#anyway it is night one of no medication and i hate it here
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The new fic was wonderful, I cant get enough of Em and Max I hope you never stop writing about them! That being said, I'm curious, would you write about one (or all four!) Times Max had to run around a city looking for Emelia?
Okay I’m sorry about how this turned out 🫣 I know in the fic it referenced that Max didn’t know there was a problem and only found out once she left but I am taking some artistic license with this being one of the four times! Don’t hate me 🫠
I did actually start a different one featuring Emilia’s dad so I may finish that one and we will get a funnier/more on brand instance of Emilia running away but…I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!
✨Set in September 2021✨
They nicknamed her “The Bolter”
Max watches the sunrise in total, deafening silence. He thinks at some point he gets up to feed the cats. He thinks, but he isn’t sure. He’s so tired. His eyes are watering. It’s not tears. He can’t sleep. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter if he wants to, he can’t. He can’t sleep knowing you’re not home. He can’t sleep not knowing you’re safe.
He looks at his phone again. He has it on loud and on vibrate but he still checks. Still hopes.
Daniel: Did you hear from her?
Lando: She’s not answering me sorry
Clara Albizzi: You fucked up
That last one makes me feel sick. He did fuck up. He knew the second he’d said it. The way your face just fell and you couldn’t look at him. The way your shoulders hunched over.
You’re the reason she’s not here!
You hadn’t even packed a bag. Hadn’t even taken keys for a car. You’d just picked up the shoes that were lying in the hallway and left.
And he’d let you.
It had taken everything in him to stand still and let you leave, even as the fear set in. Fear that smelled like freshly cut grass and petrol. Fear that felt like crisp night air. Fear that looked like headlights in the dark.
The restraint had only last a few minutes.
You had blocked him, of course. So he’d called your friends. He’d ended up calling half of Monaco including more drivers than he ever spoke to regularly. Everyone denied hearing from you. He’d actually driven to Daniel’s to confirm his story that he wasn’t home. Max wondered more than once if you’d earned more loyalty from his colleagues than he had. Even if one of them was lying to him, at least you were safe.
But he couldn’t take the chance that you really hadn’t ended up at someone’s place. You didn’t have you bag with you, or even comfortable shoes. You couldn’t pay for a cab. It was that thought that had sent him to the Hotel de Paris. It was your favourite hotel in town, you even checked in for staycations sometimes. They would have your information, so you wouldn’t even need a credit card. The receptionist had refused to tell him if you were staying there - illegal, apparently - but something about his appearance must have incurred her sympathy, because she’d said that they hadn’t had any unexpected guests.
That had sent him to Sass Café. A long shot, because you didn’t usually self medicate alone, but he’d tried anyway. Fifty times he thought he’d seen you across the room as he’d weaved his way through the hoards of people. Normally he could spot you anywhere but when all he wanted was to see you he’d seen you everywhere.
By the time he’d got home, some time in the wee hours, Max could feel himself starting to shut down. As he’d called your name to no response and checked your room to find it empty, he could feel himself starting to get cold. He’d sat down on the couch, intending to think about what he was going to do next, but the thoughts had started to get away from him. The memories of the last twelve hours began to fold in on themselves, becoming smaller and squarer and so too did the feelings. The anger, the frustration, the panic, the disappointment, it all got more manageable, packing itself away in the corner in his mind that Max had so often found himself hiding in.
Even the fear had gone. The fear had gone somewhere around 5.30 am, when the darkness started to wane. As he sat on the couch and watched the sky go from black to blue to the colour of the dress you wore to Luka’s christening, his leg stopped shaking, his fists unclenched, and the tightness in his chest disappeared.
Finally, emotions had given way to a familiar and encompassing emptiness. Max just felt numb.
You’re the reason she’s not here!
What had he even been so angry about? He could almost laugh at himself. He hadn’t been angry. He’d been embarrassed. You’d told him you’d found underwear that wasn’t yours in the washing machine and he’d been so fucking embarrassed. And then he’d thought, what did he have to embarrassed about, and he decided in a split second it must be because you were judging him, and who were you to judge him when you were the reason he was fucking random girls in the first place. His relationship had ended because of you.
You’re the reason she’s not here!
Except you weren’t the reason. Not really. It had been Max’s choice and he knew that. Max needed you more than he’d wanted her and he had never once regretted that choice, although wherever you were, you probably thought he did.
He almost wishes he could feel all of it. Whatever it is that’s been forced under the surface because he can’t deal with it. He can’t feel anything. His eyes are sore and unfocused and they sting.
He drags a hand over his face. He should do something. Get flowers, or call the police, or…anything. But he doesn’t. His limbs don’t move. He just sits there…like he’s waiting for someone to pick him up.
You’ve got to come back.
Don’t worry, Max. They always come back. You’ll apologise. You’ll do better next time.
His eyes water again. This time it might be tears.
Somewhere behind him, one of the cats meows. Maybe he didn’t feed them after all.
“Max?”
At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turns so fast his neck hurts. He blinks furiously at the sight of you. For a second he thinks he’s imagining you.
“I brought strudel,” you say, holding up a small folded pastry box.
Max gets up before his he tells himself to. He wants to pull you into his arms, the urge to do it is the only thing he’s felt in hours, but stays still. You’re back, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse.
“Not everywhere, clearly,” you say with a shrug.
“I went to Sass, Daniel’s, I called Lando, Alex, Clara, Zita,” he says, as if trying to prove that he’d tried. “I went to the hotel to see if you were there. I’ve been around the whole city all night, I didn’t sleep,”
“Oh.”
You look a little sheepish, almost guilty, as you make your way to the kitchen. Max follows, too far behind for his liking but he’s still too scared to get closer.
He sits on one side of the island and you stand on the other. He really takes in your appearance now. Hair up, no make up. Wearing a pyjama shirt. Where the fuck did you get pyjamas? He doesn’t care. His eyes run over you one more time. He might never let you out of his sight again.
“Don’t scare me like that,” Max admonishes, though there is no strength behind his words.
“Don’t piss me off like that,” you retort, and there’s strength behind yours.
The look you give him cuts like second place, and he looks away. He looks out to the balcony. The sky is cobalt now. What time is it?
“Did you mean it?” You whisper into the silence.
Max looks at you now. “No.”
“But-“
“No.” This time it’s an oath.
You shake your head as you open the pastry box. “Max, you obviously kind of meant it,” you say, turning to pick up two plates from the counter. “And I don’t blame you. I know I’m the reason you and-“
“You’re not the reason,” Max insists. “She’s the reason. She thought…she made that choice. And yeah, a part of me is still angry about it, and I cannot talk to her so I took it out on you. That wasn’t right and I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even- I’m sorry. It was my fault,”
Take responsibility. It’s your fault. You caused this to happen. If you don’t like the outcome then stop making people angry.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. Even to his own ear it sounds a little more desperate.
You stare at him, eyes narrow, like you’re trying to read him, and Max almost flinches under the scrutiny. Finally, your face softens, and you sigh. Something in your posture eases.
“Max, it’s okay,” you say gently. “People fight. I just felt like shit and you know how I get. You’re fight, I’m flight, remember? I was…anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re okay, right?”
“Yeah,” Max says. “Of course.”
You don’t look like you believe him, but he’s telling the truth. If you’re okay, then he’s okay. If you’re there, then he’s okay. If you’re home then that’s where he wants to be.
You shuffle around the island with two plates of strudel, padding on bare feet towards the living room with Max in hot pursuit.
“Where did you go?” He asks, now noticing that not even your shorts are the ones you left in last night.
“The Maybourne,” you explain, settling on the corner of the couch, legs outstretched. “The concierge gave me some spa pjs,”
Max takes a seat next to you, further than normal but closer than he’s been to you in what feels like forever.
“I’ll pay you back for the room,” he says with a rueful smile.
“Yeah, I think you will,” you say haughtily, and Max forced himself to laugh. There must be something in his expression that tips you off, though, because your face falls. “I’m sorry I left,”
Please don’t ever do that again.
The words are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them. He doesn’t ask. He can’t. He has no right to ask you that, because no one can ever promise not to leave and he can’t promise to be worth staying for.
“It’s not the first time,” Max says with a chuckle, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m used to it by now,”
You roll your eyes and turn on the tv, flipping through to find the Moto GP race as Max yawns. The buzz he felt at your return is wearing off and the exhaustion is creeping up on him. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, though. Not when you’re still in his periphery. It’s stupid, but some part of him needs to be consciously in your presence for a while.
“Max, you can go to bed, if you want. I know you didn’t sleep,”
“No,” he says, a bit too quickly. He imagines that he blushes when you notice. His cheeks certainly burn. “I’m just….I’m fine here.”
You reach over to pick up a pillow and lay it on your lap. “At least lie down,” you say, patting the pillow like you do to get one of the cats to sit on you. Max hesitates, but only for a moment, because he’d do just about anything you told him right now.
He settles his head on the pillow, eyes fixed on the tv. He used to do this with his mum, he remembers. The first night joke after being with his dad for months, she’d put on a movie and Max would lay his head in her lap while they watched. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you that.
Your hand running through his hair is like a little jolt of energy, somewhere above him he hears you giggle at the shiver that goes through him. You don’t stop, though, finger massaging his scalp. It quiets all of his nerve endings.
“You need a haircut,” you tell him. He knows what you’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to care. As long as it’s you doing it.
“Yeah,” Max agrees. It’s the last thing he says before he finally falls asleep.
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Hey bat!!!! :D it's been a whileeee.. So- here's my question!
Do you have any head canons for your octonauts- characters? (Regular au) if so. Can I know em? :0
Sorry this took me so long!! I'm a very busy Bat!!
I decided to share some headcanons for all of my octonauts for my normal BatBites AU.
Captain Barnacles:
He goes to sleep curfew on the DOT and wakes up at 7:00 am each morning, and will wake up the other Octonauts as well
He feels like the father of the crew, whether he likes to or not
He doesn't open up to anybody about his struggles or insecurities- ever! He's bad at that sort of thing...
During the summer he'll take extremely long cold baths that he'll literally dump ice in, and he sheds like crazy, he does NOT like the summer.
His suit has a cooler. Tweak built it for him!!
He is totally unaware of any feelings his CREwMAtes might have for him....
Lt Kwazii Cat:
He bat's other peoples tails instinctively...
He can bareeely taste sweet, so he'll usually add a shit ton of sugar to his desserts
Struggles with impulse control and social awareness, struggles to understand what can be talked about on the dinner table and what can't be
Quite ashamed honestly about his cat-like behavior, so he'll try to keep it to himself. He doesn't like to meow or purr around anyone but Shellington, but because he lacks impulse control, he'll end up doing it anyway. Dashi loves the meowing.
He's incredibly affectionate
His first thought when a sea creature gives them trouble is I'LL SHOW THEM WHO'S BOSS!!!
Medic Peso Penguin:
His urge to pick up rocks everytime he sees a pile of them goes strong, and he usually ends up doing just that
This is more of a redesign than a headcanon, but he has a full set of teeth in the og books and I thought that would be a good excuse to give him fangs in my AU just for added cuteness
He's a chronic apologizer
He gets picked on by the crew occasionally, he hates it
He looks up to Barnacles and Kwazii so much- he IS the youngest and the last one to join, after all.
He does really like taking care of his friends.
He's a bit of a crybaby. His sense of empathy is really big and strong, and he'll feel himself tear up if he sees something- or someone- suffering.
IT Officer Dashi Dog:
Because she's the IT officer, programmer & photographer, she's super busy all the time
And speaking of time, she always loses track of it..
If Kwazii and Barnacles were to be unavailable she would be in charge.
She likes to keep incredibly clean even if the DEMONS tell her to jump in the MUDD and have FUNN
She loves everything cute and collects chibi cat squishies. This is like, one of my first head canons ever.
She's in charge of the wifi, whenever it shuts down and the crew begins to bug her about it, she gets super fckin annoyed
She barks, because of course she barks, and her tail wags whenever she sees something she likes or is giving/receiving affection
Her tail ALSO wags when she's talking to Captain Barnacles, I wonder why THAT is!!!
Engineer Tweak Rabbit:
Gets 1 second of sleep every night
Taught the rest of the crew how to play her video games
She glows in the dark because she's literally radioactive, same with her dad
When she needs a break she goes to the garden to chill, and eat a few carrots on the way
Will wake up in a cold sweat to randomly build something in the middle of the night
She does not give a shit about how messy she gets
Dr. Shellington Sea Otter:
Spends so much of his alone time just grooming himself
Goes searching through the fridge for ice cubes during the summer. Loves his ice cubes
Was the most geekiest geek in high school, he had like 3 friends
He plays visual novels
He's really defensive, embarrassed, and shy about what he likes.
His sleep schedule is fcked up, he talks in his sleep as well. He'd much rather be spending his time researching so as he sleeps he'll usually dream about his research.
He cannOT take a compliment. Compliment him and he will curl up into a little ball out of shame.
Professor Inkling Octopus:
He'll put on classical music in the library and vibe to it with whoever's with him
He hosts story nights occasionally
He's really good at giving romantic advice
He refuses to drink coffee
He needs to be constantly MOIST
his chair is super high tech and comes with a heater and cooler
May or may not be the group therapist
He's INKredibly humble
Tunip Vegimal:
Like 4 years old
Gets excited over literally anything
Gets the cutest puppy dog eyes when he wants something
Defaults to running around with the other vegimals when there's nothing to do
His fave thing in the world is watching the crews face light up when they eat his food
Vegimal food just hits different
Tunip sees Shellington as his dad, and sees Tweak as his mama. Kwazii's the gay aunt
*flies away*
#octonauts#headcanons#headcanon#octonauts headcanon#captain barnacles#kwazii#dashi octonauts#tweak octonauts#shellington#professor inkling#vegimals#tunip vegimal
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Yandere priest or religious higher up x witch reader?
Yandere! Priest pt. 2
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
Pt.1
In a small, picturesque village nestled amidst towering mountains and lush greenery, there existed a quiet and humble priest. He was revered for his kind heart, unwavering devotion to his faith, and his desire to help others. Yandere! Priest had dedicated his life to serving his community, finding solace in his duties and the tranquility of the church. He could only be described as compassionate and fair with the gentlest heart. He was very well loved by the community around him and highly respected. However, there was a small group of people who hated him and preyed on his downfall. One these people managed to gravely injure him and drag his body far away from civilization to make sure he doesn’t have a chance at living. They wanted a slow and painful death for him.
On the outskirts desolated from the village, was an enchanted forest, that was rumored by the townspeople to be cursed and filled with many horrors. That so-called haunted and enchanted forest held your lovely house which you had been living in for decades. Now the question arises, why exactly were you living in such a dangerous and isolated forest in the first place? Well, an easy explanation to this question was the fact that you were a witch. On that possessed extraordinary magic, to be more specific you were a witch doctor. One who was dedicated to healing and creating new medicinal spells.
Currently, you were outside in that forest collecting herbs when you came across a severely injured person. They had grave injuries all over their body and had a nasty head wound across their skull. Whenever you came across an injured animal you would always heal them immediately in order to ensure their survival. This time it was different because they were human. You had to be extra cautious about using your powers in order to not be exposed as a witch. You start to carefully and swiftly carry them towards your cabin.
By the time that you got home, your patient had already lost a liter of blood. You honestly were not sure if they were even gonna survive the night but you quickly got to work on them. Although it took several hours, you managed to stabilize him with the help of your magic and medical tools. Using a spell to clean up the blood, you decide to retire for the night. The operation was a success but you had to heal him little by little to avoid suspicion. Anyways, he should be up by tomorrow, it’s time to get some well deserved rest.
When morning arrived, Yandere! Priest started to stir from his bed. He was currently in a daze, “Where was he? The last thing he remembered was getting beat up. How did he end up here?” A few minutes later, the door opened to reveal you. “Nice to see you awake. I hope you feel better now.” He looks at you with confusion and you quickly explain the situation and how you found him.
“Ah, I see. I can’t exactly remember who attacked me. Is it alright if I stay here for a while until I get better?” Just like that you earned yourself a new servant. He was extremely respectful towards you but had the tendency to linger extremely close to you while you were out in public looking for supplies. While you worked on your medicine, Yandere! Priest took care of all the household chores and acted like your househusband. He was supposed to be devoted to God and live his life in celibacy but here was little by little falling in love with you. No matter what he did, his mind was filled with just thoughts of you and the need to please your every desire. It wasn’t right but it felt so natural. If God was out there listening and witnessing all the deeds he had done for him in his name, then he wouldn’t mind if he fell in love with you right?
As the days went on, you both were living in complete harmony, that was until one day while shopping in town, someone from Yandere! Priest’s village recognized him. This person ended up being Yandere! Priest’s childhood friend who had a crush on him. She was extremely shocked that he was here and she stalked him all the way back to your house. While there she got jealous, the way that he looked and treated you made her green with envy. All her life she had a crush on him and when she finally had the courage to ask him out, he simply stated that he devoured his life to God. Devoted my ass, what kind of priest looks at a person with such tender love and care? She honestly could not believe this. She loved him so much that if she couldn’t have him, then no one could. Which is why she hired a hitman to kill him and why she was so surprised to see him alive. If only that person she hired wasn’t so incompetent.
After some more days of observation, she discovers a disturbing secret from you. It was the fact that you were a WITCH. She could not believe her eyes as she watched you take out your spell book to make a potion. As she was about to go town to tell everyone about this, she ended up tripping which alerted you that she was there. You quickly realized that she discovered your identity and was about to go tell the townspeople. In a flash you immediately took action and teleported to the other end of the forest and rushed to the town.
There, you immediately screamed, “WITCH, EVERYONE I HAVE DISCOVERED A WITCH.” This immediately caught the attention of everyone around and they all started to ask you questions about their appearance. Yandere! Priest was shopping and heard the sound of your voice. He immediately rushed over to you. After you finish giving the description of the girl, she immediately rushes over to the people and starts accusing you. Which you respond with, “She tells lies! I saw her reading and writing! She must be a witch, burn her at the stake!” Okay, so you knew this was morally wrong but it was either you or her. Thanks to your gaslighting and the brain deadness of the people, everyone took your side. It honestly was not that hard to convince them, they do witch burning of people every week because they had the ability to read.
Right now, you are currently watching a woman burn at the stake while she shouts profanities at you. You honestly could not believe that had worked, well at least your butt was saved. However, the more that Yandere! Priest thought about it, the more it made sense that you might actually be a witch. From your mannerism to your way of life, it was all odd. I mean normal people don’t just live in the middle of some random woods. Wait, no, that couldn’t be, you were something greater. For the remainder of his time he made sure to heavily observe you and anything you did. He kept these thoughts to himself until he fully recovered and was expected to leave your house. That was fine, he was willing to leave but not without you by his side. On this day, he hid your spell book to guarantee that you wouldn’t run away. With that he made his way back to his former village to start making preparations for your arrival.
You were frantically searching for your book. Where was it? You definitely couldn’t have misplaced, right? Just then, you hear a knock on the door and Yandere! Priest steps in. “I’m so grateful to see you again, I could bear being away from you. Even if it had only been two hours.” What? Now you were confused, what was he doing here again and what was he talking about? Seeing the confused look on your face he explains, “I’ve come to take you back with me. You see I am a priest and I now know that I was created in order to worship you.” With that he holds up your spell book. “I know what you are, a divine being greater than God. I’ll spend the rest of my day following your every demand. Come, I have already ordered the other priest to prepare your arrival. Let us worship you. You are the only one that can save us from this wretched world, please indulge us with your presence. We’ll make sure your word is law.”
You had such a look of disbelief written on your face. Holy crap did you just accidentally start up a cult?!?! Fuck.
#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere priest#male yandere#yandere oc#gn reader
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who could stay?
alexia x r
r is struggling with her anxiety. Alexia wants nothing more than to help. Will r let her?
CW for panic attacks / general depictions of anxiety.
Alexia knew something was up with you. Recently, you'd been attached at the hip to her. This wasn't something she minded, not at all, it was just quite out of character for you. You'd responded to her attempts to figure out what was wrong with tight lipped smiles, and clear lies that you were fine. You looked exhausted, which she didn't understand. You spent most nights at her apartment, and there was no indication that you weren't sleeping, yet the bags under your eyes only darkened. You made no indication that you wanted to speak to her about what was wrong, but luckily, she caught you getting out of bed one night.
Alright, she didn't catch you getting out of bed, but she rolled over, half asleep, looking for you to snuggle up against, eyes snapping open when she found your side of the bed empty. Still warm, but empty. She was instantly awake, and worried. She first looked to the bathroom, but the light was off, the door ajar. There was no light flowing in from the hallway, but she headed that way anyway, not sure where else you would be.
Entering the living room, she could just barely make you out on the couch, head in your hands, body seemingly shuddering with every breath.
"Amor?" she called softly, flicking on the light as she did so. Your head snapped up, wild eyes meeting hers. Your eyes were red, and tear tracks stained your cheeks. Alexia moved to your side quickly, crouching down in front of you. "Hey, amor, what is wrong?"
"No-nothing. I'm fine. Go ba-back to sleep, Ale," you gasped out. Alexia frowned in response, making no move to do as you said.
"Mi vida, why are you out here? Why did you not wake me?" Alexia was confused. She'd seemed to have found the root of why you looked so exhausted, but she still wasn't sure why she found you crying, by yourself on the living room couch, in the middle of the night.
You were quickly losing the ability to speak, though, something that Alexia picked up on. "What can I do?" she asked, begged really. She hated seeing you like this, hated not being able to help. In response, having clearly given up on trying to force her to go to bed, you gripped onto her forearm, your desire obvious. She moved up onto the couch, pulling you securely into her chest. Your ear was pressed right over her heart, and you tried to calm down, listening to the steady beats.
"Shh, you are okay, bonita, I've got you," Alexia soothed, and you tried to focus on her words. You were okay. You were safe. You were with Alexia. You were clinging onto her quite hard, and she held you with equal force. "Breath for me, amorcita, in and out, just like that."
Alexia's voice was comforting, and she talked you through the worst of the panic attack, only pulling away once you're breathing was almost normal.
"Thank you," you told her, eyes downcast.
"Of course," she paused, not really sure what to ask first. "How long has this been going on?"
"Only a week," you replied, and Alexia sighed in response.
"A week of waking in the middle of the night like this, and you did not get me once?"
"I didn't want to bother you, Ale,"
"You are not capable of bothering me," the midfielder argued, but she took a breath, not wanting to get frustrated when you were clearly still so upset. "Is something causing it?"
You stayed silent.
"Amorcita, please let me in. I want to help, I do not like seeing you so upset," Alexia begged.
"I stopped taking my anxiety medication," you admitted.
"Porque?" Alexia questions, looking stunned. You shrug. "Porque, amor?" Alexia asks again.
"I don't like relying on it. It messes with my mood, and I just don't want it anymore, I don't need it."
"Clearly, you do need it. There is nothing wrong with needing to take something for your anxiety, y/n." Alexia states, trying to keep her voice even. "Did you talk to your doctor about going off?"
"No," you reply, voice small.
"Amor, come on. That is not safe,"
"It's fine, Alexia, please just leave it," you respond, trying to sound firmer than you felt.
"No, I will not. I care about you, and I do not like it when you are unkind to yourself. You deserve to feel good everyday, and if medication helps you feel that, then you should take it. You are going to talk to your doctor, go back on your meds, and if you want to change something with them, you will do it under the supervision of a medical professional. Entiendes?"
"Si," you respond quietly, and Alexia is surprised at how quickly you give up. Your dropping eyes tell her why, though, and she drops her stern attitude.
"Venga, mi vida, let's go back to bed." You allow her to guide you back into bed, but clearly, you you think she's still mad at you, because you lay on the edge of your side of the bed, as far from her as you could get. You feel her pull on your shirt, and you turn, eyes watery. Alexia is laying facing you, arms open, a soft look on her face, and you waste no time scooting over into her warm embrace.
"I want you to talk to me, mi amor. When you are anxious, I want you to tell me, so I can help," Alexia whispers into your hair.
"I hate bothering you."
"Listen to me, por favor. You could never bother me, especially not when you're sharing your feelings with me. Vale?"
"Okay." You allow, after considering for a minute.
"Do you think you can go to sleep?"
You shrug. "I'm still kind of anxious," you mumble. Alexia presses a kiss into your hair, sliding her hand under your shirt, and beginning to run her nails up and down your back. She feels you relax more against her.
"There you go, amor. Just focus on the feeling of my hand on you. Everything is okay," she promises.
"Love you," you murmur, words almost lost in the fabric of her shirt.
"Te amo mucho, bonita." Alexia responds, only letting herself fall asleep once she was sure you had first.
-----
The first time you do as Alexia asked, and tell her when you're feeling anxious, is only a few days later. You're back on your medication, having met with your psychiatrist, who agreed to look into other options, so long as you went back on the current one for now. It was still an adjustment, though, and you were still significantly more anxious than normal. Alexia had taken to holding you tight against her while you both slept, which had worked in 2 ways. You hadn't woken up having a panic attack, and even if you had, you wouldn't have been able to slip out of bed without her noticing.
You've both returned from practice, and Alexia is in the kitchen, making a snack, when you decide that you are feeling to uneasy to sit and wait for her. Being in physical contact with her was one of the only things that was always successful in calming you down. Entering the kitchen, you quietly pad over to Alexia, wrapping your arms around her abdomen, and resting your head against her back. She stills her movements, cutting up strawberries, and puts the knife down, placing her hands over yours.
"Hola," she says quietly.
"Hi," you respond, voice shakier than you would have preferred.
"Everything okay?" she asks carefully, aware that it is not, but wanting you to come to her.
"No," you say. You mean to follow it up with something else, but your throat feels tight, as you swallow back tears, and you can't get another word out. Alexia doesn't need more, though, turning around and holding you tight against her chest, swaying you both back and forth lightly. You let out a shaky breath, feeling yourself already calming slightly.
"Thank you for telling me," Alexia says, aware of what a big step that simple word had been for you. "Can I do anything?"
"I don’t know," you admit, words dripping with vulnerability.
“That is okay. I’ve got you." She reassures, guiding your head away from her neck, and pressing her forehead to hers. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh. After a few moments, you pull away, feeling somewhat calmer. You only make it as far as Alexia’s arms allow, as she isn’t letting go.
“Make your snack, Ale,” you instruct, but she simply shakes her head, manhandling you into the position she wants you in. Once she has you stood in front of her, arms wrapped around her body, she resumes her snack preparations, looking over your shoulder as she cuts the fruit.
You chuckle lightly into her at her ridiculousness, but she ignores you, not letting you move from your spot nestled against her.
“We’re becoming that couple, Alexia. The annoyingly clingy couple.”
“No me importa. I like you clingy.” She declares, shuffling the both of you across the kitchen to put the strawberries back in the fridge. By the time she’s put the snack in a bowl, not letting you even an inch away from her, you’re both laughing.
Finally, she lets you go, smiling triumphantly at your significantly more relaxed behavior. She places a strawberry piece into your mouth, pecking your lips lightly.
“Better?”
“Yeah. So much better.” You promise, returning her soft smile.
“Bueno!” She replies, before taking the bowl in one large hand, and scooping you up and over her shoulder in the other. Her strength impresses you, but still, you squirm slightly as she carries you into the living room towards the couch.
“Alexia!! You’re being absurd” you laugh, and she playfully smacks your ass with the hand holding onto you. “Alexia Putellas Segura, put me down!”
Arriving at the couch, she tosses you easily down, and you bounce slightly. She’s looking down at you with a smirk, and you can’t help your lips tugging into a matching one. Just when you think she’s going to be normal again, she sprawls herself on top of you, larger body enveloping yours, as she shifts around making herself comfortable.
“No room for you to be anxious now, amor.” She says matter of factly, and you wrap your arms around her. It sounds absurd, but really, she’s right. Her weight on you is the perfect amount of pressure, and the smell of her perfume invading your senses slows your heartbeat easily.
Alexia reaches over to the table grabbing both the remote and bowl in her hand, making her intention to not get off of you clear.
“I like you clingy too.” You mumble, and the blonde offers you another strawberry. Your hands busy holding onto her, so you open your mouth, rolling your eyes, as she places it carefully in your mouth. You aren’t annoyed, not at all. You didn’t know what you needed before, but Alexia did. She always did.
----
The next time you ask Alexia for help, it’s a much bigger hit to your pride. You’ve just gotten into a fight, which ended with Alexia storming out of the house to “go on a drive and clear her head.”
It was a stupid fight; both of you thought the other was taking on too much at Barca and your respective national teams, and the lack of time together had been taking its toll. Frustrated, and really just missing each other, you’d gotten into an argument about which of you was too busy. It was both of you. Neither of you were ever people to give up, or step away, even when it was for the best, so you took your exhaustion and frustration out on each other.
You know both of you just need to calm down, and you would have given her the space to do so. Only, the minute she walks out of the house, you begin spiraling. You panic in a way that is completely disproportionate to the situation, but you can’t help it. She’s mad at you and you hate when she’s mad at you.
You need to do something to stop your panic. Your psychiatrist has decided on a new medication plan, in which you are on a lower dose of everyday meds, and take an as needed medication when you’re feeling extra anxious.
This is one of those times, you realize, as you shakily unscrew the bottle, and realize that it’s empty. You’d forgotten to pick up the refill earlier in the week, when you’d woken up anxious, and taken the last pill half asleep.
Cursing under your breath, you go to the bedroom, sitting down in the dimly lit room, and trying to do the breathing exercises you’d been practicing. It’s futile though, you’re already too far gone for that to work. You need either Alexia, or your medication.
You think about the conversations you’ve had with her over the past weeks, in which she assured you, over and over, that she would always be there to help you when you needed her. You aren’t really sure if she meant for you to talk to her when she was mad at you, though.
Deciding that you don’t really have a choice, you pull out your phone, clicking your girlfriend’s contact. You’ll just ask her to pick up your new prescription from the pharmacy, not to come help you. You don’t expect her to do anymore than that, not right now.
To her credit, she answers after only a couple rings, although her voice is still sharp.
“Sí?” She asks, not bothering to greet you, a sign of how upset she is.
“Alexia,” you say, not able to hide the relief you feel at the sound of her voice. You’re breathing heavily now, and you have to pause before you say anything else.
“What is it?” She asks, shifting to a more concerned tone.
“Get my refill of my meds?” You manage.
“Joder, yes, I will go now.” She answers, and you can hear the tires screeching as she makes what is probably an unsafe u-turn. Clearly, Alexia understands what’s going on with you, and it makes you feel better, if only slightly, that she doesn’t sound as mad anymore, just worried.
“Sorry,” you stutter, feeling bad for interrupting her time alone.
“No, it is okay,” she dismisses. “I will be there in 10.”
With that, she hangs up. You lean your head back against the bed, gripping the soft carpet under you in your hands. Shutting your eyes, it feels like only minutes have passed when you hear the front door open, and Alexia call out for you.
“Up here,” you yell out shakily. Alexia’s footsteps pound on the stairs as she races up them, bursting into your room and ruining the peaceful atmosphere that had been in place. She looks almost as upset as you feel, as she crosses the room in 3 long strides, grabbing a glass of water from your nightstand, and quickly getting out a pill.
She watches you take it, eyebrows knit together as she takes in your labored breathing. After a second of thought, she settles down next to you, leaving you the option of scooting closer to her.
“You can go, it’s okay.” You tell her, assuming she doesn’t want to comfort you, not when you just had a fight. Her tone tells you otherwise.
“Do not be stupid, I am not leaving.”
“But you needed to—“
“And you need me.” She says simply, as if you’re the only thing that matters. It dawns on you that maybe you are. You meet her eyes, then, and see nothing but love reflecting back at you. Not anger, not frustration, none of the things present before she’d stormed out. Convinced, you lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder. You allow yourself to forget about the fight, push all your worries from your brain, as you focus on your breathing, and steady, dependable Alexia next to you.
“Did you really think I would leave you like this?” The blonde asks quietly after a minute.
“You were mad. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d wanted to go.”
Alexia scoffs. “I love you more than I could ever be mad at you. If you need me, I will be here. No matter what.”
It’s not the first time you’ve heard this from her, but it’s the first time you really believe it. Maybe Alexia was telling the truth. Maybe there really wasn’t anything you could do to push her away, scare her off. She’d stuck with you through all the things you thought she wouldn’t, holding your hand, softly kissing your cheek through everything thrown your way.
It was overwhelming, the love you felt from her in that moment. You often felt like you couldn’t put into words how much you loved Alexia, but this was the first time that you’ve really been convinced that she loves you just as much as you love her.
You look up at her, eyes glassy, mouth opening and closing as you try to figure out what to say, how to express what you feel for her.
“What, amor?” She questions softly. Her eyebrows are scrunched again, and this time you aren’t panicking, and you can appreciate how cute it is, the way her worry for you is painted clearly across her face.
“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Alexia, I really don’t. You’re- you’re everything to me. Everything.” You whisper back.
Alexia’s face melts, all the tension leaving her, as she grabs your face in her hands, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. You fall into it, the feeling of her lips moving desperately, but gently, against your own.
As you kiss her, you think you’ve maybe defined it, how much she means to you. Alexia is everything. Everything you could ever want or need.
——-
This wasn’t a request, just something I decided to write when I was anxious. I hope you guys like it anyway.
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I feel like Hotch with a BAU!reader that has bad allergies? When they have to go elsewhere for a case and he knows to bring medication and plenty of tissues to subtly hand to reader because he knows they don’t like bringing attention to it even though it’s fairly obvious?
thank u for ur request! gn!reader
It's embarrassing —and a second, harder to explain emotion—, knowing your boss carries around tissues specifically for your sniffly nose. Worse knowing he has benadryl in his go bag, and worse again having to ask him for it.
They're your allergies. You should have sufficient medication. Your job performance relies on it.
You trudge across the grass of the field toward the big barn. You're on one of the biggest, most harrowing cases you've ever investigated, a mass murder hidden in the Canadian frontier under FBI jurisdiction because of the American victims. Hotch is especially upset by everything and hiding it behind silence and a brow furrowed so deeply you're sure that's it, that's how he's going to look for the rest of his life.
You needing a tissue could not come at a worse time.
Swallowing a lump, you cross the threshold. Hotch looks up at your steps. The zeroing in of his gaze on your red-rimmed eyes is nearly humorously instantaneous, but he doesn't ask, and you're ashamed to bring it up.
"Emily back?" you ask him.
"No. She and Morgan are still searching." He turns to the desk behind him, covered in old scrap tech. "How has handling the exterior evidence collection been?"
"Um, it's still happening. You know. It's a lot to process physically."
He gives you a look. If evidence is still being catalogued, why are you here?
"Hotch, do you have any benadryl?" you ask reluctantly. Your request is punctuated with a sniffle.
Spencer comes barrelling into the room. "I found something."
Hotch prioritises the case, obviously, but he gives you another look, this one saying, Come with me. You would've anyways, more than interested in what Spencer has to show. Together, the three of you head across the property to the barn, where Spencer climbs up a ladder into a hayloft.
Hotch listens attentively, and he shoots off his own theories. You try very hard to listen and add your own input whilst smothering a sneeze, the itching sensation at the corners of your eyes like torture.
A warm hand touches yours.
You look down, already flushed with heat but your body is happy to do it again, apparently. Contact with Hotch is always so charged, at least on your end.
His hand turns subtly outward, offering a small plastic wrapped packet of kleenex. You swear he holds onto it longer than he needs to, his fingertips brushing imperceptibly against yours as you take the tissues.
You extract one without fuss to wipe your nose and dry your watering eyes.
"I'm sorry," Hotch says quietly, as Spencer sorts through papers for something particular upstairs. "I meant to bring you these in the morning, but we've been here all night– it slipped my mind."
You hate bringing any attention to yourself when it comes to your allergies, and you don't like thinking that Hotch is thinking about them when they aren't present, but then something twists into place in your head, so to speak, like an upside down puzzle piece righted, you can slot it into the picture without problem. The puzzle isn't finished or anything, but it's a clue. He's sorry he didn't give you any tissues this morning, preemptively, because he knew you'd have a reaction?
Hotch must really care about you.
But now isn't the time for that discussion. You're not sure what you'd say, anyways.
You step in front of him a touch, a half step, and let your arm hang at your side. Hesitant, with your heart beating between your ears like a monkey toy on the cymbals, you reach backward. Your unsteady hand brushes against his.
Hotch, brilliantly, astoundingly, brushes back. His index finger draws a slow, light line up your palm.
"Here!" Spencer says, shocking you apart. He holds a drawing up over the wooden balcony. "Can you believe it?"
Phantom heat crawls over your skin from Hotch's touch. You open your mouth to respond and find it promptly snapping closed as a sneeze rocks your entire frame.
"Allergies?" Spencer asks.
You groan. Hotch tells Spencer to keep working and turns to leave. "I'll go find those benadryl," he murmurs to you.
You can't answer him, caught in the middle of a sneezing fit.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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heal me.
there’s a new medic in town, and ellie williams is about to find out who she is.
ellie williams x fem!reader, pt 2 here
warnings: fluff, mention of cuts/wounds, medical setting, suggestive themes. wc 1.3k
a/n: first time writing an ellie fic! if this does well i might post a second + third part <3
Ellie hated anything to do with doctors. She could take care of herself perfectly fine, she swears. But Dina witnessed her earning a nasty gash during a patrol, and wouldn’t shut up about it unless she got it checked out.
Word was that there was a new medic in town. Ellie’s pretty sure she’s seen you around Jackson. Walking around in those dumb white clothes, tending to everyone who needed you.
You’ve seen her too. Sneaking glances anytime you could. I mean, Ellie was pretty, and it was no big deal, right?
That is, until a flash of auburn hair ducks into the med clinic, and you nearly jump out of your skin.
Ellie clears her throat. “Uh… you guys are pretty much done for the night, right?”
She’s hoping you would say yes so she could just go back home and rest. Watch a movie, maybe. Have everyone fuck off and leave her alone.
You nod, clicking your pen, when you notice her clutching her side. “But I’ve got time for one more.”
You were on call, anyway, so your shift was never really over.
Fuck, she thinks. Ellie has always had trouble asking for help. She could take care of herself just fine. It didn’t help that you were so nice — nauseatingly so — but she figures that’s why you’re the town medic and she’s not.
“Follow me,” You add, motioning her over to the first room on the left. Even though meds were hard to come by, bandages were plentiful, and you weren’t gonna pass up the opportunity to tend to your crush.
Totally innocent crush.
“So, what was it?” You ask, eyes scanning over the girl as she takes a place on the edge of the hospital bed.
“Some fuckers we ran into, lone group. Nothing too serious... think they were looking to steal shit.” Ellie mutters. “But one took a swing at me and I fell on something sharp. My friend’s been bugging me to come here, get it checked out.”
Your conversation pauses as you take her vitals. Everything is in a normal range.
“The group…” You break the silence, looking down. “Are they a concern?”
“They’re gone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
You felt a light blush rise on your cheeks. Ellie was so strong, and brave. It showed, even in the way she just talks about her patrols.
You flit your eyes back up, trying to refocus. “So can I see? The wound?”
“Oh. Right.” Ellie’s fingers dip down to grab the hem of her shirt, and pull up. For a moment, you only see her toned stomach. You try not to get distracted.
Then you see the bandage under her ribcage.
Your fingers are gentle when they graze over the gauze. It’s a barrier, but Ellie swears it’s like you’re touching her directly. You move to peel it off of her.
Ellie absentmindedly sucks her breath in through her teeth. You whisper a small apology.
“It’s not… bad right?” She says after a moment. “I mean, I’ve had worse.”
She made a mental note to get onto Dina. This whole thing made her look like a fucking pussy.
“I’m sure you have,” You smile meekly, examining the cut. “No… not bad.”
After washing off your hands, you pull up a chair in front of Ellie. She watches you carefully as you sigh.
“Won’t need stitches, and no signs of infection.” You add. “But I can at least disinfect it and send you off with some new dressing.”
“I mean, it’s fine, I can—“
“No, let me.” You say quickly, cutting off her retort. “You’re already here, right?”
Ellie opens her mouth, then closes it. You had a point. She merely nods instead.
You reach down for the bucket of clean water. When you come back up, you notice Ellie has removed her shirt completely. The only thing clinging to her upper body is a flimsy sports bra.
“Oh,” You all but whisper accidentally.
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
The rag becomes stained as you wipe the area. A few swishes, and the water in the bucket has turned a cloudy mahogany.
“So… your friend,” You add. “Was it Dina?”
Ellie raises her eyebrows slightly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”
“She must really care about you.” You say quietly. It takes Ellie a moment to realize what you’re implying. She’s quick to answer.
“Oh, yeah. Not like that anymore, though. It’s… just friends now.”
You take that as confirmation that their relationship ended. And even though in a way you were happy to find out Ellie is now single, it would be rude not to apologize.
“Oh.” You mumble. “Sorry.”
She looks down. “It’s cool.”
You disinfect the wound with some alcohol before applying new dressing with gentle fingertips. You smile up at the brunette.
“Good as new.”
She feels herself smiling back. She wants to kick herself; she didn’t even wanna be here in the first place. But now it doesn’t feel like a mistake after all.
“Thanks,” She says. Her gaze has softened.
You grab something out of the cabinet. Ellie realizes it’s fresh bandages when you outstretch your hand to her.
“So, just… use these. Every couple hours, change it out, till it scabs over. If you ever need more you know where to get it.”
Ellie knows this. But she realizes that she likes hearing you talk, so she thinks of something else to ask.
“Uh, and how do I know what to look for? If I have an infection?”
“Oh,” You say. “Here, lay back. I’ll show you.”
Something about the way you’re hovering over Ellie has her stomach fluttering. You were so tentative. Why hadn’t she tried to talk to you sooner?
“Gotta check it everytime you change your dressing. If it smells weird, or feels hot…”
Your fingers trace over her body yet again. Her eyes are stuck on you, the way your hair falls into your face. The way your lips move to explain everything. Not to mention how soft your skin felt on hers.
She thought the whole “hot nurse” trope was something that only happened in movies. It was pretty clear now that she was wrong.
“Got it?”
“What?”
Shit. She wasn’t listening.
“Do you get it now?” You repeat, looking down at Ellie.
She blinks before propping herself up with her elbows. “Uh… yeah. Think so.”
You smile again, leaning back so you’re no longer positioned over her. You take your place against the counter.
Ellie didn’t hear a word. But she’ll make the effort now to be extra gentle with herself, because of you. If that’s worth anything.
Silence fills the room once again as Ellie pulls her shirt back over her head. You sneak in one last glimpse before she’s fully clothed.
“If something changes you can always come back and see me.” You add with a breathy laugh. “I’m in here, like, all the time.”
“Oh yeah?” She asks, looking up at you. “I’ll have to stop by again sometime, then.”
Your heart skips a beat. Is she trying to flirt with you? No, it’s probably nothing.
You clear your throat. “Hopefully not under these circumstances.”
“Right,” She says. Her eyes widen as she realized she’s extended her stay. “I’ll, um… I’ll go. Get out of your hair.”
Ellie’s never used that expression before. She nearly facepalms. So stupid.
But then you laugh a little, and it’s such a beautiful sound when it hits her ears.
“I don’t mind.” You add bashfully. “But… you need to rest and get better. Go back to kicking ass, all that stuff.”
Ellie feels her face wanting to turn red again. You were so sappy, and shameless with it. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, really. She didn’t think people like you even existed at all anymore.
She merely hums, unable to find the right words to say. If she sticks around any longer, she might actually develop feelings for you as if she hasn’t already. So she opts to bid you goodbye.
“Well… see you around.”
You nod, watching her head for the door. You hold the clipboard to your chest in an effort to soften your heartbeat.
“Night, Ellie.”
— part two
#ellie williams#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x y/n#tlou2 fanfic#ellie tlou2#the last of us
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Chapter 2: I didn't have it in myself to go with grace
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader
WC: 2.0k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, negative self-talk (Colin bby🥺🤏), a small part of the dialogue is in French
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
April 16, 1816 – And of course, one cannot forget to mention Lady Y/N Montclair, who looked like a vision in her emerald dress at the Danbury Ball last night. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the gentlemen in attendance, and they were practically lining up to engage her in conversation. It was a sight to behold, watching them swoon over her. However, one can hardly blame them, given how effortlessly graceful she was. It appears Lady Montclair will have more than enough gentlemen to choose from this season…
Eloise scoffed and rolled her eyes, the newest Whistledown in hand as she sat on a couch in the tearoom. “My word, if she hadn’t been in Tuscany last season I would think Lady Montclair herself was Lady Whistledown! She’s only been here two days and she’s already been mentioned more than most of the ton.”
Benedict chuckled from his seat across the room, shooting a look at a disgruntled-looking Colin who was trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to Eloise reading Whistledown’s account of the ball.
“I’d wager that Colin is Whistledown, actually. I’m convinced after today’s column,” Benedict said teasingly, taking a bite out of an apple as he analyzed the sketch in front of him.
“First of all, I don’t even write like Whistledown, which you would know if you read the letters I sent while I was in Greece,” Colin shot back, irritated. “And second, even if I were, I certainly would not have spent two full pages talking about Lady Montclair. I’m sure I have no idea why Whistledown thought she warranted such a large portion of the column today.”
The words felt bitter and unpleasant in his mouth, and he regretted them instantly. He knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help his defensive tone after last night. Eloise, catching onto Colin’s tone, cocked her head toward Benedict and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“She didn’t want to dance with him,” explained Benedict, sounding highly amused about what was one of the more embarrassing things to happen to Colin.
Eloise burst out laughing. “No! A woman who didn’t want to dance with Colin? Something must be incredibly wrong in the world! How could she have said no to London’s golden boy? And on his first day back! Shall we call for a medic?”
Colin felt the blood rushing to his face and his cheeks warming, not particularly pleased to have to deal with his sister's teasing today. He knew he was being ridiculous, that much was clear. You were only one person who hadn’t wanted to dance with him. But you had just looked so beautiful, and the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed with your brother was so enchanting, that he fashioned himself half in love with you already.
It was slightly gut-wrenching to know you didn't feel the same way. He must have done something, Colin reasoned. No one had ever not liked Colin simply because of who he was, and he was more than a little concerned that you seemed to be the first.
Eloise had been joking, of course, when she called Colin London’s golden boy. But it wasn’t as much of a joke as he would have liked. Anthony was a viscount, and Benedict was a successful artist with a painting in the national gallery, but what did he have to offer? He was just aimlessly traveling the world, documenting his travels in a journal no one would ever read. His own family didn’t even read his letters, for Christ’s sake. He was a third son with no talents, and the only thing he could do was lean into his charm and good nature and hope that people liked him anyway. And he had been relatively successful thus far. Except for with you, it seemed.
Noting Colin’s uncharacteristic grim mood, Eloise briefly panicked, wondering if she had gone too far. With a far softer tone, she added, “Maybe her dance card was full, Colin. It doesn’t mean she didn’t want to dance.”
But Colin shook his head, placing his chin on his hand. “I highly doubt it.”
He knew better than to assume the best. He was remarkably skilled at reading people, but even without that, it had not been difficult to tell that you were full of contempt. For him or someone else, he couldn’t be completely sure, but the way you had been laughing and smiling with everyone except for him was a particularly useful hint.
Before he could dwell further, Violet entered the tearoom. “We’ll be going to Hyde Park to promenade today, darlings.” It was far easier to coerce her children into doing her bidding when she didn’t give them a choice.
Ignoring their grumbling, she left the room, calling out over her shoulder, “Be ready in one hour!”
---
Colin had barely been at the park five minutes before he spotted you, and he drew in a sharp breath. God, it was infuriating. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, chatting pleasantly with your mother, and he wanted to scream. Of course, you looked completely breathtaking. It was exactly what he needed when he was already nervous about approaching you.
During the carriage ride, he had decided to try to speak to you again. To be your friend, at the very least. Perhaps you did not want him as a suitor, but the thought of someone in the ton actively disliking him was nauseating.
So, he steeled himself, staring longingly at you. Now was as good a time as any because, for some miraculous reason, there seemed to be no men hounding you at the moment. You had separated yourself from your family slightly, silently observing who he could only assume was one of your older sisters and her husband.
He made his way over to you, hands fidgeting behind his back nervously. Swallowing down his fear, he cleared his throat as he approached you, a soft smile on his face.
“Lady Montclair, it’s lovely to see you here today. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot at the ball last night, and I wanted to offer an apology.” Your face was completely blank, not giving anything away, and Colin found himself a tad more nervous than he was when he first walked up to you. “Perhaps we could promenade?” he finished weakly.
An apology? What on earth was Colin Bridgerton on about? There was no way he’d seen you in the hallway, right?
“An apology, Mr. Bridgerton? Whatever for?” you asked carefully, not giving anything away.
Colin cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t quite sure himself, to be honest. “Well, I’m afraid I might have offended you by asking to dance so suddenly. It might have been a bit brash to ask for a dance without a proper introduction first.”
You almost sagged in relief. Your reputation was safe. Though now you seemed irrationally angry, despising Colin for no apparent reason. However, it wasn’t in your nature to make nice with someone who viewed women simply as breeding stock.
Curtly, you responded, “I can assure you, Mr. Bridgerton, that that did not offend me. Had we been properly introduced, my answer would have been the same.”
“Oh,” he said softly.
You stared at him blankly, with no hint of warmth in your gaze. Sensing your hostility, he promptly turned away from you, returning to his family. Anger burned in his chest. What the hell was your problem with him? He’d barely spoken two words to you, and you had acted like he had offended your entire bloodline.
When his anger subsided, Colin had a sobering thought. For the first time in his charmed life, someone simply did not care for him. And the worst part? He hadn’t even caused it. Colin, who prided himself on his charm and wit, found himself in the position of being disliked without cause.
He suddenly felt very inadequate. It was a foreign feeling, and it settled quite uncomfortably in his chest. If you were determined to hate him, so be it. But to hate him without reason? That, Colin could not agree to.
If you insisted on casting him as the villain in your narrative, then he would play the role with ease. If you wanted a reason to dislike him, then a reason you would have.
You stared after Colin, eyes narrowed. His ability to act like a complete gentleman would have been impressive if it wasn’t so disturbing.
“Ma grande,” your mother called, coming to your side (My dear). “Did I just see you being rude to Colin Bridgerton? He left fairly quickly,” she scolded gently.
“Non, maman. Ne t'inquiète pas,” you assured (No, Mom. Don’t worry). Upon seeing her unimpressed look, you switched to English. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“Well, you don’t seem to like him very much,” she observed.
You let out a nervous laugh, waving her comment away. “I don’t know him well enough to dislike him, maman!”
You needed something to distract her from this line of questioning. Your mother knew you well enough to tell when you were lying, and she would be positively furious if she uncovered the real reason why you despised Mr. Bridgerton.
Fortunately, a distraction arrived by the name of Lord Arthur Barlow.
“Lord Barlow,” your mother called out excitedly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing my daughter, Y/N Montclair.”
“Lady Montclair,” he smiled warmly, stretching his hand out to you. “A name as lovely as its bearer, I daresay.”
“Lord Barlow,” you answered shyly, placing your hand in his. You felt your cheeks heating up as he kissed the back of your hand, and you were taken aback. This entirely charming man had disarmed you completely in a matter of seconds.
"Lord Barlow, the Duke of Monmouth," your mother announced with a flourish, her eyes bright with approval at the budding acquaintance. "Shall we take a turn about the park? I would be delighted to chaperone."
Subtlety was not her specialty. Or perhaps not her priority. Though you couldn’t really be upset with her, given how good-looking the Duke was. He nodded graciously at your mother and placed your hand at the crook of his elbow, smiling down at you as you began to stroll.
You were so enthralled you barely registered him speaking. “I hear you’ve got a knack for languages, Lady Montclair,” he remarked, prompting your attention.
“Yes, your Grace. I speak five languages, and read Sanskrit,” you answered dutifully. Such accomplishments were no small feat in the circles of the ton, and you knew it put you at an advantage in the marriage mart.
“Most impressive, indeed,” he answered, his gaze thoughtful. “My brother’s wife is from Prussia, and I’m sure she would love a chance to speak in her native tongue.”
The Duke's boldness caught you off guard, the suggestion of speaking with his sister-in-law a surprising turn. "Oh," you murmured, slightly taken aback by his directness.
“And what else do you like to do?” asked Lord Barlow, smoothly transitioning the conversation.
A well-prepared response rolled off your tongue, a practiced smile gracing your lips. “I am well-versed in needlepoint, and enjoy playing the pianoforte,” you smiled. It was what was expected of a young woman of your stature, after all.
Lord Barlow nodded appreciatively, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “And how do you find England? I’m certain you’re missing the Tuscan sun,” he said, pushing the conversation to lighter topics.
The Duke's engaging manner, paired with the approval of your mother, had utterly charmed you. Engaged by his charisma and easy conversation, you found yourself giggling during your conversation, utterly captivated.
Unbeknownst to you, Colin Bridgerton observed
from afar, his gaze sharp with a mixture of irritation and something deeper brewing beneath the surface. Each laugh, each shared glance between you and the Duke, stoked the flames of his simmering displeasure.
—
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Your requests say semi open and I don’t know if this would count as a headcanon or not so I’m just gonna go for it,, but I read a Vil fic from you and you mentioned how he knows his dorm mates appetites and makes them a meal plan or something similar. I don’t know if that’s canon or not cause I haven’t played that far into the game yet but what if the reader is new to their dorm so Vil tries to figure out their appetite and likes just to realize he’s never actually seen you eat before, even in the cafeteria (maybe just drinks or smoothies from time to time). Not that the reader has a disorder, just that they forgot to eat, is too lazy to, just doesn’t want to eat at that time, mainly eats at night or can just go long hours before feeling hungry. Now I have read your rules but I don’t know if this would count as any mental illness/disorder, so if it does then you can just ignore this and go on with your day. But if this doesn’t then could Vil lowkey observe (or ig just ask) the reader to figure them out or maybe even gain feelings while doing so? Again you can just ignore this if you’re uncomfortable with it but thank you anyways
⁀➷ ˖ LACK OF APPETITE
notes ─── hello dear! it is actually canon that he creates routines and diets for his dormmates, it’s so sweet. anyways, sorry if this took too long but here you go! hope this is to your approval <3
VIL SCHOENHEIT ─── he does his best for all his dormmates, but you make it difficult. ♡ fluff mostly, gender neutral, mentions of not eating, lowercase intended, reader was in heartslabyul before they transferred, hints at feelings during the end
vil liked to pride himself in his ability to help his dormmates become the best version of themselves. he was careful and observant ─ meticulous in how he created diets and routines that worked best for every person in his dorm. everyone had their own diet, their own skincare routine, it was different for everyone. vil would spend nights in his room or the commons, noting down what certain students could and couldn’t eat, adding in allergies and current medical status. he wanted everyone to be their best self and that started with a routine.
but not many knew about his late planning, how much effort he put into making sure his dormmates felt confident in who they were and were healthy while doing so. pomefiore dorm residents complained. vil didn’t often hear them but he knew, but he couldn’t be upset about it, they followed his advice either way ─ he didn’t care if they hated him in the process.
everyone in his dorm had a routine, a diet, even the freshmen he had spent a few late nights working hard to create a fitting diet for. ─ well, everyone did, that is, until you, a junior recently transferred from heartslabyul, came to his dorm. vil did what he always did when it came to creating a diet for his dormmates. but after many nights of a lack of development in his notes about you, creating a diet for you proved, simply put, difficult.
if vil hadn’t seen you bite into the occasional apple slices or drink a small smoothie every once in a while, he would almost be under the impression you didn’t eat at all ─ which is ridiculous, but one can’t blame him when he hardly sees you pick up food, even as you sit in the cafeteria, scrolling through your phone and sitting with trey and cater as they ate their own lunch. neither of them seemed fazed by your lack of lunch, hardly batting an eye when you joined them and began a conversation. even when you denied an apple from trey, they didn’t seem all that concerned.
vil can admit he was starting to grow concerned the longer he watched this lack of routine in your diet. this was not good for your health ─ not eating. although you didn't look to be lacking nutrition, that didn't do much to sway vil’s concern for one of pomefiore’s residents.
vil was not one to dwell, if he had a question then he would simply ask.
that moment came after he had not seen you at dinner once more, despite you being one of the four in charge of dinner duty that night. ─ he asked the three dorm residents who were on cooking duty with you, and they shrugged, commenting that you said you “just weren’t all that hungry”. a repeating response you often give around breakfast and dinner time. ─ and vil thought it to be a good time to voice his concern with your lack of eating, so he began his way to your room.
“housewarden?” you asked with a bit of surprise, blinking at the actor who had just knocked on your door. you narrowed your eyes with confusion, and a little bit of concern, wondering if you had done something wrong, or if you had forgotten something. “is everything alright?”
vil nodded, quickly cutting to the chase of his visit before you could ask any more questions, “i have a concern, so if you could answer me truthfully, it would be appreciated.”
you blinked at him again, confusion visible in your expression as you repeated his words, “a concern?” you scratched your cheek awkwardly, releasing the hold you had on your bedroom door after opening it to his knocking before. “okay, sure.”
“[name],” he said your name rather sternly, “have you been eating properly?”
you let out a noise that sounded almost like a huh. you half expected this concern to be about your grades or school conduct (not that either were a cause for concern. you think). but to hear him ask about eating habits ─ wait, did he learn about the late nights you would sneak into the kitchen to make you food? you thought you were being careful! did rook find out? that hat wearing vice housewarden did always seem to know everything but would he snitch on you if he discovered your secret? trey was always more lenient back in heartslabyul, even when he would stumble upon you casually cooking a grilled cheese in the dark. perhaps you shouldn't have assumed rook would be the same (but trey also said he'd probably stay quiet if he did find you.)
“what do you mean?” you asked, hoping you weren't about to get in trouble for your late night snacking (snacking would really be an understatement, sometimes you'd cook yourself a complete meal).
“you’ve only been here for two weeks and yet you've skipped every breakfast and dinner, always with the same excuse.” he explained, to which you pursed your lips. “you also don't eat lunch, to my knowledge, even when you sit with your old dormmates. so, i ask again, are you eating properly?”
you were surprised, effectively caught off guard by your new housewardens confrontation. ─ “ah, shit.” you gasped, covering your mouth after the slip of the tongue, “i’m so sorry, housewarden.”
but vil didn't seem to bat an eye at your words, “if you struggle with food─.”
“it’s not like that!” you quickly interrupted him, before scrambling to apologize for doing so, “i’m sorry, but that's not it all.”
your words gained you a look from vil that clearly held the question “then what is it?”. you sighed and your shoulders slumped ─ you never quite liked explaining your odd eating habits (or lack-there-of), because no one ever understood and always told you, you needed to stop. but it's not your fault!
but vil showed a concern, and you didn't want your eating habits to be mistaken for something more. ─ so you broke into a ramble of an explanation.
“i do eat! swear., i actually think i eat pretty well!” you looked at your housewarden with an almost awkward grin, hoping that would be the end of it. but when that didn't seem to be a satisfactory answer for vil, you sighed and crossed your arms, and found yourself continuing into a familiar explanation.
"i don’t have a problem with eating. I’m just not usually hungry in the mornings so i just don't eat. but i do make myself food to have between my classes. but then i’m not hungry by lunch so i don't eat. and about dinner, i know i skip it, but i eat, just well, when everyone is asleep.” you scratched your cheek again, almost smiling embarrassingly as you added, “and uhm, well, sometimes, y’know, i forget.”
vil was silent for a moment, nodding slowly, “i see. i’m relieved to know you do eat.” you nodded and smiled at your new housewarden, but that smile faded when he looked back at you with a stern glare, “but, we do need to talk about this. it isn't very healthy.”
you frowned, “we do?”
vil was relieved to know you did eat ─ although you lacked a routine, you at least weren't unhealthy by going without food. but he certainly didn't enjoy finding out that there were moments eating simply crossed your mind, and you went without doing so. nor was he happy when he learned you would spend nights sneaking around the dorm to cook yourself something to eat or take something from the fridge to quickly snack on.
with the news of your rather not-so-ideal eating habits, he brought up helping you create a proper routine (and with it, a healthy, more steady diet), offering to create a process that would help you build one slowly, to your own rhythm.
and you did agree, although, maybe with some hesitance. ─ you have tried giving yourself a routine, knowing that your habits weren't so ideal (especially forgetting to eat until the clock struck two and you were hit by the empty grumble of your stomach). but you ultimately, always failed.
and so that's how you found yourself with a written schedule, one that explained your choice breakfast. a choice to eat between classes so that you will at least have energy to eat lunch, as well as dinner choices if you don't eat what was made. none of them were extreme, you noticed ─ vil had truly taken into account everything you told him. ─ your lack of appetite in the morning being one.
“good morning, [name].” you were greeted by the actor upon entering the dining room of pomefiore, many of your fellow dorm residents already sitting at the table. “will you be joining us? there's apples and other fruits on the table.” ─ and on the table there was a bowl of selections between fruits, something small but food nonetheless.
“oh, sure!” you smiled, following your housewarden as he led you to the others. ─ a first small step to the beginning of a routine.
it was not easy to get used to a new routine, one that changed with your progress. ─ two weeks in, you did sit with your dormmates at breakfast, but always chose to eat a fruit or something else that was small (and vil approved). you still lack an appetite in the morning, and you doubted that would change. and then there was lunch ─ there were times you didn't eat, simply forgetting to grab a lunch as you greeted your friends. and then come dinner time, it was similar to lunch, forgetting and moving on to your room to study or entertain yourself until vil came to get you with a sigh.
but vil seemed to understand, even offering to remind you if it ever seemed like you were going to forget to eat again.
this all inevitably led to more time spent with your housewarden ─ more than you had ever spent with riddle back in heartslabyul. and you learned about vil much like he learned about you.
vil schoenheit was a man who enjoyed routine in terms of skin and diets ─ he wanted the best for those around them. he was concerned for you and your eating habits (or perhaps rather, lack of), so he did his best to help you ─ to help you make a healthier, less worrying habit of diet.
“housewarden!”
vil paused, turning away from rook, who he was just conversing with to face the familiar voice. you waved and smiled at vil and and pomefiore’s vice housewarden as you approached, just before stopping in front of them.
“hello, [name].” vil greeted.
“are you guys going to the cafeteria?” a nod from vil only kept your grin on your face, “mind if i join you guys?”
vil looked back at his friend, who obviously held no objections to the new addition to their duo, smiling an all too familiar smile. he turned back to you with another nod, “not at all.”
“great!” you almost skipped alongside him as the three of you set out for the cafeteria, with you and rook breaking into easy conversation.
you eventually turned away from the hat wearing eccentric and towards your housewarden, humming, “say, have you heard what the ghosts will be be having today?”
“a most favored sandwhich is on the menu!” rook answered for vil, and you turned to him, blinking. “but i fear we may be too late to get one of our own.”
“awe,” you sighed, “that’s too bad, i kinda wanted a sandwich for lunch today. maybe they'll have other choices.”
vil looked at you after your comment, and smiled, “you’ll be eating lunch today, [name]?”
“yeah! a sandwich, probably. what do you think?” you looked at vil with a smile that didn't hide your own pride in yourself. you were happy to have found an appetite for lunch, (and remembered too!).
“that's good. i’m sure they'll have good choices to choose from. they often do.” vil nodded, and you lit up at the praise in his words ─ and vil was proud, glad you were finally going to eat something that wasn't just a smoothie and an apple. ─ you were making progress.
perhaps he'll have a sandwich as well.
this was fun and relatable. i forget to eat or just don't eat at a time one would think you should. or just lack an appetite. i need vil </3
sorry if there's any mistakes. i proofread this late at night.
do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai
#𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ❝ requests ❞#shrimpnetwrk#vil schoenheit#twisted wonderland#twst#x gender neutral reader#x male reader#twisted wonderland x male reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader#twst x male reader#twst x reader#twst x gender neutral reader#vil schoenheit x male reader#vil shoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit x gender neutral reader
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The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 3
Hi. So here is part 3 (again, this will have another part because I am determined to get it happy at the end; it's just taking me a while to get there ahahah). Big thanks to @lyak12 for helping me work out my issues with the fic <3
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue
Ona Batlle x Reader
Flashbacks are in italics
TW: Injury, R ain't ok mentally, suggestiveness
Description: R comes home from Australia to start her recovery
Word Count: 3.6k
You had required three surgeries in total to fix everything – an emergency one to save your leg, one to place the screws and realign everything and one to reattach the ligaments in your knee. The damage the tackle had done was extensive; your shin was splintered into 3, some coming through the skin, and the force of the collision ruptured your ACL and meniscus ligament, too. No one dared show you the video, and you weren’t bothered to look it up. Even though you couldn’t remember what happened, you’d have the scars for life. You had asked what the timeline was for when you could get back on the pitch. One doctor had said it was an if not a when. You didn’t like that doctor. It would be a when – football was your lifeline, your escape when times were tough. You didn’t know how you would cope with it. Your physios at Barca had said that when … if … you were back on the pitch, your playing style would have to change. They had told you in broken English that you probably would never play the same and would have to rely on speed and technical ability rather than strength in matches. But that was ok; as long as you were on the pitch, you didn’t care how you had to play, just so long as you could.
You flew back to Barcelona a month after the World Cup. You wanted to be back earlier, but you hadn’t been cleared to fly and definitely hadn’t been cleared to fly halfway across the world. The medical staff in Australia were lovely – sneaking you extra desserts, cheering every milestone, no matter how small, braiding your hair, and helping apply your moisturiser when you were too tired to do it yourself. Your family had only seen you that first day. You didn’t mind – you didn’t particularly like when they were around anyway. It was always too loud with them. The bad kind of loud. The Lionesses were the good kind of loud. They had piled into your room, staying as long as possible. Georgia had left you with her Tamagotchi, making you promise her you’d try to keep it alive. Being suitably distracted by the mountain of sugary sweets piled on your bed by Hempo, much to the horror of Leah and Sarina, you missed the way Lucy eyed you wearily.
You considered Lucy a big sister, especially since moving to Barcelona. She had been concerned about you since you arrived. The happy, bubbly young woman she had come to care for deeply had retreated back into the quiet shell you had been when you first joined the senior squad. At first, she thought you were just nervous – she knew how scary it could be to be in a new city without many friends. But after a while, she knew it was something more sinister. She barely saw you outside of football; you were always making excuses to avoid team bonding or insisting you needed to stay late to work on things. Things you already excelled at. She grasped just how badly something was wrong with the first international camp of the new year. She thought you would return back to your old ways, finally being around your old friends and not having to navigate another language. But that wasn’t the case; if anything, you grew even quieter – especially around Alessia and Ella. That concerned her the most – you were closer than family to those two. They could always be relied on to drag a smile out of you. So, she kept an eye on you. Quietly observing your behaviour.
Whilst you hated that you weren’t back in Barcelona as quickly as you wanted to be, you were glad you didn’t have to see Ona again so quickly. That night was the last time you had seen her. You hadn’t said anything as she took a seat across from you. She hadn’t said anything as you started to drift into an uncomfortable slumber. Only when she was sure you were in a deep sleep did she break her silence.
“Mai podré dir-te com ho sento,” she whispered. “Sempre t'estimaré. Espero que algun dia em permetis estimar-te de la manera que et mereixes.”
“Oni, I can’t speak Catalan, remember? You’re going to have to repeat that in English.” You laughed as she chattered away. It was an off-day and oddly warm in Manchester. You lay with your head in her lap, top tucked up into your bra, exposing as much skin as possible in an effort to soak up the summer sun.
“Sorry, amor. I’m just happy it’s finally warm here. It reminds me of home a little bit.” She carded her fingers through your hair as you snuggled your face into her stomach.
“Tell me about it?” You asked gently. You loved hearing the stories of her home, her childhood, her life back in Spain.
“There’s this little cafetería back home. It sells the best Crema Catalana ever. I don’t know what they do, but, mmmm ... es tan delicioso. It’s even better than my Mamí’s. It’s so pretty too. It’s got this really cool tiled pattern flooring and vines on the wall at the front. During the summer, they open all the doors and play music and …” You could listen to Ona talk all day; the excitement when she mentions her home is unparalleled. You could feel yourself drifting into sleep – the warm weather, her gentle fingers scratching at your scalp, her intoxicating smell that wrapped around you like a soft hug.
“Mmmm,” you hummed happily. "It sounds fantastic. I wish I could visit,” you commented.
“You shall. I’ll take you. You’ll come to see my home, we’ll do all the touristy things in Barcelona, and then I’ll show you all the local spots in Vilassar de Mar, prometo,” She vowed.
“Good. I …” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I don’t want to see Barcelona without you.” Your eyes fluttered gently.
“You won’t. I won’t let you. You’re stuck with me for life, amor.” You smiled softly at her words. You liked the sound of being with Ona for life. “Ve a dormir, amor. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You nodded and allowed yourself to slip into a gentle dream.
Arriving home, it was easier to avoid Ona than you thought. You were still on strict instructions to rest. Alexia had tried to force you to stay with her. When that failed, Lucy had tried. You liked your space. You liked your private time. You felt like you could never fully relax around people … except for around Ona - that voice in your head reminded you. No! You couldn’t allow that voice to win. You had a recovery to think of now. You had compromised a little bit, though. You lived in the same building as Ingrid and Mapi, so you gave them permission to get a spare key cut. This allowed you to have people constantly checking on you without feeling like a burden on them. Alexia wanted a key for herself, but she lived on the other side of town, and you didn’t like dragging her so far from her usual daily routine.
To be honest, you were unsure if you wanted to see Ona. Alessia had quietly told you that you wouldn’t calm down on the pitch until Ona held you. In the extra month you were in Australia, you had come to terms with the fact you were still in love with her. You had tried to deny it when you initially came to Spain. But now it was just a fact you had to live with. That night in the hospital was so incredibly awkward … strange … nice. She had stood in a training top you were fairly sure was yours once upon a time, head hung low as she picked at her nails. You wanted to bat her hands away, to tell her to stop, but she had sat too far and out of your reach.
“I’m telling you, Y/N, something’s wrong with Ona”, Hayley whispered to you in the bathroom. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but she won’t stop picking at her nails; she’s really quiet. Something’s not right. I think something may have happened during the break.” You sighed deeply. You also think something may have occurred whilst she was in Spain. You had picked her up from Manchester Airport, and you could tell instantly something wasn’t right. 3 of her fingers were wrapped in plasters, and the others looked just as sore. When you extended your arms out to hug her, she looked a little apprehensive but stepped into your embrace anyway. No matter how much you wanted to keep her in your arms, you stepped away after a few short seconds. You had never seen her so tired, so different, so … you weren’t quite sure what had happened. You kissed her forehead gently as you ushered her to the car.
It didn’t take long for you to find Ona – she was sitting in your cubby after all. Despite your concern, your heart couldn’t help but flutter as you recognised your number on the hoodie she was wearing.
“Me gustas en mi ropa,” You said as you crouched in front of her, hands resting gently on her knee. She didn’t smirk like she usually would. She didn’t react when you started tracing gentle shapes on her bare legs. She just kept picking at her nails. “Oni… lo que le pasó?” You asked in the gentlest tone imaginable. She just shook her head, wiping a stray tear away. “No … hey, hey, hey, no. Oni. Mi niña hermosa. Don’t cry.” You surged forward. “Please don’t cry.” You didn’t know how to comfort her. You had seen her angry, you had seen her scared, you had seen her frustrated. But you had never seen her cry before.
You had eventually coaxed her into going home. You had waited until everyone had left—Hayley hurrying people along to let you deal with the situation. The force with which she gripped your hand left a sour taste in your mouth. You had kept your hand in hers the whole journey home and into your flat. You led her to the sofa as you lay down, pulling her on top of you.
“Now …” You started, “I’m not going to make you talk to me. But I can tell something happened when you were in Spain. I want you to tell me, but I’m not going to force you. Whatever you want to share that’s entirely up to you. But please, Oni … I’m not going to judge you, or laugh at you, or hurt you for telling me anything. Un problema compartido es un problema dividido, right?” You whispered as your fingers slipped under her jumper.
It took a while, but eventually, she told you. You held her as she cried over the conditions in the Spanish camp. You held her as she recounted the story of her being forced from her bed at 5 in the morning for a run and not being allowed to stop until she threw up or passed out. You held her as she ranted about how mean the coaching staff were to Pina, and when she had stepped in to intervene, she had it twice as bad. You held her as she eventually slipped into a fitful reprieve from the nightmare she had just returned from.
But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake Ona’s voice from your head telling you, you weren’t could enough for Barca. If she thought that before your injury, what would she think about you now? You were looking at a year off the pitch, at least, let alone having to train in a new style and learn a new way of playing that could have you set back even further. It echoed in your mind before behind, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, when you were with the team as they tried to help you feel better.
Most days looked similar for you in the first month you returned. You were still in a cast and brace, so you couldn’t do much. The doctors - and Alexia - had told you how important it was to establish and stick to a routine. So, you did. You woke up at 8.30 every morning. There was training – you obviously couldn’t go, but since all your friends had that schedule to stick to, so did you. You would go into the bathroom and have a really awkward shower; more often than not, you would flood the bathroom, then get ready for the day. Lucy told you that you needed to change out of your pyjamas every day, so you slipped on loose shorts and a shirt – your ‘day pyjamas’ you had christened.
You had breakfast with Ingrid and Mapi before they left for training, and then you sat on the couch. All day. With your mind slowly descending into chaos over everything that had happened. And then you would hear the conversations from outside that told you some of the girls were coming round to see you, and you plastered a smile on your face as you asked them about their day, and they would ask you about yours. On non-training days, you granted yourself a lie-in. Keira and Lucy would come by with pastries from the bakery down the round and fresh fruit for you to snack on. You would sometimes have a Lioness Facetime if everyone’s schedules allowed.
You had yet to go to a match or the training facility, watch a game on TV, or even just play Fifa. But that would come with time; you would have to go eventually because that was where the physios and trainers were. People thought you were reluctant to go because of what had happened. Which you were … a little bit. The main reason that made you nervous about going was Ona. A picture of her on your timeline had sent you into a spiral for a good few hours. You were scared of what seeing her in person would do.
You had seen the picture of her in the Champions League promotion. And she looked so good. You had stared for far too long at her beautiful smile that still took your breath away, her chiselled jawline that you used to pepper kisses across when you cuddled up against her, her veiny arms that had made you feel so safe and loved, her messy bun that you had jokingly begged her to teach you how to do, her freckled cheeks that would sport a soft pink hue every time you complimented her, the dimples you would poke at when she was trying to be angry at you but failing miserably.
“Great game today girls, you played fantastically. And well done to Ona.” You were standing next to her in the post-match huddle, she shyly groaned as her achievements were recognised in front of everyone.
“Mi Oni’s got her name on the score sheet,” You sang out as you walked back down the tunnel, arms wrapping around her waist. “We need to celebrate.” A round of cheers from everyone echoed the sentiment. Just as you were about to separate to go shower, you felt Ona squeeze you gently. “Hm?” You asked, scanning her features for discomfort.
“Could we do something … just us tonight?” As much as she loved the girls, she wanted a night with you. Alone. She looked so adorable as she quietly mumbled her desires to you.
“Absolutely we can,” your smile reassured her. You pressed your hands against her cheeks quickly before turning to head to the showers.
You didn’t even bother with an excuse when you messaged Lessi and Tooney.
Y/N: Sorry not coming tonight - other plans x
Tooney: Rude
Tooney: Do these other plans involve a Spanish defender???
Y/N: Maybe x
Y/N: She wanted to do something just us
Lessi: I want details! x
Y/N: Nothing’s going to happen
Y/N: U know we r just friends
Tooney: And I’m just friends with Joe :p
Y/N: Its just a MOVIE NIGHT x
Lessi: If u say so x
Tooney: stay safe x
Y/N: ffs and I do say so.
Y/N: text me when ur both home pls x
Lessi: Will do x
Your other plans involved very little deviation from your regular nights. She had cooked for you like always, serving up a delicious paella that had you begging her for cooking lessons. Over dinner, you relived her goal from your perspective and forced her to tell you what she was thinking when she sent it into the back of the net.
“Now that you’ve started scoring, you won’t stop. I’m telling you.” She had laughed at your promise. “I’m being serious here. We need to come up with a celebration for you.” She just hummed and kissed the top of your head as she gathered the plates and took them to the sink.
Later, you were lying on the sofa watching a Spanish movie she insisted on, telling you how it was a part of her childhood and she needed to share it with you. You weren’t paying any attention. You were far too distracted by her fingers running up your spine. It was driving you mad in the best way possible. Your ear was pressed against her chest, her heartbeat comforting and peaceful as you burrowed yourself deeper into her.
“Estás bien?” Ona asked, your movements catching her attention.
“Yeah.” You responded. “I’m really proud of you, you know that, right?” You shifted again, this time drawing yourself up to cage her in with your arms. The blush reappeared on her cheeks as you stared intently at her. God, she was so beautiful. “And I’m really happy you came to Manchester. You make everything better.” You told her honestly. She was getting overwhelmed. You could see that as she avoided your gaze. You gently poked the place where a dimple appeared when she smiled. “Oni …” you waited until she looked back at you. “Puedo besarte?” You said as you stared at her lips.
“Sí.” This wasn’t your first kiss, drunk or sober. But this time felt different. You couldn’t explain it. Her soft lips parted as you licked the seam of her mouth.
You continued to make out lazily on the sofa before Ona broke away for some much-needed air. You didn’t care, though. Your lips just moved to her neck – you were careful not to leave any marks, no matter how much you wanted to decorate the pale skin with dark splotches that claimed her as yours. She whimpered and whined underneath you until she was begging for more.
“Por favour. Do something. Anything. Necesito más,” she implored, hands tangling in your hair as you pulled away.
“Relajarse. Let me take care of you.” You sighed into her skin.
You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Her wicked words bounced around in your head. God, she had really ruined you. That was the first night you allowed yourself to truly feel everything, every emotion you had suppressed and bottled up for the last 9 months. It was painful. Raw. Terrifying.
At first, you were angry — so, so angry. Pure, unadulterated rage bubbled up and over the top of your carefully constructed walls. You threw a vase. It shattered into pieces like your heart had done all those months ago. It was satisfying, but you wanted more. You needed more. You ripped apart a cushion someone gave you as a housewarming present. You screamed and raged and shouted your emotions.
Then you cried. It started as a few lone drops that quickly became a torrent of unstoppable, hot tears. The sobbing hurt. It was painful and gut-wrenching. You had never cried like this before, and that scared you. These were the tears of someone heartbroken, and desperate. You cried so hard you thought you were about to throw up.
When you came to your senses, you were standing in the middle of the living room – how you got there was beyond you – feathers lightly floating around you, the wall had a slight dent, and someone was knocking frantically on your door. You didn’t move. If it was Ingrid or Mapi, they had a key. If it was Lucy or Alexia, they knew where to find the spare set. If it was anyone else, you didn’t want to see them.
Strong yet gentle arms pulled you to a warm body. The scent that engulfed you was soft and sweet. Alexia.
“Está bien, cariño. Let’s get you to bed, sí?” She was too gentle. Alexia didn’t do this kind of comfort. She offered practical solutions, honesty, and tough love.
“I… I’m scared,” You admitted as she helped you twist into bed.
“I know recovery can be scary, pequeña, but you will do it. It will be hard. But you can do it. Te lo prometo, puedes hacerlo. Everyone is going to help you. You can lean on us. We're here for you, bebita.” She was misunderstanding what you were referencing. You weren’t scared of recovery. You were physically healing well. A physio had been sent to your house from Barcelona to assess you at home to see whether you could start your rehabilitation at the club. She had asked you questions, and you had given the right answers. Your scars were healing well, and you had the expected range of motion for your injuries. Physically, you were right on track.
You were scared of your own mind. In the month you had been home alone, you had thought hard about anything. Ona had really broken you, yet you couldn’t let her go. What did that say about you? You had always thought you were stronger than that. You used to never understand what it was like when people would go back to an ex-partner who had broken their heart. Ona was never even officially yours, and she had managed to do so much damage.
This is becoming a lot more intense than I had planned ahahah. Hopefully, the next part will be out soon.
#woso#woso community#woso x reader#ona batlle x reader#ona batlle#woso imagine#woso blurbs#woso soccer#barca femeni x reader#barca femeni#fc barcelona#manchester united#man utd#man utd women#alexia putellas#lionesses#lionesses x reader#woso fanfics
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bleeding blue | apocalypse au
part nine
—other parts
pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
words: 3.2k
tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers.
summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.
a/n: no comment
The beam gave a nasty cut to your hand.
Tetanus, blood, infections— more threats.
You sit on a rock by the river to fix it up. Before you can dab on the hydrogen peroxide from your new med kit, Blue insists on doing it for you— soft fingertips against your broken skin. She is by far a gentler nurse than her father. You focus on her pink cheeks and scrunched nose as she concentrates. It helps you ignore the sting.
"You scared the shit out of me for a second there, Twix.”
"Sorry. I guess I need to work on my balance."
She gives a stilted laugh. The gauze comes next, just a thin layer since the bleeding has already stopped.
"Thanks for asking him to help me," you add in a whisper. You smile. "I don't think I've ever had a friend save my life so many times."
Blue cuts the gauze and begins tying it off. "I didn't actually have to ask him this time, you know. Like I said, he doesn’t hate you.”
You glance to where Ghost has taken the short break to lean against a tree and drink some water, pale jaw and pink lips exposed. An actual human hides under all that gear and horrifying mask. It annoys you that he doesn't just take it off.
You look back at her, eyes rolling. “You're lying."
She closes the med kit and shrugs. “Friends don't lie."
The afternoon sun bleeds white light over your cheeks as the three of you keep walking. Just meters away from the river, Ghost points out a small cabin. One that hunters used back in the day, you bet. He says it could be a good place to stay for the night. The scent of the rushing water nearby should do some to mask your human scent.
Rolling hills take place of the trees. To the west, you can see the faint outline of mountains dipped in white snow. Well, as much of mountains as you can find in England. They are not nearly as tall as the ones your parents used to take you skiing to in France.
You grow quiet and let Blue do all the talking. Maybe you are embarrassed after almost falling into the river.
Just when she asks - How much further? - something strange pops up in the distance. White medical tents— well, you assume they were once white. They are now torn and grey, with some blue crates beneath them. Confusion swells in your chest and you can't help but speak up.
"Why is this all here?" you ask, your boots stepping over some stray medical tools. Scalpels, tweezers, and syringes. Pressed into the rich earth like fossils. You would pick them up if they weren't rusted past the point of being useful.
"I don't know," Blue answers. "Ghost?"
"Emergency medical camp the military set up," he says.
"After shit happened?" she asks.
He gives a curt nod as he looks around at the remnants. "Those that were left were tryin' to help survivors in the first few days. Didn't last long, though."
"Is that what your friends were doing after you ditched them?"
"Told you, kid. They weren't my friends."
"Alright, teammates. Whatever. Were they helping with injured people here?" she asks curiously.
"A few of them were.”
Blue looks at you. "Twix, did I ever tell you about that?"
"Um. About what?"
"Well, Ghost was supposed to be working when shit happened," she raises her brows and juts a thumb at him. "But he snuck away from his post to get all our stuff and come find me and my mum."
You swallow at the mention of her mom and avoid looking at Ghost. "Snuck away?"
"Yeah," she nods, "It's called dessert."
"Desertion," he gruffly corrects her.
"What?" you ask.
"He abandoned his assignment," she explains. "But he always says he would do it again if he had to. Anyway, he used to talk to his teammates on his radio to see how they were and stuff— what was happening. But then they got too far away for it to work."
Of course Ghost had a radio.
Paul had one, too. You can remember huddling around that radio like it was a mouthpiece for some god. The static grew choppier and choppier over the first few days. The channels dwindled. Eventually, it stopped working altogether and you didn't learn much about what happened in the outside world. You did learn that London was one of the quickest cities to succumb to the infection. Then, Paris, Bangkok, and Chicago.
Everywhere.
You process the new information as you keep walking through the tents, peering into some opened crates to see if anything is left— nothing is.
Now you know Ghost left his post when he found out about the virus. He stocked up on supplies and then got Blue and her mom. By the way Blue mentions her, it must be an old loss. How long did her mother survive with them, then? Did she use to live in the cabin with them?
You don’t know why your stomach grows tight, but the questions in your brain fade once the military base comes into view.
"Finally," Blue sighs rather dramatically.
A high, chain-link fence surrounds the place. There are a few buildings and some abandoned vehicles that look like jeeps. The fence has multiple gaps cut into it so climbing is unnecessary. Ghost leads the way. You continue sniffing the air. With your bandaged hand, you keep your bow poised and subconsciously walk closer to their footsteps.
Ghost takes you to the main building in the center. The British flag flutters beside it on a pole, faded and as meaningless as the one sewn on Ghost’s bicep.
"Are we going through the barracks again this time?" Blue perks up.
"We have to go through 'em to get to the armory,” he says.
"Cool. There might be some good shit left behind."
There isn't much good shit, actually.
You don't know what the other military base they went to was like, but this one is unsettling and seems to be ransacked. Sunlight pours in through the shattered windows. Scattered papers and strewn bones decorate the tile floors. Thick cobwebs hang in the corners.
As you walk through the hallway of old dorms, Blue and Ghost stop looking in them after the first four turn out to contain only tipped-over cots, walls smeared with old blood, and even a few scampering vermin that make her yelp and grab hold of Ghost's arm.
He grows stiffer than usual. You don’t have to pry off the skull mask to know what he is thinking. Ghost is not the only person who thought of coming here. If these rooms are mostly empty, then what is left in the armory?
Still, you check out a few more of them on your own as they walk up ahead. You rummage through closets and drawers. You find three pairs of men's socks. More useful than one might think.
In one room, you kneel down by the unkempt cot to dig a black backpack out from under it. You can’t believe that Ghost, as big as he is, ever slept on these things. The backpack’s zipper catches as you try to open it, the metal teeth rusted, so you cut a hole in the fabric with your knife. Inside, you find another military-grade knife to add to your arsenal and some wrapped ready-to-eats.
When you check the closet, the sight of a full skeleton causes you to jump back in a startled step, a few rats running out between your boots.
"Oh, fuck," you mutter, noticing a bullet hole in the skull. A handgun lies beside the body, but you discover the magazine to be empty. Whatever bullet it once had was likely spent on this person's suicide. You stick it in your bag, anyway. A preserved uniform hangs loose on the bones. There is a mouth-sized tear in the forearm of the right sleeve, fitting for a bite. In the breast pocket, a silver chain spills out. Curiously, you grab it. A dog tag with an engraved name catches the light. John MacTavish. You run a thumb over the letters.
“Sorry, John.”
You decide to respectfully put it back in the pocket, and head out, satisfied enough with your modest finds. It’s not like you own as much as Ghost does. You leave the room and run to catch back up with them.
"You okay? Find anything?" Blue asks.
"Not much," you quietly admit. "A knife and some new socks."
"Finally. Your old ones are starting to stink," she remarks with a playful smirk.
You scrunch your nose at her, making a face. “Gee, thanks."
She returns the teasing gesture just before Ghost’s arm ushers her behind him.
The moment he does, your guard rises back up. You slap an arrow onto your bow. You smell them before you see them. Four - no, five - drag out of opened doorways up ahead along with a cacophony of whistled moans. Most are still dressed in the same military uniforms as the skeleton you found. One isn't wearing anything at all. It’s disgusting.
Ghost doesn't bother to let Blue practice this time.
He shoots the faster, fresher one first as it runs up to them. For the slower ones, he saves his ammo and opts for the axe. The sight of him effortlessly striking their skulls is almost enough to distract you. Almost. Your fingers release the string and send a headshot to the last one. It is a perfect shot. An arrow straight through the milky-white eye. One of your best.
You meet his eyes just as he slips the axe back to his waist, shooting him a raised brow. The two of you hold an awkwardly long stare-off. Though you loathe to admit it, you hope for some type of approval - for once - but all he gives is a short nod.
Blue retrieves the arrow for you and you tuck it back into your quiver.
"Great aim, Twix," she quips. "Where did you learn how to use your bow?"
"My old friend taught me a bit," you say as the three of you step over the fallen corpses.
"What was his name again?"
"Paul."
"Oh, right." She pauses, and then: "Were you having sex with him?"
"Jesus Christ, kid," Ghost says.
"What?" She peers up at him.
Before he can say anything else, you answer with a light flush crawling up your neck, “No, I wasn’t. He was just my friend.”
The three of you make it to the armory.
The aluminum door is already parted open. Ghost clicks on a flashlight and gives the room a quick sweep of fluorescent light before entering.
A number of pried-open crates and olive-green cabinets litter the inside. Drawers hang open like a tornado ripped through. A few stray rifles lay scattered on the floor. Ghost picks up each one and checks for cartridges. Empty. Each rifle is thrown back on the floor with more force than the previous. He needs more ammo, not more guns.
Whatever was in this armory is gone. This truth hangs heavy in the air. The mood shifts. Blue doesn’t talk. Billows of growing frustration roll off Ghost's body as he continues to search through every crevice and every drawer for almost an hour.
You know what he is feeling, even if he half-expected this.
It is a feeling that made you cry in the empty pharmacy. For Ghost, it ends up driving a clenched fist into one of the cabinets, dented metal left in its wake. He swears explosively. Another shudder runs through your spine, stealing your breath, but it feels far different from the one his soft voice invited.
"Is there... is there anywhere else we can check, Dad?" Blue speaks up softly. “Maybe in all those cars outside?”
He takes a moment to breathe before answering. "We don't have time to check ‘em all.”
“Well, maybe we could come back in the morning and look a bit more?”
“Maybe,” he says, but you read the tone in his voice. It is unlikely there is ammo left in the vehicles, and even if there is, it is definitely not as much as he was hoping to have found in here.
Before leaving, he stuffs one of the rifles in his backpack. An uncomfortable silence consumes the journey back through the hall.
You make it outside again. The afternoon has aged. You need to get back to that hunting cabin by the river before the threat of dark.
Ghost guides you back towards the fence.
You hear Blue's soft humming. The flap of the old flag. Your own steady heartbeat.
And then, out of nowhere, he stops and grabs Blue's arm to bring her to a halt beside him. He looks around. Confused, you scan the view up ahead of you, but all that is there are a few of those military jeeps and the fence you entered through. You sniff the air. It doesn't smell particularly awful.
Then, the cause for Ghost's unease arrives loud in your ears.
A single gunshot sounds from a direction you can't discern. Your heart stutters. The suddenness freezes you for a moment. In your peripheral, you think you catch a brush of movement in some bushes to your right.
Ghost quickly pulls Blue behind one of the vehicles for cover. Only when you feel the rush of another bullet whizzing past your shoulder do your legs finally move— so fast that your feet catch on the ground and you stumble down beside them. Your knees dig into the earth as you land on your hands, but you quickly lift up and press your shoulder against the side of the car.
You choke. "Ghost… people."
People are fucking shooting at us, is what you mean to say. Panic steals your voice.
Who? How many?
Another bullet ricochets off the other side of the car, clanking against the metal. And then another. Glass shatters.
Ghost doesn't respond to you. Underneath the loud sounds, a soft voice whimpers. You finally look to where Blue is propped up against the large tire, Ghost kneeling at her front. His hand is tightly clamped over the side of her right thigh, and it is now that you notice the blood soaking through her jeans and his glove.
Blue's blood.
Crimson and glistening.
She whimpers again and her fingers twist the fabric of his coat.
"Dad, it— it feels like it's burning," she cries out, her cheeks turning wet from a sudden onslaught of tears.
"Fuck. I know, baby. I know."
She flinches when another gunshot rings out. "W-What do we do?"
You try to form a proper thought— try to make sense of everything. Before you can, Ghost grabs your hand, firmly replacing his hold on her wound with yours. The warm liquid immediately drenches your palm and you swallow, pressing as hard as you can, attempting to pack it crudely.
He speaks decisively. "Stay here with her. Wrap it up.”
"Ghost, you don't know how many fucking people there are," you say, panic turning your voice into something unrecognizable as you place your other hand on his arm. The muscles tense and leap.
“I didn't fucking ask you. I am telling you. Now do it."
He doesn’t give you the opportunity to protest again, but you wouldn’t even if he did because you fully realize that this is the best course of action. He needs to get rid of them. You need to tend to her wound. A strangled cry leaves Blue's lips when he departs. You coax her with soft hushes.
"It’s okay. He'll be right back.”
Urgently, you sling the bag off your shoulder and take out your own med kit. You don’t think twice about it. Not for a second. Not when all you can think about is making sure her soft, blue eyes stay open. When you move your hand from her thigh, the sight worries and relieves you at the same time.
You don't know much about bullet wounds, but you know where the femoral artery runs, and by the looks of it, it was missed. Still, a nice chunk of her flesh has been torn, revealing obliterated muscle. You don't see any bone or bits of metal, but it is hard to see much of anything with all the blood.
With fingers that shake, you use the same gauze she nursed your hand with to begin tightly dressing her thigh. As you do, your eyes flash up and around in a feeble search for where Ghost could be, but you can’t see him from behind the vehicle.
"Is it bad?" she asks, voice laced with a tremor. When your gaze returns to her, you notice that pale lips replace her usual rosy-pink ones. Her forehead is sheened with sweat.
"It looks worse than it is," you say.
"Are you... are you telling me the truth?"
"I am. Promise," you whisper. "Friends don't lie, right?"
Sporadic gunfire continues to pierce your ears. It sounds more distant now. You have no idea if it belongs to Ghost or whoever these people are. You push the uncertainties away, assuring yourself that he can handle however many of them there are, and focus on tying off the gauze, desperate to keep her blood in.
Blue suddenly blurts out, “Twix.”
You look up and meet her eyes. They are pointed at something behind you.
#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#zombies
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Why Gandhi is a piece of shit and you should hate him.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi has been established in our history as a "Mahatma" which means "great soul"
This man is anything but that.
He is EVERYWHERE. He's on our currency, he's revered as a hero who saved India, and we have a mandatory holiday on October 2nd in honor of him.
If you didn't know, now you're going to get to know why he was a horrible human being. Let's begin.
This man managed to fool people Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela (among many others) into thinking he was a good person.
Here is some of the shit he's done:
In 1903, when Gandhi was in South Africa, he wrote that white people there should be "the predominating race." He also said black people "are troublesome, very dirty, and live like animals."
Refused to have sex with his wife for the last 38 years of their marriage. He felt that in order to test his commitment to celibacy, he would have beautiful young women (including his own great niece) lie next to him naked through the night. His wife, whom he described as looking like a "meek cow" was no longer desirable enough to be a solid test.
Believed that Indian women who were raped lost their value as a human.
During Gandhi's time as a dissident in South Africa, he discovered a male youth had been harassing two of his female followers. Gandhi responded by personally cutting the girls' hair off, to ensure the "sinner's eye" was "sterilised". Gandhi boasted of the incident in his writings, pushing the message to all Indians that women should carry responsibility for sexual attacks upon them.
He argued that fathers could be justified in killing daughters who had been sexually assaulted for the sake of family and community honour.
Gandhi also waged a war against contraceptives, labelling Indian women who used them as whores.
He believed menstruation was a "manifestation of the distortion of a woman's soul by her sexuality".
On 6th April 1947, he gave a speech where he said, “ If the Muslims are out there slicing through Hindu masses to wipe out the Hindu race, the Hindus should say nothing and peacefully accept death”.
He hated the great Hindu rulers, especially Shivaji Maharaj. To please the Muslims, he banned the book named ShivBhaavani which correctly depicted Islam’s intolerance and fierce fundamentalism spread by it.
Refused his wife life-saving medication (for religious reasons), but those religious reasons all of a sudden no longer applied to him when he was in a similar position.
Started a fast unto death when Ambedkar asked for separate electorates for Dalits.
Gandhi left his ailing father on his deathbed, to sleep with his wife. The child born out of this copulation died in infancy. According to Gandhi, the death of this infant was the result of this evil karma.
Gandhi, even when he claimed to be the angel of non-violence, made no efforts to prevent the British from deploying Indian troops at various locations during World War II.
Kashmir was invaded by Pakistan in 1947, the brutal Pakistani army committed heinous crimes against Kashmiri Pandits including mass rape and mass killings consequently many Pandits were forced to flee to Delhi and other places. In one incident Pandits took refuge in an abandoned mosque in Delhi. Infuriated, Gandhi threatened to fast to death if the Pandits didn't leave. The Pandits were slaughtered in a communal riot as soon as they abandoned the mosques.
Criticized the Jews for defending themselves against the Holocaust because he insisted that they should have committed public mass suicide in order to "shame" the Germans instead of fighting back. His exact words were, "But the Jews should have offered themselves to the butcher's knife. They should have thrown themselves into the sea from the cliffs. As it is, they succumbed anyway in their millions."
And this is all from a simple Internet search compiled here. I wonder what else is hiding if I do a deep dive.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
#hinduphobia#hindublr#desiblr#antisemitism#history#india#gandhi#can you guys tell i hate him#indian history#british empire#tw rape#tw assault
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some extra help- Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader
summary: this is a drabble kinda based on episode 3x02 but it's not a whole insert
TW: suggestive content but no smut, dress up, fluff (very cute if you ask me), it's not smut so not much to say here, very short talk about medical stuff (head injury, concussion), i think that's all
A/N: this one is quite short but very cute. It's not smut, just suggestive, i ended it right there because I wasn't really on the mood for it. As always: any feedback is appreciated. english isn't my first language. like and reblog <3
you had spent the last 2 nights in a row waking up every 3 to 4 hours, several alarms a night. After saving not only that poor little boy and woman's lives, but also saving you boss' and girlfriend's jobs, you returned home to a renewed Emily Prentiss. She was relieved that she could finally rest, not having to chose between her job and her team, which included you. You had insisted on her not resigning but she would give anything for you and the people she loved, for her team.
After the number she pulled in Milwaukee (you had also begged her to be careful, and you would've shoot that man when you saw what he had done to her hadn't JJ been there to stop you) she had a concussion. it was basically your job to make sure she was still breathing.
You secretly loved taking care of Emily, you kind of hated having to wake up every once in a while, obviously, but there was something about taking helping her with regular stuff, making sure she was taking things easy, all that intimacy.
"baby, stop it" she complains "I'm fine, I can carry my own bag" you had taken it upon yourself to carry it to her apartment "i know you can, but i don't want you to, you have to rest" you try to convince her
"I'm fine, the meds help a lot, it barely hurts now" She says trying to make you forget all that worry "since Milwaukee you've treated me like I'm so fragile, but I won't break just like that"
You drop her bag and her purse, and turn around to face her, grabbing her waist, pulling her close to you, she surrounds your neck with her hands "What's wrong with it? So, i want to take care of my girlfriend, no big deal, she can still be a badass, specially at work, as far as they're concerned, there's no worried girlfriend, just a worried friend, who drives you to work so you don't have to do it yourself" she caresses your back with her fingers, listening to every word you say.
Your relationship was still a secret for the rest of the team, you had been dating already for several months, but you were taking it slow, so no one in the team actually knew you were the one spending the nights at Emily's apartment taking care of her until she got better.
"well, i love my worried girlfriend but she should take a break and get me a nurse so she can start relaxing with me" she says, giving you a peck on your lips and separating from your embrace to go to the bathroom
little did Emily know she had just given you an idea
⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆
next day you enter Emily's apartment, ready for a nigh full of interruptions, but very ready to have some fun as well.
Emily had given you an idea, a very good one, the kind of idea you knew your girlfriend would love. So you move around the apartment, being as quiet as you can, Emily is resting on the couch reading a book, and you're in the room trying to get yourself ready.
"I can hear you moving, what are you up to back there?" she asks putting her book down, giving up on concentrating enough to read.
"you know, I think it's time to change that bandage on your forehead don't you think? It's been a couple of days" you say from the back of the room
"oh, yeah, i forgot, if you get me the first aid kit i can do it myself"
"no, i can do it for you, because, if i remember correctly, you said yesterday you could use a nurse, right?" with that you enter the living room, all dressed in the lamest, cheapest nurse costume you could have found, the only thing that mattered anyways was that it was short, white, and revealing.
Emily sits up, sitting upright on the couch, her mouth falls open, speechless, her eyes scanning you, running up and down your figure as if trying to memorize every bit of the image.
"So? what do you think?" you tell her, pinning around to give her a look from every angle
her lips start curving into a smile, her mouth still open, she chuckles in surprise, runs her hand through her hair looking for the words
"I can't believe this, you look awesome baby, come here" she says still in awe, opens her arms in a welcoming position. You walk to her, place your legs on her sides so you're straddling her, she caresses the skin of your legs, holding you in place, and lay down to give her a kiss, holding her head with both your hands, she dugs her fingers in the flesh of your thighs, you kiss her lips softly, giving in the contact, melting into the kiss.
"you're hottest nurse I've ever kissed in my life" you chuckle against her lips, she gives you a peck before you get away
"So, are you gonna let the nurse change that bandage of yours or what?" you ask, and she nods, still smiling, holding on to you but finally letting go to allow you to go take the kit.
You come back from the bathroom with a wet cloth in one hand and the red box in the other one, you gesture her to sit straight, and lay her head back, regaining your last position straddling her waist, and her hands fly back to hold your thighs.
You start by slowly taking the old bandage off to avoid hurting her, you take the wet cloth and start cleaning the wound with it, gently tapping around it. She looks at your focused frown, smiling over how seriously you're taking your job. She runs her fingers through the soft skin of your thighs, every time her hands move she reaches higher until she is no longer touching your legs, but your ass, squeezing it gently, making you jump
"Hey! I'm trying to work here, stop distracting me!" You scold her, but she doesn't retreat, her hands keep wondering around, you try to make it as fast as you can.
Applying the bandage on her forehead delicately, you give her a peck on the lips "you're all set" you announce
"thank you nurse, i was wondering, maybe there's something else you could help me with?" she says to your surprise "sure, what would that be?"
"well you see, my very concerned and beautiful girlfriend used to be the one to take care of me, but ever since you came, I haven't seen her around, so maybe you could take care of me tonight, maybe for a bit longer" she says with the sexiest voice, batting her eyelashes to add up to the act, you just follow her play.
"well this one girlfriend of yours sounds like a very nice lady, but i guess i could help you out" you kiss her again, lustfully, running your hands through her hair, down to her sides, until you reach the hemline of her shirt, and you tug on it "how about if we start by removing this?"
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
#wlw#emily prentiss wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss lesbian#emily prentiss#emily prentiss imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds smut#lesbian pride#lesbian
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TIME, CURIOUS TIME - L.C
Summary: the one where you first meet Luke and your entire world view changes.
Warnings: adoption, blood, character death
Wordcount: 3.6k
Masterlist: Time, passing
If there was one thing that people needed to know about you, it's that you don't like bullies. You hated them in fact.
There was an anger inside of you. A primal anger that oozes from your pores at every instance. You were angry at everything in life, your mother for giving you up for adoption, your father for ignoring you. You were angry at the world for every single bad thing that happened.
You had only been at camp for four months and you had gotten into eight separate fights. Just like normal. Just like in the Foster homes.
Now you were sitting in Chiron's office with a black eye. You had gotten into a fight with one of the kids again and was being punished for it. Even though you thought that the punching he had received had been deserved.
Your eyes were trained at your hands as they rested in your lap. You did not want to look up and see the disappointment in his eyes.
"You are one of the most interesting campers I've ever had," he said, breaking the silence.
You looked up at him. That was not what you had expected him to say after what you had done. You were expecting more of a lecture.
"Why?" you questioned.
"You've been here 4 months and already proved that you are a superb archer and swordsman, a brilliant medic. Yet you fail to stop yourself engaging in this tomfoolery," he explained.
You thought about all that he had listed to you. You were a child of Apollo after all, you should be good at all of those things and you weren’t surprised that he thought it was an accomplishment. You didn't want to be anything like your family.
There was silence and you looked at the centaur, “Am I expelled?”
He chuckled to himself almost incredulously, "No. We don't kick students out when they are troublesome,"
Troublesome. That was one word to describe you.
You had always been seen as the problem and the solution was always to send you away. You were a problem of the highest degree and everyone agreed. Even Chiron.
Chiron looked at you, arms folded across your chest as you rolled your eyes, "You know. If we didn't already know your godly parent, I would assume you were an Ares kid,"
you scoffed, looking up at him. You hated where he was coming from but it made sense. That anger in your bones was reminiscent of an Ares kid.
"That felt like an insult," you spat out, bitter. You didn't want to be compared to any of them monsters.
He tilted his head to the side, not understanding why you saw your anger as some sort of problem, "It's not. It's a compliment,"
You wanted to scoff at the idea. Anger was not a positive trait and nobody had ever noticed a single positive trait inside of you.
Silence fell over the room and you looked away from him, feeling shame bubble up in your chest at the way you were acting; you didn't mean to act like a spoiled brat.
"Anyway. I still have to punish you. So you will be sentenced to a week's worth of night shifts at the infirmary," he said.
Your head whipped up, "A week? I only broke his nose!" You could have done worse and you would have if your siblings hadn’t pulled you off of the teenage boy.
Chiron nodded, remembering the way that the sixteen year old boy cradled his face, blood dripping down his chin as he looked at the thirteen year old girl. He had never seen an Ares kid look so defeated by such a little camper.
"You still broke a fellow capers nose. And your dessert privileges will be taken away for that duration," He said.
He smiled at you and you stood up, mumbling a thank you under your breath before you walked outside. This was going to be hell.
If there was one thing that you hated more than anything, it was night duty. You looked around the medical bay and watched as the boy in there slept. He had a concussion and if it were up to you, he would be sent away but Chiron was a stickler to the rules - he needed 24 hour observation.
You walked around aimlessly, a cup of coffee in your hand.
Your life was a mess. You hated yourself. You hated the world. There was nothing here that made you want to stay and every day you looked out of that window in the Apollo Cabin, wondering if you would just leave. Its not like anyone would miss you.
That self loathing bubbled in your chest and you could feel it heavy on your chest.
This camp was supposed to be somewhere that all demigods are safe but in all truth, you had never been more lonely than you had been at Camp Half Blood. You felt abandoned by the Gods and the feeling was getting worse daily.
You were taken out of your thoughts by the sound of someone yelling. You brushed it off, everyone was always having nightmares at camp.
Then you heard them yelling for help and you realised something was wrong. Everyone would be asleep by now and you knew you would have to help.
You didn't want to play the hero. Everyone here acted like some sort of Greek hero and you hated it. But you knew you had to help so you looked around for something and spotted a sword at the side of the bed. You ignored the concussed teenager asleep in the bed as you picked the sword up, jotting down a note.
It was heavy in your hands and you didn't know how you would use it but knew you had to leave quickly. It was unbalanced, unnatural and you were not the best swordsman so you also picked up your bow and arrow, strapping that to your back before you ran off.
You rushed to the Big House for backup but as you got closer, you could hear the yells getting more desperate and knew there was no time. You had to help them and soon.
Muscle memory and adrenaline took you through the woods, trying to find where the voices were coming from.
You called out at the top of the hill, asking if there was anyone there but you heard nothing.
For a second, the noise had completely stopped and you felt your cheeks warm up. This had to be some sort of prank to get back at you for fighting the head of the Ares cabin.
You scoffed, turning around and preparing to leave. You could not believe that you fell for it and you could feel the embarrassment in your cheeks.
That's when you heard the little girls voice again, "Help! Somebody!"
You could see a figure by the camp sign now, illuminated by the fire. "Shit! Shit!"
There was no hesitation as you ran down the hill, not even stopping when you saw the fury hovering over the group of teenagers. There were four people there, one that you recognised as a satyr.
"Run annabeth! Take her Luke!" The main girl said, a large stick in her hands as she tried to bat the fury away.
You froze.
Fight or flight.
You could stay here and help the little girl as she held onto the boy's jacket or you could turn back and pretend that you haven't seen any of this. You knew the latter wasn't even an option.
"You don't have a real weapon!” The boy called out, eyes wide.
That's when you remembered you was there. You ran into the clearing and the kids turned to look at her in shock. They had not expected some hero to come out of the shadows but you were no hero, just someone who had stumbled into the situation.
You stepped into the clearing, "Here," you yelled out, throwing the girl the sword and she caught it quickly.
They all watched as you pulled your bow and arrow out, drawing it and taking a deep breath before shooting at the fury without any care for your own safety. At the same time, the punk looking girl stabbed the fury before being knocked to the floor.
The boy tucked the little girl into his chest as he watched the other girl get hit by the fury, falling over. He let out a yell.
You could only stand there and watch it all unfold. you didn't even know this girl's name and yet she was dying in front of you.
The little girl was sobbing now, the sounds muted as she tucked her head into the boys chest. He was trying to hide it but his chest was heaving up and down.
There was a second when the fury looked at you and you knew you were next. The fury was clutching its arm from where you had hit her. She looked at the camper, sneering before flying off. Her job was done.
In a matter of seconds, lightning struck the teenage girl and she began to turn into a tree, branches springing from her arms and greenery growing around her head.
There was silence. Nobody knew what to say, especially not you who was confused out of your mind.
You looked at the satyr and then you recognised him. He was the same one that saved you from that police station, "Grover, what's going on?” you asked, looking at the satyr.
His hands were shaking as he gestured towards them, "Meet our new residents of camp,"
"What the fu-" you pointed at the tree, yelling out in confusion, "What in the God's name is going on? She's a tree!"
The boy looked at you angrily and you recognised that look in his eye all too well, "The better question is who the hell are you?" The boy said defensively.
You threw your bow on the floor, adrenaline still coursing rapidly through your veins, "I saved your life," you spat the words out.
He walked over to you, towering over you and you wondered how old he was, "She still died," he spat out.
This close, you could see the cut on his jaw, the bruise growing on his shoulder and the tears that were drying on his cheeks. He looked almost ethereal in the fire light.
There was anger in both of your eyes and as you looked at him, you realised that nobody had ever looked at you like that. It was like looking at your reflection in the mirror.
You scoffed, ignoring the feeling in your chest, "I tried my best,"
Grover walked over, interrupting the two of them before they could get into a physical fight, "This is our Healer,"
There was silence as the two teenagers looked at one another, neither of them standing down. He seemed angry and it was understood but there was no need to take it out on you.
It was you who turned away first, "Come on in. You both need to be checked on and I'm working the night shift. Grover, go get Chiron,"
He nodded and when they reached the camp, Grover split off from the group to go to the Big House.
You could feel the tension in the air as you walked towards the medical hut. There was silence and you could remember how nerve wracking it was for you when you had arrived here. You felt a little bit rude for yelling at him now.
“This way,” you lead them to the medical bay and the boy with the concussion was out cold so you just turned the lights on, ushering the two inside.
You turned to the boy and decided not to make this too awkward, "How old is she?" You asked.
He narrowed his eyes at you before caving, "Seven," he said begrudgingly. He clearly didn't like you.
You turned to where the little girl was sitting on the bed and knelt down in front of her. You could remember how scared you were when you had arrived and you wanted to make it as comfortable for her as you could.
"What's your name, gorgeous?" You asked, trying to not scare her.
The little girl looked over your shoulder at the boy behind you and he nodded, arms folded across his chest. You was just making sure he thought that she was safe to talk
"Annabeth," she replied.
"That's such a pretty name. Now, tell me, does anything really hurt?" You asked with a smile.
She nodded and gestured down at her leg, "I twisted my ankle," she stated.
"Your ankle? Let me have a look," you sat down on the floor and looked up at the girl and she nodded. you then rolled up her trouser leg a little bit to look at it.
You examined it for a second, "It's a little swollen, do you want me to wrap it up?” Annabeth must have been so freaked out by all of this, you didn't want to scare her at all.
Annabeth nodded and you reached over to the side for some bandage and wrapped it around her ankle, tying it together before standing up.
You grabbed the Ambrosia, handing it to her, "Now. This is magic okay, you eat a little bit of this and it will male you feel better instantly,"
She was hesitant at first and then when she took a bite, she ate the whole bit. She smiled and looked at you, muttering a thank you.
You helped her up and then turned to look at the boy behind her, "I'll help your big brother now,"
Luke had been standing there the whole time, arms folded across his chest as he judged what you were doing. He didn't trust anything related to the Gods, especially not some weird medic.
"I don't need to be examined by a child," he said with a scoff
You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes, "I'm thirteen. I doubt you're much older than me,"
There was tension between the two young teenagers. Anyone worth a pulse could see it and they could tell that there was a shared anger between the two.
"Thirteen," he scoffed at the idea of you looking after him, "who taught you medical practices?"
You were starting to get mad. You couldn't understand why this kid wasn't going to just let you look after him when he needed it.
There was an anger at the gods on him that you recognised but there was no need to take it out on you.
"I'm a child of Apollo, i was born with it in my blood," You poked him in the chest before stepping back, "Now sit your ass down,"
He looked at Annabeth and she gave him a smile like she wanted him to get looked after. He sighed, he couldn’t let her down so he sat down on the bed.
You folded your arms across your chest, "Same question I asked Annabeth. Does anything really hurt?" You asked. You were mean to him, ignoring all of your bedside manners.
He shook his head, lips pursed together, "You didn't ask me what my name was,"
You sighed, folding your arms across your chest, "What's your name?" You asked, tone dripping in sarcasm.
"Luke," he looked over at Annabeth and the girl was smiling now and he smiled too. It was the first time he’d seen her smile in weeks, "And I'm fourteen,"
You looked down at the injury for a second, "This needs stitches," you said when you saw a wound in his shoulder, it had cut through his shirt and was starting to bleed a lot more.
You could tell that he knew that he needed to get helped but that he was so stubborn that he wasn't going to get it done. It was a pretty bad wound.
"I'll be fine," he turned his head away, stubborn, "I don't need your magic, i don't need any help for the Gods,"
You were starting to get mad at him now. He was stubborn, too stubborn, "I don't work for them," you said, scoffing, "Now do you want it stitched up or not?"
There was silence for a second and then he nodded his head. He knew that he needed help even if he was a little bit reluctant to it. You smiled with the knowledge that you had convinced him.
"Annabeth, can you go and get changed into these nice new clothes? You can go into that little room there," you picked up some spare clothes from a pile and handed them to her.
The girl smiled before walking away, "Thank you,"
"You’re welcome sweetheart," you watched as she walked away, closing the door.
You could feel your heart sink in your chest. You couldnt imagine having to come here at such a young age, it broke your heart.
You turned around and looked at Luke, a smirk growing on your face, "You're gonna have to take your shirt off,"
There was a second where you could see the blush riding to hours bells at the idea but he decided to just be annoying about it.
He was cocky about it, pulling his shirt off slowly before handing it to you. You had to hide the blush on your cheeks as you pulled up a stool, sitting in front of him.
The cut wasn't just on his shoulder, it spanned down a couple of centimetres through his chest. You placed the stool in front of him, sitting down.
"This is gonna sting," you said as you brushed the area with a disinfectant. He winced at the feeling of it on his cut, hand clutching onto the bed underneath him.
You muttered a sorry as you pulled the wipe away, placing it down before putting your gloves on and getting ready to stitch him back up.
You gave him a look, “You know, I could just give you ambrosia, then it would heal quicker,” you suggested.
He shook his head, “I dont want help from the Gods. We do this like mortals or not at all,”
You could tell something had really happened to him in his life to make him hate the gods so much and whatever it was it must have been bad.
“You’re decision,” you muttered as you started to sew him up, starting on the easier part on his chest and then moving up to the deep section on his shoulder.
He was tense and you didn't know what to do to try and calm him down, he just had to sit there and get on with it. You didn't want to hurt him.
As you reached the last stitch on his shoulder, pulling it tight and then tying it, he winced and then muttered a curse word under his breath. you looked up at him, feeling guilty.
"Sorry," you muttered under your breath, “But i'm done now,”
"No, I'm sorry. I was a jerk to you," he muttered your name quietly after that, almost like he felt embarrassed that he had remembered and you looked up at him. You didn't know that he had remembered your name.
You could feel your cheeks warmed up at the idea and you gave him a half hearted smile, "Thanks," you said, brushing another wipe over his chest and shoulder.
"I am sorry. My friend just died," he explained, tears burning in the back of his eyes at the thought.
"She had a Heroes death," you said before scoffing and then looking around to make sure that nobody could hear, "Not that that's worth anything. The Gods still let her die, they let them all die,"
Luke's face lit up as you said that. Nobody had ever shared his hatred towards the Gods before and all of the anger that he had towards you vanished in as second as he looked into your eyes.
His smile was infectious and you could feel one growing on your face just at the sight of him, "You're right! They're awful,”
There was another lightning strike and you could hear the thunder rumbling outside of the camp. Zeus did not like that criticism of his role as a father.
"Might not want to say that here," you said with a laugh.
Luke laughed too and you smiled at the sound, it was nice to hear someone laugh. He liked it as well, he couldn't remember the last time he laughed.
You smiled to yourself. You couldn't remember the last time that you had laughed with someone. It was nice to feel connected to someone, even if you’d only just met.
You handed him a camp shirt, assuming his size. He thanked you before pulling it over his head and then fixing his hair.
Annabeth walked out wearing one of your old shirts. You smiled, reaching your hand out and feeling the girl take it. She instantly cuddled up to you, not fully understanding what had happened that night.
You held close, eyes meeting Lukes. He reached forward, brushing a hand over Annabeth’s hair.
"You look great, I’m just gonna show you guys to the cabin a-" you started to explain before Chiron walked into the room.
They all went silent and as he looked at the group, Grover standing by his side, her knew this was it. There was a bad feeling in his chest and he knew that the prophecy that he had been fearing was going to come true soon. How did he know? Just a feeling.
A/N: Parts of this fic come from my other fic The Outsiders (linked here) so don't worry if it looks familiar or if you think it's plagiarised, I wrote both versions. If you want to read that you can.
This is the first part of a three chapter fic and this will be nothing like my book. This is a seperate fic, the start is just familiar.
Also. They are thirteen and fourteen in this chapter but by the time there is any romance, they will be 18. Please don't be weird about them.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan fanfiction#luke castellan x apollo!reader#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson tv show#percy jackson books#pjo fandom#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfiction#charlie bushnell#charlie bushnell x reader#luke percy jackson#luke pjo#time passing series
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Modern College Student/Gf Mikasa Ackerman Headcanons
Armin Version: Here Eren Version: Here
scary goth girl that everyone is too scared to talk to but secretly crushes on
psychology major bc I think she had a tough childhood and wants to better understand trauma / help others
somwhere in the middle between Armin and Erin when it comes to academics
like I don't think she is as intense about grades as Armin is, but I also don't think she's as laidback about school as Eren
moderately studies throughout the week, but it's just basic note taking and chapter reading, i don't think she's afraid to miss a few classes though if she feels like it
only really crams and does all-nighters right before an exam if she thinks she needs it
i think she wears men cologne and deodorant and it fits her soo well, idk how to describe it but she smells powerful but comforting at the same time?
maybe like woodsy with strong notes of vanilla and cashmere
loves a black cold brew: no creamer, foam or sugar like she's so intense that way
i think she's that one cool girl who always walks into class like a few minutes late with a hot resting bitch face, AirPods in and a cold brew in hand
tall girl and I think her height is prob her fave feature about herself, like I can see her wearing more heeled boots or platforms to exaggerate it
wears lots of black and hardly any makeup besides some light eyeliner most days
doesn't talk alot unless she fr knows you, i think most people would just hear her say "here" for attendenace and that's it
doesn't go to parties unless she has to
I think think she'll only go to watch eren and armin. she knows eren loves to go overboard and armin will most likely get distracted so she takes it upon herself to be the sober one watching everyone's drinks
def a girls girl like if she sees another female in an uncomfortable situation shes jumping in, no questions asked
i can see her working out with eren so in my mind shes ripped too and yeah...most guys don't fuck with her
has a cute lil skincare routine, only has like a three step process tho since I think she has naturally good skin
she secretly loves facemasks tho and doing her nails with armin as rewards for studying lol
I think out of the main three mikasa would have the most instagram followers, which is so funny bc she doesn't know why she's so popular?
I just think her aesthetic and vibe is very cool, if her account is set to public she would quickly get a lil following
lots of secret admires with this one, men and woman alike
I can see her being BI or Pan too so like that's very conveient
other than armin and eren, I think Mikasa would be besties with Yimir and Sasha
i can see them going to concerts together, shopping, late night drives, getting food (at sasha's demand lol) like i think they'd be a chill lil trio
views eren and armin as brother figures btw, gets grossed out when people ask if shes dating them
obviously a very protective friend
the type of freind whose like "what's their name" when you tell her you're seeing someone new and within an hour Mikasa will have an entire report on where they went to school, all their exes, hobbies, pets, address, ect.
I can see her getting a masters tbh, I def think armin would talk her into it so I think they would be grad school buddies while eren finishes his BA (he'll lag behind them a year or two since he changed his major so much anyway)
Loves cats and I think she'd have one or two if armin and eren are cool with it
I think she would have a few tatooes and piercings, but very subtle ones she can hide since I think as a psychologist she'd want to be taken seriously
music taste is kinda stuck in middle school tbh, still loves my chemical romance with a passion
I don't think she'd smoke weed or drink
^^ not that she has anything against it but i think she just hates the feeling of not being in complete control of herself so she stays away from things like that
never gets sick? it's actually medically fascinating
Overall she's that one quiet girl in class who looks scary but is a sweethear and everyon'es dying to be friends with
As your GF
omg I think she'd be the best significant other tbh
I think you would meet her in a meet-cute way since it's always the people who you least expect to be cheesy
I think maybe like you accidentally tripped and made her spill her coffee in class. you look up an see this tall, ripped, emo looking chick and you rush to apologise and give her your drink in hopes she doesn't flip
shes like "...ok." and takes it. but then the next class she randomly sits next to you and passes you a drink and is like ... "i hope i got your order right?"
the dork memorized your drink akjglalg
after that she kinda keeps sitting next to you and attempts small talk, so you realize she's actually v sweet and exchange socials
which is great bc I think mikasa is way better at flirting over text than in person and you'd quickly understand that she likes you
First date would probably be a show, i think she'd take you to a local band she likes and would get a quick bite after it
I think for second date she'd like you to choose what you guys do and then third she chooses, you guys switch bc she's all about that equal effort
once you agree to be her s/o she'd gonna be so annoying on social media like she's def gonna loose some followers as she only posts you now
type of partner to notice the smallest changes in you right away
you give her a peck and shes like "why aren't you wearing your usual lip balm? do you not like strawberries anymore?"
in bed she's a dom, is that even a queston?
I think she's actually a brat tamer, in my head rn she gets a lil smirk when you act up and i think she just mentally notes what to punish you for later
mikasa views sex toys as allies not enemies, and yeah i think she has an impressive collection so buckle tf up
okay so she's kinda yandere (tbh i think most ppl from the aot universe are but esp mikasa) I think shes very protective and a touch paranoid?
like i think her past is kinda messed up and I can see her mind running wild with ideas if not reassured
so you can just oversleep for a bit and you'll wake up to mikasa practically breaking into your apartment to make sure you're okay bc you suddenly went silent on her
some trust issues too, would def be really upset if you didn't give her the passcode to your phone
doesn't like your friends or anyone else you talk to tbh, she just doesn't think anyone else has your back like she does and will always remind you
i also know her manipulation skill is cray being a psych major, I don't think she's as good as Armin but ik she can weaponize some therapy speak and make you feel a lil stupid (only does it for your own good she says)
doesn't get jealous but does get even
I can see the little shit putting thumbtacks in pockets or laxitives in drinks if someone dares flirt with you, she can be so evil sometimes i just know it
she isn't even scared of the aftermath bc she knows eren and armin have her back so she wants the smoke tbh
the type of partner to death stare someone from behind your back but when you turn around she's suddenly all :)
would love matching tattoos with you if you're down
think she'll be the quickest to bring up marriage too, porbably only a few months of dating and she's like "so when we get married-" and you're like "!?"
big spoon gf, you can be bigger than her and she don't gaf she's still holding you not the other way around
Overall a really sweet girlfriend who just wants to protect you and keep you all to herself
Can be a lil crazy at times, but she means well I swear !!!
Nicknames for you: love, my other half, wifey/hubbie
Songs that fit the vibe: The Perfect Girl by Mareux, Breezeblocks by Alt-J, Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino
"You're such a strange girl, the way you look like you do."
"She's morphine, queen of my vaccine, my love, my love, love..."
"Girl you really got a hold on me, so this isn't just puppy love"
(She's so hot omg I love her, i developed a lil crush writing this! Anyway srry the moodboard didn't include couple stuff, girlfriend aesthetics are way harder to find than bf aesthetics and the ones I did find looked nothing like her :( tell me if you guys like this series, totally open to doing more characters! not even just from aot, i also kinda wanna do demon slayer or hxh, also love jjk and chainsaw man but I didn't read those mangas yet so I may not be the best at it!!)
#mikasa ackerman#mikasa x reader#yandere mikasa#yandere aot#yandere attack on titan#attack on titan headcanons#aot headcanons#mikasa ackerman smut#mikasa aot#modern attack on titan#modern mikasa
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here to help — spike spiegel
spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.
✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end
✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)
✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!
masterlist
spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.
being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.
you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.
you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.
now, though, you were anything but quiet.
spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.
he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.
this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.
spike was fed up.
he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.
your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?
he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.
"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.
it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.
"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."
"you need some help?"
spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.
"are- are you serious?"
"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"
you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.
"you gotta say it, sweetheart."
your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"
he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.
breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.
your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.
"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.
"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.
"what do you want me to do, hm?"
"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.
"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.
he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.
"ha-a, ah! spike!"
your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.
it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.
he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.
you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.
"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."
spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.
he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.
"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"
you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.
admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.
and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.
jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.
"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"
"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."
spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.
"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"
"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"
he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.
"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"
you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.
he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.
your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.
spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).
"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.
you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.
when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.
"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"
that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.
he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.
you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.
"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."
spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.
scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.
of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.
"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"
he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.
"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.
your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.
"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"
you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.
"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.
he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.
you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.
the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.
"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"
"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"
he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.
"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."
he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.
"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.
"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"
he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.
"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.
"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.
he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.
he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.
the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.
during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.
he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.
"spike! where the hell have you been?"
"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.
"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.
you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).
it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.
he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.
you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.
"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.
spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.
"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.
spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.
your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."
"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."
"well, yeah, but-"
"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."
"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.
"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.
you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.
once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.
"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."
regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.
when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.
he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"
spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.
"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."
"riiight. sure, sweetheart."
#cowboy bebop#spike spiegel#spike spiegel x reader#spike spiegel x female reader#spike spiegel x you#spike spiegel smut#cowboy bebop smut#— lilly writes! ♡
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High School Sweetheart. (Ghost x Reader.)
!CW! Make a dentist appointment, this shit is so sweet you’ll get a cavity.
Summary: Ghost and reader are high school sweethearts who cross paths again.
This was a request, you can find the ask here.
Every day it felt like he was just going through the motions.
Wake up, do what Captain Price asks him to do, go to bed. Sometimes there’s an occasional mission in there. Other than that, that’s all he does. Ghost wonders how the hell he ended up here sometimes. It doesn’t take long for him to remember. He’s lived a shitty life up to this point, and if he’s not killing terrorists, he feels worthless. “We’re welcoming a new recruit, meet outside.” He hears everyone announcing it to each other, everyone filing out the metal exit door. He creeps up behind everyone else, standing in the back.
“Everyone, this is Y/N.” Captain Price announces. He freezes up upon hearing your name. You give a small wave and he recognizes you immediately. What were you doing here? You greet everyone, talking and joking with them. Soap is making small talk with Ghost until you approach. “Hi, I’m Johnny but you can call me Soap.” He reaches his hand out. “This is Ghost.” He nods to Simon. You give him a look of confusion. “What is your first name?” You ask. “Simon. Simon Riley. Long time no see.” He puts his hand out, and you smile. Pulling him into a hug instead. This takes Johnny off guard. He knows Ghost isn’t a hugger. “How d’ya know each other?” Soap asks. “We went to high school together. Used to date.” You laugh. “High school sweethearts ah? Small world.” Soap laughs.
—
Ghost wasn’t sure how you ended up here. Last time he checked, you were off to work in the medical field and he joined the military. Ghost is the one who broke things off, he knew he couldn’t keep you happy and stay in the military. He never thought he’d ever see you again, especially not like this. “Why don’t you talk to her? I see you staring at her all the time.” Gaz nudges him. Ghost shakes his head. “Not my girl anymore.” Soap chuckles. “That’s gotta sting right? She’s smokin hot.”
“Depends on who broke up with who.” Gaz laughs. Ghost rolls his eyes. “You two are annoying.” Standing up and getting rid of his unfinished meal. He was growing more annoyed by the day. He wishes you hadn’t said anything.
He had to admit, you were pretty skilled. Something he didn’t expect. He wanted to talk to you, he did. But he didn’t know what terms you stood on exactly, so he left it alone. He makes his way into the gym, finding you. You’re taking deep breaths, lifting up the weight you’re holding on the bench press. Ghost decides there’s no better time to approach. “Shouldn’t do it without a spotter.” He mumbles, standing behind you. “Yeah? Maybe I wanted to go out on my own terms.” You smirk, taking another deep breath, arms beginning to shake slightly. He rolls his arms. Crossing his arms. “You know you’re a lot- different than you used to be.” You groan. “Yeah, happens when you get old. You’re different too.” He laughs. “How did you end up in the military anyways?” He asks. “I was a paramedic for a while, switched to an ER Medical Assistant.” You put the weight back up on the rack, taking in a deep breath and sitting up. “Seen a lot of traumatic shit, couldn’t handle it.” He looks at you, confused. “So the military sounded like a better choice?” He asks. “No, I tried to switch to normal jobs. Tried being a cashier, receptionist, vet tech. Hated it all. I had a lot of pent up anger, had no outlet. Talked to a counselor, tried doing other jobs. So I started doing medical in the military. Hated that too, so I just switched to infantry. I see a lot of traumatic shit, but at the end of the night I don’t go home alone. It gives me an outlet.” You shrug. He nods his head. “What did you see that fucked you up so bad?” He asks, following you around through your work out. “There was a few things.” You shrug. “My first day, I had to do an STD draw on a 5 year old girl. Her mom left her in a crack house for a few days, had no idea what happened to her.”
“Maybe she got a hold of a dirty needle.” You shook your head. “No. I tried to explain it away, but you would’ve had to see the way she screamed when the male doctors got too close. I wanted to rip her moms fucking head off when I seen her.” You breathe. He nods his head. “I understand. What else?” He asks. You swallow hard. “Little girl was brought in. Had a brain aneurysm.” You breathe. Your voice was getting unsteady. “She was dead before she got there, but the doctor wanted us to do CPR for the moms sake. I did CPR on her until my whole body hurt, until I couldn’t handle anymore, and than some. That’s not what bothered me though.” He looks at you, look of confusion again. “It’s the way her mom screamed when the doctor told her she didn’t make it. Still haunts me to this day.” Ghost sighs. “Jesus Christ.” He mumbles. “I’m sorry.” You nod your head. “I’m fine. I mean I’m not but I have to be. Life is short, I just like to stay busy.” He nods his head. “What about you LT?” You smile, standing up. “What made you stay?” You ask. He shrugs. “I guess I like to stay busy too.” He shrugs.
—
“She likes to stay busy? She’s flirting with you, you idiot.” Gaz rolls his eyes. “What? No she wasn’t. She had just got done telling me some really traumatic shit. The hell is wrong with you.” Ghost rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you, if you’re as smart as I pray to god you are, you will get her back, and put that tight ass on lockdown before I do.” Gaz raises his eyebrows. Ghost rolls his eyes once again. “Another meal ruined again.” Ghost rolls his eyes. He decides to go off and find you, not finding you in the gym like he usually would, so he assumes you’re on watch. He’s correct. He makes his way up the watch tower, seeing you sitting at the top inside. “Hey.” He walks in. “Hey. Johnny is supposed to take over for me but not for another hour or so. What’s going on?” You ask. He shrugs, sitting down next to you. “Staying busy.” He’s short. “Ghost huh?” You smile. He nods his head. “You tell them how you got that nickname yet?” You smirk. Even behind the mask you can tell that he’s smiling. “Nah. Not yet. I won’t hear the end of it.” Simon hates this. You knew Simon. You always brought Simon out. Made him smile, made his stomach swirl. “Why’s that?” You ask. “They keep teasing me about letting a girl like you get away.” He laughs. “Ah, everybody makes mistakes. It’s fine that yours was me.” You smirk. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get too big of a head over there.” You laugh, just like he remembers.
“You’re huge now.” You smile. “Huh?” He laughs. “You were built in high school, sure. But nothing like you are now.” You laugh. “Is… that a good thing?” He asks. “Yeah it’s pretty hot.” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised. “Thanks I guess.”
“Even tough women like to be manhandled, Ghost.” You chuckle. “Remember that for your next girlfriend.” He can sense the jealously in your voice. He slides his phone from his pocket, opening up his text messages. He opens his text chat with Soap, writing out a text.
“Don’t worry about taking over watch, I’m taking over for Y/N.”
“ ;) ”
“Fuck off, MacTavish.”
“ ;))))) ”
He rolls his eyes, sliding his phone in his pocket. “Sound a little jealous to me.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Me? Jealous? Really?” You smirk. He nods his head. “Yeah.” You laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You laugh. “And you’re a liar.” He chuckles.
When the silence takes over once again, he thinks about it for a minute. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “For what?” You ask, looking up at him. “For leaving you alone. Making you go through all of that shit alone.” He sighs. You laugh. “I went a little crazy. If we were together you would’ve hated me.” You laugh. “Still, I feel bad.” You smile. “Well. We can always be friends. No sense in regretting something you can’t change.” You shrug. He nods. “Yeah. You know I think you’re a strong girl right?” He laughs. “I think you’re a strong guy too Simon. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He rolls his eyes, thankful for the balaclava covering his face. His cheeks are too pink to look natural without it. “I’m serious. You did the best you could with the shitty hand you were dealt, and the fact that you’re still doing so good makes me so fucking proud of you.”
Somewhere deep down, passed the barrier he’d put up, those words sting him right to his core. Reopening old wounds he didn’t know he had. “Thank you. I’m proud of you too.” You smile. He can see the pain in your eyes. He knows he’s hurt you. He just hopes somewhere deep down, you’ll be able to forgive him.
—
Ghost doesn’t always take the time to realize exactly how lucky he is. His eyes scan the table, his captain, Gaz, Soap. They’re all sitting around him laughing at something Soap has said, eating their dinner. It’s the closest thing Simon has ever had to a family, and with you back. You flipped his world upside down. He’s in his head too much anymore, thinking. He’s so guarded, but somehow these kind people gravitate toward him. He just hopes if anyone has to die, he does first. He doesn’t want to suffer anymore.
He’s staring off into space, thinking about you. How you were together when you were younger. He thinks about the first time you had together. First kiss, first time. How nervous he was hovering above you, trying to keep you calm and reassure you. How much you trusted him. He always thinks about how calm he was when you were around. After fighting with his asshole dad, anytime he was stressed out and ready to give up, you were always there. Helping him back onto his feet. The times he couldn’t, you’d sit there. Right at rock bottom with him until he was ready to climb his way back out. You helped him every step of the way, and he left you alone. You did everything. Put your heart into his hands. And he shattered it. Stomped on it until it was nothing but fine grained glass. A powder. And you still picked it up. And placed it right back into his cold hands. Just so that he could throw it in your face and walk away.
He needs to stop before he gets upset. Instead, choosing to think about how beautiful you are. Back then, so carefree. He thinks about those summers you spent together, sun beating down on each other. Swimming together, being in love. Your smile. Your giggle when he said something dumb. He remembers how pretty you were, looking up at the moonlight with tears in your eyes because of something so dumb. A fight, a disagreement. He misses how simple everything was. He thinks about holding your hand, walking up and down the street before either of you could drive. He thinks about the stray kitten you had found and how much he tried to convince you not to take it home, but you did anyways. And he remembered how hard you cried when the cat got too sick to bring home from the vet. He held you close as you said your goodbyes.
He thinks about the time he first put on a skull balaclava and how you gave him the funniest look, narrowed eyes and a smile playing at your lips. “So mysterious. Your new nickname is Ghost.” You smile. And how he pounced you, pushing your back into the silk sheets, tickling you until you nearly cried, laughing so hard. How you pulled his mask up to kiss him, just like Mary Jane and Peter Parker.
He’s walking away from the table before he realizes his feet are taking him to your room. Carrying him even though his brain is somewhere else completely. He doesn’t even knock on your door, barges right in. Thankful you’re half dressed. He closes the door behind him, you look up at him in complete confusion as he closes the distance between the both of you. He’s pulling his mask off and ditching it somewhere in the room. “Simon? What are you do-“ his lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence, holding onto the nape of your neck with both of his hands as he forces you back into the wall behind you. You melt right into him, and he’s so thankful you don’t push him away. You let him kiss you, body relaxing into his. When he finally pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, you’re panting. Taken off guard by him. “I love you. And I’ll understand if you don’t want to give me another chance. But I won’t fuck up again. I let you get away once, and I won’t again.” He breathes. A laugh leaves your lips, “Simon, I knew I was going to give you another chance the moment I see that fucking mask.” You giggle.
Maybe that stupid metaphor is right.
‘If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be.’
#call of duty mw2#soap mw2#cod mw2#ghost mw2#captain john price#price mw2#alejandro mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#mw2 smut#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley#ghost smut
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