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xianyoon · 6 hours

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you're not that bad of a study partner

xiao diluc kaeya childe wriothesley lyney alhaitham x gn!reader studying with them. romantic fluff. reupload from my previous blog ; @.i23kazu.

[ ♡ ] xiao

he's the one who has the noise-cancellation headphones, blacklisted apps activated kind of student. everything is on lockdown and on do not disturb mode – he doesn't even get texts from his parents – please don't disturb him. poke him with your pen and you'll just see him roll his eyes at you– no, seriously- it's not worth it! admittedly, xiao is also a really good student ; always on task, even for the subjects that he absolutely despises. ask him to tutor you and he might grumble and groan, but what happens when the tutor falls in love with his student? only one way to find out.

[ ♡ ] diluc

possibly the class rep and one of the harder ones to get close to. studying with him is a express ticket to resources that teachers had given him because of his high-class status. he's not proud of it – diluc genuinely believes that each student deserves the chance to have the same access as him – which is why he's willing to share it with you as well. we didn't even have to meet up, you could just have sent it over- you whine, but the tinge of crimson on his cheeks is a telltale sign that perhaps he needed- no, wanted, this excuse.

[ ♡ ] kaeya

the teasy study buddy. watch him annoy the hell out of you– of course you know he's teasing, but sometimes it hurts. "haha, i thought i taught you this already? does the little bunny not have enough space in there?" he taps your head with his pen. it's only when your face crumples and you start to mumble out apologies, teardrops cockling your paper – that he panics. "shit- i'm so sorry– how can i make it better?" he wipes your tears away gently with his thumbs – a true gentleman owns up to his mistakes. he makes it up with a sweet kiss and a stack of gift cards to your favourite cafes.

[ ♡ ] childe

he's the study partner friend who keeps you going, truly. if sunshine was bottled up and wrapped with a bow and had an orange cap, it would be childe! watching your face fall after staring at algebra simply won't do for him, no, no. let him lead you as he tugs on your hands outside of the study room, and just let your feet follow in his footsteps – you'll find yourself outside the library cafe. he takes out his wallet from his pocket and grins at you. "alright, it's on me! what do you want?" maybe his wallet is a little lighter, but so is his heart, once he sees your face light up.

[ ♡ ] wriothesley

wriothesley is the one who has it all planned out. first, you'll start studying at 10pm... which is a little late, but it's alright. you'll get tired around midnight, which will be when he offers you the first cup of warm chamomile. "won't this put me to sleep?" you whine, accepting it from him anyways. he chuckles and runs his hands through your hair, replying that it's never worked on him. true enough, you start getting sleepy around half past one – finally leaning against his shoulder, your arms going slack. kissing your head, he drapes a blanket around you. good night.

[ ♡ ] lyney

the one who sits besides you, cracking jokes every now and then! but when it's time to study, he can buckle down and start doing work –that's just lyney – the human on and off switch. there's something about him doing work while twirling his poker cards in his hands that's just so mesmerising – a stare a moment too long catches his eye, and he immediately jumps into doing a trick for you. get back to work!, you laugh and playfully swat his shoulder, turning back to your own paper. he chuckles in return, and unbeknownst to you, turns back to look at his own work with a smile.

[ ♡ ] alhaitham

alhaitham can be stricter as a study buddy – he's stern with distractions, wanting you to keep your phone to the side as he's explaining concepts – yes, concepts you learnt, but never understood. "hey, eyes here. did you understand, or do i need to go through it again?" he sounds bored, and you feel sorry for him. you mumble a soft i understand back, and he sighs and tells you to take a break. "look up." your eyes trail up from your tear-soaked papers, and instinctively close as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. "please believe in yourself just as i believe in you." he utters softly. you've never seen alhaitham act so tenderly before.

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moonstruckme · 4 hours

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can you write remus and reader sharing a cigarette together, something about that is just so intimate to me i want to cry

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: smoking

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 808 words

Remus can feel you looking at him in his periphery. He sighs, sending smoke billowing out into the dark alleyway, even as he feels the corner of his mouth tilt up.

“We’re terrible influences on you,” he says.

“You’re terrible influences,” James corrects him, standing upwind and looking at him and Sirius like they’re contagious. “I am nothing but good to her.”

“Come on.” You grin at Remus, and yeah, that mischief in your eyes is definitely a result of spending too much time with their bunch. “I just wanna try.”

Lately, you’ve been campaigning for a cig every time he’s having one. You’d never thought about it before you had friends who smoked, but now you’re curious, and he and Sirius’ regular smoke breaks don’t help matters. If Remus was a better friend, he’d show more restraint.

“Mm, ‘fraid this is my last one,” he says, not lying but definitely not upset about it.

You roll your eyes. “Sirius?”

The glow of Sirius’ cherry lights his eyes with a smug amusement. “Don’t look at me, doll. He’ll be pissy if I give you one.”

Remus has to suppress a grin when you turn back to him, arms crossed over your chest. “Really? I could just go get a pack on my own, you know.”

Remus exhales smoke out one side of his mouth, watching you from the corner of his eye as he does. You look back at him, obstinate if a bit playful.

“Fine,” he says. “We can share this one, if you want to try so badly.”

Your expression falters, and he thinks he might have won, your bashfulness about your crush on him overpowering your want, but then challenge glints in your eye and Remus knows he hasn’t. Competitiveness is another thing you’ve picked up from their group (Remus likes to think that’s more James and Sirius than himself), and now once you’ve caught a whiff of a challenge there’s no deterring you.

“Perfect,” you reply brightly.

Remus tries once more. “You sure?”

“Don’t do it,” James cautions you. “You’ll be sending yourself down a path of corruption and lung problems.”

“Just this once,” you promise.

“Just this once,” Remus agrees sternly.

You beckon, and he taps the ash off the end of his cigarette, reluctantly passing it to you. You take it between your thumb and forefinger and lift it to your lips.

“Just take a shallow breath,” Remus warns.

You do, the cherry glowing only dimly as you inhale cautiously. Good girl, he thinks to himself. You blow out the smoke just as slowly, features tightening as you try to keep from coughing.

Sirius laughs at the obvious strain, and a small cough escapes you. They all clap, Sirius still chuckling and Remus with a small, begrudging smile on his face.

“That’s actually not so bad,” you say, somewhat croakily.

“Oh? Happy to hear it.” Remus takes the cig back from you, putting it to his own lips again and trying not to think about how yours were just on it. It’s not the first time he’s shared a cigarette, but somehow with you it feels different. He has an inkling as to why.

As he takes it away from his mouth, you reach for it again.

He dodges you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want another,” you say.

“No.”

“What?” A laugh trips off your tongue, and Remus holds the cigarette aloft as you make another grab for it. “Come on, you said we’d share!”

“I’m not done with my turn yet,” he says, taking a hearty drag.

“You’re going to finish it off before I can have any!”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

You reach for it again, and this time Remus doesn’t put up as much of a fight, letting you pluck the cigarette from his mouth. If the side of your index finger grazes his upper lip, he certainly doesn’t notice.

You’re bolder this time, exhaling some of your air before breathing in. The cherry glows a fiery orange, and Remus feels his brow furrow.

“Slower, love,” he murmurs.

You manage not to cough this time, which Remus can tell impresses Sirius as much as it does him, blowing the smoke off to the side like you’ve seen them do a million times. It’s terribly hot.

You keep breathing out even after there’s no smoke left, then inhale, humming contemplatively.

“Sort of aches in your lungs, doesn’t it?”

“That’s the beginning of the end,” James says solemnly. “You’re done for, now.”

“She is not,” Remus chides, swiping the cig from you. “But that’ll be all.” He tuts as you protest, setting his free hand atop your head under the guise of keeping you at bay. “Don’t want to hear it. You’re too lovely to corrupt. I won’t be a part of it.”

That shuts you up.

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cyberteez · 2 days

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grey day - j.yunho

pairing ⋆ j.yunho x f.reader

genre ⋆ fluff

wc ⋆ 564

summary ⋆ yunho comforts you with cuddles and one kiss

warnings ⋆ none

yunho’s arms snake around your sides as you sat down on the couch, pulling you into his warmth. a kiss was pressed to the back of your head, a hum sounding from his throat as he shifted so you both could be comfortable. the outside was cool and cloudy, a dull grey covering the sky and reflecting off of the different buildings surrounding the apartment.

“you okay, little one?” he asked.

you said nothing but shook your head, palms coming to cover your eyes. his grip tightened for a few moments before relaxing as he pressed another kiss against your shoulder.

“do you wanna talk about it?”

you shook your head again.

he nodded against your shoulder and turned his gaze towards the tv, a hand snatching the remote from the cushion.

“wanna see what dumb shit we can find on YouTube?”

you were still for a few moments but eventually nodded. within a few minute the both of you had decided on a video and ended up falling into a laying position of the couch, his front flush against your back. with one hand against your stomach, he drew small circles.

you weren’t sure if it was for your own comfort or his but you did nothing to stop him, curling tighter against this body. his warmth was a welcome feeling, more so the love that seemed to radiate from him as he fussed over you. he wanted to tuck you into blankets and pet your hair and give you everything you wanted, but he was all you wanted. well... playing with your hair didn’t sound so bad but with this angle it would be hard. maybe later

a few quiet hours had passed and you were sure he must’ve fallen asleep, but when you turned to face him, you found him staring back. neither of you said anything for a few moments, but when a smile filled his face you couldn’t help but mirror him. yunho leaned forward and pecked your lips, cupping your cheek and softly rubbing it with his thumb. the shirt of his you were wearing slid up your waist only for him to push it back down, smoothing the fabric over your thighs. a light smile graced your lips as you watched him.

now facing him, you tuck your head into the crook of his neck and he pulls your waist towards him. one arm is underneath your head and the other rests across your back, trapping you in his arms. his gaze changes from you to the window. while the sky was still grey, it shifted more orange as the sun approached the horizon, signaling the end of the day. hours of watching YouTube left you tired and you groaned softly against him, feeling exhausted.

“bed?”

“yea,” you replied. the first words of the day. your voice sounds croaky from lack of use and tiredness.

he smiles as he gets up and pulls you into his arms, leading you to bed to cuddle more. the blinds are shut in your room when you enter, an almost perfect set up for sleep. the only thing left that you need are his arms and soft words, which he easily provides.

once settled into bed and in his arms, you find it easy to drift off to sleep, the last words you hear from him being: “sleep well, little one.”

#ateez #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez imagines

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 3 days

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Stormy Weather

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; angst/comfort/fluff

Trigger Warnings: major domestic issues, trauma response, things are resolved but hard, language

A/N: Hey my loves! So this one is… pretty hard core for me? I rarely write angst but this one has been on my mind for a bit. This does get pretty aggressive but I needed to process my own experiences with DV and relationship issues. This story isn’t meant to glorify or make light of DV, but rather it’s a way for me to process my fears about my future relationships after my bad one. I hope this made sense, and maybe someone could find some catharsis in this like I did. Love you all to bits and pieces, I’m trying to get to my inbox!! As always, feel free to send me prompts or requests. Love you all 💕- Mo

It had been tense recently in the Solomons house. The new men in the bakery were just above incompetent despite Shelby assurance. American prohibition put another twist in the binds. And the recent weather had done nothing to aid Alfie’s sciatica. Through no fault of your own, and despite your best efforts, Alfie was knee deep in angry old man territory.

Though that wasn’t something that put you off. Women are not so easily turned by nasty weather, for better or worse.

You weren’t naive to the tempest of your husband. The beauty of his heart and his mind had to paid for by torrential rains once a season. His roar never came to your quiet garden, though you were acquainted with his rumbles and thunder. But you knew how to temper it. You knew what brought him through it into the clear.

You hummed to the radio in the corner, settling your finishing touches to a soothing evening with your beast of a husband. Brisket was just pulled out, with carrots and potatoes buttery and tender. You had washed the sheets and blankets, pressed them with dried lavender and eucalyptus oil. Lamps were turned low, and the fire was a soothing crackle, the entire parlor a syrup sweet orange glow. Water was hot for a bath for two, and everything was set for a soft warm evening.

As you pour out your first glass of wine, you hear the front oak door swing open, and slam shut shaking the walls. Light on your feet you flew to the front, opening your arms as a harbor. “Alfie darling, get your coat off, I have dinner and wine all set for your already! Let’s get you warm!”

His eyes don’t even meet yours as he evades your soft arms.

You feel as though your body wilts. Completely crumbling under the weight of the dejection.

But maybe he didn’t see you! Maybe he just didn’t realize!! He works hard he probably just has to attend to something quickly.

Your bare feet flex against the frigid wood stairs, creaking under the weight of your trek. Your ears perked up to the rustling of the papers and slamming of drawers and rumble of his voice. Like a dragon arranging his lair.

You crack the heavy door, requiring all of your weight. Paper and ink were thrown around, drawers yanked crooked, and you see him take long swigs of the amber liquid in the crystal decanter. “Alfie? Darling you alright? Did something happen”

He does not even toss a glance, “nothing that concerns you. Close the door one your way out.”

The rolling thunder edges closer to the home, “Aren’t you going to come down and eat? I’ve made your favorite tonight.”

“Does it look like I care about dinner? I’m preoccupied at the moment and don’t need your yowling right now.”

A bright flash illuminates the room.

“Alfie I don’t know what’s wrong but you will not speak to me like this.”

“I’ll fucking speak to you how I fucking feel like! Now get the fuck out!”

The sky explodes. Shaking the paintings and photos on the walls. The mirror above the fireplace behind you shifts precariously. Your eyes shut but the sounds wash over you.

You don’t let the anger out of your chest very often. You pride yourself on keeping an even temper and offering a gentle hand in place of the rage. Especially when being with Alfie, your honeyed lips and temperament is what makes you the queen of Camden. There’s been so few people who have seen your rage, much less deserved to receive it.

“Get the fuck out you said?”

A slight chill runs down Alfie’s spine. “Yeah. Yeah I said get the fuck out. You deaf now?”

Another flash.

“Ok.”

Alfie hardly blinks before he suddenly sees glass hurdling towards his face. He just barely ducks before it shatters against the wall behind him.

“What the fuck!” He roars and thrashes.

To his shock, you pick up the glasses on his bar cart, throwing them with all your might at his head, one by one, with deadly aim.

“Get the fuck out eh Alfie! Get the fuck out!! I’ll get the fuck out! Maybe I’ll take you fucking with me!”

You make your way to the Faberge eggs on the shelf.

“Don’t you fucking dare sweetheart! There will be hell to pay if you touch those fucking eggs!”

“Oh we are well past that Alfie. You tell me to get the fuck out? I’m taking your fucking stuff!”

Three perfectly beautiful eggs are slammed against the fire with your husband roaring and punching the wall, “Enough damnit! Get the fuck out of my office! Get to the fucking room you fucking lunatic! I’ll lock you in the bedroom if you keep this up!”

“Oh I’d like to see you try! You call yourself a man! King of Camden! King of Camden so upset he curses out his woman! So mighty yet he can’t take care of his own home! You’re a fucking CHILD! A fraud!”

You grab at a cabinet and pull it down, slamming against the ground. The glass shattered. The tin type of your wedding surely shattered in the frame. In the moment of silence after the shatter, you don’t realize Alfie coming up behind you and lifting you in the air.

You scream and kick, trying to get away and out of his grasp. But he was immovable. A wall. All you hear was his grunts as you howled and cried. He wrenches the bedroom door open, throwing you onto your marriage bed. You scramble up the bed, reaching for the knife under your pillow.

Heaving breaths, Alfie puts his hands in surrender, “Treacle treacle please. Enough ok. No need to stick me. Let’s.. let’s talk.”

“You’ve already said anything you need to. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say you fucking-“

“Darling I was wrong. Ok. I shouldn’t have swore at you. Come on. Just… put it down. Let’s… let’s talk about this ok? Truce?”

You push the hair out of your eyes, wipe the tears off your face and put the knife on the night stand, far enough from either of you.

Alfie has never raised a hand towards you ever. He’d rather put the gun on himself than touch you. But old habits die hard.

You pull your feet under your night gown. Watching Alfie pull off his coat and shoes before sitting on the bed. The ancient frame creaking under his weight.

He reaches for your hand, but retracts when he sees your dark stare toward it. With a sigh he relents and decides to begin. It’s never good to be the starter of negotiations. “Darling. I am sorry for shouting at you. It wasn’t fair to you. The business doll… it does my head in. But. It doesn’t excuse shouting at you. Can you forgive me?”

You feel the heaviness slowly slipping away from your neck. You nod meekly, allowing your fingers to drift to his, weaving around his warm fingers.

Brushing the inside of your wrist, he continues, “Now darling. While I was in the wrong, you don’t normally start throwing shit around. Very unlike you it is. You want to explain what caused that? What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You shake your head no. It’s sitting on your tongue though it’s so bitter. You can’t bring yourself to spit out the poison.

“Oh come on darling. It’s just me. Nothing can put me off. You and me forever right?”

You nod, and reveal your feelings, even if it’s a slow trickle.

“I just… got so angry at you Alfie. I’ve been so lonely these past few months. You’ve been gone. Any time you say you’ll be home you’re not. I’m without you all the time. And when you are here, you’re not really. Your mind is still gone and I don’t have my husband. Just his body. And his words hurt me so much. And I thought, I thought tonight I could finally get you. I thought if I tried hard enough you would be happy and with me. Like we were. And then when I tried to help you and be your wife, you screamed at me. And it hurt me. So I wanted to hurt you and break things to make myself feel better. But it didn’t. It made me more angry and sad and…”

Your words were reduced to tears as your husband pulled you into his lap. Your tears soaked his neck and shirt, “Oh God Alfie I’m so sorry! That was wrong and I’m sorry! Alfie was please forgive me! I’ll never disturb you again! I’ll never throw anything ever again! Oh God Alfie can you forgive me!”

A gentle kiss to your forehead settles your fears, “Now my darling you know in your heart of hearts that we are bound for eternity. Nothing is taking us apart. Not even when we fight like demons. I’m yours and you’re mine. You and me… well we just need a little medicine yeah? Just need some help right now. You and me need to do a better job talking to each other and listening yeah?”

You can barely get words out as you nod. Cheeks hot and sticky. But it doesn’t stop Alfie from kissing your cheeks so tenderly. “My dove. My sweet dove. The business has been out of control but it’s finally settling down. I came home angry because of all the messes I’ve had to clean up. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on the one person I like. The one person I love. But it’s finally settled my pet.”

His thick hands tenderly touch your chin to bring your eyes to his, which are also wet with tears, “I promise to always tell you when I’m not doing ok. And if I can’t tell you then, I’ll make sure to tell you when I need a moment. You think you can promise your old man the same?”

“Yes… I promise.” You whisper

There is a slight twinkle that flies across his eyes, “Think you can seal it with a kiss?”

You throw yourself against him, and he catches you with a grunt. You hated to fight. You’d sooner walk into the ocean than be at odds with the love of your life. When you finally come up for air, Alfie whispers against your lips, “I’m staying home for the rest of the week. I’ll tell Ollie what he needs to do in the morning.”

Without moving a millimeter you say, “No you can’t darling. It’s your life I don’t want you to have to stay home if you can’t.”

“You’re my life treacle. Forever and all eternity you’re what matters. I’ve decided. I’m staying home. And come Saturday we go up to Margate.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am that you’re the only woman for me.”

He kisses you sweetly, and you whimper as you let yourself be further embraced by him. Barely moving from your lips he whispers, “Why don’t you start a bath darling? I’ll grab tea from downstairs and join you soon.”

“I made dinner… it’s on the stove for you.”

“I’ll bring a plate for us. You just… get comfortable for me treacle. I think we need some time.”

For the rest of the night… and the rest of the week. You spent time talking and embracing, coming back together and healing what had been fraying at the edge. Though mistakes were made, and there were deep wrongs, you both wanted to fix it, to heal.

Neither of you were perfect. You never would be. But there was love there, and determination to get through the wounds that lead to these kinds of mistakes. These moments were not ok, and they stemmed from deep seated traumas that were undealt with. But you both wanted this marriage. You both wanted each other. And you both would work everyday to make it work.

With every word.

With every caress.

With every kiss.

Things would heal.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

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rojacatmisa · 23 hours

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Starting over In Madrid

Chapter 5 : Valleys and Peaks

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

Chapter 1 ➤ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➤ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➤ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➤ Hell Clasico

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

I was already lying in my bed when I got Misa’s text. My pillow was wet and darken where the tears mixed with make-up had rolled down. Bed shits were a mess after I vainly turned and turned around to set myself comfortable as I had planned to really take the time to think about what had happened. But the calm meditation I expected had never came, replaced by a crashing urge to let go, to loosen the vans I had kept closed for nearly four months now.

So instead, I cried.

I cried because I didn’t want to be hollow again. When I arrived at the Scuidad on my first day, I was still feeling broken by my previous relationship. My ex had dumped me like our three years together never existed, reaping of part of my self-estime with her. When I had looked at Misa that day, something had stirred in me for the first time in months. That something had grown since then, filling me again, meanwhile I constantly knew I was forbidden to feel that way.

So, I cried.

I also cried because I wanted Misa so much it hurt, my body longing for hers like I never longed for somebody. I had felt my heart fly when I had realized Misa was into me as well, barely believing it. It wasn’t making any sense to me to be desired by someone like her. Yet It was, yet it couldn’t happened. Yet It hurt. So much.

" Nicky where are you ? I thought you’ll wait for me 😞 "

After reading Misa’s message, I had another reason to let my tears flowed. I had finally succeeded at hurting her.

After we kissed and she went back to the pitch, the puffy cloud I was on had turned to a dark storm. I had been weak, letting her think that there could be something between us, letting her know that I wanted to. I had ran away, pretexting having nauseas to my boss, justifying my absence at the end of the game in the same time, as I quickly put my stuff in order and set off without telling anyone else.

My heart sunk deeper. What was I going to say now ?

"I had to packed my working stuff, sorry I’m home" I responded, tears falling down at an increasing pace.

I shortly received " I don’t understand…" followed by "In fact, I guess I do. Adios" that kept me crying half the night.

***

Days off after the Clasico passed. I was back at work. Misa and I no longer talked together. She was ignoring me during every training session. Hayley was doing the same, so I deduced Misa had told her everything. They were no longer photo lessons or endless chatting. The job I loved so much was not so great without friends, or now that I had lost them. And I knew I deserved it as much as Misa deserved an explanation. I was preparing myself to give it to her, not to expect our friendship back, but because I had hurt her and she couldn’t get a thing of what was going on, and maybe because I couldn’t bear her avoiding gaze at the beginning of each training session too. All I had to do was to find the right time and place.

My wish to tell her to truth became quite pressing during a new commercial photoshoot for a collection of sport garments. Obviously, Misa had been chosen for modeling and I was dreading to direct her without having managed to speak with her before.

The set was a corner of a gym with a bright blue bench and a few exercise items. As always, I was helping a dedicated photographer and his light assistants. The goalkeeper came to the set, her face a mask, her brows imperceptibly frown, her eyes avoiding mine, as usual now. She was wearing the promoted sport items, an orange neon sport bra and a matching short, completed with knee socks and white sneakers. Of course, she looked incredibly hot.

She sat on the bench, her elbows on her lap, waiting for pose directions.

"Hum, straighten up… put turn a bit on the left and… look at the camera." I stammered.

Misa slowly took the pose, her gaze finally leveled up with mine and stay locked here. I felt my cheeks blushed. Her almond-shaped eyes showed all the emotions she was containing. Hurt, want, sadness, Confusion. I swallowed hard. Her lips pursing, she finally glanced at the camera.

"Ok. Get up, put your hands on your waist, your back to us, and look upon you shoulder"

Misa stood up and turned, the muscles of her tanned back capturing the grazing light of the spots. She flexed her strong arms and put her hands on the bare skin of her waist disappearing under her fuckgod-so-tight-short. Her long legs were slightly spread to give her a steady presence while her underexposed profile detached nicely against the background. She was so stunning I couldn’t do anything but stare blankly, heat rising in various parts of my body.

"Nicky, go put her hair in the front, we can’t see the bra properly" the photographer told me.

I unfroze and moved forward, each step incredibly slow. I approached Misa, still keeping the pose. Our eyes met, she frowned very slightly again and took a deep breath. I bit my lips, feeling so uncomfortable to have to touch her on the top of everything. Her sweet perfume filled my nose. My fingers tips brush the skin of her neck and ran across her shoulders as I gently gather her hair to the right. She stiffened and mutter something in Spanish. I arranged her hair better, having her rolling her eyes when I tucked a strand behind her ear. I was sure I had turned red due to embarrassment and to the cooking rays of the spotlights. I went back to my spot near the photographer. He took the shots and seemed satisfied so I moved to the next pose.

"Face us. Take a ball in your right hand, the other down and look at the camera. » I said but the photographer corrected « Not straight at the camera, it will looked forced, tell her to look a bit on her right, at you actually".

I shut my eyes. For real ? I heard Misa stifle a sneer, indicating she had caught the corrected indications. When I opened my eyes, she was indeed looking directly at me, her gaze hard, her fading sneer still on her mouth.

"Nah it’s not working, she looks like she going to murder someone. She has to smile more frankly".

If she heard, she pretended not to. Her face harden even more.

"Er… smile please?" I asked her, mortified.

Misa bit her lips, her chest was rising up and down as she took deep breaths.

"What’s…" began the photographer.

"¡Y si no quiero!" Misa burst out. She threw the ball across the room, hitting nothing by miracle. "I’m done here!" she got off to the back room and slammed the door behind her. A heavy silence settled upon us before the photographer talked again.

"What's going on with her ? That’s really unprofessional ! I will report it !"

"Calm down, she’s not at her top right now. I’m going to talk to her".

I timidly opened the door of the changing room. Misa was putting on a jumper, the promoted kit laying on the floor. She froze when she saw me but went back at gathering her stuff without a word. I closed the door behind me.

"Misa… wait please, I… I have to talk to you…"

"About what ? No necesito hablar", she coldly reply while tiding her shoes.

"I know you’re upset because of me, I…"

"I’m not upset only because of you ! But you did put the cherry on cake that evening !"

My heart sank again, I try to gather some courage. "There is something that you don’t know I should have told you a long time ago ! Please let me explain !" I twisted my hands nervously.

The women looked up, her hands on her laps, her glance icy. "Valé, te escucho."

"Not here, I can’t! Wait for me in my office. I have to finish the photoshoot, just give me ten minutes !" My eyes begun to sting as she narrowed her eyes. Her silence was worse than her saying she was hurt. "Please, Misa !" I begged.

She looked down and sighted. "Valé", she said, getting up and putting her bag on her shoulder.

"Will you be there for real ?" I urged her, unsure of her response.

"Te dije que si !" she shouted at the doorstep without looking back.

I breathed out in relief, still shaken. Angry Misa was really intimidating.

When I entered my office, I found the goalkeeper sat in my chair and looking at her phone. She had turned on my computer, the screen displayed a photo of Hayley, herself and I, sitting in the grass of our favorite pitch corner, the tree of us laughing hard. I ignored my prickling eyes, I had a job to get done.

Misa's gaze followed me as I searched the drawers of my desk. I put out a folder, opened it and retrieved a slack of papers clipped together. I took a second chair and placed it in front of her. I sat down, turned the pages until I found the right passage and began to read.

"Working contract. Close number 23. To prevent any conflict, the present employee accept not to engage in any kind of private relationship with the Real Madrid team members. This applies to the current players and trainers and the players and trainers to come. If the close is infringed, Real Madrid Company will immidialaty put an end to the present employment contract and the eventual working visa and lease the employee may be beneficial through Real Madrid Company. Real Madrid Company will not assist the former employee in any kind of further administrative procedure."

I put the paper aside and stared at the goalkeeper astonished face. "I’m sorry… I so so wish it would be different…"

Misa leant back in her chair, rubbed her hands across her face, and let out a forced laugh. "Que pasa en este puto club..?" She blinked and sighted. "Well, that do explains things…".

"I should have told you after the Clasico but…"

"Shh, Nicky please don’t, it’s done", she leaned towards me, only sadness remained in her eyes now. She stared at the photo of us on the screen. "I just wish I could rewind and go back to this moment. La Copa de la Reina was still up… we were having fun together…"

My eyes stung again. "We did. I miss you guys…"

"And what am I going to do without my awful teacher ?" Misa added softly with a chuckle. "Maybe we could come back at being friend ?" Her warm gaze lighted up with hope.

I looked at her fondly, passing from her brown eyes topped with her thick eyebrows, to her cute nose, and stopping on the dimples on each side of her smiling lips. "Everytime you look at me like that, I can only think of how much I want to kiss you Misa » I confessed.

She smirked shyly, closed her eyes, her cheeks lightly blushing, and bore them into mine once more "Only kiss me ?" she dared say.

I gasped at the thought of her body against mine. "Not a chance" I whispered as I leaned toward her as well. Our hands on our lap brushed. We intertwined our fingers, our breathing already fastening through our half-opened lips. Our faces came closer and closer. "What are we doing ?" I vainly asked as the tip of my nose grazed hers. "Nonsense" her mouth answered almost on mine. "I’m doomed then" I admitted and crashed my lips against the goalkeeper’s.

I kissed her intensely, feeling oddly free to do so for the first time. We both knew the trouble we were in now but we both couldn’t help it. Her tongue touched my lips and I opened them to let her in. I couldn’t suppress a whine, felt a quick worry about being over heard, before sinking in our kiss again.

Misa grasped my neck, making me so needy for more I quitted my chair and went to straddle her. I enfolded her lips with mine once more, pushing her against the back of the chair, pushing my tongue further in her mouth. Her deep breaths had me so worked up I would have screamed if my last restraint hadn't stopped me. Misa led her hands under my t-shirt, caressing my back with her large palms, setting my mind all dizzy. I buried my fingers in her hair and she kissed me harder, soft whimpers escaping from her now.

She pulled up my t-shirt, revealing my chest in my embroiled bra. The beautiful women stopped kissing me and pulled me closer, making me straighten up a bit so that her face pressed against my breast. I bit my tongue hard not to moan as she kissed the soft skin there. I was almost panting, hands and face plunged in her hair, intoxicating myself with her scent and touch all over me.

Three knocks echoed on the door.

We froze. I jumped off her in panic, lowered my t-shirt and took back my chair. Misa was quickly combing her hair with her fingers to make it flat again when the door swung opened.

Ana entered the room, a pile of folders under her arms. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her.

"Hola Nicky. Ah ! I see Miss Rodriguez is here. Did you received her to discuss her unacceptable behavior at the photoshoot ?"

Misa scratched her nose, her hand covering her mouth. I was sure she was hiding a smirk by faking embarrassment.

"Yes" I responded, perfectly happy with the made-up explanation of her presence in my office.

"And did she reprimanded you severely ?" she asked, turning to Misa.

Misa had the time to compose a serious face, thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitched twice. "She did. I apologize for my lake of professionalism. I wasn’t feeling myself. I assure you it won’t happen again."

"Therefore, considered it over, but keep in mind I expected better pressure handling from a professional athlete, Miss Rodriguez." I saw her sunk a bit in her chair before she slowly nodded. Ana turned back to me "Nicky I have lots of things to see with you."

The goalkeeper got up "I’ll leave you then", she said and Ana took her seat.

"Yes, thank you Misa. So, Nicky, let’s start with the most urgent : the travel to Paris next week for the Nation’s league…"

I tried hard to listen but all I could think of was how wet I was down.

***

"Hey Misa" I said, calling her in my tiny kitchen.

"Hola Nicky, como esta ?" her sweet voice was even softer through the phone.

"Estoy bien y tu ?"

"Bueno. What’s up ? Did your boss figured something out ?"

"No, not at all, don’t worry ! I… well… we were interrupted ahah… and I thought we should talk about what come next…" I began to pace back and forth in the small room.

"Si, pero… I don’t know… I don’t risk much myself but I don’t want you to loose everything because of me… We were pretty close of getting caught".

"You are probably right..." I sighted. "But how do we fix things now ? We’re not exactly behaving like friends do..."

She laughed. "Exacto. Right." she paused, I stopped pacing to gulp a glass of water. "Look Nicky, I say we wait after Paris. I need to focus. It’s not against you but I don’t think I should be distracted by anything else right now. It will be a tough game against the PSG, I have to work harder. I don’t want another Clasico…"

"I understand. Don’t be too hard on yourself though. You did your best !"

"I didn’t managed to save any penalty… not one in five."

"You know better than me it’s the hardest job for goalkeepers."

"But I want to be the best goalkeeper, the one that can stop them, the one that could make my team win."

I bit my lips, Misa was putting so much pressure on herself. In the same time, hearing her being so passionate was moving. "You will then, I believe in you."

There was another pause "I’m glad we’re talking again, Nicky"

"Me too, Misa. Friend or more, I’m here for you if you need me."

"Muchas gracias, I’ll see you tomorrow at training."

"Bye."

I hung up and gazed at the pinky sky of Madrid through the narrow window of my kitchen. I didn’t know where Misa and I were going. I didn’t want to think about it for now, to content to have earned back her trust, after the valleys and peaks we went through. I took another sip of water, feeling impatient to see her practice tomorrow at being the best goalkeeper she could be.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

#misa rodriguez #woso #woso community #futbolista #woso imagine #woso x reader #real madrid femenino #spain wnt #woso fanfics #fanfic #woso soccer #woso imagines #misa rodriguez fanfic #misa rodriguez x reader #misa x reader

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junorsky · 20 hours

Note

You use procreate right? I'm a beginner in coloring. And your lighting and color is always so good. If you had like steps/tutorial/tips on coloring/lighting in procreate. I would pay for it even. It's hard to find a good tutorial on YouTube for procreate users, and the style that you do which is similar to the coloring style I've been trying to self teach myself for a while and failing. Anyways sorry if this is a weird ask, but I would honestly really appreciate it

One speedpaint coming right up!

Nothing weird about this question. Honestly, I struggle a lot as well, but my problem is the shape, not the colors. I suppose I can "feel" colors, that's why impressionists are my favourite (classics always help!)

I don't know if I can help with using procreate, because I'm not really savvy with it, I always use photoshop for more complex work as it is perfect for twicking lighting, changing tint etc. I prefer to sketch in procreate, because, a) it has many great default brushes, b) my back hurts from sitting on my pc, c) I can go anywhere, draw and immediately post it.

I’ll try to summarise what I figured out with procreate, and maybe give a few tips. But I don’t know if that’s the best way to use this tool. I’m just… winging it, haha

First, if you struggle with colors, look up the color circle

It shows exactly which color goes best with which. For example, if you use Orange for your lighting, and Blue for your shadows, it’ll look nice. Perfect, even. I love that one. Avoid using pure black for shadows, otherwise you risk to make it too… burned? Like, dirty. Be careful with Black magic.

I’ll use Zevlor here to show how it works.

In addition, you can use the opposite color to make the character stand out. It’s really important. What’s more noticeable, red on brown or blue on brown?

Also, learn to use masks. Really, they may be scary, but it saves SO MUCH time. Specifically with procreate, I always use them now for everything because I haven’t found the better way to avoid fixing the stray lines. With that solution, you'll need to correct only one layer at the start, the main one. Clipping masks are great to help with that, but procreate is a little uncomfortable in that regard. I’ll show what I do, perhaps it’ll make things clearer

Those are the most useful things to know, I think. Masks can be used in photoshop in the same way, I have a bad habit of creating too many of them so it's crouded. And they rarely have a name. I'm too lazy to name them all

Anyway, I hope I managed to answer at least one of your questions... or not X) I tried. Good luck with exploring Procreate!

#asks #procreate #art wip #speedpaint #tips #??? i think

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 days

Text

Chapter 6

Summary: Rory arrives in Urzikstan, meets Gaz for the first time, and reads Price to filth

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, mentions of manipulation, smoking, flirting, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamic, war criminals in love

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.2 k

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 0430 - US Army Base, Urzikstan

The last rumble of the plane's landing gears hitting the tarmac stirred Rory from her less than restful sleep, her eyelids shooting open as the juttering skid of screeching rubber and bouncing shocks caused the shell of the plane to creak around her. Her body clock was completely rattled and left her playing catch up across time zones – that three and a half hour difference could be the straw that broke the camel’s back if a soldier wasn’t prepared. Unfastening her seatbelt, she stood up once the aircraft finally came to a full stop, stretching out her sore back and shoulders after being trapped in the same cramped position for hours. Every bone and joint crunched and popped like rice cereal. Twelve years of this shit and it wasn’t getting any easier on her body. Scooping up her duffel and swinging it over her shoulder, the weight of it cut into her with the heft of a butcher’s cleaver through tender meat. The shoulder injury she had received in Russia never had properly healed, an uncomfortable reminder of the not so distant past and what she was fighting for.

Weaving through the crates, she stood at the top of the ramp at the tail end waiting for it to lower with the all clear from the crew and pulled out her pack of smokes from the pocket of her fatigue pants, slipping a cigarette between her lips. Amber lights inside started to blink, strips on the ramp lit up shortly after and the loud clank and boom of mechanisms lowering the ramp began to whirr. Cupping her hand around her lighter, shielding the flame from the gust of air blowing past her as the hull opened like a gaping maw, she lit her cigarette and made her way in a steady march down towards the ground below. Her feet back on solid earth with that unwelcome crunch of sand under the tread of her boots.

“Morning, Sergeant.” Kate stood there on the edge of the tarmac, Rory’s only welcoming party member, her arms crossed over her chest. Unease . She could read it all over the American’s face. Looking like a slapped backside, lips twisted into a grimace, eyes weary – it didn’t take a genius to know that something was wrong no matter how cool a facade the CIA Station Chief wished to present. “You look like you could use this more than I could right now,” Rory said, passing her cigarette to the older woman without hesitation.

Laswell accepted the gift of nicotine and placed it between her lips. “Much appreciated.” Taking a long drag, she breathed out a heavy sigh full of smoke and frustration. “Things didn’t go as planned with Sulaman.” Leading her back towards the base, Kate had that no nonsense look about her as she moved with steady steps. A shock hit Rory like a bucket of ice water being poured down her back and her jaw clenched in response, she needed to know just how bad the situation was. Preparation was key when entering a shitstorm like this. “ Meaning ?” “AQ and their supporters attacked the embassy last night; breached the containment on Sulaman. There were significant casualties, including the ambassador. Alex and Farah are headed to a position to flank the escape route now. Price and Garrick arrived back here roughly an hour or so ago.” “Fucking hell,” Rory muttered, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck, scuffing her boots as she walked. “Quite the time for my arse to arrive, eh?” “Would’ve liked to have given you a proper welcome.” With a brief half grin, Kate handed the cigarette back to her.

In the darkness of pre-dawn, the burning orange tip glowed like a torch as Rory inhaled, unwavering even with the breeze that ruffled through her hair. This was a mess that needed to be scraped off, cleaned up – and fast. Shrugging it off, she continued her even pace with Laswell. “Please, as if I need the bloody pomp and circumstance,” muttering around the cigarette in her mouth, readjusting the strap of her bag. “Just let me get settled and acquainted with the place and I’ll be all yours.”

Giving her a quick squeeze of her upper arm, Kate leaned in, voice kept low. “John is –”

“In a foul fucking mood, I presume?” Tipping her head to the side, Laswell pursed her lips slightly. “You could say that, yeah.” A very careful way of saying he was absolutely fuming but was keeping it under his carefully controlled guise of stoicism. Rory knew well enough that John wouldn’t have let someone like ‘The Wolf’ get away without a reason. With the Captain, it was dead or alive, escape was rarely ever an option and certainly not one given lightly. He must have been forced to cut his losses, preferring to live to fight another day, but she could already imagine the sting that decision left in his gut. She rolled her eyes to the heavens with a heavy sigh and raked her fingers through the roots of her hair before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the few fading embers left to drift out and die in the sand. “I’ll see to him first then.”

Behind the barracks – out of sight, out of mind – she found John leaning against the wall shrouded in smoke, thick grey clouds of it spilling from his lips masking the furrowed brow and darkened stare while he stood with his arms crossed, looking out over the grounds of the base. Broad shoulders locked in a hunch, nostrils flared – oh yeah, he was definitely pissed . She dropped the stealth and moved so as not to startle him, her steps heavier to alert him to her presence. Her gaze dragged over him, noticing the tenseness in his body. He always carried his burdens physically, it certainly made it easier to know when to tread lightly. “Figured I’d find you somewhere you could be alone but still have your eyes on everything,” she whispered softly. Price said nothing, his eyes shifting to glance sideways, his face blanketed by shadow under the brim of his boonie hat with only the orange glow of his Villa Clara burning to give away his position. It was still dark, the deep navy sky scattered with a million white specks, scenery bathed in silvery moonlight before the sun would finally crack the horizon. “Perfect for brooding out here, eh?” she teased gently, moving closer to lean beside him on the wall, brushing her arm against his.

A low grumble followed by the puff of smoke was all she was going to get from him. Should have known better than to try and lighten the mood right now . It was always a 50/50 toss up as to whether it would work, but it was the least she could do rather than letting him stew inside his head. “Saw your plane come in,” he said between clenched teeth, chomping down on his cigar. “How was the ride?” “Bit shaky.” The toe of her boot dug at the blue tinted sand, drawing stripes into it. “Nothing I’m not used to though.”

Nodding, he shifted his shoulders against the cement wall as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other having stood in one spot for too long. “Laswell told you what happened, yeah?” John’s voice was rough, hoarse. Too much time spent barking out orders while under enemy fire, his throat left to pay for that. “Yeah,” she breathed, resting her hands behind her back, pressing her fingertips into the abrasive texture of the wall, nails digging at the little divots and chalky imperfections in the construction. “Yeah, I’ve been made aware.” “Fuckin’ cock up,” he snarled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and we’ll sort it.”

The ridges in his brow creased, every line in his face deepening as his nose wrinkled and his lip twisted as he growled, “We had ‘im, Ror.” His finger curled around his cigar as he pulled it from his mouth, punctuating his words with a stabbing motion. “Right fuckin’ there.” Rubbing a gloved hand down his face, he sighed and looked up at the sky.

Hazel eyes followed blue as he stared at the twinkling stars slowly fading while the sun worked to rise. Out here, away from the city lights and the pollution, every constellation was clear. A beautiful sight when you weren’t in fear of being shot at, bullets whizzing past like angry wasps, it gave a person the opportunity to truly appreciate them. Moments like this in a warzone were rare, even if it was merely the quiet before the storm. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Rory rolled onto her shoulder, turning to face him as she peered under the brim of his hat to look up at his steely eyes. His gaze flickered over to her, blue depths made especially icy after the failure of the hand-off of The Wolf. “Just once –” he grumbled.

A huffed laugh slipped from her as she rested her weight against the wall. “You’re preaching to the choir, my darling.” Pulling the hat from his head, John brushed his hand back and forth through his hair, roughing up the short lengths. “They were organized, AQ’s banner is bigger than just Sulaman. Has a piece of work as his right hand man too – the Butcher .” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Just lucky you weren’t there, sweetheart…” Her gut clenched at that, he was saving her the gory details which meant it was something he knew would have likely triggered her – women and children begging to be saved more than likely. She rested her hand on the back of her neck, something to keep it busy, to hide the tremor that still clung there. “Well, it’s not exactly like you’re without your assets too, eh?” Lifting her brow as she offered him a small grin, Rory tried to change the subject. “Speaking of – when do I get to meet this Sergeant Garrick?”

“That’ll have to wait. Ordered him to get some rest.” “But of course you didn’t take your own advice.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, sarcasm dripping from her words, “Surprise, surprise.” “Bugger that.” He took another pull of his cigar, looking at her from under his heavy brow. “Can’t sleep, waitin’ on word from Farah.” Rory nodded, giving a little hum as she looked out at the horizon in the distance, musing on the exploits of the commander of the Urzikstan Liberation Force. “She’s an impressive one, that one, isn’t she?”

With a slight smirk, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Do I have to be worried that you’re gonna get tired of me with her around, darlin’?” John asked, shooting her a half-joking accusatory look. Quick to give him a playful smack to the arm in return, she snickered at his jab. “Oi! I’ll have none of that. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, remember?”

John wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in against him, fingers gripping at the side of her, thumb rubbing small circles against her hip. “That’s right, my girl.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he rested his chin atop her head, eyes scanning their surroundings. “No one else for ya, but me,” he murmured into her hair in a low gravel. “Says the man who wasn’t even there to greet me as I got off the plane,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t think I’m forgetting about that, I'm not letting you off easy.” Pulling away just enough to look down at her, his hands wrapped around her arms, his head lowering to meet her gaze. “I’ll make it up to you later, shall I?”

“You better,” she said with a cheeky grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight. “Love you, prat.”

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle as he exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth away from her, his fingers combing through her silky hair as he held her tighter against his body. Ensnaring her in his embrace, pressing her against his bulk as he laid another kiss on her forehead.

Hours passed and servicemen milled around as the base started to come to life with the rising of the sun. Under a large tent with several long tables and chairs, Price and Rory sat together eating breakfast, chatting and laughing. Their forks poking at scrambled eggs, strips of bacon being torn and savored as they sipped their coffee – couldn’t trust Americans to make a proper cuppa, after all . Cutlery scraped against their trays between conversation when a clearing throat and a pulled out chair broke the comfortable air between the couple. “Sir, any word?” Gaz asked, settling into the seat beside Rory, giving her a friendly little nod. Judging by that introduction, Rory could only assume John had failed to mention to his newfound sergeant that she was even coming at this point, keeping his cards close to his chest, and here she was, some random stranger in fatigues.

“Not yet,” Price said, motioning towards the female sergeant at the table. “Garrick, I’d like you to meet Sgt. Rory Sinclair of the SRR,” he rumbled. “She’ll be joinin’ us for the rest of the mission.” Deep brown eyes fell on her, the young sergeant’s expression softening towards her as she extended her hand for him to shake. She had always painted an unassuming picture, especially when compared to someone like Price. The guise of the ‘Lamb’ still held, despite the world trying to swallow her whole and the innocence having long since faded from her.

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Gaz replied, treating her to a charming smile as his hand wrapped around hers, grasping it in a firm shake. His hand was softer than John’s, less wear and tear from years of service, fewer calluses and ingrained dirt in the lines of the skin. Still fresh faced with hope in his eyes – she had forgotten what that even looked like until now. “Oh, please, no.” She shook her head, smiling warmly. “None of the formality. I might sound like I have a stick shoved up my arse, but I assure you, that’s not me.” Their hands parted as they both turned back to their meals. “The pleasure’s all mine,” Rory added with a little nod.

John hummed, “Don’t let the poncy accent fool you, Kyle. This one here’s as hard as they come,” he said, tipping his head in her direction. “Ain’t that right, Sinclair?”

Her attention steered towards the Captain, a smirk pulled at her lips as she cocked her brow. “Thank you, sir.” Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and glanced sideways at the new sergeant appraisingly. It was easy to tell he wasn’t a veteran like her and Price, he carried himself differently than they did – didn’t appear quite so cynical and world-weary, perhaps. He made her curious. “Where’d you serve, Garrick? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “I didn’t,” He said with a soft grin, his thumb tapping against the warm mug of coffee. “I’m not army, ma’am – CTSFO.” Gaz shifted his shoulders a little and tucked into his food.

Rory tried her best not to show any sort of reaction to this tidbit of information, remaining straight faced as her gaze lifted to meet Price’s, gauging his reaction to her questioning. She couldn’t help herself, knowing it was better to reserve her judgements and that trusting John’s opinion was paramount, yet she couldn’t help the initial bug that wriggled in her ear. “Oh, Police …” She nodded to herself. “Right then,” she said, filling the awkward silence as she prodded at her food with her fork.

It didn’t help that she had been raised with a healthy distrust in the police, her father being a criminal defense barrister meant that he spent a fair share of his time pointing out the flaws in evidence collection and questioning, pinpointing where things went wrong so his clients’ names could be cleared. It wasn’t fair to the Sergeant to immediately be painted with the same brush as other police officers, especially considering how quickly people were to show bias towards soldiers simply for serving - though in her case, she likely deserved those wide strokes of the brush. “Well, at least you’re used to the whole anti-terror side of things, not completely innocent to all this, eh Garrick?” “Seen my fair share of things, yeah.” His smile remained, not wavering despite her questioning – he carried a quiet confidence. “Piccadilly, now the embassy.” Gaz shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, ending her line of questioning. “It was his intel that led us to the house in Camden Town,” Price added. “You don’t say.” She glanced up at Price before redirecting her focus back to Garrick with a smug little grin. “Got something to prove then, yes?” “Just like you did.” John leaned his head down towards her, looking up at her through his creased brow in a challenge.

She was pushing her luck and she knew it, slipping into her old routine of reading a person like they were a target she had strapped down to a chair to interrogate, rather than an ally. Zeroing in on the weak spots to tear them down, aiming for the jugular – an unnecessarily brutal reaction upon first meeting someone, but a natural defense she had built up over the years all the same. “Quite right.” Rory grimaced and had the last sip of her coffee. “Well, nothing wrong with some new blood added to the team, yeah? Was in your position once myself. I look forward to working with you, Sergeant.” She stood up, collecting her dishes. “And if Price trusts you, then suppose I can too.” Patting Gaz’s shoulder, she moved away from the table to bring her dishes over to the dish pit bins.

Walking away from the mess tent, she pulled the packet of cigarettes from her pocket and made her way over to the designated smoker’s section, tapping the carton against her thigh as she moved. Christ. she forgot how terrible she could be at making first impressions. It was no wonder her father had given up on trying to get her to meet his high society friends and associates, she had no bloody time for any of them and was too quick to nitpick at the flaws – not that she was any better. Pot meet kettle.

Finding an empty patch of sand to stand in, she slipped a cigarette from the pack and brought it to her lips, pulling out her lighter next, following every step in the smoker’s ritual she had become tied to, the motions becoming just as much of an addiction as the shot of nicotine into her body with each puff. When the heavy crunch of boots – seemingly from out of nowhere – caught her off guard, the cigarette snatched away from her by large, rough hands. “Oi!” Turning to face Price looming over her, he blotted out the sun from the sky as he crossed his arms over his chest, her cigarette held firmly between his fingers. “What was that?” he rasped.

“What was what?”

Met by his stern countenance in response to her feigned innocence, her brows furrowed. “I was just trying to figure out why you picked him, is all. You always have a reason for everything. I was curious.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ror.” He shook his head and leaned down, further encroaching into her personal space. “Might not be a veteran like us, but he has it in ‘im. I can see it. That drive to make things right.” Eyes narrowing, she tilted her head and the cogs turned inside it. “No matter the cost?” His hands wrapped around the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, reacting with a bounce of his heels. “Eventually, yeah.” The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smirk. There it was . That little bit of pride that John couldn’t hide as it bubbled up to the surface, knowing he had Garrick right where he wanted him.

If a person was to scrape off enough layers on anyone who worked in the world they did, eventually it would be found that when sufficient time was spent inside the life a rot would set in. Casual acquaintances, colleagues, family, friends, lovers – they all fell prey to the same form of thinking, every little nugget of information was a tool to be used. They could be someone that was trusted, and still the ability to exploit them existed in the back of the head. She knew John had a vault of secrets to be used against her, and in an act of mutually assured destruction she could promise the same thing about him – Laswell was no different. They were all in this same boat together, and now, Price had invited someone else to sink into this tar pit trap with them. “I know it wasn’t just his drive you chose him for, John. Every fucking soldier has drive and you’ve got the pick of the litter – there’s always something more. An eagerness, a hunger.” Rory pressed her finger into the thick material of his vest covering his chest. “That’s what you look for. And the fact that he doesn’t have years of military training under his belt? Well, that just means he’s all the more malleable, yeah?” Her self-satisfied smile painted her lips as her brow cocked. “The perfect little protege. He's a blank canvas to mold to your liking.”

“Ror –”

“Oh come on, John. Taking him under your wing, teaching him about how the world really works – or at least according to Captain Price, where the mission and its success is absolute. You've struck gold with this one, eh?” The sardonic grin grew on her face, knowing she had him dead to rights as he glared at her. “Tell me I'm wrong then. Acting mentor to someone who's none the wiser, who never had to go to war. You're in your element now, love.”

Cold, mirthless blue eyes landed on her and she met him with her haughty smirk. His brand of intimidation had never struck the fear into her it was supposed to – he had other tools that worked far better in his arsenal. She was the rare soul who could stand up to John Price because she knew he was wrapped around her little finger in the end, and just like he had assumed all those years ago in the desert when they were alone together, she had learned to read him like a book despite that unknowable gaze and the things that lurked behind it. “You like the control, John. Always have. I knew that getting into bed with you – it’s no skin off my nose,” she said with a little shrug. “You like being the handler who knows what to say and do to get us all to follow your lead. You say ‘jump’, we say ‘how high’.”

Shaking her head, Rory mused over the fact that this man’s whole persona had become so intrinsically linked with his rank, the power dynamics that came with it, and the weight he wielded against others – herself included – yet at the same time, the more tied together they became the more she held him by the scruff of the neck over the fact that he wasn’t willing to see her harmed again, to ever lose her. “The feeling of success is strong, but being able to wield failure against someone, that’s all the more powerful, isn’t it?” She scoffed, the smile never leaving her face. “And here I thought you might have turned over an altruistic new leaf.”

He cut the distance between them, hunching forward, their eyes locked. “Weren’t you the same as him? Gave you a shot and look at you now, my girl. Not a single soul in the world I trust more than you, and that’s sayin’ something.” She sighed, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she lowered her voice, “Well let’s hope you don’t decide to fall in love with him too then, eh?”

“Just you, my girl.” He smirked at her, all the lines on his face crinkling. “That honor’s all yours.” Gripping her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up to look at him as he slipped her cigarette back between her lips. Steely eyes narrowed, flicking from her lips to her eyes, drawing her in with his husky whisper, “Now, be a good girl, and stop pushin’ buttons. Clear?”

Rory’s breath hitched in her throat, but she maintained control of each little reflex and tic. “Yes, Captain . Crystal.”

Pulling the lighter from his vest, he flipped open the lid and held the flame to her cigarette tip, letting it burn and smoke. The glow reflected in his irises as he looked down at her, the predatory gaze lingering for a moment as the fire weaved back and forth as it flickered. “You’re lucky we’re on base right now, you know that?” He husked, flicking the lid shut on the lighter, staring at her for a moment longer than necessary before stepping away and leaving her to her cigarette.

Now she definitely needed the fag.

#call of duty #cod #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #oc: rory sinclair #john price x oc #skelly writes #fic: evening of score #chapter 6

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