fleming.” Your hands gesture up and down her body. You notice a small blush come across her face. “Plus, like you I figured this is your job, you were forced to spend time with me, how was I supposed to know it was by choice? I’m just a student trainer, so I thought why would you have any interest in me when you can have anyone.”
“Because, in the best way possible, you treat me like I’m not Jessie Fleming.” She puts air quotes up when she says her own name. “You just treat me like a regular person. You ask about my family, you ask about my aspirations, you ask about my favorite places to visit and where I want to go. Most people ask me about soccer and sure it’s nice but what’s even nicer is not feeling like I have to be a professional athlete all the time for someone to be interested in me.”
Not sure what to say, you stand up to throw out your coffee cup that you had essentially chugged in the past few minutes using sips of the drink to calm your nerves. Instead of returning to your seat you take a place leaning against the wall, off to the side of Jessie, looking down at her as she remains in her seat. You were too restless to sit back down.
You let out a sigh as you let your back hit the wall. Conflicted between the two sides of the situation. You could tell her you can’t see her, tell her it’s unprofessional, inappropriate. Or you could tell her you want to try this. You let your head fall back gently against the wall, you shut your eyes trying to get a clear thought through your head. Your hands are balled into tight fists at your side, both out of nerves and frustration, unsure of what to do.
When you lower your head back down and open your eyes you come face to face with Jessie. While your brain was screaming between your choices she had abandoned her chair to stand in front of you. You jump a bit, startled by her presence.
“Hi.” Her smile is infectious, she says hello as if she’s just greeting you, as if she hadn’t just confessed to having feelings for you.
“Hi.” It’s a breathless response to her but you’re at a loss for any other words. You do exactly what you know you shouldn’t, you subtly ask her to kiss you, breaking your eye contact to look down at her lips, your own tongue coming out to wet your lips. By the time you go to make eye contact with her again she’s already moving in toward you.
Her lips are on yours, your brain is short circuiting, her body is gently pressed to yours, your back against the wall of your office. The kiss was gentle, her lips softly melting into yours, it couldn't have been more perfect. You could taste her coffee on her lips, as she could likely taste yours. She smelled sweet, her hair, not pulled back like usual, softly brushed against your cheek as if bounced from her forward movement. Your hands found themselves placed on her hips where you could feel her shirt was tucked into her joggers. You couldn’t tell if the kiss lasted 2 seconds or 20 minutes, your concept of time completely thrown by her actions.
“Hey we need you upstairs-” the door opens, the voice of your Mom coming through as she comes to grab you for an impromptu meeting. She was expecting to see you at your desk finishing paperwork, or just on your phone. Not expecting to see the team captain pinning her daughter to the wall of the office.
Jessie pulls away out of surprise, turning toward the door, taking a couple of steps back from you so your bodies are no longer up against each other. You do the same, only you’re against the wall and unable to back up from her, you stumble slightly as you try to move, cursing yourself for not previously locking the door. If she hadn’t already seen the two of you, from the way you scattered from each other it was obvious what you both had previously been doing.
“Are you kidding me?” Your Mom shouts. She’s only looking at you, not acknowledging Jessie’s presence. You knew she wasn’t going to yell at Jessie, but you knew you were about to wish you had called in sick today.
“I’m going to go.” Jessie mutters under her breath before awkwardly rushing to grab her coffee off your desk and passing around your Mom to leave, she doesn’t look back as she turns the corner.
You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your feet. You can feel the anger radiating off of your Mom.
“Sit down.” She instructs you, she’s talking through her teeth, pointing at your desk chair. You obey, keeping your head pointed at the floor. She stands across from you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
You don’t know what to say or what to do besides sit unresponsive to her. Blinking rapidly you try to comprehend that Jessie had just kissed you, and also that your Mom had walked in seeing her kissing you.
“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” Slowly lifting your eyes, your Mom is standing glaring, arms crossed, face red. “What the fuck are you doing? I just told you, you can’t be messing with her and you said there was nothing going on! Now I walk into her practically defiling you against the wall? So what, did you fucking lie to me before? You know how I feel about lying.”
“I didn’t lie before.” Lying was the one thing your Mom hated the most, you learned that as a kid. You didn’t lie to her, you didn’t lie to anyone, you were often honest to a fault. In this case it was the truth, or at least your truth, before it hadn’t crossed a completely unprofessional line, when your Mom had questioned you in the car, nothing had been going on. Now it had, you had kissed, that crossed the line into unprofessional.
“It’s one thing to have a little crush, you cannot be having sex in your work office.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” You couldn’t believe you had to be having this conversation with your Mom, you had hardly been able to wrap your brain around the fact that Jessie had feelings for you and that she had just kissed you. “It was just a kiss.”
“She had you against the wall. So help me god, if you fuck up this opportunity, I will be so pissed.” Her hands come down hard on your desk. You know that if Jessie or any other player was in the training room they’re hearing every word that she was screaming at you. “I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I was able to get you this job, if you mess up, it’ll come back on me!”
“I’m not going to fuck up this opportunity. You are so fixated on Jessie and I that you ignore all the good work I do! You don’t acknowledge that I’ve been helpful, that I was able to get Jessie back to playing, I help out the team, but you’re so fucking focused on my personal life you don’t see it! Mark sees it! He likes my work, he acknowledges me. He actually appreciates me, you don’t!” Now you’re yelling back, adding to your list of unprofessional actions today. You know you shouldn’t be yelling at her, she was looking out for you.
“I see the work you do but I’m not going to congratulate you when you clean up, that’s your job. But yes I’m focused on your inappropriate work relationship. I don’t want to see you ruin your life because you want to kiss a pretty girl.”
“She’s not going to ruin my life Mom.”
“She can. She’s the captain of this team. You realize that's a huge deal right? Do you know what it’ll look like if it came out that she was sleeping with the student on the training staff? That’ll ruin your future and tarnish her reputation.”
“I’m a student but I’m an adult mom, it’s not like I’m a 17 year old student. I’m an adult! I can make my own decisions.”
“Yes you’re an adult but this is work! You don’t get to make any choice you want, there are rules and paperwork and protocols you have to go through to do what you’re doing. It’s not as easy as the two of you deciding to make out. There are rules to protect you and to protect her, you two need to respect that. I have half a brain to drag her back in here and give her the same talk, but I won’t. You’re lucky I’m not up in Mark's office telling him to reconsider the offer you’ll be getting to take you to Paris with the team. You cannot be seeing her while you work on this team.”
“Okay.” Agreeing to your Mom’s statement but also not wanting to. You didn’t want to have to ignore Jessie again. You wanted to sit by her, talk with her, share smiles across the room, and you definitely were interested in kissing her more. But you also knew she was right, it was unprofessional, at least while you were still working for the team as a temporary student, regardless of age. There were policies, it was only right that you, and Jessie both follow them and odds are the Captain of the team isn’t about to go marching into the HR office to declare that she just made out with you in your office.
“Just so you know, I didn’t lie before. I promise, that was the first time.” Hoping it’ll ease your Mom’s anger a bit you try and explain the situation.
“Now, we’re both going to be late, thanks for that. We have a quick meeting upstairs.” She ignores your statement, and turns to leave. You follow her out of the room, thankful to see no one was in the training room and hopefully no one else had heard your screaming match.
When you walk into the conference room it’s both a mix of team and staff. You can feel Jessie’s eyes on you and your Mom as you both walk in. Even though no one knew what had just happened in your office, you couldn’t help but feel like somehow everyone knew. You could feel your cheeks turning red, taking a quick glance in Jessie’s direction she gives you a sympathetic smile.
You’re not even sure what the meeting was all about, talks of Paris, talks of getting enough sleep, talks of staying in communication with each other, all go in one ear out the other. It’s like a fog has covered your head, you’re unable to grasp anything being said by the coaching staff, by the training staff, by the players. After a couple of hours the meeting is dismissed. Everyone begins to clear out of the room. You stay sitting, drawing circles onto your notepad, not a single note from the meeting written down. A couple of the players say goodbye to you on their way out of the room, you give them a quick acknowledgment and well wishes, Jessie leaves without saying anything to you.
Mark makes his way over to you, placing his hand on the top of your pen, stopping your mindless scribbling.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to help finish packing up but yes, I have a second.”
“I want you to come with the team to Paris. Is that something you’d be interested in? I understand it’s a large commitment, about two months of your time.”
“That would be incredible, I’d love the opportunity.” You’d get to travel, just like Jessie had said.
“That’s great, there’s some paperwork that’ll come with that, I’ll have the administration send it over for you to look at and sign. Since youlll be staying with us, I’d like you to continue your check-ins with Fleming. Keeping her up to date with the girls statuses as they have a few weeks away from camp. Is that something you can do?”
It takes everything in you to not immediately say yes, of course you wanted the excuse to talk to the girl but you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t be given the chance to have private conversations with her anymore.
“I can, I think it would maybe be beneficial to have someone more senior on the team involved though, just since I’ve never seen how things operate not in the camp setting.” Making the mature choice, you try to incorporate someone else into your chats to make them professional.
“That’s fine with me, I’ll check with some of the team and see who can help you out getting comfortable with that. We really appreciated your help at this camp, it was nice having you, a lot of the girls were appreciative of you too.”
“Thank you, Mark. I learned a lot. I’m looking forward to Paris.” You stand up and shake his hand before he heads out of the room. You grab your note pad tearing off the top page with scribbling across it and you toss it into the trash as you walk out of the conference room.
“Hey.” You hear and feel her as Jessie grabs your wrist. She had been waiting against the wall outside the door. Looking around nervously at who might see you two you shake your wrist from her grip.
She doesn’t even begin to talk before you start, “Jessie we can’t, what happened in my office cannot happen again.” You try and keep your voice low, not wanting to alert anyone around you.
“I know. I crossed a line, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I’m also really sorry your Mom saw and I’m really sorry for whatever happened after I walked out.”
“Just a lot of yelling.” You kick your left shoe with your right, feeling uncomfortable at the mix of tension and guilt sitting in the air between the two of you. “She was mad, especially after I told you what she had told me already.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s on me. I’m the older person here, I’ve been around this team longer, I should know better. I can tell your Mom that, if that’ll help. I can tell her it was all me.”
“I’d maybe avoid her, if you can help it. She thinks you were trying to ‘defile’ me against the office wall. And naturally she isn’t too happy about walking in on that.” A small laugh escapes as you quote your Mom’s words back to Jessie. Now that the initial fear of your Mom’s wrath is gone you found slight humor in the situation.
“Oh no.” Jessie’s hand comes to cover her mouth and the blush on her cheeks spreads.
“Yeah. At least you’ll be able to avoid her for a couple weeks until preparation for Paris starts.” Trying to make light of the situation. You can see Jessie is still a little uneasy about it.
“I guess.”
A silence falls between the two of you. Both standing in the hallway looking at each other. Knowing you both wanted each other but also both knowing you couldn’t have each other.
“I should go, have some packing up to do.” You point in the direction of the stairs that lead to the training room.
“Okay, so are we friends?” She asks you. The question is so innocent but it tugs at your heartstrings. You want to be able to tell her you’re friends but you can’t.
“I mean, maybe just coworkers for now? We can figure out if friendship is an option later. Once this all settles.”
“Right, that’s smart. So I’ll see you at the next camp then?” You can tell she looks a bit upset at your answer, but she accepts it.
“See you then Jessie.” You turn from her, it felt sad leaving her, knowing it would be weeks before you saw her in person again.
“Bye.” You hear her shout after you as you turn to go down the staircase. Hearing her call after you makes a smile break across your face. You knew you’d see her soon but you knew it wouldn’t feel nearly soon enough.
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#jessie fleming imagine#jflem#woso imagine#woso x reader#canwnt
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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞
♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?
♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them
Part 6
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au
It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.
He had tried to digest the thought many times.
I could be her friend, nothing more.
Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.
Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.
That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.
It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.
You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.
Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.
You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.
“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.
Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.
“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.
Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.
“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”
Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.
“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.
“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.
Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.
“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.
“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.
“Easy.”
You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.
“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.
“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.
“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”
You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.
“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.
He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.
“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”
Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.
“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.
“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.
“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.
“Okay your turn.” You told him.
Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.
“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.
“Huh?”
“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.
You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.
Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.
“Your turn again.”
You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.
“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.
Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.
“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.
His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.
“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”
You tried to apologize but got cut off.
“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”
He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.
You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.
“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”
You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.
Were you having an allergic reaction to something?
You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.
Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.
“(Y/n), you ok—”
“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.
Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.
Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.
“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.
You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.
“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.
You held onto him like he was your lifeline.
“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.
Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.
“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.
You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.
“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”
Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.
He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.
He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.
“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.
You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.
“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.
His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.
“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.
You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.
Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.
He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.
Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.
“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”
You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.
“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”
He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.
He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.
“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.
“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.
He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.
He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.
“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.
Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.
“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.
Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.
You both needed each other more than you realized.
🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍
TAGLIST: @winters1917 @unaxv @sebastianstansqueen @casa-boiardi @sonatabee @nytzirhk @almosttoopizza @erinallene @daddy-dotcom @h0nestly-though @beautiful-loserr @gloriouspurpose01 @lesleurs @justherefortheficandsmut @floralwsloki @dottirose @madi-be-buggin @navs-bhat @happinessinthebeing @ximi1315 @buggy14 @dancer3205 @neeezza101 @rovckwells @loki-is-loved @yujyujj @wolfstarrrr @distinguishedbluebirdtriumph @tatianah26 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @lethallyprotected @sadboiabby @ziatracy @doveromanoff @whattheduckisupkyle @buckysgirl85 @etherealdisneyvillainness @doctorlilo @torntaltos @raging-panda @livingoffsavvyillusions @lmao-liz @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @toriluvsfics
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#bucky barnes#the winter soldier#marvel cinematic universe#sebastian stan#reader insert#buckybarnes#fluff#marvel imagines#light angst#mini series#you’re mine sunshine series#grumpy x sunshine#grumpy bucky barnes x sunshine reader#grumpy x sunshine trope#bodyguard bucky barnes#bodyguard au#mob au#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fic rec#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#james buchanan barnes#beefy bucky barnes#hurt/comfort
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Can I request something (I leave the format up to you) for Chilchuck x reader where the reader genuinely asks Chilchuck for his opinions and thoughts on things? (dungeon related things, union stuff, that sort of thing) Since he mentioned how he would like to be taken serious/respected like Senshi.
Basically reader respects Chilchuck and might have developed a little crush on him as well but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable by being unprofessional so they don't act on it. Maybe it's mutual.
Chilchuck is skilled as fuck and it would be nice if he got some well deserved genuine praise and appreciation for it.
mutual
…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader
…tags! fluff, headcanon format, some very very lightly implied maturity difference, marcille #1 wingwoman, reader is taller than chil
…wc! 992
…notes! YOU ARE SO CORRECT he’s genuinely such a valuable asset to the team!! every bit of praise here is well-earned!!!!
You joined the party along with Senshi at the very start of their journey. The group was rather small and you’d fear something might happen if they traverse the dungeon on their own. You felt as if it were your duty to help out, eager to please as you are.
You realised fast that despite the dysfunctional way the group decided to acquire their food, they’re actually much more competent than you thought!
Though this is really you generalising your admiration for the picklock of the group. Being more combat oriented, the ways in which Chilchuck easily bypasses puzzles and open doors left you rapt with his skill.
Before you knew it, you had acquired a notebook and pencil of your own (that you deliberated on robbing from orcs for a while before caving), and you were jotting down notes like nobody’s business!
(Only when alone or on night guard. If anyone knew, you’d be so embarrassed…)
When Chilchuck offers a piece of advice about the social behaviours of adventuring parties, you notice. When Chilchuck offhandedly mentions a tricky aspect of the dungeon, you notice.
When Chilchuck scolds Senshi for treating him like a child, you notice.
You had a feeling he wasn’t a child. You were sort of observing him unendingly, and he seemed the image of a jaded, experienced adventurer. You can’t help but feel your admiration for him grow upon realising that.
It’s difficult not to come across too eager as you’re imploring him for more knowledge. You’re just curious! You’re expanding your dungeon knowledge! He’s happy to tell you anything you need to know, as casually and calmly as any good teacher.
But you know deep down that you’re just really attached to the half-foot. Maybe too attached…
When someone (Senshi) makes a comment about Chilchuck, even before he could retort like usual you’re standing in front of him telling him what’s what! Chilchuck is too taken aback to make much of a comment about it afterwards, but he seems… pleased.
(It’s giving “his pronouns are they/them!”)
Marcille and Laios give each other a look whenever this happens. Not saying you’re being judged, but…
Your earnestness to be the pinnacle of dungeon exploration gives Chilchuck pride in being your mentor. He’ll make a comment about it occasionally but deep down…
You kind of wish it could be more.
You’re not young necessarily. You’re years into your adulthood, but even with that in mind, Chilchuck already made it quite clear that inter-party relations are strictly a no-no.
And you just had to go and break rule number one!
It does leave you staring longingly at the half-foot’s peaceful expression when you’re supposed to be on night watch, wishing for a different reality.
It would be part way through your adventure, long after you’ve given up hope on your feelings being reciprocated, when Chilchuck gives you a spot of hope.
Just a run-in with a bicorn can really change your perspective… Chilchuck actually asked if he could talk, just one-on-one, with you.
You had to contain yourself from exploding when you accepted, following behind him into a nearby corridor. You pretend to ignore Marcille’s giggles and Izutsumi’s sigh and eyeroll.
Just had to hold your breath…
Chilchuck turns to you, looking apprehensive. You do appreciate his progress of trying to be a bit more open to people. You’re always his number one supporter without even being coddling… He takes a breath looking up at you. If you only knew what you did to him with each round of praise and appreciation.
…Well, only one way to get there, yeah?
He says your name with a weight. One you’re not able to put to name. “I haven’t been… entirely honest with you,” he tells you.
Your chest tightens and you feel your blood run cold. “What… What do you mean?”
“Nothing bad!” He’s quick to ease your fears with a desperate wave of his hands. He’s still working on this, and you can tell from how red his face gets that he’s definitely struggling with this. You watch his Adam’s apple (small, but noticeable if you stare long enough) (not like you have) bob as he gulps.
His gloved hands take yours. You try your hardest not to blush.
“You know how I keep telling you that you should get ahead? Promote yourself to join the parties of more experienced adventurers?”
“Yeah…?”
“I was trying to push you away.” He looks away from you, ashamed. “So you don’t get any closer. I also know… how you feel about me.”
You’re back to feeling horrified beyond your wits. He's definitely going to reject you. “I thought you said this wasn’t anything bad!”
“I’m getting to it!” He shoots back with the same increase in volume. His nerves are getting the better of him.
“Then by all means,” you say, “get to it!”
Chilchuck’s hands over yours are shaking. His mouth opens once more, but only a silent quiver of his vocal cords comes out. He isn’t even looking at you anymore. You probably think the worst of him by now, after all this time of trying his best to look his best, the image of professionalism.
You know what? Fuck this heart-to-heart stuff. Marcille’s advice was shoddy from the start.
The action is sudden. Chilchuck unlaced his fingers from yours, and before you could process it, his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down to his height.
And he’s kissing you. A bit feverishly and you really would have thought he’d be a bit better at this considering his experience–
But you kiss back, easing into it after your shocked “mmph!?” He still definitely owes you for putting you through the five stages of grief twice though.
Chilchuck breaks apart, and as you recover from your shock, he sighs and smiles slightly. His face is nearly glowing from the heat; you can feel it quite plainly.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.
#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon imagines#dungeon meshi imagines#dungeon meshi x reader#delicious in dungeon x reader#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#chilchuck imagines#chilchuck x reader#chilchuck tims imagines#chilchuck tims x reader
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alexia putellas fic recs (1/4)
you are responsible for the content you consume‼️
✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚
°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。
୧ mood changer by @lostinwoso alexia putellas x reader
-the girls joke with alexia about her mood change when reader arrives, changing from serious and angry face to silly and in love
୧ luna de miel by @femininefutbol alexia putellas x reader | smut
-you and alexia putellas go on your honeymoon and can’t seem to keep your hands off each other
୧ ignorance by @walesfootball alexia putellas x reader
-reader to play a game of ignoring/avoiding alexia.
୧ after six years by @slimthicksonnett alexia putellas x reader | 2.6k
-international windows had been particularly tiring this year.
୧ irresistible lips by @futbol16 alexia putellas x reader | 1.8k
-they were soft, they were full, they were sultry, they were irresistible.
୧ calmate by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-you can do one where reader and alexia date and during a match, the opposing team is attacking a lot of reader, so Alexia loses patience and kind of a real fight for the first time on the field with the opponents, where the team has to intervene and reader really gets involved hurts
୧ only one by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-the only one who can give reader a hug during the match is alexia because reader hates sweaty hugs and will only allow them from her gf
୧ i'm proud of you by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-some moments where reader appears in Alexias documentary
୧ this missing piece by @putellas11 alexia putellas x reader
-this is a story of how love can shine a light in the darkest of moments.
୧ hero at a price by @nytb alexia putellas x reader
-alexia's injury hit fc barcelona at the worst possible time, heck it was the only player that they couldn't afford to lose. the team took a hit, a position was left to fill and the objective for the season remained the same - win everything.
୧ trophy girlfriend by @magicfootballstuff alexia putellas x reader
-the biggest challenge of dating the world’s best footballer is finding space for all her trophies.
୧ strictly unprofessional by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-you’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at fc barcelona femení. the only problem? you hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since. part 8/9
previous parts here.
୧ team dad by @wordsbyrian alexia putellas x reader
-reader becomes the team dad, but isn't quite sure how she managed that.
୧ overprotective by @wordsbyrian alexia putellas x reader
-part 2 of Team Dad, in which reader is an overprotective father.
୧ comeback day by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-today is the day.
୧ change hurts by @justdontaskme alexia putellas x reader
-sleep last night was hard to come by.
୧ i need you by @futfemfantasies alexia putellas x morgan!reader
-international break wasn’t your favourite time.
୧ you. are. mine by @outsideratheart alexia putellas x reader
-alexia in a bad mood.
୧ Prompt 25 x alexia putellas by @bluewasthecolor alexia putellas x reader
-just being around alexia is painful. talking to her, playing with her, even just seeing her from a distance, it all sends a stabbing pain straight through your heart.
୧ this is our place(we make the rules) by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-and there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear
have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?
୧ alexia putellas fic by @femme4ngel alexia putellas x reader
-you felt so tired, your body and mind exhausted from studying all day. you just wanted her, her touch, her kiss, her embrace. and just like a miracle, you hear the door open and your girlfriend enter the apartment, calling out for you
୧ the return alexia putellas x reader
-“You look so cute when you're flustered." -"I don't know what I would of been without you."
୧ ex by @mapileonxputellas alexia putellas x reader | 3.3k
-sofia martinez. rven just her name sent shivers down your spine. when you made it official with alexia just over 6 months ago you had no idea of the role a seeming stranger would have in your relationship.
୧ christmas lights by @httplilyyy alexia putellas x reader
-alexia visits her girlfriend in the hospital and hopes to bring the christmas spirit with her, she however, along with her friends, weren’t prepared to let the waterworks flow.
୧ just a girl by @putellas11 alexia putellas x reader
-secret relationship wich get's announced or someone finds out
୧ avoiding suspicions by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-part 2 to Be Smart About This
୧ meeting after midnight by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-A little comfort fic of alexia just needing someone to talk to.
୧ here with you, i'm home at last by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-night had fallen in viena, and you found yourself pressed against the hotel room window, watching the city from above.
୧ we’re worth fighting for. by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-a week has passed since alexia walked away from you. since then, you’ve had the pleasure of introducing yourself to every bottle of wine in your apartment. Tell Me I’m Wrong Part 1
୧ amnesia by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-located off the coast of spain, the island of Ibiza welcomes the frenzy of travelers seeking nights of pleasure and adventure. renowned for its clear waters, perfect weather, and incredible food— memories made in Ibiza are known to last a lifetime.
୧ all we have is a mattress by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-when alexia asked you to move in with her, you said yes without hesitation.
୧ unexpected events by @women-are-hot alexia putellas x reader bits of angst, but mostly fluff.
-the reader to play a prank on alexia not wearing the engagement ring
୧ vacation love by ^ alexia putellas x reader | literally just fluff
-the team is waiting in an airport lounge for the plane and the reader gets really tired but finds the chairs uncomfortable so alexia lets her use her as a pillow
୧ that one thing with ice cubes by @katelynnwrites alexia putellas x reader | smut
-you and your girlfriend have a little fun in bed, ft. some ice cubes
୧ quite the catch by @lostinwoso alexia putellas x reader
-part two 'alexia's property'
୧ 'alexia's property' by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-Part two of quite the catch
୧ rock paper scissors by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-part three of quite the catch (part 2 'alexia's property')
୧ worst day, part 2 by @sweet-babyrose alexia putellas x reader
-read part 1
୧ what are friends for? by ^ alexia putellas x reader | featuring mapi leon
-mapi helps her bestie, alexia, prepare to propose to her girlfriend
୧ alexia blurb by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-“You’re not burdening me, my love. Taking care of you is my responsibility.”
୧ 6000 miles apart by @putellas14 alexia putellas x reader
-r eader gets stuck in the usduring covid lockdowns and can't get back to alexia for more than a year. happy ending.
୧ all for you by @onlyhereforthestories alexia putellas x reader
-alexia first met the love of her life at a friendly match all the way back in 2019, at 25 all she really wanted to do was play football for her club and country.
୧ all it takes is a christmas party by ^ alexia putellas x reader
-yesterday you and your team had played your final game before the christmas break, a champions league game that you had won by a good margin.
୧ we back. by @chelscait alexia putellas x reader | fluff, baby fever major fluff.
-where you and alexia return to football from two entirely different reasons.
#woso x reader#woso#woso imagines#espwnt x reader#espwnt#barca fc#fc barça#barca femeni#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#fic recs
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being on a case with spencer after you start dating and youre in the conference room at a precinct looking over the board (idk the terms whoops) and spencer calls you honey or sweetheart or whatever nn and he gets SO flushed worried he just got you guys in trouble for being unprofessional and hotch is just like "... you do hear how morgan and garcia talk, correct?"
this was very deserving of a blurb, i love this concept
You and Hotch are sitting around the conference room table, Spencer writing on post-it notes against the board when his permanent marker runs out, and he turns to you. "Hey, darling, can you pass me another pen?"
The affectionate nicknames are new to both of you, and it's yet to come out in front of Hotch. You're yet to have a professionalism talk from your boss. Mostly because you're strictly professional with each other in the field and a little bit because you suspect Hotch likes seeing a young couple in love.
Spencer panics, you see the terror pouring out of him as he no doubt worries about if he has jeopardized your jobs. You just try not to blush or smile too widely, and who can blame you when your boyfriend is so sweet?
"I'm so sorry." Spencer spits out. "I shouldn't have-"
Hotch cuts him off before he can go on for far too long. "Last week, Garcia made a comment about Morgan's 'big black six pack.'" You also have to try not to laugh at that, Garcia's words in Hotch's deadpan tone is hilarious. "Darling is fine."
Spencer clears his throat, nodding awkwardly and adorably. "Yup, right, okay."
You waltz over with the pen he wanted. "Here you go...darling."
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@jegulus-microfic | january 1, prompt: decent | word count: 1.366 featuring bodyguard regulus black and multi-billionaire heir james potter
“I am not here to be your friend, Mr. Potter.”
There's a crease marring Regulus' forehead, hidden just behind the curl of his sable strands, sculpted brows knitted into a censorious frown. It indicates his internal turmoil well enough, showing just how hard he's struggling to gauge the extent of reprimand he can justifiably express, given his position as the head of James Potter's security team, which still remained a subordinate one at that.
There’s the cocky cant of James’ head as he tries and ward off the smile threatening to quirk at his mouth’s corners. It had taken a decent amount of brainstorming, planning, and persuading to get Regulus to comply—have him begrudgingly acquiesce to the idea of accompanying James inside the club as a more hands-on approach to extending security, even though the former’s constant presence was painstakingly redundant in a heavily monitored club as Godric. But James had pushed his luck even then, insisting Regulus keep wearing his body and thigh holsters, convincing him the ‘streetwear chic’ would be greatly appreciated by the club’s dressing code and grant them easy entrance (as if any club would deny James Potter out of all people, a multi-billionaire heir and continent-renowned philanthropist.).
The straps of the harness glitter underneath the fluorescent strobes of vibrant purple, though nothing as piercingly brilliant as the dangerous glint catching the edges of Regulus’ withering glare.
Ah, fuck.
James traces the sugar-coated rim of his glass, biting down on his tongue, only loosened further by the nth cocktail he’s consumed as he speaks with a beguiling drawl, “But I don’t want you to be my friend, Regulus.”
Life is unfair. Let alone that he lives in a penthouse situated on London’s South Bank overlooking the River Thames or that he can afford designer wear not recognizable by most seeing how James Potter wears quiet luxury clothing brands like Gran Sasso and their perfectly manufactured cashmere sweaters or his current thousand-and-three-hundred quid shirt by Bottega Veneta that’s missing a button at the front with how much he’s been puffing his chest in attempts to draw the attention of his unfairly hot bodyguard.
Because Regulus Black is just it. Black hair meticulously combed so smoothly, inky-black ringlets curling around his face—complexion milk-white and skin undoubtedly just as soft to touch if James was given the chance. Lithe but possessing swift reflexes and at least seven black belts in seven different martial arts that don’t mandate physical strength. Just three days ago, James had seen him throw a man almost three times his size over his shoulder with effortless ease, and how badly James had wished it had been him being tossed around.
The past months have been torturous, especially when Regulus wore his white button-up, that specific white button-up that stretched around his torso, accentuated his small waist, made only smaller when the straps of his harness clung to his chest. And his legs, those fucking long legs, clad in black dressing pants that made the swell of his ass all the more prominent, like a peach. James wanted to fucking squeeze it and devour the pulp left behind, slurp it like an animal that needed to be caged.
Whether it’s the words or the uncurbed lust he’s exuding, Regulus’ features rearrange into something far more complicated. He sucks on his teeth, squints his eyes, and then casts his gaze back into the crowd—the moving masses of bodies lost to the thrum of music.
“No,” he answers from behind the curve of his drink.
James smiles. He’s got him.
“No?” he asks, scooting closer, shit-eating grin only growing wider when Regulus makes no move to increase the distance between them.
“It’s highly unprofessional and breaks every code of conduct I strictly maintain. Not to mention, you’re my employer and—”
“And you want me.” Because he hasn't missed the glances exchanged between them and will be damned if he doesn't do anything about it.
Regulus coughs, sending drops of whisky flying across because Regulus Black is the type of man to drink something so old-school in a club. “What?” he sputters
James shrugs, an act that makes the fabric around his shoulders stretch thin, and does not miss how Regulus’ gaze briefly flits to the sliver of cleavage showing behind the missing button. “Right now you’re just listing reasons that, on contract, prevent any sort of intimacy between us, but if there weren’t any there, you would want this.”
“You’re being highly presumptuous,” Regulus scoffs.
“No, I’m good at reading people.”
“I am paid to guard you,” Regulus deflects.
This, he saw coming.
“Oh, it’s a money thing then?” James asks, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He flips it open and thumbs through the wad of bills stashed in the compartment. “That’s fine, I can pay.”
This, however, also doesn’t have its desired effect. Regulus makes a face, downright spiteful this time, and does inch away from him, glass slamming onto the counter so hard James fears it might shatter. “What— So now you treat me like a prostitute?”
“What?” James asks, brows furrowed in confusion. He looks at Regulus, his wallet, back at Regulus and—
James Potter, an Oxford graduate, top-of-his-class, can also be a massive idiot.
“Oh— Oh, no— Shit, I didn’t mean— No!” He’s fumbling for words and his wallet, almost dropping it in the act of trying to put it away, nearly releasing it when he misses tucking it back in his pocket. “I just thought— Fuck, no, I’m sorry,” Regulus doesn’t look any more convinced and now James is very much panicking, thank you. “I— You know what, fuck it. Hi, I’m James Potter.”
Regulus looks like he’s having a stroke.
But James is insistent, waving his hand like the gesture will dismiss the awkward, terribly embarrassing interaction from just seconds prior. “Can I get you a drink?”
Regulus blinks at him, then his extended hand, and drags a palm down his face, pinching his nose bridge and breathing in deep.
But James is nothing if nothing stubborn. “Must’ve had a long day, huh? Need an ear?”
“I got a boss that’s stupid as fucking rocks,” Regulus mutters, and oh, James swoons. No one ever dared call him stupid or insult him in this manner, and he might just discover something about himself tonight.
“Yeah, what else?”
Regulus down the remnants of his whisky before raising his glass. “I need a refill for that”
The refill comes quick and this time, James doesn’t feel too scared about bridging the gap between them bit by bit. “So this boss of yours…” he starts, because he’s already a little tipsy and on a streak of dauntless moves. “Is he hot?”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “He’s okay.”
“Oka—” James starts, bridling, before he catches a sight of the subtlest of smirks. Then, excitement, coiling down his spine like a lick of flame kindled further by the challenging gaze Regulus looks at him with. “I think you’re selling him short.”
“He’s arrogant, I don’t think I could bear him with an ego that’s any more inflated.”
“Oh, but you wound him. He’s been trying very hard to be noticed these past couple of months. Even started waking up early to catch glimpses of a certain someone that moved in with him for work purposes.”
Regulus makes a face that reads like ‘Is that the fucking reason why you have been putting your alarm on 4:30 a.m. in a pathetic effort to catch a glimpse of me preparing for the day and trying to be an unnoticeable presence in your life because that’s expected of me as head of security?’ and James smiles like he’s trying to say ‘Yeah, I did. Seeing you drink coffee, freshly showered, is worth it even if I struggle to stay awake during meetings in the afternoon.’
Regulus quirks an eyebrow. “Why is he trying to be noticed by me?”
James links a leg around Regulus’ bar stool and yanks it closer, relishing in the little gasp that leaves his lips as a result. Their legs bump, James’ knee sliding inside Regulus’ thigh, coming to a rest against it.
“Why spoil the fun by talking? I could just show you instead.”
#jegulus#james potter#regulus black#jegulus fanfiction#marauders#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#starchaser#sunseeker#this is for you mil my little iced oat milk latte with millionaires shortbread#MY FIRST MICROFIC FOR JEGULUS PROMPTS!#ino microfic tag!
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aperture
harry’s leg is bouncing, his thumbs drumming on his thighs. he’s mouthing the set list to himself as he hears the commotion from backstage. people rushing from place to place, getting their pre-show jitters out of their systems, laughing from easy conversation being shared in passing, music being played over the arena’s speakers, and fans making there way to their places. there’s a thrumming in his bones and a seemingly perpetual cloud over his head, forbidding him from thinking of anything but his anticipation. he’s itching to get out there. to see the crowd, to perform for them, to give them a good show, to cease these thoughts and feelings.
he loves performing. it’s his life work and he’s not too shy to admit that he is quite good at it. singing his music and dancing, the electricity within the venue, the screams, the signs, the tears, the joy. everything about it is intoxicating and addicting. the aftermath is splendid as well, the hugs shared between him and the band, the talk of heading out for drinks that he just enjoys to listen to knowing that he would not join, and he loves seeing the photos that
y/n gets, of him (backstage or on stage) or of the fans. the energy that only she could capture. the unity among this body of people.
it’s the occurrence and outcome of performing that he loves, not the overlong waiting period before.
there is a shinning light in the waiting though, and it’s her. with her camera and bright smile. the newest member to their team, y/n is a warm and welcome presence. they had hired her for the second leg of love on tour. she was a new, fresh face on the scene, just graduated college with a natural talent in capturing invaluable moments. he knew as he looked at her application and instagram that she was perfect for this role. and how right was he. within the first week of working, she had wiggled her way into the hearts of everyone around her. even the fans had seemed to have taken a liking to her, shouting her name as she passed them to take pictures of harry and the band from the floor. and as much as harry teased them, looking at them with feigned offense as he told them that they should be paying attention to him, not her, harry couldn’t even blame them. he had taken a rather large liking to her, as well.
he liked how things seemed to fall into place when she was around. a gap filled with quiet giggles and shutters of the camera. there was a longing feeling in his chest when she was away and a blissful calm when she was near. he figured this can be attributed to his vaguely romantic affections to her.
somewhere between the first time he met her, her shaky hands and nervous laughter, and now, as he waits for her to come to him, his thoughts of her changed. at first, strictly professional, friendly business. then, it was genial, sharing stories and past experiences. and now, nearly affectionate, flirty jokes and mutual yearning. at first, when he recognized this change, he chastised himself. how unprofessional, how inappropriate, how juvenile, this crush was. a crush he had on someone he technically was the boss of and someone he was quite older than. however, his frustration and concerns for the situation crumbled under the heavy weight that was his admiration for the woman. even now, he tells himself to not give in, to keep his compliments and flirtatious comments to himself in preparation for her arrival. but he can’t dwell in that for much longer when a soft, rhythmic knock sounds on the door.
“hi, harry!” she says, entering the room. by habit, he quickly turns his head to look at her from his place on the couch in the green room. her smile is bright as she looks at him, framed by beautiful rosey lips that harry can’t stop himself from fantasizing about. her makeup is kept light and accentuates her natural features, her hair down. her outfit quite simple, a tight, white baby tee, flared, high-waisted jeans that look as though they came straight out of the seventies, brown heeled boots, and camera in the clutches of her delicate, red- polished fingers. he realizes in this moment, like he had in many others, that he stood no chance. he held no power or control over his ever growing affections when she was this beautiful, this lively, this kind, or this gentle.
“‘lo, love. you look gorgeous. gonna steal the show looking like tha’” harry comments with a dimpled smile. fuck, harry, can’t be helped, can you? he complains to himself. but just like always she giggles at him, letting out a soft “oh, stop” as she situates herself and her camera. they fall easily into their routine. she asks him about his day and if he’s nervous, she moves around him, taking pictures every now and then, and shares stories from her day when asked. he watches her as she flits about the room, blushing like a little boy when she catches his gaze, he shares his own stories from the day, adding his own flare and exaggeration just to get her laughing.
“oh, you have to tell the finger gun story! they’ll love it! especially, if you act it out! that would be so cute!” she exclaims through her giggles. harry smiles at her as she talks, watching her as she finally settles on the couch adjacent to him.
“cute, huh?” he teases. fucks sake, he scolds himself like his mum used to when he was a little boy and said something he shouldn’t have. it was peculiar how out of body he felt when he was around her, there were times when he could get a grip and stop his flirting, his flushing, and over all childish behavior. and there were times he could not. it seemed to be the latter most often, much to his dismay.
her face flushes and she smiles back at him, muttering a shy “shut up.” she tucks the left side of her hair behind her ear, something he had noticed she did when blood rushes to her cheeks, warming the skin there an uncomfortable amount. god.he wishes he could kiss them, or even gently nip at them, hold them in his hands and stroke them with his thumbs. harry tries to shake these thoughts from his head before he does something rash and unwelcome. the fear of making this beautiful, sweet angel of a woman uncomfortable is crushing, the thought alone cracking his heart. he decides to focus on lacing up his sneakers.
she watches him, thankful for the time to calm herself down and let the perspiration starting to dampen the nape of her neck die down. she’s always thankful for the times she can just watch. a naturally shy person, she finds it hard to come back with witty comments or flirty rebuttals when harry speaks to her. she wishes she could, god, does she wish she could. she fears that her lack of response will eventually make him stop. which, in earnestness, she admits would be the worst outcome. it had happened before, in college. a boy named andrew in her statistics class, who she had really, really liked, decided to show interest in her at a party. he flirted, and flirted, and flirted. and y/n simply giggled in response before awkwardly changing the subject. and of course, he lost interest, which y/n deduced was her fault because everything she did in that moment was an indicator of disinterest. he couldn’t see her blushed cheeks with every brush of his hand or compliment passed her way. he couldn’t see her glances at him when he looked away. of course he couldn’t tell! he wasn’t a mind reader and he didn’t have eyes on the back of his head! he was a frat-boy, majoring in finance who wanted to hit it and quit it! she criticizes herself for her past mistakes, or miscommunications, hoping that it doesn’t happen again. at least not with harry.
she understands the implications of them being together. he’s her employer, a fair amount older than her, and harry fucking styles. she supposes her non-response approach to flirting with him might be good, aids her in her fight to keep things professional, if not, friendly between herself and harry. regardless of if that’s what she wants, she knows that’s what’s best. and how could she even be so sure that he, of all people, would want her. she shakes her head, physically ridding herself of these thoughts before they turn mean.
she continues to watch as his fingers work at the laces of the shoes, there’s a knock on the door and a call that he has ten more minutes of preparation before he must perform. it’s then that she decided to snap a photo of him. she pulls the camera away from her face to look at the picture before shyly smirking to herself.
“hm?”
“oh, nothing, this is just a good picture of you.”
“lemme see.”
she gets up from her spot to sit next to him on his couch, showing him the photo. as he takes in the image, she takes in him and she wishes that her eyes were cameras themselves so she could keep the image of the smirk on his face, the dimple indenting his cheek, the slope of his nose, his eyelashes framing his green eyes as the sparkle under the light of the room in tangible memory.
“you know, you’re quite talented.” he jokes, turning his head to look into her eyes. the closeness of their faces surprising the both of them, but not enough to make them move away from each other. what the fuck am i doing? harry comments to himself, hoping for it to be enough to break him out of his trance. with the scrunch of her nose and a breath of her laughter, he knows once again that he is not strong enough.
“i think i’ve been told once or twice.” their noses brush and they’re eyes lock on each others. they’re still for a moment, both fighting an internal battle, so badly wanting to give in but so very worried for what it would mean if they do. they both, almost as if magnetized, move their heads ever so slightly closer, noses bumping in a clumsy manner. it’s that action that pulls them apart. harry turns his head to look behind her, coughing softly. y/n turns hers forward.
“i should leave. give you sometime to relax by yourself,” she pauses, grabbing her camera before standing. she walks to the door, standing in front of it as she looks at him looking at her.
“break a leg, harry. you’ll do great, you always do.” she says with a nervous smile, tucking her hair behind her ears and exiting the room. a new wave of disquieting thoughts fill the space she once occupied. but he had little time to dwell on those as he walks out of the room and to the box in which he’ll be rolled to the stage. he turns around to see her, already staring back a him. she offers a gentle, reassuring smile and a thumbs up. harry returns the gesture before turning away and fits himself in.
fuck.
hello, everyone! this is the first installment of my harry & photographer!y/n series. i truly hope you enjoy! please, please, please feel free to leave any comments, questions, or suggests you have for me and the story!
-rory.
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry edward styles#harrystyles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry x you#harry styles x y/n#harry x y/n#harry styles au#writing
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Strictly Unprofessional (alexia putellas x reader) - COMPLETE
Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9
Bonus ficlets:
Obsession
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#strictly unprofessional
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So you can sell full ownership copies of the Price recording and have decided not to because it's more profitable to rent out access to it?
I'm not sure what you mean exactly? I don't think I can make physical copies of the recording of The Prince without going through Nebula, I think I'm right in saying they have the rights to that recording? I doubt they'd have much interest in physical copies: DVDs wouldn't sell enough to make back the cost of doing it. Even if I was allowed to make DVDs without their permission, it'd be pretty unprofessional of me to screw them out of their share of the revenue when they produced the show! - it'd be a classic case of biting the hand that feeds!
I'm happy with the setup we have: The Prince is very accessible on streaming, and cheaper than a physical DVD would be too. It's more accessible than most theatre productions in fact: most productions are never recorded and access to those recordings is strictly controlled: the New York Public Library, for instance, only allows you to watch recordings of old shows once, and only on the premises, to protect the copyright of the set designers, costume designers, musicians etc. So overall I'm happy with the way things are :)
If you'd like a physical copy of the script however, that's easy! https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/prince-9781350352377/
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i’ve just been spamming you but hear me out😭😭 the knife picture got me thinking.. ni-ki but assassin AU that’s it that’s the plot🫡🫡
-🍒
cherri ur brain!!! sorry this is bad but i wanted to do smthn for u T-T slight gore warning
11:57PM — being an assasin constantly had its ups and downs, but perhaps the most annoying factor is how competitive the underground industry really is. to be specific, your strikingly handsome yet sly nemesis that went by nishimura riki, who’s challenged you on more jobs than you could count.
oh, how he pissed you off. the amount of times he’s stolen your missions and claimed bounties for himself was astronomical — though, it wasn’t like you haven’t done the same to him on numerous ocassions, including now.
either way, it was no excuse for him to be treating you like this when people could be coming to investigate any minute.
both wrists held tightly into his larger grip, niki pushes you against the luxurious wall of the park family’s mansion, hands restrained strictly above your head. both of you breathe heavily, and you try to ignore the crimson blood staining and dripping cruelly against the assasin’s once soft face (though at this point in your career, it wasn’t the most unusual sight).
his slicked back hair — once prepared neatly for the wealthy family’s party — has started falling out of place and onto his forehead, enhancing the messed up look following the harsh glare he sends your way. “what the fuck is wrong with you.” tone as sharp as the knife he places against your throat, the taller male pins you further all while you do your best to struggle away.
“i knew you were gonna find a way to mess everything up as soon as i saw you prancing around the ballroom, pretending like you weren’t busy plotting a murder in that pretty head of yours,” he spits. “this was my mission.”
“uhuh, you say that as if you weren’t planning the exact same thing, jackass.” attempting to elbow his arm away, you both seem to forget that only a feet away lies the narcissistic rich kid that is park sunghoon, blood drooling messily against his neatly slit throat while you both wrestle in each other’s grips. “always so unprofessional, do you wanna get us both caught you fucking lunatic?”
that seems to give niki a reality check. he glances over at the lifeless body pressed against the wall, biting his plump lip before reluctantly releasing you to conceal his dagger once more.
just at that moment, knocking echoes from the bedroom door nearby along with the panicked voice of a male servant. “mr. park? this young woman has been mourning for you, may you please come assist her soon? she says it is urgent!”
you and niki share a burning stare of understanding. the motive for the case; put an end to the heartbreaking son of the park family. “how many girls do you think he’s messed with?” you murmur.
niki’s movements are clearly trained as his feet silently pace over to the bedroom window. “nearly as many jobs we’ve taken combined, i’d say.”
it was weird having such a conversation with your enemy that didn’t invole threats or piercing glares in between. you despised how in the end, niki did this for.. partially good reason just like you. growing up in a community like this, it wouldn’t exactly be simple to go try and live a normal life now anyway.
following his trail, you pull your mask back on with a pondering sigh. “we could make a good team, don’t you think?”
he freezes, one booted foot up on the windowsill. “what? you got a crush on me now or something?“
you roll your eyes. “in your dreams, it was just a suggestion, doofus.” impulsively, you shove the fellow assasin out of the way, using the grip of your gloved hand to take his spot on top of the open window.
he watches as you calmly jump off the ledge, gripping onto the mansion’s roof in preparation to flee. “if you change your mind, let me know next time. i wouldn’t mind splitting pay with a pretty boy i guess.” another blank exchange of looks, and you’re off into the night sky, leaving a now flustered boy alone in the nearly pitch black mansion.
niki wasn’t too sure if he should be more interested in your offer because of the money, or the fact that he’d be spending time killing people with his crush.
assasin niki who pretends to hate u but is secretly infatuated by ur coolness >>> 😞
#delcakoo#delcakoo requests#enhypen fics#enhypen fluff#enhypen#niki fics#riki nishimura x reader#nishimura riki x reader#nishimura riki imagines#nishimura riki fics#niki x reader#niki#niki imagines#niki fic#niki fluff#enhypen niki#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#enhypen x reader#enhypen timestamps#enhypen drabble#enhypen imagine#enhypen drabbles#enhypen blurbs#enhypen fic#enhypen scenarios#niki drabbles#niki scenarios#niki timestamps#nishimura riki fluff
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Come in, Atled Air, come in.
A Pilot!Frankie x fem!reader one shot
This is all fluff, just a little brain worm I had a few months ago and today it decided it wanted to be written.
Happy Morales Monday!
You still vividly remember the first time you “met” him, how a routine Thursday shift in the control tower lodged itself in your brain as a bright memory of when you first heard his voice.
Thursday
“Saltaire Airfield tower to Atled Air flight 117, do you copy?”
You release the switch on the microphone and scan the monitor in front of you. The small commercial flight coming in to land is still too far away to see in the sky, but the radar at the top of the air traffic control tower at the small Saltaire Airfield sees it clearly. You track their progress as you wait for the pilot to respond.
“Atled Air flight 117 here, I can hear you loud and clear, Saltaire tower.”
His voice comes through with a crackle in your headphones and even as you flick the switch to transmit at your end, you’re losing yourself in the way he sounds. The low, smooth gravel of his voice lingers in your ears and slips down your spine, and you know you want to hear him speak again.
“Atled Air 117, we have some sharp side wind gusts coming in off the ocean on runway one so I’m moving you to runway two. I repeat; you are clear for landing on runway two.”
“Copy that, Saltaire tower. Atled Air 117 adjusting course and coming in to land on runway two.”
His voice wraps itself around your brain and you want to push your headphones tighter against your ears to have that warm voice even closer. When he clicks off, you take a second to respond, your finger fumbling on the switch.
“Roger, Atled Air 117. Welcome to the island,” you say, cringing at yourself, you never welcome flights to the island, so unprofessional. This may be a tiny regional airport but correct air traffic protocol is as important here as at any of the large mainland airports. But from Atled Air comes the crackled response.
“Thank you, tower, I look forward to exploring.” The smile in the pilot’s voice is clear, a small chuckle at the end just as he flicks off his microphone. You grin at the runway below the tower, your sharp eyes spotting the small aircraft as it circles and approaches runway two.
There’s no need for you to guide the flight in to land, it’s the only flight landing, the next one isn’t due for another half an hour. Instead you just watch the pilot smoothly set his aircraft down, not even a wobble on the landing gear.
“Atled Air 117, please proceed to gate one,” you say into the microphone as the small passenger aircraft begins to taxi down the runway.
“Copy that, tower,” comes the reply, sending another little delightful shiver down your spine. You only hope you’re on duty when he flies out.
Saturday
Frankie adjusts the aviators on his nose and consults the instruments in front of him before he looks up and out through the windshield. The green smudge of the island is visible below him, a blip in the blindingly blue ocean. It’s only his second flight out here, a new destination for Atled Air, but he’s been looking forward to it since his first trip on Thursday. The voice of the female air traffic controller had lingered in his ears long after he’d brought the aircraft to a stand still by the gate. And unfortunately she hadn’t been on duty when he flew out a couple of hours later. Now he was crossing his proverbial fingers that her sweet voice would hail him as the flight reached the island’s air space.
He hesitates for a few seconds before he flicks the microphone to transmit.
“Saltaire Airfield tower, this is Atled Air 243 approaching your airspace. I’m seeing some turbulence on the radar, but we should be ready to land shortly.”
He flicks off and grimaces, that message wasn’t strictly necessary, he just couldn’t wait any longer to find out if it was the same woman in the tower. But when his headphones crackle to life and her soft voice flows into his ears, he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.
“Atled Air 243, Saltaire tower here. You’re a little bit early, I need you to hold your altitude and circle at the outer marker. We have an aircraft with broken landing gear on the tarmac that needs to be towed out of the way.”
“Copy that, Saltaire tower. Atled Air 243 holding at current altitude and circling at the outer marker,” he replies, chastising himself for not keeping the smile out of his voice.
The tone of her voice is slightly veiled and has a lilt, a hint of an accent he can’t place, and it makes his skin tingle to hear the way she rolls the r’s around her tongue. Before he can stop his mind, he wonders what it would sound like to have her say his name, how Frankie would sound whispered into his ear, a warm breath against his neck.
He adjusts his aviators again as he shifts in his seat, thumb hovering over the microphone switch. He shouldn’t really…
“What happened to the landing gear? All ok on the ground there, Saltaire?”
“The pilot missed the edge of the tarmac as he was taxing out and hit a rock,” her voice comes back through his headphones, and sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, “No injuries, just a bruised ego.” The smile is clear in her voice and Frankie smiles at his end.
“Well, at least I know it wasn’t one of our pilots,” he chuckles, “I’m the only Atled flight out here today.”
“I know,” she replies a bit too quickly and then stutters, “I-I mean, I keep track of all our flights. Of course.”
“Of course,” Frankie replies, “You’re a very good air traffic control tower, always on top of things.” He winces at his own line, why the fuck did he say that? Who compliments an air traffic control tower?
“You’ve only flown in here once before,” comes her reply with a small giggle, “but thanks, we do our best even though we’re a small airfield.”
He checks his instruments, looking for a reason to hail the tower again, her bright laughter still ringing in his ears. The island is spread out underneath him as he corrects his course, holding at the outer marker, and his headphones come to life again.
“Atled Air 243, you’re clear to land on runway one, over.”
“Copy that, tower. Atled Air 243 approaching runway one.”
“Welcome to the island,” she smiles through the airwaves and Frankie feels the tips of his ears go warm as he begins the pre-landing checklist.
“Thanks, Saltaire, looking forward to getting on the ground,” he smiles back.
Tuesday
You scan the list of incoming flights as you clock on for the shift and feel your stomach do a little summersault when the Atled Air flight is at the end of the list. Last flight of the day. And so far both flights have been piloted by the same pilot with the low, warm voice. You cross her fingers and send up a quick prayer that it’ll be him again.
The shift flies past, pun intended, as the afternoon slides into evening, and before you know it, Atlead Air 584 is approaching, the final flight. The weather has deteriorated during the day and heavy fog has settled over the island, not unusual, but it does mean flights need extra attention when coming in to land. Your hands shake a little with excitement as you flip the microphone switch and hail the incoming flight.
“Atled Air 584, Saltaire Airfield tower here. I can see you on the radar but the fog is thick on the ground, I’ll guide you in as you approach the outer marker.”
“Copy that, Saltaire tower,” comes his voice through your headphones and you do a little happy shuffle before quickling glancing behind you to make sure noone is watching. The smile in his voice makes butterflies tumble in the pit of your belly, and you quickly take a deep breath, focusing again.
“Atled Air 584, runway one is waiting for you, approach the outer marker.”
“Copy that,” he says, and you hear him inhale and curse in a low tone under his breath, “Damn, it’s thick down there, Saltaire. I’ve got zero visibility of the runway.”
��Just take it nice and slow, Atled, I’ve got you on radar, guiding you in.”
Frankie leaves his microphone open and grips the yoke with both hands, glancing over his instruments, hearing the beep of the outer marker as the aircraft slowly descends towards the fog-covered island.
“Looking good, Atlead,” your voice comes through into his ears, soft and calm, almost intimate in the way your tone guides him, “Keep on that course, middle marker coming up.”
“Copy that, Saltaire,” he replies, releasing a slow breath through his nose, you can hear it woosh gently through the microphone at his end and then he inhales again.
“Inner marker,” you say, “looking good, Atled.”
With a low thud, the landing gear hits the tarmac and the aircraft jolts. Frankie gently reduces the speed and sighs into the still open microphone. As far as landings go, he’s had much, much worse, but next to zero visibility always adds an extra layer of tension to any landing.
“Thanks, tower, great guiding,” he huffs, “Atled Air safely on the ground.”
“It was great flying, captain,” your voice smiles at him through the headphones, “You’re clear to taxi to gate number one.”
Your microphone clicks off and he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, the other one on the yoke. He drops his hand to his thigh, tapping the outside with his fingers a few times before his thumb is back, hovering over the microphone switch.
“Atled Air to Saltaire tower, you copy?”
“Saltaire tower here, is there a problem, captain?”
“Uh, no…This is very unprofessional but…when do you finish your shift in the tower? Can I maybe buy you a drink?”
“I'm off in thirty minutes. And a drink sounds nice.” You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling, your cheeks aching from the smile stretching your face.
“Is that bar across the road from the airport any good? Can we meet there?” he asks, smiling like a fool at his end, eagerly rubbing his hand over his thigh as he glances up at the tower.
“Sure, see you there, captain”.
Forty minutes later
You glance towards the door again as you hear it swing open, and this time it’s him, the Atled Air uniform giving him away straight away. He scans the bar as you scan him, tall, dark haired and broad, wide shoulders stretching the seams of the uniform shirt tight. As he spots you, the only woman at the bar, he smiles, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he walks towards you. His captain's hat is under his arm, and he runs his free hand through his hair, the chocolate brown curls creating an unruly halo under the dim bar lights.
“Hi,” he says, his low, warm voice wrapping itself around you as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your cheek, “I’m Frankie.”
#frankie morales#pedro pascal character fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fluff
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𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗻 + 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻)
You guys met when he took Kaya to the vet!
And, sure. However unprofessional it was to fall in love with someone who comes to the vet you work at, technically, you don't take care of Kaya! So it's fine!
Your quiet, calm demeanor is exactly what drew him in!
That, and the baby voice you put on to talk to Kaya...
You're also pocket-sized! He loves you for that <3
He was a little scared to tell you that he was a twitch streamer, but when you asked him "What's Twitch?" he got to excitedly mold your perception of Twitch into one that he wished he had.
Strictly the leftist, dog/cat grooming, funny side of Twitch
He is soooo fucking iffy about you being on stream
Completely respects if you don't wanna be online, cos he doesn't really want that for you either.
His online nickname for you is "The Vet", his followers know that you're his partner, but he refuses to use any other name because he thinks it's so funny
Is constantly gushing about you
"The Vet got Kaya these new treats and she loves them! She LOVES them!"
"This morning, The Vet and I were talking, and she called me a 'simp'... keep in mind! She doesn't know what 'simp' means! I love this woman, dude... I- I just.. ugh... She's adorable."
"Look at how FLUFFY Kaya is! The Vet washed her after their walk today and, I dunno! The Vet just... she has that technique, you know? Like- she's such a good girl. Huh? Guys! I know vets are supposed to be good dog groomers- the fucking Zoomers are in the chat. These poor Hasanabi stream virgins don't know who 'The Vet' is."
"I'm not specifying who I meant when I said 'good girl', you're all just baiting me."
#hasan x reader#hasanabi#hasan piker#hasan piker x reader#hasanabi x reader#hasanabi fluff#hasan piker fluff
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