#It would've brought me less tears | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shdysders · 4 months

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mistake

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara makes a mistake she can't undo

word count: 3.4k

warnings: violence, blood, stabbing, blood & death.

author’s note: feel like my writing is deteriorating, so sorry this might not be the greatest.

When you heard that Mindy and Ethan had been separated from the rest of the group, you immediately knew nothing was going to go according to the plan.

Everything had happened so fast. First accusation news about Sam had streamed on television, then Quinn's bloody corpse had fallen on top of you, then Anika wasn't able to make it across the latter, her bloody hands and Ghostface's shaking had made her slip. You had lost two of your friends in less than fifteen minutes.

You hadn't heard of the killings in Woodsboro until you had met Tara the first day of junior year, but she made sure to tell you everything that had happened the closer the two of you got.

Based on everything you had heard, you understood why Sam was so protective over Tara, the Carpenter sisters had been through more than normal people have in a lifetime.

However, even though you were nothing but nice and understanding towards Sam, she didn't seem to like you.

The first time Tara had brought you home to the apartment, Sam had kept a burning gaze on you for the whole time, like she wanted to burn you alive.

You thought that she would warm up and eventually trust you like she seemed to do with Anika, Quinn and Ethan, but she never did.

And it only got worse once Tara had called you her girlfriend in front of her, a huge disagreement broke out, so big that Sam had sent you out of the apartment.

You never got to know what Sam had said after that, but you did know that the glares you got from Sam only worsened and so did the small comments she would make about you when she thought you didn't hear.

Such as now, when Sam and Tara were walking in front of you, the theater being the destination. You had this gut feeling that Sam was currently talking about you. You just knew she was, even tho you couldn't hear her voice nor did you see her head moving like it normally did when she spoke, you knew.

But your mind changed thoughts when she rapidly turned on her heel, stopping when she was in front of Danny who had been walking closely behind you, alongside Kirby.

"Not you." She said, her voice cracking.

"What?" He answered almost immediately, like he had been expecting it.

"Don't trust anyone remember?" Sam replied.

You watched the scene with worried eyes, what Sam said reminded you way too much of something she had told Tara when she thought you weren't near. "We don't know you.. not really."

His face expression looked hurt, almost taken aback when Sam spoke. "You know me."

"You're not Woodsboro." She spoke quickly, rage lacing her voice.

Tara looked down at her shoes after that was said, her lips finding a home between her teeth. You knew she was scared, because you were as well. You had no idea how things were going to go down, you had never experienced something as brutal like this before.

You were seconds away from putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, before she looked up at you with tears pricking her eyes.

"That goes for you too." She swallows thickly, trying her hardest to look into your eyes.

You furrowed your eyebrows, panic rising through you. "W-what?" Your voice came out as a stutter, not believing what she had just made it's way out of her mouth.

Tara just nodded unsurely, her eyes looked sad and were filled with doubt. You couldn't understand why. If she was sad about it, why would she say it?

"Tara I- you can't be serious." You spoke again, voice growing shakier by the minute.

She knew very well how terrified you were about the situation as it was, and yet she still chose to leave you out of the plan alongside Sam's unknown fuck buddy? If it didn't make you shake out of fear you would've been infuriated.

"You're not Woodsboro." She stated, same thing as her sister but in a different tone, she'd tried to sound calm, but her voice was filled with uncertainty, shaky with worry.

You knew she was right. You weren't Woodsboro. You had never been to the place nor did you knew it existed before Tara came along. But the fact that she didn't trust you enough to know for certain that you weren't Ghostface, made you feel the need to fall apart. Did she really think you would kill your friends? Let alone hurt them?

The thought made your eyes sting, and before you had the chance to wipe the tears away, they fell.

"Tara please I promise I-" You felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable over basically nothing.

All eyes were on you as you tried to keep the tears from falling, you felt ridiculous. But you were terrified.

You couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in this situation. Not only because you were scared of being alone, but also because you had to protect Tara.

Although you knew Sam would do a perfectly fine job of keeping her safe, but you wanted to do it, you had to. You wanted to prove to Sam that you loved Tara almost the same amount as she did, you wanted to prove to Tara she could trust you with her life.

You could see that Tara wanted to give in, tell you that you could come along and that she trusted you with her whole being. Her eyes were filled with regret and doubt. But you could tell that she wasn't going to change her mind anytime soon.

She just watched you, biting her lips hard enough to draw blood. Seeing the look on your face just made her want to squeeze you in a hug hard enough to make you faint.

You looked so scared, and the fact that she knew how scared you were about the whole situation, made everything worse. She had noticed the terrified look on your face that hadn't left since the attack at the apartment, your trembling hands and the layer of tears in your eyes that never fell.

Tara actually thought that you looked more scared than both Sam and her combined.

"Y/n please just stay here." She tried to reason, as if she wanted this. But she did want it. She wanted you to be safe.

You wanted to argue, tell her that you would refuse to come along. But you knew that you wouldn't get anywhere with it, Tara was stubborn, she always got what she wanted somehow. And you didn't want Sam to see you argue with Tara, that certainly wouldn't help you get on better terms with her.

So you gave in, even though you knew Tara's life was at stake. Sam will take care of her, you tried to tell yourself.

You quickly wiped the tears on your cheeks with your hand, even though everybody had already seen them.

Tara's eyes never left your figure as she watched your trembling hands. "Fine." You almost spit, voice cracking with worry.

Tara nodded at that, happy to hear you give in. You didn't pay attention to anybody's reaction other than hers, they didn't seem to matter.

She walked closer to you, placing a kiss on your faintly tear stained cheek. "Be safe." She said, as if she wasn't the one that was about to walk into a situation that she would either leave traumatized or not leave at all.

"Be safe." You repeated, before you watched them all walk away towards the building.

Seeing as Sam turned her head to Tara and whispered 'good call', as they walked away.

But when you turned around to try and make a decent conversation with Danny, he was nowhere in sight. Making even more worry creep in your bones.

***

You had been pacing around in the same place and pattern for 20 minutes without any progress, Danny was gone, and your phone was dead.

The streets where dead and empty.

You had half a mind to just run to the theaters and do the exact opposite of what Tara had instructed you to. But you knew well enough that both of the Carpenter sisters would quite literally murder you if you stepped a foot into their plan.

But eventually the worry and stress got to you, like it always did. You didn't care if you were going to get murdered whether if it were by Tara or Ghostface, if it was for protecting Tara, it was a good reason.

However, before you had the chance to change your mind or consider the other options, a glove-covered hand landed on your face, covering your mouth tightly.

The yelp and screams you tried to make was inaudible, nobody could hear them.

You felt a surge of fear and panic, unable to hear your own scream. The street grew eerily silent as you struggled to break free, your heart pounding in your chest. Rush of intense vulnerability and confusion, as you desperately searched for a way to escape the grasp of the unknown assailant.

But you knew who it was. It was Ghostface.

You tried to kick them with your legs, but none of them seemed to hit. The person was holding a strong grip on your mouth, and the other arm was firmly placed around your waist. You were unable to move out of any of the grips, the person was too strong. And you weren't.

Your panic was making it harder to breath, and you were beginning to feel as if you were about to faint any second.

You tried your best to remove the grip with your hands, gripping hardly on the muscular arms, trying so hard to get them away from you.

The tightened arms had veins all over them, yet another reminder that it was impossible for you to get away.

It was Danny, you tried to tell yourself over the ringing in your ears. It had to be Danny. He had left the second you were alone with him. It had to be him.

Muffled screams and ringing ears were the only noises you could make out. If the person behind you was speaking in a voice changer to you or not, you had no idea.

The panic you felt was replaced with relief when the thought of using your elbow to hit the individual behind you entered your mind.

But you never got the chance to do that.

Seconds before your elbow was about to meet the Ghostface mask, you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen.

All of the movements you were making stopped the second you realized what it was.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Seven times you could feel the sharp piece of metal enter and exit your abdomen. A gasp escaped your mouth after every single one of them.

You tried to scream, but nobody was around. Your wide eyes scanned through the street, yet again seeing that nobody was there. It was all empty.

Normally the streets of New York would be filled with drunk teenagers and late night workers, whether it was night or afternoon.

But when the news about the killers got out, everybody stayed inside. Some people didn't even bother to leave for work, and of course no parties. Even the homeless people seemed to have found another place to stay at.

You didn't realize that numbness was spreading through your legs until the potential male had slowly began to loosen the grip he had on your figure.

Before you had time to think, he had completely let go.

Suddenly you felt dizzy, you couldn't feel your feet, you couldn't feel your legs, you couldn't feel anything.

You could barely feel your legs giving up, nor did you feel your body hitting the ground as you tried to cover up the damage that had been made on your lower stomach.

Regardless the sharp pain in your body that almost made it impossible to breathe and the dizziness that got worse every time you moved, you tried to crawl towards the fence that was just centimeters away.

Your hands bloody from trying to add pressure to your wounds made trails on the asphalt.

You couldn’t tell if you had placed your hands on the right place, considering that the stab wounds were all over the place. And you didn't even dare to look down, because you could guarantee that it wouldn't be a pleasant sight.

Your eyes were starting to close by themselves and you were struggling to keep them open.

Everything hurt.

The pressure you were putting on the wounds was now becoming lighter, your hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them.

Tara would be here soon, you thought, desperately.

She would be here soon, everything would be okay; no more Ghostface attacks, no more Sam hating you, and no more unexpected death cases of your friends.

Your mind focused on Tara.

Her brown hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her dimples and her breathtaking smile. Her voice, her touch, and her joyful laugh.

Your eyes closed, and this time you couldn't stop them. The pressure on your wounds was no longer existent. The color in you was gone. You were gone.

Last thought being the girl you wanted to marry.

***

Tara left the building with a lump in her stomach, as big as a bowling ball.

Her body was filled with worry and guilt, but a part of her felt relief. She was relieved that everything was over now. No more Ghostfaces. She was done with them, truly.

Tara couldn't wait to see you. She was going to tell you that the decision she made was right, that she was happy you stayed behind, because you stayed safe.

But when Danny had walked into the theater, tackling all kinds of officer in his way, he was all alone. You weren't there, you didn't come with him.

Danny told them that the two of you had lost sight of each other rather quickly after they'd left, that you probably just needed to be alone and breathe for a moment.

Tara knew that you would be upset with her, for not allowing you to come with them, for not letting you protect her, like you always told her you would, even if it meant dying.

Although she had hoped for you to at least come to see if she made it out alive.

Danny had called the cops and ambulance to arrive at the place as soon as he got the chance. That's why the only thing in Tara's sight was ambulances, police cars and the fire department.

Chad had miraculously made it out alive, same with Mindy and Kirby. And even though that made Tara want to cry out in happy tears, she couldn't let herself feel anything until she had seen you.

Safe and secure. Like you should've been.

Panic began to rise within Tara as minutes passed without any sight of you.

Sam stood beside her, trying to sooth her younger sister with comforting words. But they didn't make anything better for her.

After the whole showdown, the two Carpenter sister's had talked, really talked.

Sam had tried to explain to Tara that she didn't actually hate you, the opposite really. She thought you were lovely and a perfect match for Tara. But she didn't want to take any risks.

She wanted to show you the walls to her trust weren't easy to break. And then she thought that if she acted rude towards you, you would eventually leave; meaning there was no need for Sam to let her guard down and open up to people she didn't know.

But Sam knew how much Tara loved you, she had been listening to her sister's rambling about you everyday.

That's why Sam could feel her heart sinking down her entire being when her eyes met with a stretcher where a body was placed, a morgue sheet on top of it, which was filled with blood.

Sam prayed that it was somebody else. That you had walked somewhere else to breathe just like Danny had assumed.

She felt the need to distract Tara before she had the chance to see it, but it was too late.

She had already seen it.

Tara screamed out your name in a sob, straight away assuming that you were the person underneath the white cover.

The woman who had been pushing the stretcher had stopped, turning around to try and give the man behind her any sort of information about the deceased individual.

Tara's legs moved faster than she could process, Sam following shortly after.

Heart pounding, hands trembling. With a swift of motion, she grabbed the edge of the wrap and pulled it upward, revealing your pale and peaceful face.

The vibrant hues that once painted your face were now gone, leaving behind a pale and ghostly visage. The colors had been drained from you, you no longer looked like yourself.

Tara could feel herself gasp loudly at the sight, turning around with a hand placed on her mouth.

A surge of sickness overwhelmed her. A gut-wrenching sensation, as if her stomach was about to revolt. She felt like she was on the verge of throwing up, basically feeling the acidic liquids rise within her.

It was you. Her girl. Dead. Gone.

Sam had the same reaction to the sight, gasping and putting her hand on her mouth, preventing from letting out any tears or sounds. Chills running down her spine.

Stop it. Pull it together. Tara. Tara needs you. Sam told herself.

Gaze shifting from your body and the bloody sheet upon you to her younger sister, who was sobbing beside her, about to fall down to her knees.

But when Sam put a hand on Tara's shoulder, she stood straighter. "No!" She shot up, voice raspy.

She looked at you again, but this time not caring for the feeling inside of her throat that threatened her. "She's not dead." Tara spoke again, trying to convince herself that you were alive, that she could save you.

"Tara-" Sam tried, but Tara had no interest in listening to her sister.

"Y/n. Baby, look at me." Tara gently brushed her fingertips against your cheeks, but quickly pulled away when she felt the chill that pierced through her body, for they were once a source of warmth and comfort, now distant and cold.

You were always warm.

The tears streamed down Tara's face, leaving even more mascara smudges on her cheeks, falling and leaving marks on her blue shirt. The shirt that you had gotten her.

"Sam, Come on! help me please" She begged for her big sister's help, still hoping that you could be saved.

At that sentence, the woman who had pushed you turned around, she seemed to have heard Tara's pleads and begs, filled with hope, wishing that you were alive. "Oh honey, this girl has been deceased for over an hour...we can't save her."

The woman spoke apologetically and looked at Tara with sorrowed eyes. "I'm so sorry." She ended. Tara was about to scream at the lady, yell at her and tell them to at least try, you weren't gone. There was no way.

But before Tara got the chance to argue, Sam had pulled her into her chest, embracing Tara with a hug. And at that, Tara broke.

The sobs left her mouth faster than she could take them in, she didn't have any space to breathe.

"She's gone." She cried, her tears staining the older woman's shirt. "And I wasn't there to help her." Tara rambled, talking rapidly before the next sob would escape.

Sam didn't know what to say. She just stroke her younger sister's hair, trying to soothe her sobs.

She had never seen Tara this vulnerable and emotionally ruined, not even when she had reunited with Tara at the hospital the previous year.

Tara's body shook violently as each sob left her mouth.

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

Tara had been so confident with her decision only minutes before. She thought she had made the right move.

But it turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life.

A mistake she couldn't take back, and had to live with for the rest of her time alive.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sadie sink x reader

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ssahotchnerr · 7 months

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I had a dream about this scenario last night and I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this. Aaron’s fiancé is currently in law school but she mostly has done everything online. Recently she’s had to start attending classes and her teacher has been making her extremely uncomfortable. He got access to her phone number and texts her all hours of the night. Leaves notes on her assignments asking her to dinner etc. she doesn’t want to worry Aaron cause he has so much on his plate anyway so she ask Morgan to go have a talk with the teacher to scare him off. But it turns into more of an obsession and Aaron has to get involved.

holy shit you literally had a full on movie going on in that dream and it's literal perfection cw; creepy guy yuck

it starts out with lingering stares. the prof's gaze would remain on you far too long, even after you finished speaking if you were to talk aloud, and another student was adding their input. you brush it off, tell yourself you're probably overreacting, but without fail, there's always that sickening feeling pooling in your stomach.

at first, you're seated in the front - you've always been that kind of student - better access to the board, quick to ask questions, etc., just very involved in class. but as you're seated in the front, you catch him staring at your legs, he moves closer to you during the lecture, not so subtly glancing at your chest, calls on you even if your hand isn't raised.

the more uncomfortable you get, you talk less, rarely participate, you choose to sit in the back, and that's when he starts leaving notes on your assignments - telling you how attractive you are, how you're the most extraordinary student he's had, asking you to coffee or dinner. you try your hardest to ignore it, telling yourself you just need to get through the semester. you even went to your academic advisor to see if you could potentially drop the class, but it's a needed credit. and at this point, you're already a bit into the semester, so you might as well finish it off. not only is it all incredibly disgusting, it's disheartening too. you were so looking forward to attending in-person classes after being strictly online, and now you wish you would've stuck to that.

aaron, of course, is quick to notice a change too. you don't talk about the class over dinner like you used to, ask for his expertise when it comes to difficult assignments. you're quick to change the subject if it's brought up - you honestly avoid the topic altogether. aaron knows something's going on, he provides his support in different ways to show he's there for you - making you your coffee in the morning, packing you a lunch, leaving a note with it. (omg imagine the professor finding aaron's note to you - it accidentally slipped out of your bag and he's just outraged 🫢)

when you go to morgan, shock and disgust covers his face and he starts rattling off questions - how long has this been going on, have you reported him, have you told aaron?!?!?!!? and when you tell him no, tears are just rolling down your cheeks - and it's actually the first you've cried over this whole situation, you've been holding up a strong front until now. :(( derek pulls you into a tight hug, tells you he'll do what he can, and also strongly encourages you to tell aaron. he's all, "he's your man, he'll want to know" 🥺

and ohhh when aaron finds out - furious is an understatement. you tell him the whole story from the beginning, you show him the notes that the prof has left you, and he's immediately in protective mode. and despite how upset he is, he's still so gentle and he feels so bad you've been going through this, alone at that :(((( his voice is all soft as he brushes your tears away, "sweetheart 🥺 you could've told me" and pulls you safely into his arms. you explain how you figured you'd just suck it up, didn't want to bother him, and aaron just gently shushes you, tells you okay, he understands, but please never hesitate to come to him if there's something going on :(

aaron then tells you that he's going to put a stop to this, he'll make sure of it. he calls the school, sends a Very Scary and Very FBI letter. and that prof gets fired yay!!!! and actaully, he does have a criminal record of stalking and being a creep. but with that new free time 🫢 that only means he has more time to look into you ...

#hehe and i'll end it there 🤭#BUT ofc i can always elaborate further if y'all want #OR how would y'all end it 🫢 let me know!!!!!!!!!!!!#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine

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muchosbesitos · 9 months

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friends with benefits part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

warnings: a bit of miguel being a stalker, angst (?), oral (f receiving), missionary, mating press, cowgirl, overall smut

author’s note: oh em gee, thank you for all the support on part one <33. i hope you enjoy this part and sorry for getting carried away LOL

word count: 3073 🫣 part one here

It had been two months since Miguel had ended the arrangement with you and had regretted the decision ever since the words came out of his mouth that he didn't want to see you again. Truth was, he missed the way your scent lingered on his bedsheets for a couple days after you came over or the way your eyes lit up when he engaged in a bit of conversation with you before he fucked the shit out of you. But he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it, much less admit it to you. Regardless, he still found a way back to you, creeping up on the rooftop opposite of your apartment building and just watching you. He knew it wasn't right to feel possessive over you, but he would rather have you be crying over him than smile at someone else.

However, what Miguel didn't know, is that you were faking your excitement with your friend, trying to motivate yourself into going out again and dating. Your friend had been there when you arrived at her place two months at four in the morning, babbling and crying about how Miguel ended things with you, constantly reminding you that you were a bad bitch and that you deserved better than only being wanted after midnight. You were mostly doing this to make yourself feel better, growing tired of being melancholy all the time, rather than actually having interest in the guy you were going out with. You knew it was wrong to use someone else to heal the pain someone else left, but meaningless sex and dates was the only thing that could help soothe the ache you felt from Miguel's absence.

Miguel locked himself in his office in HQ, throwing computer monitors and slamming them against walls in frustration. He eventually calmed down a couple minutes afterwards, deciding to pull up his file with Gabriella up as he stared at the pictures, the laughter from his 'daughter' filling up his ears. he couldn't help but think about you, what it would've like to introduce you to Gabriella. He knew you two would've gotten along, both of you reminded him of a ray of sunshine on a snowy, cold day, providing him the warmth and light that he needed in his life. It was with those thoughts that he sat down at one of his office chairs, grabbing a bottle of Don Julio that he kept around the office for when he wanted to mourn in his sorrows. He played "Nadie es Eterno" by Dario Gomez, warm tears rolling down his cheeks as he drank the tequila straight from the bottle.

Jessica Drew walked into the office, her eyes slightly narrowed as she looked around for Miguel. She saw the tall man slouched on his desk, mouth slightly parted as he snored and gripped a half empty bottle of tequila in his hand, gently tapping on his shoulder. Miguel stirred awake, letting go of the bottle of tequila as he rubbed his eyes, getting adjusted to the light in the room. "I brought you an empanada," she said, placing the plastic box on his desk as she sits down on the office chair next to him. "If you're here to psychoanalyze me, I don't want to hear it," Miguel muttered, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and from the crying. "I just want to know why you're drinking on the job again, Miguel," Jessica replied, keeping her voice light and gentle when speaking to him as she placed her arm on his shoulder. Miguel debated on telling her everything that had happened with you, deciding that he should so he could get some insight on what to do from here.

"So, you stopped the sleeping arrangement you had with her because you started developing feelings?" Jessica asked, basically summarizing what he had said as he nodded, placing his head in his hand, realizing how stupid it sounded when she said it like that. "You're one of the smartest people I know, but even you have to realize how stupid that sounds, Miguel," she said, mirroring what he was now repeating in his brain. "Look, I get that losing Gabriella traumatized you, and it's hard dealing with that type of loss, but it's also not an excuse to close yourself off on love. Think of all that you're missing, and yes, some people don't last very long but sometimes their presence in your life is worth it," she added, rubbing his shoulder and grabbing the tequila before walking away. Miguel let out a small sigh as he rubbed his eyes, knowing that Jessica was right.

A few days had passed by, and it was finally time for you to go on a date with the coffee shop guy. You let out a small sigh as you looked out the window, letting your mind drift off before you had to go get ready. You changed from your normal moping sweatpants into a pretty pink sundress and white flats, already starting to feel a bit better. You sat at your vanity, starting to do your makeup when you heard a knock on your front door. You knew your date wouldn't be due for a couple more hours, so you were confused as to who was at your door right now. You opened the door, surprised by the man who was standing in front of you.

Miguel looked at you as you opened the door, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, your favorite, to be specific. You were about to close the door, your eyes starting to sting from the tears you were holding back when Miguel placed his foot on the door. "Look, you don't have to forgive me but at least just hear me out, please," he spoke up after a couple seconds of silence, the desperation in his voice evident. You decided to open the door, at least for the sake of closure, and stepped back to let him inside. You sat down on the couch opposite from him, facing him with your arms folded as you waited for him to speak.

He looked over at you, taking in how painstakingly gorgeous you looked for someone else, before clearing his throat. "So, I was an asshole," he started, watching as you nodded your head in agreement. "I regret the fact that I made you cry. Look the truth is, I ended the arrangement between the two of us because I was starting to fall in love with you, found myself wanting more time with you than just having you in my bed, and that scared the shit out of me. I pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you like I lost Gabriella," he added in after, letting his head drop as he waited for you to say something, say anything. "I understand that it's hard to love again after that, but you threw me away like I was a used toy you got tired of playing with. Just give me some time to think about all this and I'll get back to you," you promised, watching as he got up, wrapping his arms around you and leaving the flowers on the coffee table before he left.

Despite the fact that Miguel had come over to your place and you were ready to forgive him on the spot, you still decided to go out with the guy at the coffee shop. You wanted to prove something to yourself, that you were fine without Miguel. But the truth was you really weren't. You kept comparing this guy to Miguel: how much smaller he was in comparison, the way he talked, and even the way he dressed. You gave yourself a chance to pretend to be interested in what this guy was saying, but while he was going on about business mergers and stocks, you found yourself daydreaming about being with Miguel once more.

"Thank you for the coffee, this was a lovely date but I think we would be better off as friends," you offered with a polite smile, extending your hand out to Lucas, the guy you were going out with. "I would like that, thanks for joining me for this," he said, returning the smile and shaking your hand. You left the coffee shop a while later, taking the scenic view home as you walked down the street of Nueva York, seeing the small snowflakes start to fall. You glanced over at Central Park, seeing couple after couple snuggled up together and talking, some throwing snowballs at each other, and found yourself wanting that with Miguel.

Which is how you found yourself knocking on Miguel's door a couple hours later, shivering from the cold despite your winter coat. You looked up at Miguel when he opened the door, the exhaustion evident on his features but he still offered you a small smile, stepping back to let you in. He took off his glasses and sat down next to you on the couch, folding his arms on his lap. "I don't want to be the person you call after midnight anymore; I want to mean something more to you than just a quick fuck," you spoke up after a couple seconds later, looking up at him as you took in his expression. "I didn't go to your house to convince you to be a quick fuck. I went because I'm so in love with you that it hurts, it hurts not having you next to me and it hurts not being able to call you," he replied, holding your hands in his as he put his heart on the line. "Show me how much you love me," you whispered, leaning into him as you kissed his cheek.

He took you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed your collarbone, nipping on the skin before setting you down on the bed. He hovered above you, his lips wrapped around yours as he kissed you passionately. He nipped down on your bottom lip, reveling in the small moan you let out and slipping his tongue in your mouth. He took his time, exploring your mouth as if it was the first time while his hands entangled in your hair. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer to him as he pulled away, his lips attaching themselves to your neck. He nibbled gently at some of the spots below your shirt, marking you as his. He nipped at your skin, licked, and kissed before he pulled away, taking off your shirt and jacket.

He let out a small groan as he saw the white bra you were wearing, the color practically tempting him closer. He leaned in, his mouth closing around where your areola was and started sucking on your nipples through the bra. He pulled away a couple seconds later, working on taking your bra as quick as he could. "Need to taste you," he muttered before his mouth attached to one of your breasts, licking around the nipple as his hand massaged the other one. Your hand intertwined in his hair, gently tugging on the strands as your breathing started to grow heavier. He pulled away, gently biting on your breasts, not wanting to leave a spot that wasn't marked by him.

He pulled your pants off, tossing them to the side as he kissed down your stomach, gently nipping on the skin before reaching your thighs. He adjusted himself in between your legs, his eyes looking directly at you as he kissed your inner thighs. He gently nipped on the skin there, before his eyes went down to the wet spot on your panties, his mouth following suit. He licked through your panties, letting out a groan as your hands gently tugged on his hair. He wanted to take his time, show you how much he appreciated the opportunity you were giving him, but he quickly left that once you started grinding on his face, needing more than he was giving you. He pulled off your panties, putting them in his pocket before his mouth attached itself to your pussy.

He licked on your folds, his hands wrapped on your thighs before his tongue plunged inside you. He looked up at you as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, his spit mixing with your juices. He let out a small hum as your hands tangled in his hair again, his mouth attaching to your clit and his pointer finger plunging deep inside of you. You arched your back as he began moving his finger, his finger curling to hit that spot inside of you. He put another finger in, plunging inside of you as he felt your walls clench around your fingers. "Thaaat's it," he murmured, looking up at you as you started to rock your hips on his fingers. Your walls clenched tightly around him, babbling nonsense about your impending orgasm while your back arched as his tongue circled on your clit. You let out a moan as your hands wrapped in his hair, coming all around his fingers. He licked your release off his fingers, letting out a small moan as he got up, taking off his shirt.

You were about to get down on your knees to return the favor, but he stopped you, placing you back on the bed. "Maybe later, querida. This is all for you," he murmured, his head resting on your neck as he kissed your pulse point. He slid off his pants, laying you down on the bed as he grabbed a condom from the bedstand. He gave himself a tentative pump, sliding the condom in before slipping inside of you, letting out a small groan as your walls clenched tightly around him, trying to accommodate to his size. He leaned his head down, giving you small kisses as he pushed deeper inside of you, letting you get used to it once more. "No sabes cuánto te amo," he whispered, starting to thrust his hips once your walls opened up around him. He started off slow, a vast difference than your past experiences, given the fact that there was no rush of him trying to get you out of his bed. (darling/you don't know how much i love you)

He sped up a few minutes later, his hips snapping against yours as he sought out to make you cum. You moved your hands to his back, leaving scratches in your wake as he continued to thrust at an inhuman pace inside of you. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach building up, your toes curling as his cock continued to hit your g spot. The knot unraveled as his hand went down to your clit while his thumb rubbed small circles on it, your orgasm making a creamy white ring around his cock.

He put your knees up to your chest, starting to thrust inside of you once more, the angle allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. His hips snapped against yours, a small smirk on his face as he watched your dazed eyes and your lips parted in a 'o' shape, babbling small broken whispers of his name. He had one hand on your hip to ease him in, moving faster against you while his other hand was on your clit, rubbing small circles on it. He let out a small moan as he felt your walls clenching tightly around his cock, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix from this angle. "Come for me, princesita," he whispered as he saw your hands tugging on the bedsheets, your face contorted in pure pleasure. Your toes curled as you reached your peak, coating his cock with your release once more. (princess)

You took a moment to get yourself back together before getting on top of him, slowly pumping his cock underneath. You positioned yourself above him, slowly starting to slide into his cock, both of you letting out a small moan as you bottomed out. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them as he helped you move on his length. Your walls clenched tightly around him as you moved your hips against his, undulating them. You felt his cock move against your g spot once more as your legs starting to shake as you slid down his shaft, his hands now massaging your breasts. You started to slow down, feeling a soreness in your legs when Miguel grabbed your hips, his hips snapping off the bed as he started to thrust into you. You reached down, your hands on his chest as you moved easier on his cock, letting out moans from the pleasure you were receiving. You started rubbing on your clit, feeling yourself grow closer and closer to your climax as Miguel continued to move deep inside of you. You let out a loud moan as you came, your walls clenching around Miguel tightly. “Mierda,” he hissed, feeling himself get closer to his orgasm, his breath heavy. He released his cum onto the condom with a loud moan of your name, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You took a couple seconds to regain your composure, getting off from him as he stood up, going to dispose of the condom.

You were about to leave, something out of habit mostly, getting your clothes from the floor as you began getting dressed. You stopped in your tracks when Miguel grabbed your arm, turning you around to look at him as he cleared his throat.

"Stay the night, chiquitita."

@chshiresins @casuallyawkardd @zaunsin @6thhokageswife @thenanowriter @m4dyy

#muchosbesitos #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman smut

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 5 months

Text

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.

A327. That was the room John apparently was in.

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.

324. 325. 326.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”.

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?”

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 8 months

Text

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 1

Rules to Follow | Loki x Reader

The Avengers bring you to the compound after a series of odd events draws their attention. Life seems to be looking up, until your abilities start to show again.

Chapter warnings: 18+ for implied sexual content, false/medical imprisonment

Series Masterlist

The cold, bleak conference room was a welcome balm against the uproar of the last two days.

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were furious, staring down from the balcony of your flat, anger bubbling through your veins. And then you were watching a row of cars burn in the car park below.

Maybe you would've gotten away with it if the weather was bad. If less people had been around. If it hadn't gone viral on TikTok. If it was the first time you'd done something weird.

It wasn't unusual for people to have strange powers, not anymore, but there were certain rules to follow. Rules that included not setting cars on fire and frightening passersby. Rules your grandfather had set about staying in the flat and controlling your emotions, taking your medicine and laying low.

A hand snapped in front of your face.

“Okay kid, spill. What are you?” Tony asked.

“Uhm, I’m not anything at all?”

“No, come on. Setting shit on fire, what’s that?”

“Monster, alien or wizard?” Sam piped up.

“I swear to god Samuel quit it with that,” a pen flew across the room with surprising accuracy and embedded itself in the wall behind Sam’s head.

You’d seen them on TV, the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Black Widow, Hulk, Vision, Scarlet Witch and Iron Man. It’d be cool if you had any idea why you were here.

“Mr Stark. I didn’t even know I was doing it until it was too late. I don't know how it happens, but I promise I’m not a threat. It wasn't deliberate, you have to believe me." Your voice wavered, tears pooling in your tired eyes.

“Tony, let her sleep. She can use the spare room on our floor. We’ll keep an eye on her”

“Thank you Mr Rogers” you choked, wiping your eyes.

“Steve, please” his face was soft, reassuring.

It took an hour to find you something proper to wear.

A day to get your room fixed up, belongings brought from your little flat in London and new furniture procured

A week before you ate with the team, although you watched them from a safe distance.

A month before you really spoke to anyone. Eventually they called in a therapist.

The compound was nice, spacious and modern. There was no work to do, like at your grandfather's flat, just lots of questions that left you tired and disoriented.

Lauren the therapist was the only person you'd really communicated with, even though you were sure she was relaying the information back to the Avengers anyway.

"So from what I can tell, she's around twenty five to thirty." Lauren addressed the room, taking in the gathered Avengers. "The details of her life are very hazy, she lived in that flat you visited, Steve, with her Grandad. I know she cared for him and he died some months ago leaving her the flat in his will. She takes medication every day." Laura turned to Bruce "I hope the few I managed to pass on were helpful, so you can refill her script when she needs it."

"That's the thing," Bruce said, "I can't work out what she's been taking. I've had FRIDAY take scans and vitals, asked Dr Cho, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her."

"Because she takes her pills?"

"No, Steve, there's just - there's nothing wrong with her. Her temperature is a little elevated. But that's it, not a dangerous amount. I'd just say she runs warmer."

"So what's in the pills?" Tony asked, leaning over Bruce to look in the manilla file he had spread open on the table.

"If I didn't know better I'd say something alien."

"But you do know better…" Tony prompted.

"Adgardian maybe? But in a bottle from her local pharmacy. The name on the bottle’s been scratched off and I couldn’t find anything like this on any pharmacy database."

Tony and Steve turned to Natasha and she nodded. She'd not been able to find anything either. No phone, no social media, home schooled. Sam suggested they do it the ‘old fashioned way’ and started to encourage Lauren to bring the woman out of her room to spend time with the others in hopes she would make more friends and let more information out.

As you spent more time with the group they found you brought a strange sense of calm, arguments stopped as you approached the table, worries about missions faded away. They even spent more time together as a team organising movie nights and parties, sitting together and being more tactile.

That’s when things started to get very strange.

The old evening routine of everyone slinking off to their bedrooms had been replaced by an easy comradery and then a fizzle of excitement started to build. The music seemed muffled and even Steve and Bucky’s heads felt fuzzy, drunk.

“Let's play spin the bottle!” You declared, downing your beer and lining it up on the coffee table. Before anyone else could fully agree you had flicked the bottle, everyone watched it slow until it came to a stop in front of Wanda.

“You girls don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to,” Steve said. But you shook your head.

“I don’t mind if Wanda doesn’t… I like girls too and it's just a game, right?” you shrugged.

You leaned over and kissed Wanda quickly on the lips, noting the frisson of tension that built when you pulled away.

Sam went next, “your lucky night,” he laughed before pulling you in for a kiss.

The next spin was Natasha and somehow no one was surprised when it landed on you again. Natasha leaned in close but, before her lips could meet yours, you tilted your head to whisper in her ear, “I know there’s someone else you want to kiss, you don’t have to." Natasha blushed, but pressed a warm kiss to your lips anyway.

“Did you rig this bottle?” Steve asked, picking it up before spinning. You, again.

Bucky put his hand on the bottle. “I wonder who” he laughed, but you had noticed his eyes move across the circle to the red headed assassin.

As he leaned in for the inevitable kiss you put your hand up, hiding your mouths, “she’s a good kisser,” the words were out before you could stop them. Bucky pulled back, frowning.

“Who?”

You didn't answer, but your eyes danced across the circle to Natasha, studying Bucky's face as he followed the line of your sight. With their eyes locked you placed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

You felt dizzy, only two beers in, but your head was swimming. The rest of the group weren’t fairing any better, both girls falling asleep and the boys nodding back against the sofa. Quietly you removed yourself from the pile of blankets and slunk back to your room. You hadn’t meant to say any of that, but you could feel it deeply, so deeply the words had bubbled out before you could swallow them back down.

That night your sleep troubled you, the room was too warm making you sweat and writhe in the sheets and dreams of the Avengers flashing behind your closed eyes.

The next morning no one could make eye contact, each team member focusing on their coffee or toast, eyes down.

When you sat down the same static spark of electricity seemed to move over the kitchen island, making everyone squirm and move in their seats.

Eventually Wanda completed the group, walking in red faced and nervous as she looked around the kitchen before visibly relaxing.

“Oh, we all had the same dream!” She exclaimed “I don’t feel so bad now.” She said, cheerily.

“Wan, you’re not meant to read our minds,” Natasha protested, covering her ears as if that would make any difference at all.

“Can we not talk about it,” Bucky grumbled, looking away from Natasha.

“But you slept, Bucky, isn’t that good?” At least Wanda was happy, you felt hot and sick “you didn’t have a nightmare like usual, you had the same …”

“Enough,” he snapped, slamming his spoon into his bowl a little too hard, milk splashing on the spotless counters.

“Your dream was different though,” Wanda put a hand on your temple despite your attempt to squirm away, “yeah, yours was very different. And so was yours,” She pointed at Natasha who looked over to Bucky without thinking.

Wanda squeaked, a hand over her mouth “But Bucky, yours was just like…”

“Thats enough, ” Steve stood hands on the counter, “we need to figure out whatever is going on here,” everyone looked away blushing as he crossed his arms, Captain America voice in full effect. “For goodness sake, I’m going to speak to Bruce.”

Steve stormed out and a rush of air moved across the island as everyone breathed out. Wanda let out an awkward laugh, head down so she wouldn't catch the eye of her teammates and left the room.

After that incredibly awkward breakfast you began to pull away from the more open group spaces and started to spend a lot of time in the lab with Bruce while he tried to synthesise your medication. The small unlabeled tube of pills one of Stark’s assistants had packed for you was now empty. But all Bruce had been able to discover was a heavy sedative.

“You shouldn’t have even been able to walk around taking something that strong." He took his glasses off to rub a hand over his face, the fatigue of a sleepless night of experiments catching up to him, "you feel okay now?”

“Yeah”

“But you’re an inch taller than yesterday you said?”

“I’m an inch taller than I was this morning.”

Bruce rubbed his hand on his face, dangling his glasses from the other hand.

“Okay, walk me through what happened again”

“So I sat next to Captain Rodgers and Sergeant Barnes in the kitchen and when I stood up I was an inch taller, I could tell because my jeans were too short.”

“That’s not how growing works,” Bruce took a seat beside you and huffed out a breath.

“I know that I’m not doing it on purpose”

For the last few days you had been slowly growing the trait of anyone you were in close contact with. It was unnerving everyone, looking up and seeing their eyes glowing back, or their hair colour tinged in highlights around your face. But worse still was that there was no clear explanation, none that you could or would give.

It wasn’t the only change the team had noticed. Wanda, Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky spent the most time together and they had all spent the most time alone together with you. But after only a few days they refused to even enter a room if you were there, prefering to skirt around the edges or take a different route.

They couldn’t forget the night when they played spin the bottle, in fact they had thrown away all the beer of the same brand and there had been no more team evenings suggested.

When you were alone with them a tension seemed to fill in the air. Steve had shifted your training rotation so that no one was ever left alone in the gym with you. Sam admitted you’d almost kissed last time you were alone and, red faced, Wanda agreed. Natasha and Bucky had also blushed, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They complained that you kept trying to make them stand next to each other, and had even locked them into a cupboard 'by accident’ while pretending that you were unable to find the key until Steve freed them.

You couldn’t seem to control the feeling either, a primal urge inside of you growing the longer you were without your tablets. Growling and clawing until you had to excuse yourself and take a handful of the sleeping pills Bruce had given you.

Wanda admitted, as you escaped the building tension for the last time, that this was when her dreams were the most extreme and everyone nodded along. Their nights filled with vivid, primal scenes, moaning and panting, the touch and taste of another filling their senses.

And, though you could hear them talking about you, you could never admit that your dreams were different, that you saw yourself orchestrating their dreams like a puppet master, like a god and you’d wake in a cold sweat.

Frightened, they placed you in the medical wing, a secure room with two way mirrors, sound proofing and, most importantly, a lock. Bruce told you that it was somewhere safe, where you could withdraw from the medication that was dwindling in the little orange bottle. But Tony was relieved that the team could relax now without you around.

Alone, you took another sedative and rolled over in your plastic bed, under the thin sheet, and cried.

The last time the team had met someone who had so easily got inside them and changed their dynamic, they had ended up with an alien invasion. Steve was sure you weren’t in control, thinking about your embarrassment and desperation when Bucky and Natasha were locked in the cupboard, how quickly you left the room whenever the conversation became heated. He was sure, sure , you were safe, that it was just a side effect of whatever you’d been taking all these years and that given time everything would go back to normal.

Tony, however, was taking no chances.

“We need to call Thor.” He suggested as they watched you through the mirror, you were reading a book and running your finger over your lip as you concentrated. With each pass of your finger your lips changed colour, working through shades of pink and red.

“What can Thor do?” Bruce had had enough stress for one month, thank you very much, and was much happier handing out medication until they could find somewhere else to send you. All he needed to do was refine some samples and he’d be able to remake your medication and then he could give Fury the go ahead to have you moved.

“He can bring Loki,” Tony said, jumping up to sit on the tall lab counter and tossing a few blueberries into his mouth.

Bruce looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a good idea? The man’s mad.”

“I don’t want to see him anymore than you do. But they could help us figure out if this is magic like them, or a mutation, or if…it’s something else. Then you can pack her off to whichever medical facility you think is appropriate.” Tony waved his hand around in the air as if to demonstrate the unknown fears they all shared. “She shape shifts, Bruce. Loki can do that. And the manipulating thoughts and feelings? Maybe she can learn to control it. We need her to control herself and maybe, maybe , if we’re nice enough, she’ll want to help us too.”

“Do we really want Loki to teach her that, how do we know we can trust him?” Bruce cringed, thinking of the havoc the man had wrought, even if he was being manipulated. Loki was powerful, who knew what he could achieve with a little planning.

“Thor can help keep him in line,” Tony seemed confident and although his confidence was often catching, Bruce still felt the deep simmer of apprehension sitting low in his gut.

“At least we’re not fighting like last time,” Bruce sighed heavily, the memory of his last encounter with Loki still fresh in his mind.

“No, but the sexual tension is killing me. We need to end this.” Tony laughed, thinking back to the red faces of his colleagues and their lack of enthusiasm when he suggested they get drunk and play spin the bottle again.

“Okay, fine, Tony, you win. Call Thor.” Bruce sighed, leaning forward onto the counter and resting his head in his hands.

“And Loki?”

“And Loki."

<;< Masterlist

Part 2>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #Loki Odinson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki marvel #Loki/Reader #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki/You #Loki/female reader #Loki series #The Old Gods and The New

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gh0stbeeee · 6 months

Text

Rise of the Guardians/The Guardians of Childhood is low-key my Roman Empire.

Like, specifically in the movie verse, there's just... so much that was never elaborated on. It's one of the unfortunate side effects of being kid's media, things get dumbed down for no reason.

Like, Jack Frost in general as a character. He died. DIED. He DROWNED in a pond saving his sister and??? Nothing. The entire moment when he remembered became "Oh I'm the fun guy that had a family and saved my sister!" AND DIED. Very important part that is completely glossed over other than the idea of sacrifice. Like, the other guardians were "chosen," did they not die too? Did Jack lose his memories because he died, but the others were chosen while alive, chose to leave their lives and remembered?

And just, what were his early years? For a very long time, at least a decade, he probably thought he was totally invisible, that he could never have a true conversation with another person, because I doubt that he stumbled upon another spirit/legend for a while.

Like, that would have driven him INSANE. There's no way he wouldn't be super socially awkward from the isolation, much less just totally mentally well. Are spirit's brains built different? They'd have to be, but I don't think they should be able to withstand that level. Like what was the mim thinking??? Seriously just abandoned a TEENAGER he resurrected with no memory or possibility of support, that's wrong.

And on that note, let me reiterate that Jack died. In front of his little sister. Who had to go back home and tell her family what happened. Did he have a father too? More siblings? Friends and family? They had a funeral no doubt, mourned him. Because he died.

The worst part? He was right there. The whole time. Jack came back to that pond and settlement for hundreds of years, even when it became Burgress. He probably watched his funeral not knowing what was going on, saw his family mourn him without knowing it was for him. He was there when they died, not knowing who they were to him. Did he realize later on? I can only imagine the devastation.

The worst part is Manny probably had to take his memories, because Jack would have been DEPRESSED. He would've tried everything to make them believe, and they probably never would. His parents would probably never see him again, they were adults. His sister was plausible, but she's still mortal. She would have died, Jack would have seen his little sister grow old and die while he stayed eternally young. He might've not ever recovered from that, mim taking his memories distanced him from the pain for when he remembered 300 years later.

But he also could have moved on, grown and loved her descendants and honored her. The mim took that choice away, and that's pretty fucked up.

Then yeah, 300 years of pretty much no acknowledgement. Going into live blind with no guidance or memories, trying to figure yourself out but being ignored by the once who brought you here. Jack would realistically be a little nutty, because wow. It's shown the even other spirits didn't really talk to him, he made them acknowledge him by playing pranks and pissing them off till they confronted him. Maybe it's in spirit's nature to be recluses, but it's not in Jack's. He wanted attention and to be seen, but no one wanted to or could give it to him.

That's why Jamie seeing him for the first time always makes me tear up. This is the first time for HUNDREDS of years that a human has acknowledged him, not an out of touch spirit, but a regular person Jack can connect with, that chose to see him, to believe. That's beautiful, and special.

There's just so many layers to this story that we never got to see, and I'm forever sad DreamWorks abandoned the franchise.

(If anyone has any good fics that explore topics like this, especially Jack's family, please share)

#lol random rant has appeared #my seasonal fixation #rotg #rotg jack frost #jack frost #jackson overland frost #rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians rant #rant

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enviedear · 6 months

Note

can we see billy with a sick reader 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

billy with sick!reader

of course nonnie! i think we can all rightfully assume he'd be an absolute worrywart if his girl is sick. i mean, for good reason. the last time a person he loved got sick... well that was traumatic.

tw— reader's sick, so talks of sick people stuff, tooth rotting fluff

request

the dreaded chin cough had been spreading all throughout town, and despite billy's warnings, you had ventured out a few days ago to pick up your order from the general store. you had convinced yourself it would be fine, especially since the owner never kept orders longer than a day.

but now, as you cover your mouth for the fourth time in a minute, you wish you would've listened to your sweetheart. your eyes are running and tired but you can't stop coughing long enough to hold a wet rag over them. there's no comfort, only ailment.

wheezing, you bury yourself further into your linen covers, pillow wet from unwilled tears. so you lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. you feel chilly and warm all the same and your eyes refuse to stay open for longer than a second.

it feels like hours pass until you feel a hand on your forehead. cracking open your eyes, you see billy, staring back at you with worry etched on his loving face.

"sweetheart...how'd you feel?" he asks, voice breaking on the endearment.

you try to respond, but your throat is too raw, and your coughing returns in full force when you suck in a breath. billy reaches over and hands you a glass of water—warm from its time spent untouched on your bedside table.

billy helps you sit up and takes the glass from your shaking hands, holding it to your lips as you take tiny sips. the warm water soothes your throat and you let out a sigh of relief.

"thank you," you manage to rasp out, your voice hoarse.

"don't thank me, jus' rest and get better, f'me." billy replies, his concern still evident in his tone.

you lean back against your pillow, feeling exhausted and drained. you close your eyes and drift off into a fitful sleep.

when you wake up, the sun is high in the sky and billy is sitting in a chair next to your bed, keeping watch over you. he looks tired, but his eyes light up when he sees you're awake.

"how're you feelin'? any better?" he asks softly.

"a little better." you reply, your voice rough and scratchy but less strained than before.

"s'good to hear, honey. you had me real worried." he says with a small, shy smile. "i brought some soup for you, should help your cough."

he helps you sit up again and provides spoonfuls of warm soup to you. it immediately takes effects, soothing your throat and warming your chilled body. the gunslinger watches over you the entire time, making sure that you finish every bit before allowing you to lay back down again.

"thank you billy, you don't have to do all this." you peer at his through your lashes, already tired from sitting up so long.

"s'okay, i don't mind. i'll always take care of you, honey." he confesses, his voice soft and soothing.

you smile weakly, feeling a sense of solace wash over you. your outlaw frets horribly with any illness, and you can't help but feel sorry for him. loosing his family to disease certainly shaped his scrupulous worry.

he's true to his word. he tends to you as if you were royalty, kind blue eyes watching over you. as you drift off into the first comforting sleep, since getting sick, you feel his hand on your head, stroking your hair sweetly. his touch providing an earnest console in the midst of your malady.

as the night goes on, billy stays by your side, bringing warm cloths for your forehead and making sure that you have enough water to drink. you sleep peacefully while he sits vigilantly next to you.

as long as billy is by your side, you know you'll make it through.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth

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ureternalmajesty · 9 months

Text

Make Up Sex

John Price x reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, smut, age gap, price is 41 and reader is 20, reader is a lieutenant, poc friendly, callsign Belial, only pronouns, Make up sex

Based on the prompt: “I can’t do this anymore.”

Words:1.6k

Text messages. Your relationship with Price was a secret and you didn’t mind one bit. You’d both text each other like crazy even when you were sitting across the room.

Price: Date this weekend at 8?

You: Sure baby but where?

Price: That’s a surprise dear

The days flew by and you went on the date with John. This isn’t your first date with him, you've been with him for six months. And from what you could tell, no one knew you were the Captain’s lover. You made your way to John sitting next to him placing a kiss on his cheek.

He brought you to the park to watch Halloween on the big screen he had put up just so you could watch it. “Thank you, John.” You were happy and he loved it. “Welcome, love.” He watched as you watched the movie.

John wasn’t a fool but he was a complete fool when it came to you. A couple of days before your date Soap made a jab at him for having a crush on the younger lieutenant.

The messages between you and John were less frequent. John spending the night in your room had stopped. So when you see the text telling you to come to his office you jump up all happy and make your way to him.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. “Hi, baby.” You smiled but John raised his hand. “It’s Captain Lieutenant Beilal.” You frowned but covered it up. “What’s wrong Captain you needed to see me?” You spoke eyes watching him as he put out his cigar. “I can’t do this anymore Beilal.” You felt your stomach drop.

“Can’t do what Captain?” You felt a lump in your throat when you asked him the question. “This lieutenant! our relationship. People are going to think horribly of the two of us together. It's our careers on the line and if one of us were to go..." His voice trailed off. Your hands were in fists at your sides as your eyes twitched. "Why does it matter what others think about us, John? I don't give two rats asses what others think about us. I just want to be with you." You hissed out as he let out a sigh.

"This was a mistake, Kid. You need someone younger." Your heart fell in two and dropped to your stomach. "I need you, John." At this point, there was no hiding your feelings, your vision was blurry. "Beilal." You wiped your tears and stood up straight there was no sign of the emotions you had shown seconds ago. "Good day, Captain."

“'Cause girl, I'm hungover Let's just start over Gotta be more to love than this We should be naughty Connect our bodies You know I'm on it I'm on my knee”

Months went by and you spent your time avoiding the captain the best you could. While you could hide your pain, the others knew Price well. "Belial, I don't know, Price just seems Irritated lately." Soap spoke as you sat next to Ghost cleaning your guns. "I don't know and honestly don't care. Whatever is bothering the Captain is personal he would've told us what was happening." The others were used to you being blunt but what gave it away was the venom that dripped with every word. You didn't catch the look that Soap and Ghost threw each other. It was late so you bid the two goodnight and headed back to your room.

Once you were in the room you closed the door behind you and jumped on the bed and screamed into your pillow as a knock was heard from the other side of your door. "What!" You called out but there was no answer. The knocking continued. Getting up and opening up the door. "What do you want?" You looked over your ex-lover who stood there leaning against the doorframe. You could smell the alcohol on him.

“You love.” Grabbing your hips and pulling you against him. You pushed against him. “No, John.” You spoke trying to push him out the door. “Y/n please just one time.” You looked up into his eyes dragging him into your room and closing the door behind you as his lips trailed along your neck. “One time only John.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The thing was it wasn’t one time only. You and John continued to fuck and it was getting to you now. So when John came and threw your door open closing it behind him with his boot only to find you sitting on your bed. “What’s wrong?” John was confused about why you were sitting there with your arms crossed. “John I can’t do this anymore.” It came out in a whisper. “Can’t fuck around with you and pretend that I don’t have feelings for you still.” You told him looking up at him from your spot on your bed. “You fuck me and do everything with me that we used to do in our relationship…I admit I still have feelings for you John. I love you but you can’t admit that you love me.” You watched as John watched you speak from where he stood.

“John say something!” You were now standing toe to toe with him looking up at him. His hand was twitching in irritation. “Beilal please.” Taking his hand. “John I admit I have feelings for you and I love you. But I need to know do you love me, John?” You whispered.

“I fucking love you Beilal and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He pulled you in his hands cupping your face and placing a kiss on your lips. “Let me make it up to you love.” He spoke as he pulled away from the kiss leaning his forehead against yours. “Make it up to me John.” Once the words passed your lips, clothes were flying. John had stripped you both of your clothes in record time. Your body bounced slightly from the force of John throwing you on the bed as his eyes looked over your body, his fingers trailing your body as he kissed up your body, mumbling apologies to you. The way his fingers were featherlight and ghosted across your skin had you almost begging for more. “John, it's okay.” You looked down at him as he lay between your legs placing kisses and nibbling on your inner thigh. “Gonna take my time with you love.” His hand trailed down from your thigh to your now soaked pussy. “Shit.” He groaned as he dipped into your wet core and a small moan escaped your lips. “I barely touched you and your soaked honey.” His fingers pumped in and out before he slid them out spreading your arousal across your clit as you watched as he sat up and back on his legs as he fisted his dick. His thumb rubbed across his tips and his other thumb drew circles on your clit. Your moans and his groans filled the room as he wedged himself between your thighs, tip running between your wet folds before his tip pushed into you as groans spilled from both of you. The stretch from his dick was something that you hated and loved.

His hand wrapped around the back of your head, pressing your forehead against his as his hips rocked, filling you with his cock. He pinched your side as he bottomed out and you squirmed beneath him. When his pace increased, your moans increased in volume. Your mouth was covered as he gained speed. You moaned into your hand as he told you "move your fucking hand.". John reached up and snatched your hand away from you. “John they can hear us.” you breathed out as his pace got faster. “Let them hear you love.” He groaned placing a kiss on your nose. “Love you so much honey 'm sorry I hurt you.” John’s words were slurred with pleasure and you paid no mind as your nails dragged down his back. “Not gonna last need to fill you up.” He growls out as he drops his hands from your head as it falls against the pillow both of his hands now on your hips. His hips hit the backs of your thighs as your body rocks with him and he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it. The knot in your stomach was growing and you were pretty sure if no one heard you before they sure did hear you now. “Fuck John m’gonna cum.” You moaned as John’s thrusts became brutal and he nearly had you in a mating press rubbing your clit as he bullied his cock in and out of your pussy. His head dropped from against yours to your neck as his tongue and teeth ran across your neck and collarbone. The knot in your stomach began to unravel as you felt your orgasm washing over you. As John fucked you through your orgasm, your pussy clenched around his dick. A moan escaped his lips as his pace got sloppy. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're making a mess," he muttered as he filled you up with his cum with one final thrust. He placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling out a hiss and watching his cum spill out. “Shit, that's a pretty sight to see.” As he gathered up the cum and pushed it back in your pussy.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Woah Captain you never told us you had a girlfriend,” Gaz spoke up once he walked into the gym seeing Price’s back littered with the scratches you left last night. “Who’s the lucky lass?” Soap spoke as the others waited as you walked in and placed a kiss on his cheek handing him a bottle of water. “NO FUCKING WAY.”

#ureternalmajesty #call of duty #modern warfare ii #john price x reader #John Price #captain price #captain john price #call of duty smut #mw2 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x female reader

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tragedyslut · 19 days

Text

♱ surrender yourself to me ♱

✶ [ a.anderson ] ✶

♡ SUB!ABBYANDERSON X DOM!FEM!READER ♡

🩷 SUMMARY — abby was a devout Christian. liking you was a sin. you two could 'never' be together. dacryphilia, religion play, degrading. creds @atyourmerci since i got the idea of christian!abby from her fic 'repent' its amazing, so go read that 🪽

you had been apart of the wlf for a bit less time than most people. most people had years under their belt, but you hadn't been there that long. there was this girl that caught your eye, Abby Anderson. her muscles, that braid. whats not to love about her? except that she wouldn't look at you. not even for a second. you had tried to befriend her, in hopes to maybe get her under the sheets but you were met with a glare every time.

during a completely normal patrol, you had been wandering and found an abandoned church. you weren't Christian, to be fair, you were the opposite. but still you found yourself wandering inside, to your surprise, and amusement you found none other than abby in there. on her knees, begging for gods mercy. she looked so pitiful doing that, and you loved it. you stepped closer, the years of sneaking around abandoned buildings filled with clickers paying off. you then started hearing some of what she was mumbling about.

" please.. lord forgive me. i have a boyfriend.. im- im devoted to you! i wpuld never have sex with that girl.. y/n- i only looked at her once. ill cleanse my soul of her sins and unholiness... please lord. "

she was repenting, about you. her love for you, or some weird kind of crush. you decided to get your amusement out of this. you leaned down next to her, getting into the same position.

you started praying, or was it praying? more like a chant. you said your love to her, and somebody heard. maybe god, maybe someone else.

you locked eyes with her, smirking as she blushed, and repented even louder, begging. it felt so good too see her beg. once you were done, you stood up, angling over her. " go on, read me a verse of that bible. spill it out that pretty mouth of yours. " you teased, as she shot you a teary eyed glare. " go on darlin', give me your worst. "

you hadn't locked eyes or said a word to each other since that day.

until you were on patrol again. you knew she would be at that damn church again.

you were right.

she was desperately praying, nearly sobbing.

her voice was like liquor. if you'd have heard her praying that desperately, you would've returned quicker.

you appeared behind her.

" come on, surrender yourself to me. no amount of praying is gonna change anything.. or will it? " you teased. her tears were suddenly dry, as she looked up at you pleadingly, awaiting your touch.

" awhh, you want me now huh? " you said, your sultry tone evident as you maneuvered yourself to sit on her lap. she nodded crazily, like a wild animal. " what'll your poor god say about this huh abby? " you mumbled, running your hands down her neck and back.

" i don't.. i don't care what he'll think- i just.. i need you " she mumbled, giving you a pouted look.

you tugged on her braid, pulling her down to the christ monumental in front of the church, the podium staring down at you both in displeasure as you made abby get on her knees, stripping her completely. her perky breasts on display as she stared half lidded at the podium. you slipped off your own clothes, reaching your back and bringing out the dildo you had brought along, just for the occasion.

you began pounding into her from the back, hearing her moan loudly and whisper out prayers under her breath. with each word she uttered, you only got rougher with her. spanking her ass, and pulling on her braid, telling her how much she'd sinned.

eventually, she was in tears. begging her lord for forgiveness as she moaned pathetically. you finally pulled out of her, she was soaked, her cum leaking all over her bare thighs.

" are you gonna repent now hmm? " you said, grabbing her hips and roughly pulling her to sit on your bare lap. you gripped her ass, giggling as you heard her whimper.

" i need.. i need more. " she mumbled, seeming to utterly ashamed, but desperate.

you only chuckled, pushing her onto her back as you spread her for you to see everything. you plunged your sinful fingers inside of her pretty pussy as she moaned, throwing her head back and meeting the eyes of her disappointed god. but at this point, you were basically her god.

she moaned your name as you continued to plunge sin into her, but her sinful acts were the last thing on her mind. the only thing she was possible of thinking about now was you.

she felt you tugging her braid, as she only got louder and more pathetic. her muscles and strength were nothing now.

as she had her second orgasm, she threw her head back, moaning your name loudly.

her eyes were half lidded as she was roughly pulled up by her braid, meeting your eyes.

" you're mine. you aren't the property of gods, your my property. i am your god, you got that hmm? " you whispered seductively.

" yes.. yes.. i promise. im yours. " she moaned out.

#Spotify #ellie tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou smut #ellie williams smut #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby is scary as fuck #abby being the dom bitch that she is #sub abby #sub abby anderson #abby angst #abby x fem!reader #abby x dom!reader

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arctrooper69 · 3 months

Text

Dark is the Night

Imperial!Crosshair x Reader

Febuwhump Prompt #2: Solitary Confinement

(sorry I'm behind on these already) @febuwhump

Warnings: Sensory deprivation and claustrophobia

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

It was dark, that much you knew. Dark, cold, and silent.

"Tech!?" You called out, "Hunter? Wrecker? Anybody!?"

Not even an echo of your own brittle and broken voice made it back to your ears. The pleas fell flat and muffled like the room was designed to trap any sound - mute every scream.

You weren't sure how long you'd been here, bound to a chair in the middle of nowhere - a room? A hallway? A cell?

Maybe it had only been minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe days. It was impossible to tell.

It felt like years.

The walls seemed to shrink inwards as you struggled to breathe. It made it hard to think when the darkness threatened to smother you with the terror of nothingness. You would almost prefer physical torture over this.

A door slid open with a hiss and the darkness withdrew it's claws only to be replaced with the assaulting daggers of ruthlessly bright artificial light.

"Ready to talk so soon?" Sneered that deep gravelly voice you used to know so well.

Crosshair.

He seemed to appear as a shadow - void and empty as if consuming all the light in the room like a black hole. Impossibly nothing. But it wasn't fear that wrapped it's cold fingers around your chest now, it was the heavy fist of heartbreak.

"Crosshair please..." The fragility of those words slipping through ruined vocal chords surprised you.

Whatever happened to fighting interrogation with silence? You'd had enough of silence.

"Funny," He paused, watching you curiously, "I would've put my credits on you lasting longer than this."

It was funny. Funny how much his voice brought you comfort despite the insults he spewed. Funny how much you craved his attention despite the horrors he'd committed.

Funny how your heart still ached for him.

"Tell me the location of Clone Force 99 and I'll have you moved to a different cell."

Something about his voice seemed less threatening than before. Less intense. The light still burnt your eyes to tears, but somehow his lean form was coolant.

"I... I can't. You know I can't, Crosshair. I'm sorry."

A pause, punctuated with a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry too."

The light shut off and once again, darkness closed in.

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

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

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I need a 'you came' - 'you called' moment with our beloved Aaron. Either if he shows up for the reader or the reader shows up for him.

aftershocks

cw; bau!reader, takes place after 4x1 mayhem, descriptions of violence

you couldn't sleep.

you've been tossing and turning for hours, frustrations growing inside you as the clock hit one, two, three am.

you had returned to quantico from new york yesterday, and the adrenaline that had been racing through you the past few days had still yet to lessen. as if your mind and body still believed something horrible was about to happen; you felt as if you were buzzing- with anticipation, uneasiness, fear.

every time you closed your eyes, it replayed. so vividly as if it were happening right before you again.

the franticness the city had fallen into, trying to get ahold of your team and failing, finding out that one of your government issued vehicles had exploded. aaron and kate's vehicle. aaron.

kate hadn't made it. but aaron had.

your mind kept coming back to the what ifs; the idea of sam waiting a few more seconds before initiating the explosion. if they had been any closer...

or, what if aaron and kate had entered the car? they would've been right above where the device had been planted. on the driver's side.

aaron always drove.

you currently choked back a sob at that one.

however, you had managed to keep it together through the case's entirety. how you did so, you still had no idea. and as much as you wished you could've been by aaron's side, at the scene of the explosion, you were selfishly grateful it had been derek, and not you. seeing aaron in that state, covered in blood in a scenario where he could've easily not made it, it would ruin you.

and now, in the comfort of your apartment, alone with your thoughts, it was too much. too much to handle alone.

and only one person could ease your mind. he may not know it, but he meant everything to you.

"hotchner."

just the sound of his sleep-filled voice through the phone brought you to tears. he's alive.

he's alive.

"hi, it's me." you held back another sob, hoping your voice maintained some normalcy.

it hadn't, and within less than a second aaron was wide awake. "what's wr-"

"i just needed to hear your voice." you interrupted, clutching onto your phone with a shaky hand. "i know it's late, i'm so sorry, but-"

"no, please don't apologize." he cut you off this time. his voice was soft- comforting. "what is it?"

"i just wanted to make sure you were okay." your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence, and you exhaled a breath in attempt to calm your nerves.

"i'm okay." he whispered softly, repeating again to give you the confirmation he knew you needed. "i'm okay."

"i was... am, so scared." you admitted, biting down onto your lip hard. "i'm so scared to lose you. in new york, you were so close, too close. you could've..." you couldn't finish your statement, as if it would your somehow change the outcome. make it real.

"i'm here." aaron insisted, his tone firm but exceedingly gentle. "i'm right here."

"i know. i just..."

"do you want me to come over?"

you immediately froze at his question. yes. "no, you don't have to. it's late, and you have jack. so it's fine. don't worry about m- it, please."

"but he's at-"

"i'll just see you at the bau. only in a few hours, right?" you forced a laugh, a single tear falling from your eye. "goodnight."

he started to say something else, but you had already hung up.

after hearing his voice, you felt somewhat better. your heart rate had slowed, but an empty feeling in your chest was still present- as if some unknown force was still going to take aaron from you unannounced. you simply stared at the ceiling, accepting your inevitable fate of doing so until the sun came up, until there was a soft knock on your door.

your heart did a leap as you pushed back your comforter, quickly heading to your front door. as it was nearly four in the morning, the most logical thing to do was check through the peephole to see who the culprit was.

but you didn't. you knew in your heart who it was.

you opened your door to reveal aaron. his hair was still disheveled from sleep, he was still in his pajamas. it was strange seeing him in such casual attire- flannel pants and a grey crewneck- rather that his usual suit, or even just a simple button-up or sweater. it was more personal, vulnerable even.

"you came?" your words left you in a breath as you looked at him in disbelief, your bottom lip already trembling.

there was something in aaron's eyes you couldn't quite place, and you could've sworn you've never heard his voice so gentle. "you called."

just as the other way around, he would do anything for you.

the sob you had been holding in for nearly two days finally broke through your chest, and aaron didn't hesitate to gather you into his arms.

"i'm here." he mumbled into your hair, cries shaking through you. "i'll always be here."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #hotch imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you

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cooki3face · 4 months

Text

messages from someone who let go of you

message: I’m so obsessed with my tarot table set up that I couldn’t help but share it with you guys. I felt pulled to do a message from people who may have left you behind or moved on from you. This message is meant for those of you who have somewhat moved on or are somewhat far removed. You may have distant memories or have thoughts of this person still that feel somewhat against you or random due to so much time having passed or your life having changed so much since then. I keep hearing “I’m sad again, don’t tell my boyfriend, it’s not what he’s for made for.” From Billie’s song, I don’t remember what it’s called, “what was I made for?” I was so unprepared to come out here and read tarot that my phone is at 20% but I came out and lit up all my candles anyways and sat down at my table. This will be a channeled message, directly from them to you. Enjoy.

***

"I'm not real sure where I'm going or what's left of me to do now. I feel as though I've done everything I said I would or put myself in the position to receive everything I possibly could, I feel like I've obtained and had everything there is for me to have and yet, there's this emptiness. I'd like to say that I would equate the loss of you to the emptiness I feel but to say the loss of you would not fully encapsulate the responsibility I carry for not being there and leaving you more times than we can count on all ten of our fingers put together. I still like to tell myself and others that it was not a big deal, that the loss of you, of us, was not a big deal. I will find a way to minimize anything and everything that means all of anything to me in order to hide the fact that it is so painfully important and you know this already. I am not ignorant to the reality of the situation, the loss, and my behavior. I know better I just couldn't do better. Since you've been gone, things have not been any less chaotic or trivial. Your absence leaves hard lessons here that I could not foresee while you were here. I keep saying since you've been gone, or since you've left, or in your absence because it feels as though you've left me, I may have left you plenty in spirit, I may have left a void within you so frequently that at some point you did leave.

you left me with no choice but to pick up and leave. I've been forced to carry all my bags and pull all my karma up the hill all by myself now that you're gone and life has thrown at me lesson after lesson. I do not know where life will take me or what's in store for me or what else there is for me to have now that what I would've really wanted has voluntarily bowed out of my life and left only tower moments and lessons. I cannot get over the way that it feels for justice to have finally come for you and served you right after all this time of me not being able to deliver it to you myself. I find myself brought to tears or battling excessive bouts of emotion behind you not being here and I have nobody to cry to and nobody to blame but myself. I am trying to let go, I am trying to release what is no longer a reality for me any longer. You.

I lost such a massive opportunity for my own fulfillment when you walked out the door. I hated to see your back to me I hated to see you go but I understand that you were tired and I understand that all my time I spent fearing your abandonment I manifested such a reality for myself by being afraid. All the pushing I did, all the damage I did, all the hurt and destruction I caused being someone whose shadow eclipsed them because I let it. Now, all I've been doing is trying to heal and trying to do the inner work like you told me so many times, all that time ago. I feel as though my future leads nowhere now truly, I may have felt that way when you were around but even throughout all my hopelessness and hardship, I always thought I'd find my way to you in the end and now that you're not here there lies no reward.

***

ii.

I've learned so much now that I am away, many things make sense to me that didn't before, I see things so much clearer than I had previously. There is so much within this world, on this plane of existence for me, for us, to see and understand. My departure was necessary however sudden or abrupt, everything I've done I've done for love and there is never a lack of purpose behind my actions and I wish so badly that I had the ability to tell you all these things directly, for some reason, unbeknownst to me, my heart aches. I still think of you however far removed I may be, I still think of you no matter what it may seem like, I still think of you despite my wish not to. I am not heartbroken nor am I half of a whole. I am in my power, I am willing and able to reach towards all horizons and create the life I had deserved for myself all along that you could not give me despite all my time spent sitting idle waiting for you. Please do not mistake my willingness to come through and communicate as me being truly unhappy or ungrounded, I am not. I have returned home to myself and wherever I go, whomever I am with, and however much I change I will always reside here.

I have discovered things within this life and within this realm that I thought for many years and even before you that I could not have and now I have them. So I am not unhappy or discontented, but, you are not gone from my heart and from my mind despite how much I've grown and despite how much I've discovered myself to have. I do not love you the way I used to and so at times I do find myself plagued solely with confusion as to why at random moments I find myself thinking of you. I have proved to myself that I could have the whole entire world within the palms of my hands but I carry with me a secret and that is you. I build high walls of my kingdom around the memorial that is your absence in my life. And when things fall away and succumb to time and go back to the earth from which they came, we remember them and we pay careful attention not to disturb them, we let bygones be bygones. Your essence is with me, you are here in spirit but I refuse to trudge up what's passed gone back up again simply because I have the capacity to remember.

because you are not here and because we share the connection that we share or had once what we had, there is a part of me that lies within me that sometimes is confused or or feels clueless about what the rest of my life will look like without you, whether or not I will always remember, whether or not the small memorial you have within my spirit will be given a mural, whether or not even in deep and aligned partnership and connection I will find myself wondering where you are. I store your heart within mine. Sometimes, even if I am not heartbroken or paralyzed with loss I become frustrated or angry because I can't bring myself to understand what lies ahead of me through what I have holding within me now, these memories. But, where I am afraid, or angry, or confused I show myself mercy and grace. I say to myself, "What meant something to us once is not always easily forgotten." Before I left you behind and found the strength within myself to do so, I feared deeply that without you I would find myself alone eternally, I still feel to some extent that that might even be a possibility but the difference is I do not fear it this time. I will be brave, I will not live my life paralyzed by possibility and I will do my darndest to give myself everything I needed and was ever owed.

And I will never be angry that it does not include you if I find that it does not. There is no sentence more immeasurable than a lifetime so I will do only what I can do and make it a good one and leave everything else up to be decided to spirit.

***

iii.

I think of you and the way I walked away frequently. You were a piece of a revealing story. You proved that I was struggling, you proved that I had deeply rooted things I refused to dig through or acknowledge, you proved my actions were detrimental, that my shadow is large and looming. I attempt to run from myself every single day from the second I rise in the morning to the moment my head hits the pillow. To see yourself clearly in the mirror when you've done so much to obstruct the reflection is misery. My spirit yearns for healing and for me to answer to its wailing but I don't like the sound. I have to hear it all the same anyway even If I don't like it, your absence has left my ears ringing, I feel like the truth of my reflection is being pulled out of me in knots. I'm at a loss for words, I find myself feeling as though in my ways, I've cheated myself out of an opportunity that was you. I feel like I have no plan in store for me like I've been stranded on an island with only myself to talk to. I can't see myself having anything fulfilling without you being here, everything I build I knock down, everything I find my grip around slips right through my fingers.

I've been working so hard to dress myself up, to make myself look dazzling and shiny and new just as something I would reach for regardless of it not being gold, but, my old way of doing things is no longer working. There is no void so deep. there is nothing left to do but wade in the marsh that is the consequence of my own actions and I am afraid. I know that you cannot hear me over the sound of your joy and the sound of heavenly support but I wish that you could. The second I could not reach you any longer the fabric I'd sewn made from whatever I told myself at night and whatever I felt I could've had had been ripped from beneath me. I am angry because I feel that what I have reaped is unfair. I have made no progress where true progress lies, I feel disappointed and displeased. Whatever I've found myself having, worldly or in spirit is not enough. Your wrath is hellish and you've not even lifted a finger.

If I were to speak to you in the flesh, I would still find myself lying, seething as if what I've received is unfair, and hiding behind ego because it is all I have to offer at this time. I have not changed, I don't know that I am capable. Please have mercy on me. Please forgive me. I have a tendency to look at you almost religiously, if God lived on earth beside us, he/she would be you. I'm far removed from spirit, I do not know how to pray, I do not hear their messages, I do not know my way, and you, a beacon of light, have left. I'm trying to let go, I'm trying to teach myself to see things differently, I am trying to do or find something. And after all of this, If I were to speak to you, you would show me some grace, you would still wish me well, you would still want the best for me or want me to turn inwards and heal. All I want all the time is your blessing. It has taken everything in me not to turn up on your doorstep as I feel I've been exiled. Every time I've washed up unannounced or without your permission both in the physical and in the astral was a call for help, to let you know that my shadow is looking straight at me and there is nothing I can do about it.

All I have to say now is that you were right about everything and what I have received I am owed and what is fair is fair. I hope that you are free and I hope for my own.

***

Do I even wanna post this?? Please, all I can think is GIRL, WHAT IS THIS??? I know I’m the one who wrote it but when I’m channeling it never feels as though it’s coming directly from me, I’m only a vessel at that point, the only credit I feel I can take in the moment is the fact that it is my fingers who is typing it. If you’re an intuitive or a reader of some sort you know exactly what I’m talking about but these messages are so dramatic. While writing them the part of me that was present was like “oh please! 🙄✋🏾 pack it up!!” But anyways, let me post it before I chicken out.

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #divine masculine #messages from spirit #messages from your person #tarot #pac reading #pac #tarot readings #tarot readers of tumblr

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