#god i despise this team so much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied that reader is a virgin - first kiss - awakening feelings - virginity loss - kissing/making out in a closet - thigh riding - grinding/humping - sex in shared rooms; college dorms (empty) - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - orgasm denial- clitoral play (sucking, pinching and swiping) - missionary position - protected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, gorgeous, pretty, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Geto, Shoko and Mei Mei - humor bc I'm [not] funny - mention of vaginal pain, spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (i'm so sick...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: yessirrrr let's get this party started, shall we? >:333 plz enjoy the first part of this series!! and tysm for 5.3k !!! y'all are too kind && happy bday to my gal, jazzy!! hope you enjoyed your special day, jazzy jam c:

❤︎ « next story

“GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!”

“BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU, Y/N L/N!”

“They’re at it again already, huh?”

“Yeah, man, it’s going to two o’clock. Might as well enjoy the show.”

College is hard enough as is. The fact that you’re now back for the spring semester is tiring enough, wanting to get these classes over with and wrap this up. Spring, Easter, and Summer break are just right around the corner, the cherry on top for this exhausting second half of your junior year. Those are the end goals!

But alas, the semester just started. The students scramble around buying their textbooks and switching courses around, struggling to make final move-in decisions and already stressing over seasonal depression at this time of year. Spring semester, huh? Same old, same old.

Although there are negatives that make it nerve-racking, there are still good things that come with this junior year. Finally over with winter break, you’re excited to be back to living with your roommates, Utahime, Mei Mei, and Shoko! They’re your girlfriends for a reason; missing hanging and stressing with them as they made your college experience much better than you expected.

And it doesn’t end there, either! You missed study sessions at the campus café with your second-year peers, Yu Haibara and Kento Nanami. The two best friends always help with your studies whenever you need it. And, of course, you can’t forget about their roommate and your friend, Geto. The tall, raven-haired Biology major is always looking out for you and paying visits to study with Shoko. There was even a time he helped with a mouse situation in your dorm! Poor Utahime that day – saw the rodent when she came out of the shower.

However, you’re not exactly thrilled to see everyone after coming back. You throwing a middle finger at someone on the opposite side of the pathway should be evidence of such. “Oh, go jump off a cliff, Gojo!”

“Hah! I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” Satoru Gojo was the direct roommate of Suguru Geto, best friend of his and Shoko, and was the star player of the campus basketball team. But most of all, he’s the kid you despise with every fiber of your being. “I’d be more entertained with you slipping on some ice.”

“Oh, you wish! I saw you slip on some ice yesterday on your way to Professor Yaga’s class.” You puff your chest with pride when you see the white-haired guy suck his teeth in annoyance. “Made my whole day, what a fucking moron. How about slowing down next time? You were late anyway!”

Snowy brows furrow with a scoff. “God, you really are a perfect roommate for Utahime; the both of you are so tiny and angry at the world around you for no reason.”

Utahime, standing beside you during this yelling competition, decides to chip in after that remark. She almost popped a vein, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY, SATORU!?”

“You heard me!” He barks a laugh at the two of you, turning around to go on his way. “Heard it’s gonna snow later tonight. Be sure to find a nice, big, puffy jacket and some boots so the storm doesn’t sweep you away, Y/n~.”

“I’ll be sure to shove an icicle up your ass before that, you fucker!” You turn on your heel and stomp your way out of the scene, Utahime following your move. “Hmph! Hate his ass so much…”

“Tch, right there with you.” Your roommate sighs heavily to exude the aggression. “But damn, the way you two go at it is worse than mine.”

She is not wrong; it’s true – everyone within the campus grounds knows how much you and Gojo can’t stand each other. It’s no secret; at least you two make that apparent everywhere you go. This little feud between you started freshman year with you two in the same first-year engagement program. Tiny disagreements turned into narrowed glares, which then pivoted into prominent arguments, and now here we are.

You hoped that freshman year would be the last you’d ever see of that snow-haired prude. Unfortunately, you were wrong. The year after, you were unhappy to discover he’s best buds and roomies with Geto. And what’s worse is that you were ill-fated to share a class with him every semester — especially this one with Professor Naga for Contemporary Issues. Is this the universe’s way of punishing you for something? For what!??

You’ve been a good kid, doing what you can and getting the grades that brought you merit and accolades. So, you don’t get how this one guy with his stupid round sunglasses is getting under your skin. So fucking annoying…

You hate him. You hate everything about him. From the way he immediately gives you a smug look when you walk into the room and take your seat right in front of him. The way he surprises you from behind because he finds your reactions amusing. The way he relentlessly calls your name to get your attention when you’re obviously ignoring him, even when he doesn’t need you for something.

It all makes you heated. You hate Satoru Gojo. I hate him so much!

“…hear me?…Y/n?”

You blink, realizing you were too deep in thought for your ears to pick up Utahime calling out for you. “Hmm? What’s up?”

She pulls out the keys to the dorm from her coat. “So? You coming along?”

Huh? “Where are you going?”

“To Haibara’s get-together?”

Oh, hell no! “No, Uta. I think I’ll stay here.”

The dark-haired girl watches you walk past her when she opens the door. “Why?? It’s the first Friday night of the semester; it’s not gonna be a big party or anything. Just close friends.”

“What are we talking about?” Shoko chimes in after leaving the bathroom, brushing her teeth with sleepy eyes. “Haibara’s thing tonight?”

Utahime nods hurriedly at the drowsy nursing student. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to come!”

The brunette shrugs at the comment, following you two to your room. “Well, it’s not like I’m going either.” She snickers when the eldest dark-haired roommate turns to her with a hurt expression. “Sorry. I already have notes I need to get behind on. You can tell the guys I said hi, though.”

Another sigh leaves Utahime as she puts her bag on her desk. “…Mei Meiiiii,”

“Yesss~?” The fourth roommate calls out from the hallway.

“Are you going?”

“Mmmm, not sure.” Mei Mei comes to the doorframe, her long silverish-blue hair done in pigtails with a green skin-care mask covering her face. “Got a meeting for my club to head to later. And even then, it might still be a while for me to join, depending on if people are hanging out afterward.”

Now is when the Utahime whines to her hands before she turns back to you, sitting on your bed. “Y/n, please, come with me!”

You don’t give in to her cries. “No, think I’ll stay and keep Shoko company.”

But she doesn’t give up. “Please! It’s just a small group of friends and maybe a few classmates Haibara’s familiar with. No biggie!”

“Small group of friends, huh?”

“Yes!”

“You know who else are his friends?” You lift a brow when she does the same. “His roommates: Nanami, Geto, and—“

“Gojo…” Utahime completes your sentence in defeat, understanding why your reluctance is present.

“Sorry, Uta. Maybe next time.”

Now, you’re not saying you’ve never been to the guys’ place before; they reside on the other side of campus where senior housing is (Nanami’s pick because he’s an RA). However, it’s the first Friday night of the semester. Meaning it’s the first free weekend for most students. And you’re going to ruin everyone’s fun by being in the same place as Gojo? Yeah, no thanks.

That is until Mei Mei says, “Actually, I heard from a friend that the basketball team are planning on going out somewhere tonight.”

Shoko adds on while taking out her toothbrush to appropriately speak to her friends. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Gojo told me he probably won’t be at the place in the first place. Something about meeting up with a group for one of his classes.”

All separate reasons from different accounts, yet that only fuels Utahime to beam out of her mini-depression and face you once more. “See? Gojo won’t be there by the time we get there! He’ll be busy with a group project – or whatever – and will hang with his sports buddies. So, you up for it now?”

Your brows trench down. “I…I don’t know—“

If there’s one thing the oldest roommate is good at, it’s not giving up. And it’s because she bats her pretty brown eyes and gives you the most grandiose pleading puppy face she can. It’s the oldest manipulation tactic in the book, yet it works by making your heart cringe.

Of all things to be dragged into now, it was a party? The semester just started, and you haven’t even touched a single piece of reading yet. Is this a good idea? You can’t really go based on the perspective of your roommates because what’ll happen on the off-chance you do see Gojo? The thought of it is already headache-inducing.

Then again, it’s the first time since last semester that you’ll be able to see the other guys. You didn’t say goodbye to Geto and Haibara before break because they were swarmed with finals, and Nanami was gone the moment he found out all his exams were take-home. You’re not much for parties, to be quite honest. Regardless, it would be nice to catch up on the gang and see how they’re doing before we all revert to non-stress-free college life.

You release a sigh through your nostrils before making your decision begrudgingly. “...Don’t make me regret this.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I regret this so fucking much…

Well, this night was going to be quite a drag. Why? Let’s go over the reasons, shall we?

The party that was supposedly at Haibara’s dorm? So, it turns out, there was a change of plans, and to be relocated somewhere else — like outside campus grounds. Screw walking, you and Utahime had to go by car with Geto to go to the party, following down the main street into this big, beautiful neighborhood and parking by a big house. Perfect for housing an event for many people to drink, dance, and vibe.

Oh yeah, that was another thing, too; the many that were attending this fucking party. Word got out about the get-together, so, of course, lots of people wanted to come and celebrate the first weekend. So, not only are you outside campus grounds, but now you’re forced to interact with a crowd rather than a small group of people. You practically have been to every corner of the place to disassociate with people you didn’t know.

So, where are you now? Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, where the bass of the speakers downstairs can be heard. You’re not alone — sitting in a circle with Utahime, Geto, and a couple of other kids who’re present at your university. What’s happening in the room? Just a chill game of truth, drink, or seven minutes in heaven; either you answer truthfully to a question, drink to avoid it, or go to the closet and do what you want with the person who spun the bottle on you.

But, there was nothing chill about the game, and the players would agree to that notion apprehensively. Because you most definitely silently dreaded every second of this entire night. Why? How about asking the person across you that you’ve been glaring at since you opened the bedroom door and saw his face?

Apparently, as word got out about the party, the college basketball team heard about it and decided to come and celebrate. Meaning the whole team is at this party. Let’s say that again: the entire basketball team – all the players – are here to enjoy the party.

The person who stood across from you sat criss-cross with long, jean-covered legs, leaning with his hands behind him, a navy blue sweatshirt, and dark round shades that cover his eyes that you know are looking dead at you. And a smug grin that patronizes you to the core.

You peer to your night, giving Utahime the nastiest look you can. And the eldest could only meekly mumble an “I’m sorry…” with twiddled thumbs.

Satoru Gojo looked at you, and you frowned right back at him. The tense atmosphere between you two was enough to suffocate the other players. Some would try to break the tension by playing the game. But even then, it was still strenuous. One girl rolled the bottle on Geto, to which he picked “truth” and answered her question: “How did you and Gojo meet?”

Even though he didn’t pick the option, he’d take a small swig of his beer. “Satoru and I have been friends since middle school — same with my other bud, Shoko. We’ve been inseparable since, and now we’re here. He can be an asshole, though, so watch out.”

A guy spun the bottle on Utahime and asked, “Were you ever interested in Gojo?” The raven-haired girl clicked her teeth and took a chug, drinking the whole thing in one sig.

“Hmph! I’d rather drink sweat from Professor Gakunaji’s crusty beard and eyebrows!” She’d admit after a burp.

“Ahaha! That’s a sight I’d like to see,” Gojo would chuckle at her insult, prompting a few around him to laugh. “Bet you’d get more satisfaction from it than being with me anyway.”

The senior rolls her eyes before opening another bottle. “Fucking bastard…”

Another spin to the bottle after a couple comes out of the closet all close and giggly. This time, it lands on you. Some bubbly girl who had her eyes all up on Gojo, her nipple piercings able to be seen from her crop tee, was the one who spun it. She asks you, “Y/n, could you please tell me why you hate Satoru so much?”

You couldn’t fight the twitch of your eye. Of fucking course. You’re in no mood to drink, and you barely know this girl to think of being in the closet with her. You exhale through your nostrils, “….We’re friends, to an extent.”

“To an extent?” She asked more questions with a naive tone. “But Satoru's so nice, no?”

Oh, drop it, will you? And why are you referring to him by his first name like you know him? “We’re—“

“They mean that we’re kinda friends, kinda not.” Of course, nothing can be to yourself because the white-haired nuisance went ahead and answered your question. “They’re friends with my roomies, and my friends are their roomies. So, I guess that makes us friends by association. At least that’s the only way to see it since we nearly argued our heads off freshman year.”

You scoff with narrowed eyes, “By association, huh.”

He quirks a brow up. “Mhmm.”

Good God, the more you two throw invisible daggers at each other, the more uncomfortable people feel being in this room. Oh, but don’t worry; the night gets even worse. Three turns later, it was your turn to spin the bottle. And – sit with me here – just guess who it lands on? Bingo! Satoru Gojo.

The hushed gasps that filled the room were telling; it was bound to happen, but no one thought it would happen. The star-crossed haters spun the bottle and landed on each other. And since Gojo doesn’t drink (and he finds the questions rather lackluster), he chooses the closet. The gasps were louder that time, and your blood began to boil.

The first time it happened was uneventful; it’s what you preferred. After the door closed, you told him, “Don’t even think about touching me.” It was just pure silence for the entire seven minutes. You sat on one side of the emptied closet while Gojo was on the other. There were the occasional sniffles of your nose and his loud yawns. But other than that, you two stayed at your respective sides of the closet. Seven minutes of no words, just keeping to yourself and watching the lava lamp in your corner be your light.

You two survived the first set of seven minutes, not a scratch on either of you, to everyone’s thankful stars. Keywords: first set. Because why wouldn’t there be more?

When it got to Gojo’s turn, he spun the bottle and got you! So, here you are, walking into the closet again with your notorious opp. You swore to God this had to be the universe’s way of toying with you as if the start of this semester wouldn’t be a handful to deal with already.

You’re back on your side of the closet, groaning at your hands. It’s okay, Y/n, calm down. You can sit through another seven minutes. You got this! Don’t even act like he’s there…

And so you compose yourself, watching the heated, yellow wax of the purple lava lamp prompt up to the top to cool and sink back down. Six minutes…Five…Four—

“So, let’s say, hypothetically,” your eyelids closed shut for your eyes to roll freely. “I asked for a little something-—“

“I guess I should’ve added no talking, too. Thought that was rather self-explanatory to you.” You shut him down quickly. “And I thought I said don’t even think of touching me.”

“Well, you’re not in control of my brain,” you don’t have to turn your head to know that the fucker is looking at you. “Besides, I did say hypothetically.”

This motherfucker… ”Well, then, I’d, hypothetically, break every single one of your fingers and give them to Mei Mei so she can sell them to all your fangirls.”

“Hah! Nice to know you see me of high value.” He shifts his feet around from their crisscrossed position. “Bet you’d keep one of them.”

You scoff. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself! I’m annoyed just from not looking at you; what the fuck would I need your stupid finger for.”

“Hmmm, I can think of many, like—“

“Do not finish that sentence, Gojo.” Your tone dialed lower; a warning. He notices it, bringing his hands up defensively.

“Jeez, lighten up, Y/n.” He says while leaning against the back wall. “With an attitude like that, no other guy or gal in that room will ever want to be in a closet with you.”

Oh, you don’t say, fuckface! “I barely want to be in this closet with you. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here! I only came for Utahime, assuming it would be a small party…How the hell did you even get here? I thought the basketball team was going out somewhere.“

“Awww, you spying on me, Y/n?” Oh, you hate his fucking snicker, shoving a middle finger in his direction. “We were supposed to be at some restaurant joint, but a few of the crew flunked out on us and said they’d go to some ‘big party,’ then everyone wanted to go, and now we’re here. You know I don’t like alcohol, but I just tagged along because Suguru was here. I didn’t know about you, though.”

You bring your hands to your face to sigh in private. “We gotta stop meeting like this…It’s like I can never escape you.”

“…Is that a bad thing?”

You open your mouth to refute, but no words leave….Huh?

That was…..odd. Why did he ask that question like that: you couldn’t detect a remnant of childish malice he’d been throwing at you back and forth. Even when you faced him, his face was straight ahead. But when you don’t answer, his left eye goes to his peripheral to glimpse at you.

What the…Is he being genuine right now?

You gaze at him briefly before turning away, “I….I don’t know.” He hums to your response. “….Do you think so?”

Gojo shrugs. “Can’t say so either.” You hum back, and the silence takes over once again.

Okay, now things are even more awkward. You came into this closet with irritation, yet somehow, it vanished into thin air. It was the one thing that’s been constant throughout this evening. Now that it’s gone, you can only replay the moment from a few seconds ago in your head.

Is it a bad thing? Why would he ask that? Of course, it’s a bad thing! Has he forgotten how much hostility we have for each other? Jesus Christ….Wait, why did he say he didn’t know either? What does that even mean!!??

“You look nice.”

You—……I’m sorry, what???

The way you snapped your head back to him, you could’ve sworn you heard your neck crack. Holy fuck, why the hell was he looking at you right now? His round glasses shine from the lava lamp, so you can’t see his eyes.

“Wh….What?” It was cold; the weather app said it would snow later tonight. Therefore, the temperatures and winds were unforgiving after sunset. So you took it upon yourself to dress warmly. It was all simple, just a white, long-sleeved halter blouse that matched your black skirt – it was the only nice thing you had outside of regular leggings. And you covered your legs with black pantyhoses but decorated with cute white knitted leg warmers.

He repeated in a singing tune. “You look nice.”

When it came to the white-haired guy in this closet with you, there were rare moments where you felt as though you were shocked by him. This was beyond astounding, the comment continuing to ring throughout your ears.

You blinked at him before averting your eyes down to your hands, trying to distract the increase of heat on your cheeks by intertwining your fingers together. “….Thank you, Gojo.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he’d shrug again, chuckling to himself before adding on. “It’s way better than your other outfits. Baggy old sweatshirts, bags under your eyes even if you’re wearing glasses, sweatpants with stains. You look like a homeless librarian.”

Annnnnd just like that, with the drop of your quivering lip, all the warm feelings you felt for a minute evaporated in seconds. The anger returned with the twitch of a brow. “…Tch, gee, thanks. I can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh, you know you look cute when you’re jealous~.”

You almost busted a nerve. Who the hell are you calling, cute? “As if. From the sound of it, you must be jealous of me; who told you to be looking and criticizing what I wear? Must be rough not being able to wear comfortable clothes all the time, huh?”

“Shut the hell up,” he finally snaps, and you stick your tongue out in victory.

“No, I’ll keep going! I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect, but not everyone wants to put on their best outfits to impress you, not like your fangirls who get their best bras to push up their breasts for you to notice.”

“Huh, you lookin’ at other girls' boobies? Wow, Y/n, never took you as a pervert.” He laughs at your stare of pure anger. “You are jealous, huh? That I’m talking at other girls and not you? Awww, don’t be so selfish; there’s plenty of me to go around!”

You snarl at him. “Ugh, you’re so gross! I don’t want anything to deal with you. So all those girls can have you and rip you to shreds for all I care. Let them know how much of a big fucking baby the wonderful, amazing Satoru Gojo is when he drops his ice cream on the floor and cries on Geto’s shoulders. Or that you’re such a lightweight that you accidentally vomited in Nanami’s cup one time, which he threw at you...Or maybe I should tell them.”

His brows furrow, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would, and then some.” You sneer. “In fact, I’ll go downstairs, grab that red punch, and spill it right on you in front of that girl next to you. I’ll make your hair look like strawberry shaved ice.”

He leans his cheek against his fist with a huff. “I take it back; you don’t look nice at all. So uncute.”

You gasped with trenched brows. “Excuse me!?”

“You heard me, you’re uncute!” Yup, today was the day: you’re going to choke the hell out of this motherfucker. “I feel bad for any guy who'd wound up in this closet with you, dealing with such a little devil.”

“You’re one to talk, dickhead! I’d much rather be stuck in this closet with anyone else — even Geto!”

“Taah, as if! I bet you never even had your first kiss with such an attitude like that.”

Again, you open your mouth to say something, yet words evade you at that very moment. And Gojo catches it quickly. Because his brows raise, lifting his head back up, eyes scanning your face.

Oh fuck.

“...”

Don’t.

“….Y/n,”

Don’t say it.

“You never had your first ki—“

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

He couldn’t finish that sentence, thank God, because the phone alarm from the outside rang. Seven minutes are up — this session is up, so you quickly stood up and opened the closet door.

With swift feet, you sit back next to Utahime, your eyes downcast to the bottle, avoiding Gojo’s feet coming around and taking his spot across from you. Your roommate perks at your silence, “You okay, Y/n?”

A nod is offered to her, “Yeah, I’m fine.” No, you weren’t. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your skin dropping in color. And you can feel the eyeballs from across boring into your being. “Let’s just keep playing.”

And so the game carried on from Gojo’s turn. Your eyes could only ever look at the bottle, hoping it would never land on you from there on out. But that would be the easy way out, and – as life is – nothing goes your way when you want it to be.

Because when it gets to your turn, you watch with patient eyes as the glass spins on the cold hardwood floor. One spin goes by, and another swings around. Finally, it stops, the neck of the bottle pointing vertically from you, and your whole figure washes in apprehension with the hushed sounds of exclamation of the other people in the room.

Alas, the bottle pointed to Gojo. It was inevitable – you couldn’t avoid his presence since the last session anymore. You look at him, your brows scrunched with mercy. But he points to the closet with his chin, and you follow his lead to the small space with anxiousness at every step.

Back to your respective stations in the closet. You can only use the mesmerizing wax of the lava lamp as a sort of comfort – a distraction for your nerves that are at an all-time high. Why were you so nervous? All he did was ask if you ever had your first kiss taken.

Yeah, that’s the problem! Why did he have to know that!? Ughhhh, I should’ve just lied or something…Now what? Will he make fun of me for not having my first kiss taken yet? What is this, middle school!?? The thoughts in your head were a battle to deal with, one personal worry after another.

But all that washes away when the silver-haired guy finally breaks the quiet after a minute. “…Wanna kiss me?”

It felt like your heart dropped at that abrupt question; the warm circulation coursing through your body transitioned to an ice-cold sensation. Your breathing stops, and your eyes shoot wide at the person you’re with. “….Wha….What did you say?”

He doesn’t hesitate at your request. “Wanna kiss?”

Have….Have you lost—“your mind!? Why would you ask me that??” You whisper yelled at him so the people outside don’t hear you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not?”

Why not?!? “Gojo, you can’t be serious. Just because I never had my first kiss doesn’t mean I need it to happen this instant! Are you that much of a horndog that you’d ask—“

“Let me explain, alright!?” He yells in whispers back with a hand raised to stop your rambling, and you hold your tongue. “Listen, I’m not asking to be a dick, okay? I just thought that…ya know, being in a place full of strangers, someone’s bound to be in this closet with you and ask you for a kiss.”

Your face screws to a magnificent expression of confusion you could ever contour. “Why are you concerned about who I kiss? It’s not like I’d agree or—“

“Yeah, but like, what if they did, huh?” His sky-blue eyes peek from above his sunglasses. The sharpness they carried told you he was serious about this — like he was serious about you. That…That was so off of him. “What if some weirdo forces themselves on you, and me and Suguru can’t help you in time, huh? I can think of two guys in this room who’d probably do that.”

It takes a few seconds for you to soak in his words, “….So? What are you getting at?” He opens his mouth but stops from saying something, his pointer finger up but back to a fist. You could tell; whatever he was thinking had him in mental turbulence.

He releases a deep sigh before saying, “I’m just…I’m saying, wouldn’t it be better to have your first kiss with someone you know, at least?”

You couldn’t believe he was saying such things to you. “And…you think you’re the one I should….kiss?”

“….I don’t hear a no.”

You wanted to refute that statement — challenge him or prove him wrong! You looked at his face, examining every feature to find an indication that whatever he was saying was just a way to get under your skin. He loves to poke fun at you, so why wouldn’t he use this as a perfect opportunity?

However, you couldn’t find anything. His eyes were sincere, stationed right back on yours. You saw his Adam’s apple move from a gulp, letting you know that he was a little nervous, too. And your gaze drifted to his mouth, the thought of his lips being on yours staining your brain for the first time. It was scary to think about, your heart racing to no end.

“Y/n,” he said your name so quietly that you almost missed it. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question to ask in this awkward atmosphere. Do you trust Satoru Gojo, the boy you would smack with a given chance? He’s undoubtedly the most annoying person you’ve ever bumped into — a thorn in your side since freshman year. He is such a tactless fool, doing and saying whatever he thinks comes to mind, picking on you like you were a child, and not taking you seriously when you wanted him to. You could list many things that you saw wrong with this guy.

Yet, he wasn’t the worst. There hasn’t been an instance where you felt uncomfortable around him, only annoyance. He was friends with Geto and Shoko; that alone should be enough to tell you he’s someone worth depending on. And even when you two would be tasked to do something together, you’d surely click your tongue and bicker until the cows came home. But at the end of the day, you still knew how to work with one another and get the job done.

In all things considered, Satoru Gojo was an irritant. Even so, he was an irritant you could depend on — to trust.

Breathing was a hard thing to do, taking in air and exhaling excruciatingly slow. You chew on your bottom lip and give him a curt nod. “I…I trust you, Gojo.”

He lets your answer sink in for a bit before he moves his position, his back to the wall while facing you, legs straight down to the ground. He pats on a thigh, “C’mere.”

Hesitance was there for a split second, but you followed his command and quietly maneuvered your way toward his direction, situating on top of his legs. Of course, you were anxious as hell; your ears and cheeks shared a warmth unbearable to host. Your figure being so close to his, you had to be dreaming.

But you weren’t. The hands he placed on your waist prove so, earning a gasp to leave you. His voice is low for just the two of you to hear. “Put your hands on my shoulders…Ya scared?” A slow nod is what you give him, and he chuckles lightly. “It’s okay. Try closing your eyes for me. Relax, I’m not gonna do anything dumb.”

He only said that because of that look you gave him. He is going to do something to you — just nothing too rash.

“Trust me, pretty.”

Pretty? Yes, he just called you pretty. You were used to him calling you dumb names to get you riled up, yet none nearly sweet and fitting the mood like this one. It made your heart skip a beat.

With that, you held back reluctance when closing your eyelids. It made you a little uneasy, unable to see him in front of you, what he was doing, what he looked like while having you on him like this.

Suddenly, you squeak when something softly presses down to your clavicle. It was his lips.

He snickers, “Ya know, I gotta admit.” He brings his mouth up your neck with kisses, your breath shaking with every peck, and your hands clinging onto his sweatshirt. “It’s kinda nice seeing you be all shy on top of me like this.”

“Go..jo...” you flinch at his soft kiss on your forehead, his hands rubbing your sides.

“Don’t do that. Call me by my first name.” You can feel him bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing your bottom lip gently with his thumb. “I know you know it. I wanna hear it with your voice.”

Holy fuck, this got intense way too fast. He brings his nose close to yours, and you shiver at the contact. It only means he’s mere centimeters away. Thank God your eyes were closed now because you swear you’d turn to stone if you snuck a peek.

“S..Sa…Toru—Mmmph!?“

And there it was, the inexorable. Gojo’s lips fleshed with yours softly, nothing too explicit or unpleasant for you. It was a simple kiss, yet it felt so foreign to you. Your first kiss had been with Satoru Gojo. What a momentous day.

It lasted a few seconds, your body stiff and hands balled to fists nonetheless. He removes from you with a soft noise between your lips, the heat from his face taken with him now that you have space to breathe. You open your eyes for him.

“There ya go,” he says with a small smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb while his forefinger plays with your earlobe. “Was it so bad?”You huffed, shaking your head no. Gojo hums, the hand on your waist gripping your flesh faintly. “….Can I kiss you again?”

Your breath hitched. It was a tiny request. One more wouldn’t hurt, right? You nod, closing your eyes again and awaiting his move.

Gojo leans in and claims your lips again, a soft hum from him when his face is back on yours. The next one was a little more risqué than the last, your bottom lip being taken by his playfully. The third kiss was where the mood dialed to a more wanton plane, him nibbling on your lip to allow him access. It’s here that Gojo can’t contain the reins, removing his glasses, “Come here, cutie.”

And you can’t help yourself either, succumbing to these smooches while wrapping your arms around his neck. Gojo’s no better, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and his other sneaking down to your butt.

You break the kiss to inquire, “Hahhh—…you pervert,” your eyes half-lidded.

He puffs a laugh, “Whaaat? I thought you’d like me to be touchy.”

You don’t admit anything to him, just slamming your face to his again. You decided to be a little adventurous and lick his lips. Gojo senses the initiative and takes your tongue to suck on. The whimper you let out was too cute, egging him on to suck and tease the muscle more.

It makes you dwell in the moment more, your limbs no longer stiff, yet your hips subtly move voluntarily. The friction from your groin rubbing on his jean-covered thigh was strangely enticing, your restraint becoming lesser the more you moved. And it gets worse after both Gojo’s hands creep into your skirt and tease your ass with squeezes.

“Ahhh, mmmm, Satoru..” you wailed.

“Relax, baby,” there it goes again, another cute pet name to call you. He really knew how to get you going. “Let me take care of you….Mmmm”

He shoves his tongue into your mouth – not too forceful to scare you, but enough to get that he is impatient. You moan to his mouth, a hand grabbing tuffs of his snowy hair.

His nose is pressed to your cheek like yours, and it’s getting harder to breathe now that things are getting intimate. But it all felt good, and the mood was just right. You rub your chasm onto his leg, which he lifts just a bit to make grazing your groin a little better. And God, the way his hands groped your butt, it turned you on even more.

Ohh fuck, tongues swirl around each other, your head begins to pound, and your ears ring from the heat on your face.. Oh, God, you could feel a hand come up to the top of your stocking, teasing its way down your skin and to the hem of your underwear. Please, please—

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

Even so, everything freezes in time, and both you and Gojo stop whatever you’re doing. Lips still on lips, your ass on his lap, and his middle and forefinger barely grazing the crack of your ass. It’s here that everything hits you all at once: you are not the only one here — you’re not even in your room! You’re still at the party you were dragged into, in some stranger’s bedroom closet, smooching with your supposed most hated person.

You immediately withdraw from him, Gojo removing his hands from you to put up defensively. Your hands rush to cover your lips, which are wet from spit. A thousand thoughts run around your head. Holy shit, what the hell was I doing!? Did I really just kiss Gojo? Satoru Gojo!? What was I thinking!!?

And Gojo didn’t say anything, only gauging your reaction to see what goes from here. The light from the lava lamp behind you is sheltered, your silhouette drawn to cover the guy in front of you.

I need to leave. That’s your final thought, taking an immediate stand and storming out of the closet. Utahime noticed you make a beeline to the door, and the roommate pursues right behind you down the stairs. She moves past drunk dudes to grab your wrist, “Y/n! What’s wrong – are you okay?”

It’s time to lie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, you know.” You lead her to the broom closet where all the initial guests’ jackets were stored. You grab for yours and put it on, “I think I’m just gonna call an Uber and head back to campus before the snowfall.”

Her face contorts to an expression of worry. “Are you sure? I’ll come with you; this place bugs any—“

“No, no. You don’t have to worry, Uta.” You place a hand on her shoulder before she can move another step.

“When you say it like that, I can’t help but worry.”

Your lips twinge to a smile to display faux comfort. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to ruin your fun for me. Besides, I saw some underclassmen waiting to speak with you all night somewhere down here.”

Utahime doesn’t buy it, and you knew she doesn’t. But thankfully, she doesn’t try to fight with you and gives you the okay. She watches you open the door before leaving, “Make sure you call or text me when you get to our dorm!”

It made you laugh; the girl can be such an older sister. “Don’t worry, Shoko’s still there, remember? Cya later, have fun!”

“Bye, be careful!” A final warning to you before the roommate closes the door for you.

You spoke too soon. Now outside, snow was already falling to the ground, probably a few minutes earlier since it wasn’t sticking to the ground yet. The little cold flakes touching the skin of your face were almost remedial, evening out the warmth of your cheeks.

You use this moment to recuperate from what transpired in that house. It was so out of the ordinary and was completely weirding you out, but not in a terrible way. It was more like odd-ish, strange, downright out of the norm. The more you think about it, visiting back to the senses of your hands in his hair, his slender fingers teasing the flesh of your butt, and the pillowy sensation of his lips glued to yours while whispering sweet things…..

….Nope, the cold was not helping at all. There goes the warmness creeping back on your cheeks and ears. Let me hurry and get the fuck out of here, grabbing for your phone and unlocking it to find the Uber app.

“Y/n!”

But before your thumb could press on the application, you instinctively turned around to see the door was open again. And the person who called out to you had your breath come to a complete stop.

Gojo closed the door behind him, coming down the driveway while hurriedly putting on his grey Chesterfield coat. “Fuuuuuck, it got cold quick!”

“G–Gojo!” You stuttered when out by the time he could make it to you. “What’s up? What are you—“

“I saw you weren’t in the bedroom, and Suguru told me you headed downstairs. You could’ve told me you were leaving; that fox with bangs was giving me an earful,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets and then curses. “Fuck, I should’ve checked for my gloves before I left….Anyway, where are you heading off to?”

You were a little taken aback. “Uhhh, back to the dorms?”

“Great!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks with you down the road. “My car’s over there; let’s hurry before we freeze to death.”

Huh? “Hurry where??”

“Huh? We’re going back to campus, no?”

We!? “Together!?”

“Yeah?”

“Gojo, please!” You promptly removed yourself away from Gojo, standing in front of him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being all nice now?”

He shrugged “Ehhhh? Are friends not supposed to give friends rides back home?”

“No, not us! We aren’t friends; we’re friends to an extent, remember!?”

“Ahhh, stop being a baby. You act as if you’ve never been in my car before.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, but not when I’m alone with you, dummy! “C’mon, it’s gonna get colder with this snow.”

“Okay, just—Stop!” Your hands go up to prevent him from getting any closer to you. He stops, the fallen flakes camouflaging with his hair. “Gojo….you understand what just happened back there, right?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a single nod.

“So, you know that my mind is going at like a hundred miles per hour right now.”

“….Yeah.”

“Okay….So, just please…I need a minute.” Your face goes to your feet to divert your thoughts elsewhere because you don’t know if you could handle looking at the white-haired man for a mere second.

Gojo looks at you mumble to yourself, avoiding him. He releases a deep sigh, walking towards you and lifting a side of his coat to shield you two from the windows of the house party. “…You’re doing it again.”

His shoes come to your direct line of sight, your heart pounding even more. “…Doing what?”

“The thing where you push people out whenever you feel overwhelmed.” You flinch when his finger grazes the back of your palm. “Don’t do that, not right now. I want you to talk to me.”

What is there to talk about? You could’ve said that to throw him off — be avoidant to this whole conversation. But it’s futile after he brings your chin up to face him.

“Did I make you uncomfortable back there?”

“….No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I….I don’t know.” Honestly, you did not know. Your mind had too much to go through; so many memories and phrases from moments ago hit you all at once. You’re fighting the urge to tremble — not from the cold, but from overstimulation of brain power and senses.

His eyes are still fixed on you, noting you chewing on your lip. “Come with me.” The sudden revelation quirked your eyebrows up. “Whatever’s going on with you is obviously because of me. So, I’d feel like a dick if I just let you leave because of me. Plus, there’s no way you’re getting an Uber from here. Shit is like $20, I checked.”

“Gojo, I—“ he silences you with a kiss on your forehead. The feel of his lips on your skin again almost made you shut down.

“Sorry,” he whispered while placing his forehead on yours. You never really noticed how tall he was until he did that, your heart skipping again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Picture it: you are out in the cold with Gojo, snow falling down silently onto your figures, him bringing his coat up to shield you from the world. If you were naive enough, you’d mistake this as a scene from a fairy tale. And how he was looking at you, too; his sunglasses were back on, but you could make out the blue orbs that lingered on yours. It’s as if he didn’t want to look at anything else. Just you and only you.

You don’t know where the hell this side of confidence came from, but you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks and bring him in for another kiss. Cold lips instantaneously warm up at each other’s contact, Gojo leaning into your touch more.

Snow continues to fall and stick, and the music from the house can still be heard from the outside. Yet it doesn’t bother you because it all drowns out in this moment you feel with him. Whatever these feelings you are experiencing are something new — scary, but new. And for some reason, it felt right to have them for him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A sheet of white cascades over the university grasses, students’ cars topped with sprinkles of snowflakes, and the lampposts emit a glow that fits the dark, cloudy weather.

You were back on campus but not in your dorm where you told Utahime you’d be. You did text her when you arrived, so she doesn’t have to worry too much for you. In turn, she texted back that something had come up and is going to another event with Haibara and some other friends. She said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning; it sounds like she’s having a good time.

The same thing goes for Geto, only that the raven-haired boy called Gojo to say he’d be home in the morning because he was getting “private” with someone he met at the party. “Will be back in the morning. Don’t cause a fire alarm like last time, you dork."

Haibara is supposedly with your roommate, meaning he won’t be back until the morning, either. The only person left to account for would be Nanami, who is currently away for the weekend because he had to visit home to grab last-minute things from break.

That leaves only you inside their apartment – in Gojo’s room on top of his bed with your top and bra down on the carpeted floor, along with Gojo’s sweatshirt and jeans. His bed is like any other twin bed for college dorms, a little impossible to move around for two people and limited positions. Nonetheless, to start things off slow, you lie comfortably on his bed with your head to his pillow as he crawls above you and works from above.

Gojo is straddled on top of you, kissing your lips and sucking on your tongue, evoking the prettiest wails he’s ever heard. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders while his are busy roaming your body.

The kiss is broken when you gasp at the contact of his pinkie grazing a nipple on your breast. “Ahhnn, Satoru, don’t touch…Mmmph!”

“Hmmm, what, gorgeous?” He places his lips from your chin down to your neck, sucking on your skin and leaving ticklish nibbles. “Don’t touch what?”

“M–My ni—Ohhoo!” He gives the hardened bud a tweeze, and your cry results from the sudden action.

He chuckles, “So cute.” Kisses travel down from your collarbone, your breasts, and finally, your other unattended nipple. A whimper leaves your lips at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nob, and you shriek when he takes it into his mouth. The frequent grazes of his teeth and the tongue pushing your nipple to the roof of his mouth — it all felt surreal.

Yet, it wasn’t as surreal as the next thing he was about to do. Sucking on your tit was the perfect distraction for him to sneak a hand down into your pantyhose, sinking it to the lower regions of your underwear. You gasp at the feeling of a digit pressing on the wet spot of your underwear.

“W–Mmmph…’toru, wait…” you pat him on his shoulder to get his attention, yet he doesn’t lift from your breast yet. “Don’t—Stop, it’s embarrassing—Khhmm!“ Shivers shoot up your spine after Gojo uses his middle and forefinger to go in between your panty-covered folds. Your wetness sticks onto him the more he rubs.

Gojo lets go of your nipple with one last suck, the cool air chilling the wet bud. “Awww, is my lil’ princess shy?” You could only answer in pants and puffs, his blue eyes surveying your entire body laid out for him. “Heh, shit, you look so good...Hmm? Hey, you got a tear down here.”

“Huh?” You follow his eyes down to your tights, bringing your attention to a worn-down incision where Gojo’s hand is between the material and your underwear. It must’ve been from when I was grinding on him earlier today…

The snow-haired boy removes his hand from inside your tights and uses both to make the rip bigger. Your eyes shot wide, “Wha—What are you doing?”

“Making it easier to see your pussy.” He continues to tear a hole big enough for the damp spot of your pussy to be prevalent.

Your face dials up in warmth at the vulgar word. “You could’ve just taken them off, you idiot…”

“Pssh, that’s no fun. Besides,” Gojo uses a thumb to remove the panty barrier to reveal what he’s wanted to see the moment you crawled up on his bed. Your bare cunt, wet substance glistening the pretty folds of your labia. He bites his lip. “I’ve been dying to see this pretty thing you’ve been hiding from me.”

Your hands rush to cover up your vagina, “D-Don’t say such embarrassing things, Gojo!”

“Hey, hey, let me see it,” his hands are used to pull yours aside, your slit throbbing from his gaze without your control. “And what did I say about calling me by my last name?”

It was a force of habit, dummy. “...Just be gentle, okay, Satoru?”

He beams a smile at you, the dimples on his cheek prevalent with his childish manner. “I will, princess! Now, what’s goin’ on here…”

He ditches his head down to your chasm, giving the inviting genitalia a slow lick up to your clitoris. You bucked your hips in shock, jerking at the sudden intrusion of his tongue situating between your slit. He uses his hands to keep your legs still while he sucks and teases your vagina.

You grab for his hair, “—Khhaa!! Ohhh, ohhfuckkk, Satoru, no—Ohhh!!” Your eyes screw shut, mouth open to let your cries fly out.

It only pushes Gojo to keep going, his tongue ravaging your folds as if he’s going to lick you clean. And when he sucks on clit? Holy fuck, you could’ve sworn your soul left your body right there and then.

“Satoruuu!! Ohhhshit, ohhhh…Mmmph,” the noises that come from the commotion below of Gojo’s tongue lapping and slurping your essence were so pornographic to the ears as if they’d melt on the spot. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, I think I’m gonna…Nnmmph!”

Gojo hears you; that’s why he removes his mouth from your clit before you can experience your orgasm. You throw an unsatisfied whine at him, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face. “Sorry, cutie. But I wanna have a feel for you first.” He straightens his posture and spreads your legs for him. You follow his hands that land at the hem of his boxer briefs, where a tent protrudes until his erection is sprung out with one fell swoop.

The erect limb you gawked at was definitely something you weren’t mentally prepared enough to see. Your eyes take in every single detail you can: from his pink tip, where precum exudes from the urethra down to the underside of his cock, to the long body curved slightly to the left. A whole living a breathing dick — and it’s Gojo’s dick, of all things. It was oddly pretty, you had to admit.

“Ya ready?” You snap back to reality when Gojo calls out to you as he scoots forward to you after putting the condom on, the cockhead aligning with your labia. You hold your breath at the proximity, “Listen to me, Y/n. Since this is your first time, I need you to take deep breaths and try to relax for me. Think you can do that for me?” You sigh through your nostrils, but you nod. “Heh, good. Now stay still, and let me know if it hurts, okay, princess?”

He lightly pushes his glans to your labia, swirling it around to warm you up before kissing the entrance of your vagina. He begins to propel into you, and you begin to brace yourself for the pain that accompanies his insertion. You grab the pillowcase, your teeth clinging to your bottom lip as tears well up. But you remind yourself to breathe, drawing out as much of an exhale for Gojo to shove the tip in.

And when it does get in, you release the loudest gasp you’ve ever expressed that night! Your body froze stiffly as Gojo plunged more of his length into you; the curve scraping your side caused such an exhilarating spike in your nerves that your walls immediately began clenching around him.

Oh fuck, It’s coming, I’m gon— “Ahhhh!”

And just like that, your orgasm that was avoided before came back in seconds., the walls of your slit fluttering on Gojo’s cock like crazy, electric shocks climbing up to your head and pulling you in for a haze.

The sudden contraction of you makes Gojo hiss, “—Fuuuck, you’re gripping me like crazy…! Damn, you feel so fucking good…” He continues to push himself onto you until the base rises your southern lips and grinds his pelvis, which only fuels your screams even more with the overstimulation. “—Khhh! D-Damn…did you cum, baby?”

You can’t even form a proper sentence, your lower half feeling too full to speak, and your figure trembling from the crescendo.

Your expression has Gojo bend down to laugh. “Never had that happened before. Heh, glad I could make you cum for the first time. Congrats, pretty…” Pillowy lips claim yours again, taking your whines and whimpers as he roughly grinds his hips to you.

Gojo begins moving his hips at a slow pace, letting you adjust to his size and shape. However, the peak has made your entire lower body dial-up in sensitivity, your back arching to him every time your clit is barely touched. Tears have long fallen since he successfully entered inside you.

Jesus, the fucking curve of his shaft was so fucking dangerous! Not only was the feeling of his veins coming to and fro with your inner walls had you twitching, but the way the tip of his cock was scratching and poking every spot that had you humming was so unfair. Especially now, when he changes the rhythm to a faster cadence, you’re bound to come again!

“Ohooo, ahahhh, Sa-‘toru…! Ughhh, Jesus, it feels so….Hooohhh!!” Your words slurred in between kisses, almost choking on your tongue with the slap of his balls hitting your taint.

“Yeah, baby…—Ohhh, shit, shit, shiiiit…!” You feel so good to Gojo; he can’t help but slam onto you with all his might. Your nails were causing eclipses on the skin of his shoulders. He didn’t mind; he knew it was because you were feeling good, too. “Hnngh…How’re you feelin’, Y/n? Hmm?”

“—Eeshh!! I–I…don’t know…” Your brain was too mushy to think adequately, too distracted by what was between your legs.

But Gojo wasn’t buying that mess. “Ohoho, I think you do know, sweetie.” The tall silver-haired boy creeps a hand down to your clit to give it a pinch. You scream, your legs wrapping around his hips involuntarily. “How’re you feeling?”

“—Fuuuhucck!! It feels good,” There, you finally said it. “It feels soo good…Hic–pleaseeee, make me feel good, ‘toruuuu!!”

He puts his forehead to yours before kissing it. “God, you’re so fucking, cute…”

Gojo increases his tempo to an erratic fashion, your howls bouncing off the walls with every plunge of his dick inside you. Your gummy walls clamp onto him while his fingers swipe around your clitoris, and more tears strike down your wet cheeks.

The familiar tingling sensation from before begins to climb up. Oh, God, it’s happening again. “Ahhooo—OhmyfuckingGooood!! I’m gonna cum again, I’m gonna cummm…! Aiiishh, ahhhhh!!”

And there it goes, your second crescendo hitting you like a wall. Your walls twitch around Gojo’s length again, prompting the man above you to impetuously thrust in a harsh motion, evoking more choked sobs from your puffy lips. And when he dwells into a finish of his own, you can feel his limb pulsate along with your contractions withering away.

The two of you heave and pant close to each other before Gojo slumps his body on your nude figure, allowing him to rest while he pumps his load into your stimulated cunt. The sheets beneath you stick to your sweaty skin, the air of Gojo’s huffs tickling your neck.

When you feel your body subsided from the excitement, you two turn to each other. Noses touching each other, eyes locked into each other’s stares.

“….So,” he’s the first to speak in a whisper. “…What does this make us?”

His eyes were so alluring to look at, like looking at the most beautiful azure gems in your adjacency. “…I’ll punch you if you say I’m your girlfriend.”

That has him chuckling in shaky breathes. “Fair enough, but it’d be dumb if we didn't talk after this.”

A curt nod in agreement, “…Is there a thing called frenemies-with-benefits?”

“Pfft, I don’t know, but why not? I wouldn’t mind.” Gojo then decides to get up and finally remove himself from you, slowly taking out his cock with the condom. The bed creaks when he leaves to remove the plastic and wrap it to discard it. “You okay?”

You ponder for a few seconds before coming to an honest answer. “I think so…My pantyhose isn’t fine, though, you fiend.”

He flashes another smile at you, his dimples taking your heart away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. I’ll get you another pair.”

“You better.”

BZZZT!! BZZZT!! BZZZT!!

Before you could get off the bed, a vibration came from Gojo’s dresser top. It was his phone, the caller ID reading as “punk-boy bangy wannabe”

You blink and give the phone to Gojo after he puts his sweatshirt back on. With raised brows, he says, “It’s Suguru?” His thumb presses the green button before bringing the device to his ear while he puts his limp dick back in his boxers. “Yo. Wassup?”

“Okay, good, you picked up. I’m getting in the elevator right now to grab something from the room real quick. Open the door for me, will ya?”

The white-haired roommate couldn’t express his shock in time because Geto ended the call before he could have the chance. He turns to you slowly, and you can tell whatever he’s going to say isn’t good based on that dumb look on his face. “Suguru's coming up…now.”

Panic spiked up as it rightfully should. You were still braless and topless, for Christ’s sake! And wearing torn tights!? Something you did not want Geto to see in the likes of his and Gojo’s room. “W–What should I do?!”

Gojp quickly scans the room for a plan, immediately pointing to a door to his right. “Hide in my closet!” He hurries to grab the door open. “Quick, grab your clothes and get in here!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…!” You grab for everything in your direct line of sight, making a straight beeline to the closet when you’ve got everything. “Don’t forget my shoes at the front; just quickly hide them somewhere!”

“Okay, okay—“

“I’m serious, Gojo! Do not do anything stupid!”

“I heard you, jeez.” He watches you move around the closet, moving his shoes to one side while trying to hide behind one of his suits. Jesus, you looked real cute even when you were scared. “…Hey.”

You peer up at him, moving his blazer so he could see your complete face. “What?”

“Be careful not to leave your panties here ‘cause I might not give them back.”

The last thing Gojo saw within that second was one of his dress shoes thrown dead at his face. His hands come to his stinging nose and cheek, exclaiming at the pain with a loud groan. “Fucking pervert, quit playing dumb games and get my shoes!”

I take it fucking back. He slams the closet door closed. “So uncute…”

6K notes · View notes

sarahscribbles · 6 months

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟔𝐤

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @inklore

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The God of Mischief is laughing beside you.

It’s quiet against the happy chatter of the TV but still sends a rush of warmth straight to your heart - like taking a straight shot of Tennessee whiskey on a winter’s evening. It’s nothing like the bitter, sardonic sound he reserves for most of the team - this laughter is light and joyous and unquestionably happy.

It’s…nice, and it’s quickly becoming your favourite sound in the world.

Much like how Loki is becoming your favourite person in the world. It’s been gradual, like the first blooming flowers of spring, and, if you’re being honest, entirely unexpected. Only a few months ago Loki was nothing more than a thorn in your side. Now, you can’t imagine your life without him.

In a short space of time, he’s become your best friend and your confidante; he’s the first person you want to run to when you have a bad day, the first person you want to run to when you have a good day, and, steadily, he’s starting to feel like home.

He isn’t a monster intent on destruction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

He’s just Loki, the man whose happiness is slowly becoming yours.

His chest bounces beneath your ear again. You have no idea what the narrator has just said, but it was evidently something that Loki found amusing, and his laughter pulls an easy smile across your face. “I love hearing you laugh,” you murmur quietly, nuzzling even further into his side.

Maybe it’s because the man who so many people are still quick to call a villain is reclined back on your sofa with his legs stretched out on the massive ottoman, maybe it’s because he’s cradling you to his cashmere clad chest like he never wants to let you go, or maybe it’s because of the random kisses he’s been pressing to the top of your head all evening.

Whatever it is, you’re overcome with softness for him. Behind the aloof, icy facade is a golden heart, and you’re seeing more and more of the goodness that lies within it every single day.

“Is that so? Then we should watch your little mortal box more often, darling. It’s rather endearing to hear Midgardians attempt to understand Asgard,” he reponds, mirth lighting up his voice while his fingertips trail softly along your upper arm.

He misses the fond roll of your eyes only because something else has caught his attention that he must pass comment on, and you listen enthralled while he explains the actual differences between Valhalla and Fólkvangr. You’ve both been watching this documentary on Norse mythology for over an hour, and Loki has spent a large chunk of it pointing out every wrong detail no matter how small.

Each deep, exasperated sigh and pronounced click of his tongue has you giggling like a child beneath his arm, to which he squeezes you that little bit tighter. He’s proud of himself, and it makes you wonder if he’s actually annoyed by the portrayal of his home or if it’s all an act to make you laugh.

With Loki, either is highly likely.

“Do you know what amuses me, darling?” he says lightly, still trailing those elegant fingers along your arm. You expect to hear something more about what the documentary has gotten wrong, but that’s not what comes. “A few months ago, you actively despised me. Now, I believe you would climb into me if you could.” His voice is soft, leaving no room for you to doubt that he’s only teasing.

You burrow deeper into his embrace. “I didn’t despise you,” you reply with a small smile.

His arm tightens around your shoulders again and something warm and golden blooms in the pit of your stomach. It’s too soon to call it what you know it is, but you feel the flame burn brighter with every second you spend with him.

The man you’re currently twisted around is brilliant and loving and your heart fits right in the palm of his hand. It’s safe there, you know. You trust him, even though everyone you know has warned you not to.

It’s one of the easiest things you’ve ever done.

Loki’s chest rumbles with laughter again. “Darling, you despised me,” he repeats, but you know he’s smiling along with you.

You pretend to huff, but reach out to poke his side, delighting in the way he squirms beneath your tickling touch. “I didn’t! I didn’t like you, but I didn’t despise you, either,”

“That knife you threw at me in the training room after Yule begs to differ,” he shoots back seamlessly, while you force back laughter at the memory of his face frozen in shock at your expert aim.

You shrug lightly into his chest. “Natasha told me I needed to practice more.

“Darling, I can assure you she meant to practice on inanimate objects.

You tilt your head back to peer up at him with a teasing smile. “You were inanimate; you were standing in the doorway.”

Loki releases an exasperated sigh but wraps both arms tightly around you to pull you fully into his lap. “Little menace,” he replies while you pretend to squirm in his grip. It only makes him grip you tighter until you’re clamped inescapably against his chest.

Through the rich material of his sweater, you can feel his firm chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. The man is a work of art, yet it’s you who's straddling his lap - an unremarkable mortal.

He smiles at you as you continue to admire him, and it’s a smile that’s almost shy. “What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours, hmm?” he asks quietly, resting his hands on your hips.

“You. Thinking about you,” you answer, watching the faint tinge of pink that colours his cheeks.

His hands slide up from your hips only a fraction until he can dip his thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt to trace absentminded circles on your bare skin. It’s an innocent touch, but it sends something electric shooting along your spine.

“Oh? Do elaborate, darling,” he purrs.

Loki’s eyes are sparkling with amusement, but you can read the need for praise that’s swirling deep beneath the surface. It’s one thing you can’t deny him.

“I was thinking about how beautiful you are,” you tell him, sliding your hands from around his neck to stroke his biceps. “And how lucky I am,” you continue.

The muscles in his neck flex and you feel your resolve crumble to dust. It’s been calling out to you from the moment he pulled you into his lap, and you can no longer deny yourself the luxury of pressing your lips to his skin.

Loki’s broken inhale is instant and his fingers curl tighter around your waist. Your teeth are quickly grazing along his throat while you suck a bruise into his skin. You want to mark him, to stake your claim on him.

You want to leave no doubt that this god - this beautiful, wonderful man - is yours.

“Darling, you need -,” he begins, but it melts to a moan when you run your tongue along his neck. “Darling,” he tries again.

You silence him with a kiss. It’s slow and deep, and when you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug it, he rolls his hips experimentally against you. The hard length of him presses wondrously against you, coaxing your hips to grind down on top of him. Loki’s breath catches in his throat while he kisses you, and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.

��Darling, anymore of that and -,”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m ready.”

His eyes soften as they take you in, scanning your face for even a breath of hesitation. “Are you sure?” he asks, while his thumbs return to stroking your sides.

“Yes,” you answer firmly, resting your forehead against his. “No more waiting. Please.”

In one smooth movement, his arms are wrapping around your middle to press you tightly against him. One strong hand weaves its way into your hair while his lips find yours again. There’s a new hunger to his kiss - it’s raw and possessive and filled with a need that has been simmering beneath the surface for months.

You expect him to flip you onto your back and finally make you his right here on the sofa, but his hands eagerly begin to run down your back and grip beneath your thighs. Suddenly, he’s on his feet and your legs are locking around his waist. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, because he’s not letting you break this kiss even for a second.

“Beautiful thing,” he whispers into your mouth, effortlessly carrying you from your living area and down the hallway toward your bedroom.

The Norse mythology documentary is long forgotten.

His lips stay locked to yours until your back hits the bedroom door, and only then does he break away to curse as he fumbles with the handle. You laugh quietly - because for some reason it’s oddly endearing - and press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Loki wastes no time in kicking the door closed when you’re finally through. Vaguely, you notice a faint green shimmer cascade over the wood as it settles in the doorframe, but it’s pushed from your mind by the frenzy of kisses that Loki is pressing to every inch of your face.

“Do you know,” he murmurs, trailing a haphazard line of kisses along your cheeks, “how long I’ve wanted this? Wanted you?”

His admission fans the flames of desire burning fiercely in your stomach. How have you lasted so long without inviting him into your bed? How have you not had this man again and again until his name is seared into your soul? How have you not realised how fiercely he burns for you too?

“Then take me. Please,” you murmur against his lips.

His answering smile is soft and gives you another swift kiss. “Begging won’t be necessary, darling.”

With surprising gentleness, he lays you on the bed amongst your pile of pillows. Your legs fall open instantly for him, to which he quickly climbs between. There’s a hesitance to his movements, almost as if he’s scared to lay a finger on you.

“I’m not going to break,” you say with a smirk. “You can touch me. I need you to touch me, Loki.”

Your hands find the hem of his sweater, coaxing it along his back until he’s helping you pull it off. You’ve seen him shirtless before - many times - but your fingers still reach hungrily for his chest. Loki shivers beneath your touch and pride blooms happily in your stomach.

An unremarkable mortal you may be, but you have a god shivering beneath your fingers.

Slowly, his hands slip underneath your shirt, and cool fingers glide along your stomach to push it over your head. His eyes travel appreciatively over you before settling on your breasts.

“Enchanting, beautiful thing,” he says, leaning to press his lips to your neck.

The reverence in his voice has a rush of heat pulse between your thighs while you grasp his strong shoulders. Too many times, previous lovers have made you feel like you were nothing more than an object, something that was conveniently there for them to fuck.

Not with Loki, though. The man has barely undressed you and he’s treating you like the most precious thing his hands have ever held.

Boldly, you reach for his belt, shooting him a suggestive smirk while you unfasten it. He lets you work, diving in for another blistering kiss as you undo the button and open the zipper. The taste of him on your tongue and the feel of him beneath your fingers is electrifying, and there’s a newfound urgency in your movements as you try to push his jeans off.

After a few strategic tugs they slide over his hips, granting you the freedom to run your hands greedily over the firm swell of his ass. You can’t help but moan shamelessly into his mouth while simultaneously squeezing him with both hands. He’s a work of art beneath your appreciative fingertips.

Something close to a growl rises from Loki’s chest and he gently nips at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he purrs lightly.

Grinning, you squeeze his ass again. “It’s been my evil plan all along.”

“Ah! I’ve been bested by a beautiful little devil!” he teases and lowers his lips back to your neck.

His kisses are slow and deliberate and punctuated by the occasional nip of his teeth. You know what he’s doing; you know that every mark he’ll place on you tonight is a claim, a message to anyone who looks that he’s finally made you his.

The molten beast of arousal burns fiercer between your thighs. You hope and pray that you’ll be covered in his marks tomorrow. You want everyone to know that you belong to him.

Loki interlocks the fingers of one hand with yours, all while slowly trailing a path of kisses along your chest and down your stomach. It’s silent adoration - a god worshipping his mortal - and he only stops when his lips meet the waistband of your leggings. You feel him hesitate, feel him run the pad of his thumb across the material while he lifts his eyes to yours.

It only takes you a second to realise he’s asking for permission.

You nod quickly and breathe out a quiet “yes.”

Loki presses a final kiss to your stomach and gently squeezes your hand. He lets go to hook both sets of fingers into your leggings, taking great care not to jostle you around while he tugs them - along with your underwear - easily down your legs. You’re suddenly bare before him and, stupidly, you feel a rush of nervousness pulse through you. This man has slept with gods and goddesses and beings more beautiful than you can even imagine.

How can you compare?

Glittering green eyes travel hungrily over you. The earlier softness is still shining there clear as day, but now it’s swirling and mixing openly with undisguised lust. It causes a gentle heat to burn beneath your skin and, almost subconsciously, you attempt to cover yourself.

But Loki is having none of it.

His hands reach to clasp yours and he folds your fingers easily between his, pinning your arms to the mattress. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on,” he says slowly, making sure you hear every word.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you repeat his question back to him, though even you can hear the shakiness of your own voice.

Loki’s answering smile is infectiously boyish. “Is it working?”

He can likely hear your heart thundering in your chest, but you still reply with, “maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

“Hmm, perhaps I need to try a little harder?” he says, still grinning impishly.

His hands slide to gently grip your wrists so he can guide your arms around his neck. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart swell in your chest because he trusts you enough to touch him. You hum contentedly and tangle your hands loosely in his hair, twisting silky strands around your fingertips as he drops his lips back to your chest.

His kisses are slower now and the warmth of his lips lingers like a dream against your skin. It’s as though he finds his pleasure from simply kissing you, like that alone is enough to send him freefalling into bliss. It’s a heady thought that has your back arching, greedily searching for more of him or maybe offering up more of yourself.

You aren’t entirely sure.

Loki’s lips travel lower in tandem with his hands that are curled around your middle. His touch is so intoxicating, so wonderfully addictive that you can’t stop the quiet whimper that slips from between your lips. You feel him smile against the skin of your lower stomach, feel his thumbs trace tiny circles against your hipbones, and when he hovers just millimeters from your cunt, you automatically hold your breath.

When nothing happens you flick your eyes questioningly down to his.

Loki is gazing at you with desire storming in his eyes, so much so that they’re almost completely black. He looks like a man starved and doesn’t break his gaze from yours as he bends his head to lick a firm, slow stripe along the length of your cunt. Electricity crackles almost joyously through your blood, setting every inch of you aflame and pulling a shameless moan from the depths of your throat.

Through the haze of your desire, you feel Loki gently squeeze your hips. “Ok?” he asks quietly.

The laugh you release is short and strangled. “Y-yes! God, yes!”

A wolfish smile curls across his face. You watch transfixed as he dips back between your thighs, never tearing his eyes from yours as he buries his tongue in your cunt. A volcano of pleasure erupts in your core, twisting through every inch of you with each skillful flick of his tongue. You groan, you whimper, you grip Loki’s curls so tightly that you’re surprised he isn’t howling from the pain.

“Ugh…fuck!” you groan when he slips his hands beneath your ass to pull you closer.

His mouth is warm and wet and talented - god, it’s talented - and when his tongue begins to lap over your clit you can’t help but buck and grind against his face. You feel him hum appreciatively against your cunt, and he swirls his tongue firmly over your swollen clit once, twice more.

“Loki!” you whimper. “Fuck, Loki, keep doing that! Please!”

He’s only too happy to grant your request. His tongue traces swirls and patterns endlessly against your clit. It’s just enough pressure and just the right rhythm that the coil in your stomach quickly begins to wind tight. Every expert flick and swirl of Loki’s tongue is like diesel to a flame, setting your core alight until you’re completely engulfed by him.

If you died right now, you would greet death happily.

Loki continues to lap at your cunt like a man starved, and when your back arches off the bed, he slips his hands further beneath your back to clamp you firmly against his warm mouth. It’s pleasure like you’ve never experienced - white hot and all consuming - and before long you’re balancing beautifully on the edge.

“Loki…Loki, please…I’m…m’ gonna come!” you say, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.

The first tendrils of your release are licking through your core and each tiny cry that passes from your lips only encourages the god between your legs. The warm wetness of his tongue laps perfectly at your clit, making stars begin to dance at the edge of your vision, but when he moans against you - a deep, satisfied rumble of sound - you know you’re gone.

Your orgasm engulfs you suddenly and without warning. The force of it sends your eyes rolling in your head and your hands tangling in Loki’s hair like a vice. His name leaves your lips in a scream to the heavens, and his head doesn’t stop bobbing between your legs until you’re panting and boneless on top of the mattress.

Amidst the lavender haze that has settled around you like a favourite blanket, you feel Loki press a soft kiss to your still sensitive clit. It makes you jolt and pulls a strangled sound from deep in your throat, but then his thumbs are drawing lazy circles over your hip bones.

I’m here.

His lips begin a slow path from between your thighs, pressing gently and haphazardly along your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. He kisses across your collarbone and dips below your chin, making sure not to miss even an inch of your throat.

Never in your life have you felt more desired.

“Exquisite,” he murmurs before his lips find yours. "Worthy of the gods.” He kisses you deeply and the taste of you is still heavy on his tongue. It’s electrifying and only serves to reignite the flames of arousal that he’s only just quenched.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips and reluctantly break his kiss. “The only god I want is you,” you say quietly, cupping his face in your hands.

He gazes down at you silently, looking as though you’ve just placed the secrets of the universe in his hands. It’s both endearing and heartbreaking - that he’s struggling to believe he’s the one you want - and it fills you with a renewed purpose to ensure this man never goes to sleep feeling unwanted.

You tug him back down until his lips are back on yours. His kiss is slower this time, languid, as though he wishes to use every last second to commit the taste of you to heart.

A god drunk on the taste of his mortal.

“Touch me. Please,” he rasps, breaking from your lips for only a second.

It’s a plea you’re only too happy to answer. Slowly - because you want to enjoy every last inch of this man - you slide your hands from where they’ve been resting on his biceps. You marvel at the broadness of his shoulders and drink in the smooth expanse of his muscled back. Lightly, you trace your fingertips along the hollow of his spine, delighting in how he shivers beneath your touch.

But it’s nothing compared to the deep, appreciative moan that tumbles from his lips when your hands once again squeeze the smooth swell of his ass.

You laugh into his mouth and rest your arms back across his shoulders. “You are so beautiful,” you whisper, raising a hand to brush some stray curls behind his ear.

He catches your wrist before it can rest your hand back on his shoulder and presses a kiss to the centre of your palm. “You, my dove, are a treasure amongst mortals,” he says softly, all while positioning himself between your welcoming thighs. His forehead finds yours at the same time his cock nudges teasingly against you. “Let me pleasure you, darling, please. Let me give you every part of me.”

Easily, you wrap your legs around his waist where they fit like a missing puzzle piece. “If you don’t, I’ll be very upset,” you tease him.

He grins widely so widely at you that the corners of his eyes crinkle endearingly. “Well, we certainly can’t have that,” he replies, and slowly, you feel him begin to ease into you.

You inhale deeply as the blunt head of his cock slips inside you. It’s barely anything at all but already your head is rolling back on the pillow and your eyes are slipping shut. You knew Loki would feel good, but nothing could have prepared you for just how good.

You want to lose yourself in the feel of his body in yours, but before you can even draw breath two cool fingers are on your chin, encouraging you to tilt your head forward.

“Keep your eyes on me, my darling,” he commands softly and you instantly snap them open. “Good girl.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he eases himself fully inside you, giving you all the time you need to adjust. He’s big, and every added inch has you clenching joyously around him if only to hear the groans that spill from him each time you do.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping his head between his shoulders when you clench particularly hard. “Little vixen. Beautiful little menace,” he continues, dropping haphazard kisses to your cheeks and chin.

When you can take no more of him he coaxes your hand from where it’s been clamped to his shoulder, clutching it tightly in his own as though he fears you’ll melt beneath the cotton sheets.

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you assure him, giving his hand a squeeze.

A quiet puff of laughter escapes him and he dips his head. You see the sheepish look that settles across his handsome face and your heart swells for him, for this man who has known more loss than many would deem fair.

You’ve barely left his side these past few months, but still he fears that he’ll lose you.

“I know,” he answers softly, sounding unmistakably embarrassed. “Forgive me. Sometimes…sometimes I still struggle to believe that someone like you chose someone like me.”

Your free hand is instantly cupping his cheek and your thumb is caressing his flushed skin. Does he know that you feel the exact same way? “I will always choose you,” you tell him firmly.

He hasn’t even been yours for a year, but you know with unwavering certainty that you would follow this man to the ends of the earth and beyond.

Loki presses his cheek into your palm and leans in to steal another chaste kiss from your lips. “My darling mortal,” he murmurs with a roll of his hips that has you groan. “My beautiful girl.”

You can’t look away as he expertly begins to build you up. You’re lost to the pretty gleam of his green eyes as they hold yours and how stray strands of ink black hair fall to frame his face; lost to the way his jaw falls slack when you roll your hips to meet his and clench around his cock; lost to how your name falls like spring rain from his lips, like it’s the only word he’ll ever need to know.

The edge crests like a wave in your core within minutes, each ripple making you dig your heels into his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, deeper. Your climax is bubbling white hot in the pit of your stomach, promising to drown you in pleasure like you’ve never known if you can just tip over the edge.

“Loki…,” you cry, twisting a hand into his hair for leverage. “Loki…I’m ready…please!”

His hands grips yours like a vice. “Look at me,” he pleads, and your eyes quickly settle back on his. “Cum for me, my darling.”

With five words, you go soaring off the edge.

Your orgasm rips through you like a storm, each blinding wave of pleasure submerging you deeper until tiny white stars begin to dance at the edges of your vision. It’s all consuming and so powerful that it robs you of almost all your senses, though you’re vaguely aware of Loki burying his face in your neck as his own climax pulls him under.

He’s ruined you for anyone else.

As the final ripples of your release fade in the aftermath, you can hear Loki panting in your ear. You untangle your hand from his hair to stroke it and turn your head to press a light kiss to his temple.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s all you're capable of saying as you lie boneless on the bed, still basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Fuck.” Loki echoes, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him.

You burrow happily into his side and feel him drape an arm around your shoulders. His heartbeat is still thundering beneath your ear - something that makes pride blossom in your stomach.

“Darling?” Loki speaks up after only a minute of silence.

“Hmm?” you hum back, excitement already beginning to fizz between your legs.

“I’d like to do that again…if you don’t mind.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

iceandpeaches · 2 months

Note

Hii I was hoping you could do a Luke castellan and Dionysus reader and the iconic line of “But Daddy I love him!” Imagine that Dionysus doesn’t approve of it at first and makes sure that reader and Luke don’t have activities together and it’s miserable for Luke, so Luke goes up to Dionysus makes him listen to him and Dionysus let’s them be together but threatens him but none the least let’s them be together! It could be a angst to fluff

(Sorry if I rambled!)

ohhhh this is good i lurv it! i hope u like it!

but daddy, i love him!; luke castellan

it was great that your father, lord dionysus was the director at camp half blood. when you first came, you were claimed almost immediately since he recognised you. weird claiming, but whatever.

you would often spend time with your father, given his frequent presence at camp. it would’ve been odd not to be close to him. but there was someone else who wanted to be close to you too. luke castellan never understood why and how a demigod could love their father like you did. he found it rather fascinating, since he didn’t really like his own father much.

so at every opportunity he could, whether it be sword fighting training or just at the campfire he’d try to talk to you… which pissed off dionysus. he didn’t want his only daughter, his little girl, to be taken away by the charming hermes boy. he despised the thought of it.

from that day onward, dionysus made sure that the hermes cabin had no activities that clashed with his own cabin. he made sure that the dionysus cabin teamed up with teams other than the hermes cabin for capture the flag. he did all he could to keep luke castellan away from his darling daughter.

it infuriated you, a simmering frustration bubbling within as you observed the repeated efforts of your father to keep luke at arm's length. each instance felt like a slap to the face, a reminder of the barriers created between you and someone who sought nothing but your company. you couldn't understand why your father was so adamant about keeping you apart, especially when you wanted to get to know luke.

you saw how at every opportunity, your father seemed to push away the hermes boy’s opportunity to talk to you. you saw how miserable the boy seemed, his eyes wandering to yours before breaking eye contact with you. you sigh, getting up from your table to talk to your father who sat with the satyrs.

“daddy, why are pushing luke away?”

“it’s simple, sweetheart. i can’t have my little girl swooned by handsome jerk.”

“you don’t even know him, daddy.”

“neither do you, y/n.”

your brows furrow, with your arms crossed against your chest. you had told your father previously about your admiration toward the boy, which was probably why there was a change in his attitude.

“but daddy, i love him!”

you exclaimed, luke watching you bicker with your father from a distance before watching you storm off. wonder what they were talking about. it hurt luke to see you upset, but he did notice that your father was staring in his direction. yeah.. they definitely talked about me.

luke felt the need to talk to the god about it. he couldn’t bear being so close yet so far from you. he hated that he couldn’t be the guy you laughed with. he got up from the hermes table, making his way toward the camp director.

“lord diony–“

“you may take your leave. i don’t wish to speak to you today.”

“i’ll get you a sauvignon 1992?”

“although that sounds delicious right now, still no.”

the god walked off to find his daughter, giving up after about 5 or so minutes then retreated to his sleeping quarters. luke on the other hand, was hatching a plan to persuade dionysus. he had to get him to say yes somehow.

for luke, the next few days was full of pestering the god. for dionysus, the next few days would be some he dreaded most. he saw luke’s face first thing in the morning and last thing at night. at this point, luke was going to beat chiron’s record of being in his face at all times.

luke finally got the time to sit down with dionysus one to one after curfew, after countless times of offering him a wine he stole while out in the city.

“sir, about your daughter.”

“so this is about my daughter, huh? you’ve been a real pest all day about it.”

“let me date court her, please.”

dionysus took a sip of the wine, savouring the sweetness of the dark red liquid. he hummed, swirling it in his glass.

“prove that you’re good enough for my daughter.”

“prove.. prove it?”

“you heard me bucko.”

the following day, luke did things he thought would prove his worth to dionysus. he helped out with tasks he usually wouldn’t take up and kept his day extra busy. by the end of the day, luke had done everything at camp. there wasn’t anything else he could’ve possibly done to prove himself, right?

“luke, my table.”

he heard a familiar voice speak, turning to see you which caused him to smile. he just hoped he didn’t look too foolish. he followed you to your table, sitting across from you and dionysus who was already for you both.

“okay, my blessing is given to you to court my daughter.”

wait.. it was that easy? dionysus stared down the hermes boy, his daughter practically giggling and blushing beside him.

“you better not break her heart kiddo. if you do, you’ll be shovelling pegasus poop for the rest of your time at camp.”

luke had no desire to for the rest of his time at camp shovelling poop, not like he would break your heart anyway. he had spent so much time trying to get your father’s blessing, so why would he break the heart of the only girl he envisioned his life with?

“yes sir.”

“alright alright go before i change my mind.”

dionysus flicked his wrist in a shooing motion, luke grabbing your hand and bringing you over to the hermes table.

a/n: i know the threat isn’t that serious but… personally i wouldn’t want to shovel poop…

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #peach's fics

615 notes · View notes

empresskylo · 1 year

Text

ghost seemed to despise you, making a mission you have to do together much tenser than it ever had to be...

a/n: i feel like this isn't great but i had fun writing it. idk.

cw: none i guess

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlist

The cold wind blew through your hair making you tighten your coat around your torso. You rolled your eyes as you walked silently beside Ghost. Of course, he wasn’t talking to you. But he was being more quiet than usual.

You were new and had managed to get him to speak to you the first few weeks, basic training, and small banter as you talked to the task force on the comms. You thought he even liked you at that point. The way he would gaze at you gave you goosebumps.

Then suddenly, Ghost began to ignore you. You knew you were not skilled physically. You weren’t really ‘one of the guys’. You were their tech nerd who had been trained to work in intensive situations. You felt like a black sheep among wolves.

Maybe that’s why Ghost didn’t like you very much. You were just extra weight. You couldn’t always protect yourself the way the others could. You often put the men at risk when they would shield you from danger you couldn’t fight off yourself.

Soap had to remind you that you were crucial to the team. You were the only one with engineering abilities—and pretty impressive ones at that. But still, it seemed like Ghost was repulsed by you and your helplessness. He made sure you weren’t on his team during missions. He’d look the other way when you’d catch his eye in the halls. He’d yell at you when you fell behind. He’d glare at you while you trained. He’d contest your appearance on more dangerous missions. It was tiring watching him act normal—whatever that means—around everyone else.

You muttered a few things to Ghost, trying to get him to talk, awkwardly fumbling your words. As usual, he didn’t acknowledge you.

“Well, this is fun. I just love talking to myself,” you groaned as you matched Ghost’s strides. It was just his luck that this mission required Ghost’s stealth and strength, and your tech skills. He would have put up a fight, but he knew you were the only one with the right skills for the job and he wasn’t about to compromise an important mission just to avoid you.

Ghost side-eyed you, huffing in response to your whines. “You always this whiney?”

“Actually, I can get a lot worse.”

“For God’s sake,” he muttered.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “…Sir,” you added in at the end, remembering just who you were grumbling unpleasantries to.

Ghost’s fist clenched, his breath deepening. “Wasn’t my bloody idea to take you on this mission with me. Trust me, I would have much preferred you stayed back.”

You shook your head. You were over it. “I’m not that bad, you know.” You peered up at him. He kept his head forward, scanning his surroundings as he walked. “The other guys like me.” You felt like a child as you kicked the dirt as you walked. You weren’t the type of person who needed everyone to like them, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you to see Ghost joking and being friendly with the others. Why did he hate you so damn much?

You walked the rest of the way in silence.

Night approached and you weren’t even close to where you were supposed to be—likely your fault for slowing Ghost down. “Can’t we just stop and rest a bit?”

“We got to get this mission done already,” he breathed, the way you were dragging him behind was giving him a headache.

“Yes, I know. But it’s not really a time-sensitive mission…” you pleaded annoyingly.

“I want to get back to base,” he said sternly, his head snapping in your direction to solidify his words.

You followed behind him as he weaved through an abandoned building, his gun raised and ready.

“I can’t really be that insufferable, right? I mean you like Soap just fine, and he’s loads more annoying than me,” you mumbled, speaking of Soap affectionately, but wanting to get your point across.

He grunted in response—if you could call that a response.

You took in a sharp breath before speaking, waving your arms as you did even though he couldn’t see you as you stalked in his shadow. “I know you don’t like me. You’ve made that blatantly clear. I just thought this would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I don’t know, maybe not ‘get to know each other’, that sounds lame. I just… I just thought you’d like me if I was able to prove myself—“ You slammed into Ghost as he faced you, gun resting by his side.

“What?! Why did we stop?” You asked in a panic. Your eyes immediately started searching the perimeter, trying to locate a threat.

“I don’t hate you,” Ghost said through gritted teeth, his accent heavy.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. He was actually listening to your rambling.

You suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze, regretting every stupid word you just said. You must have sounded so pathetic, complaining that your superior doesn’t crack jokes or tell you how good you’re doing, like any of that is important. His eyes were burning holes through you. “Oh…” was all you could muster. His eyes shied away from you finally, deciding not to say more than he already did.

He turned and began moving again. You felt your cheeks warm as you tried to shake off what just happened and followed Ghost.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, occasionally blinking for too long, seeing black, and feeling like you were about to nod off before startling yourself back awake with wide eyes.

“God, damn it,” Ghost huffed as he looked at you over his shoulder.

You shook your head trying to wake yourself up. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I’m awake.” You pushed the hair out of your eyes and tried your best to keep them open.

You could see Ghost contemplating something under his mask. He may have had most of his face covered at all times, but his eyes were full of expressions.

“Alright. We’ll rest a bit here. I’ll keep watch.”

You felt a sigh of relief knowing you could finally close your eyes for a minute, not caring enough to question him. You sank against the cool metal wall behind you. “You’re not gonna sleep?”

Ghost adjusted his stance. “Someone’s gotta keep watch. Now hurry up and sleep before I change my fuckin’ mind.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were out as soon as you closed your eyes.

You stirred, your body moved up and down waking you. You slowly pried your eyes open, wondering how long you had been out. That’s when you realized why you were moving. You were curled up against Ghost’s chest, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes widened as you rested against him. His breathing deep.

You tilted your head to look up at him and he was already staring down at you. Before you could speak, Ghost answered your question. “You were shiverin’.” He said matter-of-factly as if that was a perfectly good explanation as to why the Lieutenant had you pressed up against him. Especially knowing how much you seemed to bother him, why would he care if you were a bit cold?

You pushed yourself off of him and sat up in an attempt to be at eye level with him. You were partially straddling his thigh as you stared him down, trying not to succumb to his dominating glare in an attempt to overpower you.

“I was… Shivering?” You raised a brow, clearly not buying Ghost’s explanation. Ghost continued to stare at you. “What? Were you attempting to kill me in my sleep and then I woke up and ruined your plan?”

You pushed up off of him in annoyance and you felt his large hands grip your waist. He yanked you back so you were sitting on his thigh. Your eyes were wide with shock. Shit. Did I just piss off the lieutenant? You thought.

Ghost's voice was husky as he spoke, his throat strained from being awake for 42 hours and not getting much water. “I don’t fuckin’ hate you. And I wouldn’t plot to murder one of my men,” he growled.

You raised your hands in defeat. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” your voice became meek as you remained under Ghost’s grip, his fingers likely leaving bruises. You thought about pointing out the fact that he had said ‘men’ and not women, so technically he wouldn’t be lying if he still plotted to kill you. But you knew he was not in a joking mood—not that he ever was with you. He could see the way you were completely missing what Ghost was trying to say.

“Jesus, you’re as bad as Soap,” he mumbled.

You gave him a questioning glance. “And by that, you mean…”

Ghost glared at you from under his mask. You could feel your ears warm. After what felt like hours, he pushed you away and stood up in a huff. “Let’s go,” he commanded. His voice was stern and you knew if you made a joke or argued, he’d likely knock you on your ass. He was grumpier than usual.

You followed behind him solemnly, kicking at the ground as you walked like a bratty child.

You still were exhausted, your eyes red. You had slept maybe 30 minutes before you woke up in Ghost’s arms. The memory made you shiver.

Ghost growled, clearly as annoyed as any one man could be. He squatted in front of you and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“Wha-“

“Get on.”

You laughed, but Ghost stayed squatted. Your face went stoic. “Wait. You can’t be serious.”

“I want nothing more than to go to sleep and forget this whole fuckin’ mission, but you sleepwalking will make it take twice as long for me to get what I want. So get the fuck on.”

You gulped. This was next-level embarrassment. Not only did the men have to protect you, but now your lieutenant had to literally carry you.

Your face was burning hot as you timidly reached out and jumped on Ghost’s back. All his tactical gear made your position against him sort of uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare complain.

Ghost stood, his arms hooking under your thighs and began walking.

You both were silent the whole rest of the way, your arms wrapped around him as he carried you. Every once in a while he had to adjust your position back up and your heart would beat just a bit faster as his fingers slid along your thigh.

It felt like it took forever to make it back to base, you couldn’t imagine how long it would have taken if you both had to walk at your own pace. You were thankful at least that Ghost decided to carry you and not leave you behind to find your own way back.

Ghost had departed from you once you made it inside and you hadn’t seen him since. You stretched, sitting on your bed and staring at the clock. 1:34 am

You grumbled as you stood up and began down the hall in your slippers, not exactly very happy that your sleep schedule was messed up. You had slept for a good 17 hours once you crashed, but that meant you were now wide awake at 1 in the morning. Ghost was probably fast asleep by now and not rolling around in bed like you were. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Only you’d be able to mess up sleeping, you imagined Ghost mocking in his thick accent. Why did the thought give you butterflies?

You walked past the gym to go outside and get some fresh air when you saw a single light on in the corner of the gym. You rubbed your eyes, stopping and focusing through the window. It was Ghost.

You pushed open the door and spoke softly. “Lt.?”

Ghost grunted as he set the weights he was lifting down and turned to face you. It was dark but you could see that his mask was pushed up so he could down his water bottle and you felt your ears warm.

“What?” He asked exasperated.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You asked quietly as if people were sleeping in the gym. But your voice was likely so low because you knew you were just going to irritate him by asking. Maybe if you spoke softly, it wouldn’t sound as jarring to him.

He walked closer to you, grabbing a towel to your left to wipe his sweat away. You could make out the stubble that painted his jaw now that he was only two feet away. “I’m fine,” he grunted.

Most of Ghost’s eye paint had washed away from sweat and you could see the dark circles. “When was the last time you slept?”

Ghost groaned and it made you take a step back from him. His hand pulled his mask back down and he walked back to his weights, ready to start lifting again. The man was going to work himself to death.

You walked over to him with a bit more confidence. “Lt., you really need to rest. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep—“

He spun around, glaring at you. “You know why I can’t fuckin’ sleep?”

You felt small under his intense stare. You shook your head.

“Oblivious, you are,” he grumbled, putting his weights away.

“You want to talk about it?” You finally asked, unsure of what else to say. Maybe this would be a good time for him to confide in you?

Before you knew what was happening, Ghost had you pinned against the wall, his breathing deep, your own heart racing in your chest. This isn’t what you expected.

“It’s because of you,” he growled.

“Me?” You said in a soft whimper. Was he truly this upset because you weren’t like the others? You got flustered and fumbled with a gun in your hands. You weren’t as skilled in battle as they were. You were just the tech guru.

“You,” he grunted. “You’ve fuckin’ clouded my thoughts. You keep makin’ me distracted.”

Fuck, so your clumsiness was distracting him. “I’m sorry, I—“

“I can’t stop thinkin’ bout your warm body pressed against mine.” His voice was darker than earlier, but much quieter now. His strong arms straddled each side of your head, his eyes piercing you. You mentally jumped at his words.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, always irritated with how clueless you seemed to be. Weren’t you supposed to be insanely smart? Couldn’t you feel his eyes on you wherever you walked in a room? Couldn’t you see the way he purposefully avoided you since you were too much of a distraction to him because of how effortlessly breathtaking you always looked? Or because he was focusing so hard on making sure you were okay that he’d lose track of what he was doing? Couldn’t you see the way his fist tightened when you said you thought he hated you or when your honey-laced voice called him sir?

Ghost pushed his mask back up to his nose and bent into your face, your eyes widening. “You’ve consumed my every goddamn thought,” he mumbled before connecting his lips with yours. You froze at first, completely caught off guard. Ghost… Liked you? Really, liked you?

Ghost was about to pull away but then you started to kiss him back. You couldn’t help yourself.

He pushed himself closer to you, his hands dropping from the wall to rest on your hips. He pulled back and loomed over you, your flustered face making him feel weak again. “Hard to sleep when I can’t stop thinkin’ bout how your warm body felt so nice against me. Knowin’ I shouldn’t be thinkin’ bout you like that.”

It all made sense now. You finally understood why he seemed to hate you. You began laughing. Of course, someone like Ghost would act like that when he had a little crush. This whole time you were so worried he would always despise you when that was never even the case to begin with.

Ghost watched you until you stopped giggling, your face going serious in return. “Even though I’m awful at everything I do?”

Ghost’s arms were back next to your head making you jump. “You’re not. You’re great at exactly what we need you to be great at. It’s the reason you’re part of the task force.” You looked unconvinced and Ghost dragged a hand over his mask in annoyance. “Yeah, so you’re terrible with a fuckin’ gun. Why would I care about that?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I figured the lieutenant would hate anyone who wasn’t useful in the way he was…”

“You think so lowly of me?”

“No! I only meant… I mean, I figured you admired strength and deadly skills more than…”

He mumbled your name heavily and you got chills. “I don’t fuckin’ care about any of that. You can do shit that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If anything, it drives me crazy knowing you always need protection.” You took in a sharp breath, your palms flat against the wall behind you, worried he was about to explain why having to protect you all time drove him mad with rage, but what he said instead made you blush. “Makin’ me act… Possessive.” He sighed like he was talking to himself, explaining exactly why he couldn’t be attracted to you. “I can’t be actin’ like that.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you almost couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. “Why?” You whispered. You could see Ghost’s jaw tighten under his mask. He stayed silent, not answering your question.

Ghost’s eyes followed your hand as you reached up to his chin making him flinch. In embarrassment, you began to pull your hand away, but Ghost caught your wrist in his and moved your hand to lay against the side of his jaw. “Jus’ not used to touch, s’all.”

“But you like it? Touch, I mean.” You asked softly, your fingers caressing the cheek of the scariest man you knew. If anything, the way he was towering over you, trapping you between his arms, made him scarier. And yet…

“Mhm,” he hummed almost inaudibly as if he wasn’t used to being vulnerable and was struggling to admit it.

Ghost wasn’t sure what to do next. Your voice surprised him when you asked him a question he didn’t think you’d ask. “Will you kiss me again?” Your eyes fluttered up at him.

His eyes danced between yours. “Want me to?” A brow raised beneath his mask, his pupils blown.

You nodded. Ghost’s hand was on yours again, pulling it away from his face and pushing it against the wall behind you. His palm engulfed your hand entirely. He leaned down, hovering over your lips, brushing them slowly against yours. You whined before he finally kissed you again, this time rougher than before.

When was the last time Ghost kissed someone else? He couldn’t remember. So then why was he acting so bold? Like this was a normal thing for him to do? It was likely the intense lack of sleep that was making him act drunk.

Ghost moved and cupped your face as he kissed you. Your small hands gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to you, making Ghost chuckle against your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, love?”

You were falling in love with the way he spoke to you. So much gentler than earlier. In a voice you never heard him speak before.

He pulled away, his lips hovering over yours, his eyes flickering across your face. “You really should sleep,” you whispered, the dark circles under his eyes perfectly visible to you now.

“Yeah? It’s rather cold in my room,” he muttered, his eyes studying your own. Your hands stayed twisted in his shirt, “Need me to keep you warm, Lt.?” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. Granted, they were barely over a whisper. Normally Ghost could think properly, it was one of the many things he was known for, and he knew that this was a bad idea, but coming up on 50 hours without sleep was making him loopy.

He grinned and grabbed you, pulling you up and over his shoulder.

You yelped, “Ghost!” He smirked as he walked back to his room, tossing you on his bed. It was the same size as your bed: a twin. How on earth did this man fit in such a tiny bed? It was cruel. And how were the two of you going to fit?

“I don’t think we both can—“

“Would you stop whining for once and just lay beside me?” His voice was groggy and stern. You blushed in the dark, almost entranced by the way you irritated him. Except now you knew he liked it.

Ghost climbed into the bed beside you, his room pitch black. He grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, startling you at his boldness. He had to hold you basically on top of him so you could both fit, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Within minutes he was asleep, his soft snoring rumbling through his chest. You smiled, resting against him. His arms tightened around you. You knew this was going to be a… situation in the morning. This was going to be awkward and would fill Ghost with regret and embarrassment, but right now, your eyes felt so heavy. And even if you wanted to leave, you weren’t sure you could escape Ghost’s grip.

#ghost #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2

3K notes · View notes

leahsgf · 9 days

Text

bouquets

leah williamson x fem!reader

in which leah, famous hater of tiktok joins in on a trend, for you.

one thing about your girlfriend that not many people knew - is that she is secretly an absolute dork, through and through. her signature frown and grumpy expression when she focused, meant that not only was she endlessly teased by you for it, and jokingly reminded that if the wind blew she’d be stuck like that - but also that she gained a reputation for being very serious, and rarely showing her emotions, particularly on the pitch.

you however, and anyone who had the pleasure of getting to see her behind closed doors, and truly knowing her - knew that that was the furthest thing from the truth.

which, is what led you to now.

you’d been sprawled almost flat on top of her in bed for what had felt like hours on end, your favourite place to be on the rare occasion that you both had a day off, when an unusual silence settled between the two of you.

unusual, in the sense that these private moments between the pair of you were usually filled by leah’s rambles about anything and everything, a narration of every single thought that had remained unspoken over the time she wasn’t with you.

“what are you doing?” you protested, breaking the silence and grumbling into the crook of your neck, not even a millisecond after her fingers stopped trailing through your hair.

“nothing, grouchy! just trying to figure out this stupid thing. bloody tiktok i swear! i don’t know how you and the girls love it so much, makes no sense!” she waved her phone in the air, eyebrows furrowing and that frown deepening - but her fingers instantly resuming their actions in your hair, causing you to slump once more.

“wait babe why are you on tiktok! you hate tiktok!” the realisation hit you rather slowly due to your state, your mind flashing back to the what must be hundreds of times that you begged her to do a cute video with you - only to be met with a rant about how much she despised the app.

“oi! mind your business. you’ll see! just need some patience my girl!” she chuckled, bopping you on the nose as she tilted her screen just out of your eyes’ reach.

to say you were confused was a major understatement. you knew you could’ve seen her screen if you really wanted to, your position on top of her giving you a rare power.

one that you knew not to test, however. so, you let yourself shrug off her strange behaviour and settle back into her, being pulled in by the addictiveness that was her skin, and her scent.

“there! done!” she pushed her phone into your face, so suddenly it almost made you jump.

and what faced you, confused you almost as much as when it was hidden from you.

it was her lockscreen. a new one, replacing the picture of the two of you.

a bouquet of flowers.

they were cute, undeniably. dainty little illustrated cartoon flowers, in a variety of colours and styles, put together in a bouquet - in the middle of a plain background.

but not enough to match the shit eating, proud yet almost shy grin that was spread across her lips.

“it’s….cute? lee i don’t get why you’re showing me this though?” your frown mirrored her previous one, confusion visible all over your face that made her giggle, and prod at your flushing cheek.

“look silly girl, it’s some trend on tiktok that beth showed me. there’s a flower for each letter of the alphabet, and people have been putting them together and spelling out their partner’s names to make a little bouquet and i thought it was cute, okay!” she said, almost sheepishly - looking away from you as you sat up, grinning.

“you’re so cute oh my god.” you peppered kisses all over her face, ignoring her protests.

“the team cannot hear about this. kay? i’m their captain, i have a reputation to uphold!” she met your lips in a kiss, almost immediately proving her own point wrong.

“i think everyone knows how much of a dork you are baby i’m afraid, we’re way past that point!”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #lionesses x reader #lionesses #woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #based on that one tiktok trend that had me crying in single #i can just imagine her hating tiktok i don’t know why it fits it just does #something silly instead of writing my assignments

282 notes · View notes

auras-moonstone · 9 months

Note

hockey player ethan/jack?? what do we think

HOT!!! that’s what we think. anyways happy august season to the august girlies<3 this was very painful yet fun to write btw

august — ethan landry

word count: 3,180

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

based on: august by taylor swift

summary: y/n and ethan had never seen each other with romantic eyes, until she pulls up her car. after that, their summer love adventure starts.

warnings: angst, fluff, cheating and that’s it i guess

part one part two

Y/N WAS CERTAINLY NOT PROUD OF WHAT SHE DID, BUT SHE COULDN’T LIE TO HERSELF, SHE DID NOT REGRET IT. Did that make her a bad person? Probably, and maybe that’s why karma got her, because sneaking around with someone’s boyfriend—even if it that someone was Betty, whom Y/N absolutely despised—had been a dick move, and she knew it all too well. But then again, Ethan’s puppy brown eyes had been like a trap. A trap she had fallen for unexpectedly and deeply.

Ethan Landry was the captain of the Blackmore Hockey Team—which Y/N’s brother, Drew, was a part of—, and Blackmore University’s golden boy. He was beyond untouchable, and taken by the captain of the cheerleader squad: Betty Harkness. They were the perfect couple on papers, but everyone knew they didn’t get along very well, and that they broke up and made up back and forth.

Everyone wanted Ethan—he was gorgeous, confident, hilarious, kind, athletic and pretty much every positive adjective you could find. But Y/N always saw him as Drew’s friend and Ethan always saw her as Drew’s little sister (although she was only a few months younger than them). Until one action completely changed the course of their lives.

“Eth? Are you on your way to hockey practice?” Y/N pulled up her car when he saw the tall boy walking on the sidewalk, hockey stick over his broad shoulder.

“Y/N! Yes. My car broke down, and now I have to walk” Ethan said, scrunching his nose.

“Get in the car, dumbass. I’ll drive you” she said, opening the shotgun door.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you heading somewhere else?”

“No, actually I was going to see the practice too. My best friend left to visit some relatives, so I have no plans. Drew invited me to the practice when he saw me mopping around the house”

Ethan laughed, and got into the car “You’re a life saver. But hey, does that mean you have to spend your whole summer all alone? That’s awful”

Y/N shook her head “Only a week and a half. Now I kinda wish I had more friends, although staying at home watching rom-coms doesn’t sound that bad”

“God, you depress me” Ethan groaned.

“Sorry Mr. So Popular I Get Invited To Every Party” she teased him.

“You could get invited to parties too, if you didn’t have that bitchy face whenever someone approaches you with an invitation” Ethan said, trying to contain a smile.

“I do that?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

Ethan raised his eyebrows “You don’t do that on purpose?”

“No! I mean, I would take the invitation even though parties aren’t my thing and will probably not go”

“Why? Because you’re not like other girls?” he joked.

Y/N scoffed “No, you dick. I get anxious around big crowds, especially intoxicated crowds” she explained.

“Oh… now I do feel like a dick”

The girl sent him a reassuring smile “It’s okay”

“You know, this is the first time we talk without Drew around” Ethan said.

“You’re right. What’s your veredict? Am I better company than my brother?” she asked, playful smile on her lips.

“Oh, most definitely” he said mirroring her smile “Jokes aside, you’re actually fun to be around”

“You doubted that?? What a wrong thing to assume from someone who was the authority to kick you out of her car” Y/N tried to keep a serious expression, but Ethan’s laugh ruined it.

“True, true. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Y/N/N. Please don’t leave me stranded” Ethan said, putting his palms together and looking at her with his deep brown eyes.

Had he always had those cute puppy eyes? And holy shit was he handsome, and charming. How did that go past her all this time?

Y/N did an exaggerated sigh “Fine, I guess I am feeling a little kind-hearted today, so I’ll give you a pass”

“Oh, thank you, benevolent Y/N” he said, and then both bursted out laughing.

Ethan sneaked out glances at her throughout the rest of the ride, wondering how he had never noticed how funny and gorgeous she was. And had she always had that shiny smile?

what are you wearing? 😏

um my grandma’s camisole

who is this?

you’re supposed to say i’m just in my underwear or something sexy jesus y/n🙄

you’re absolutely disgusting, stranger

who are you??

a very handsome and espectacular hockey player (the best on the team, if you want my opinion)

omg julian hi!! i was going to ask for your number but i never had the courage tbh

WHAT THE FUCK YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON JULIAN YOUR BROTHER IS GOING TO KILL YOU

AND HES NOT THE BEST ON THE TEAM 😡

lmaoo

you’re fricking adorable ethan

oh you knew it was me

what gave it away? the handsome part or the espectacular hockey player??

your ego🫤

ah yes makes sense🤔

so… no crush on julian?

nope :)

why are you texting me tho?

i’m bored and you told me you had no plans

so, meet me behind the mall?

we can go see a movie or something

if you want to, ofc

oooh i heard they are playing twilight 🥺🥺

not gonna happen

pretty please????? don’t be judgemental

it’s a classic

we have very different opinions on the term “classic”

come on don’t be like that😫😫 i really want to go

plus we can watch a movie you want another day???

okay fineeee

see you in an hour?!

see ya👹

what the fuck is that emoji

it’s the closest thing to a vampire 😭

🧛🏻🧛🏻‍♂️ there you go, the emojis actually exist

OMG YOU JUST CHANGED MY LIFE

you’re the dorkiest dork i’ve ever met

a cute one tho ;)

thank you but get your ass moving

robert pattinson is waiting for me!!!

ETHAN WOULD ABSOLUTELY HATE THE MOVIE IF THE SIGHT OF Y/N’S EXCITED FACE WASN’T SO GODDAMN HEART WARMING. Ethan didn’t know what was going on with him, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since the drive—which was a week ago. He yearned for her sarcastic remarks and funny comebacks. He found himself going to Drew’s house more often just to catch a small glimpse of the gorgeous girl, who would smile brightly at him when she caught him staring.

Yes, they were definitely flirting. And he felt like he was fifteen again having his first crush. But the attraction was obviously mutual, so he didn’t hesitate to make a move.

“How many times have you watched this movie again?” Ethan whispered in her ear, and she felt goosebumps all over her body. How could a voice be that sexy?

“Like… ten times? I don’t know. Why? Am I reciting the lines too much?” she asked embarrassed.

Ethan bit his lip softly, his heart not taking her cuteness “No, just wondering if you could miss five minutes of it”.

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you”

“But I wanna keep on watching Robert” she teased as she got closer to the tall boy.

“You’re seriously talking about another guy while I am one second away from kissing the fuck out of you?”

Y/N shrugged “Deal with it”

“As you wish”

The arm rest was stabbing her ribcage but Y/N didn’t care about anything else other than that intoxicating kiss. She didn’t feel anything but the heat of his touch on her waist, on her jaw, on her neck—everywhere. And Ethan didn’t care about anything else but her soft lips, the feel of her fingers on his hair, the little whimpers she was making as his tongue explored her mouth.

“Now that I think about it, I can miss the rest of the movie” she spoke against his lips.

Ethan smirked “My house?” Y/N nodded eagerly.

THE SILKY SHEETS FELT SOFT AGAINST HER NAKED SKIN AND THE WARMTH OF ETHAN’S BODY MADE HER WANT TO NEVER GET UP. But it was practice day, so Ethan’s alarm went off, and they both groaned. The night had been amazing, after whispers of ‘are you sure?’ and ‘never have i ever before’, they ended up twisted in his bedsheets and the memory of the passionate rounds were the first thing that came to their minds as they woke up.

“We need to get up, Eth. You have practice” Y/N said as the sleepy boy pulled her towards him.

“But you look so pretty beneath the sun and in my sheets” he whispered, kissing her collarbone.

Y/N blushed “Come on, we have to go”

“We? Are you coming to the practice?” Ethan said excitedly.

Y/N nodded “If that’s okay”

“Yes! Prepare to be left enchanted by my hockey skills”

“I’ve seen you play hundreds of times, Eth” she laughed. “I know you’re fantastic”

“I will dedicate every score to you” he kissed her softly.

“Wow, I’m so excited and honoured” Y/N said in a high-pitched voiced.

“You’re so mean” Ethan laughed. “By the way… are you feeling okay? Aren’t first times painful?”

“Well, my legs feel a little bit weird, but I’m okay. Thank you” Y/N smiled sweetly, and he pressed his lips to her temple.

Was it too soon to say she had, maybe, fallen for him? Could he possibly feel the same? Y/N could only hope it wasn’t just a summer thing for him, because she certainly knew it wouldn’t be for her.

AUGUST HAD SIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE AND SOON CLASSES STARTED AGAIN. And the feeling of anxiety filled Y/N’s chest. What would happen now? Would Ethan break up with Betty or was he going to let the memories of august slip away into just a moment in time? They had never talked about it, they just enjoyed their moments together.

“Well, well, she’s alive! Who would’ve thought?” the voice of Willow, her best friend, filled her ears.

“Hi, my gorgeous beautiful pretty friend” Y/N said with a guilty smile as she approached her.

“No, no. There’s not enough adjectives in the world to remediate the fact that you cancelled our plans all summer” Willow crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m sorry… I need to confess something”

Willow raised her eyebrows “I’m hearing”

“Promise not to freak out? It’s important that you stay calm, we’re in the hallway”

“I promise”

“I’ve been seeing someone during the summer” she whispered.

Willow’s eyes almost popped out of her face “Holy shit! Who?”

“Remember your promise, okay?” Y/N reminded her, and she nodded impatiently. “Ethan”.

Willow didn’t scream, or gasp, or choked in surprise. She laughed. “Oh my god, imagine!” wow, was it that unbelievable? Y/N stared at her with a serious expression and soon Willow realized it wasn’t a joke. “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N/N? Are we talking about Ethan Landry? Captain of the team? Your brother’s friend? Mr. Popular? Betty Harnkness’ boyfriend?”

“Yes, Willow. Congratulations, you know him!”

“Don’t use that tone with me right now! Y/N he has a girlfriend”

Y/N sighed “I know, okay? And I feel a little bad. But it’s too late, okay? It’s done”

“A little bad?” Willow repeated, trying not to laugh.

“Well, it is Betty we are talking about. And are they really into each other or is just for social status?”

“Yeah… what is going to happen? Are him and Betty over? Are you two dating?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know and no” she answered. “We haven’t talked about it”

“I bet you didn’t talk at all” Willow smirked.

“Actually… we did. I mean, we did have fun doing… physical stuff but we also talked a lot” Y/N said with a smile “He’s so amazing, Willow. He’s so easy to talk to, he’s funny, sweet, laughs at my jokes, takes care of me, compliments me every chance he has, he’s an amazing kisser… he dedicated me every single score he did when he played. It was so sweet”

“Holy shit, Y/N you really fell for him”

“I know” you could almost see the sparks radiating off her.

“Well, lover girl. Let’s go to class, and then you’ll tell me all the details”

And as they walked through the hallway they caught sight of Ethan’s group. Against the lockers were Drew, Julian, Chad, Tara, Mindy, Anika, Betty and Ethan, whose arms was draped around Betty’s waist.

Y/N felt her surroundings get frozen, a knot appeared on her throat and she was pretty sure she was about to cry. Just like that, every hope and excitement left inside her turned into ashes. She wanted to keep walking, but her feet were glued to the floor.

“Fuck, Y/N/N” Willow whispered, as she saw what had left her best friend in such state “Let’s keep walking” she grabbed her friend’s hand and started to guide her towards the classroom.

But to do that, they had to walk past the group. The two friends set their eyes on their goal—the classroom—praying they wouldn’t notice them.

“Y/N/N!” shit no, no no. Willow squeezed her friend‘s hand tightly as they heard Drew calling her. She had no choice.

“It’s okay, I’m here” Willow whispered as they dragged their feet towards them.

“Hi” they said, Willow’s tone was dry while Y/N’s was just low and unstable.

“Hey, just wanted to give you these” Drew said, handing her two tickets. “For the hockey match this weekend. You are going, right?”

“I don’t know. Willow and I have plans” Y/N said, only looking at Drew.

“But it’s our last match. And we’re pretty confident we’re winning, with our star player right here” Drew said, patting Ethan’s arm. The boy laughed, and Y/N felt her heart clench at the beautiful sound.

“Yeah, Y/N/N come on. You enjoy hockey” his voice addressing her did nothing but make her want to cry in the spot. Was he mocking her? Y/N didn’t look at him, and Willow threw him a dirty glance.

“Y/N’s thing is to stay home with her lame romantic comedies” Betty’s annoying voice said.

“Shut up, Betty” Tara said harshly.

“Please? I really want you there” Drew told her.

How could she say no? She loved her brother “Okay, okay. We will be there” she faked a smiled so he won’t see how miserable she was feeling.

But he was her brother, and knew her like the back of his hand “Hey, what’s wrong?” he grabbed his sister by the cheeks, eyes reflecting how worried he was.

“Nothing” god she felt so pathetic. It was now obvious she was about to cry. And she was doing it in front of her brother’s friends, the boy who broke her heart and his girlfriend “I need to go to class, see you later”.

By the end of the day, Y/N felt absolutely defeated. Her energy was drained, the knot on her throat didn’t want to go away and her mind was making fun of her by replaying the memories of her summer love thing with Ethan. But as if God took pity on her, the last class of the day got suspended so she got to go home early.

But apparently it was the Let’s Make Y/N Feel Like Shit day, because Ethan had been waiting for her in the hood of her car, with his perfect mullet hair and his hockey jersey that looked absolutely amazing on him. She had no escape.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she spoke. Now she felt furious, how dare he show his face after that morning?

“I needed to talk to you” Ethan said in a soft voice.

“I have things to do. So, I’m really sorry, but not right now”

“By ‘things’ do you mean go home, make cookies and watch 10 things I hate about you?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Don’t act as if you knew me” she spitted in anger.

The smile fell from his face “I do know you, Y/N/N”

“Well then, you might’ve realized that I don’t want to talk to you at all” she said, trying not to let the tears fall. Why was he there? Wasn’t the pain he put on her that morning enough?

“Please… I- I need to explain what happened. It’s not what it looked like” Ethan said.

“So, you’re telling me that you actually broke up with Betty?” she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Ethan sighed and shook his head no. “Then it was exactly what it looked like. And you even had the audacity to mock me!”

“What?! I didn’t mock you” Ethan said truthfully.

“Y/N/N come on. You enjoy hockey” she imitated his voice. “You were mocking me. You know I don’t care about hockey, I just cared about seeing you and my brother”

“I- god yes, it sounded bad. But I swear I didn’t mean it like that. It was my way of telling you everything was okay”

“What the fuck?!” she laughed dryly “Nothing is okay, Ethan! You are still with her. And I know we didn’t state you were breaking up with her to be with me, but I just thought… I thought you would do it. That we had something going on. I thought it was more than a summer thing”.

“It was more than that, I promise. It was so much more than a summer thing. I’ve never felt something so strong towards someone”

“Then why are you still with her?”

“I… don’t know. I just-she saw me and everyone was watching us… I couldn’t break up with her. I’m sorry. With the match coming up, I didn’t want to add any unnecessary drama… I just thought it wasn’t the right time to break up”

“Unnecessary drama? The match? Are you fucking serious? It didn’t cross your mind how would I feel when I saw you with your arms around her? Well, in case you were wondering it was fucking devastating. I was just telling Willow what an amazing guy you are… how in love I am with you. And then I saw you two… it sucked, Ethan. So I’m sorry if your apologies aren’t enough. Now I need to go”

“How in love I am with you” were the words that resonated on Ethan’s head as he watched Y/N drive away. She was in love with him, and he was very much in love with her too, but he wrecked everything.

“Hey, man. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Drew found him in the empty hallway.

“I screwed it up, Drew. I hurt her”

“What’s are you talking about?” but Ethan did nothing but sob with his head in his hands. “It’s okay, man. Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay”

But Ethan didn’t know if it was going to be okay. He cursed for having been so careless with the relationship, for having though that wanting would be enough. It wasn’t. He should’ve been clear with Betty. His top priority should’ve been Y/N, not Betty nor the hockey match. He ruined it, but he was going to do everything in his power to make it up to her. He was determined to win back the girl he loved.

#jack champion #ethan landry #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #ethanlandry #ethan landry x oc #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine

982 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 6 months

Text

When a God Loves a Woman

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N (Pre-Relationship)

Summary: Loki and you get paired up on a mission, much to the god's dismay - but not because he doesn't like you, no... Quite the opposite. He's hopelessy in love with you. How is he supposed to get through this mission?

Warnings: Loki being a cute idiot in love, pining/bit of mutual pining, a few suggestive things, fluff, swear words, thirst? short mention of weapons? short mention of drugs, mentions of a w*nst - blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 5,5k

a/n: This is a request from my wonderful friend @fictive-sl0th ! 🥰❤️ I hope you are going to like it - and everybody else, of course as well! 😁

Baby Fever Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not," Loki stated; crossing his arms over his chest. Tony blinked in disbelief. "What does that mean 'No'? Are you kidding me, Laufeyson?" The god squinted his eyes at his 'team colleague'.

"You must be deaf - or stupid, metal man... Perhaps even both. No... I said no." Tony growled; was already annoyed. "Thin ice, Reindeer Games, thin ice." The billionaire took a few threatening steps closer. "Listen. I don't care what you want, princess. You are the one who needs to prove himself to Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D - and basically the whole world. So if you don't want to end up home and get send into a cell by daddy, you should cooperate now." Loki's jaw clenched; knowing that Tony was unfortunately right. "I'm calling the shots at this mission - which needs to be a success, and if I'm telling you to team up with Y/L/N, then you're going to fucking do it. Are we clear?"

The god was positively fuming with anger - and despair (which Tony didn't notice). "Yes," he hissed. If looks could kill...

It's not that Loki didn't want to team up with you. In fact, he wanted nothing more in his life - and exactly that was the problem. About a year had passed now since he'd been sentenced to prove himself worthy and make up for the chaos he had caused. He became an Avenger - no matter if he liked it or not. It was his only chance to escape the dungeons on Asgard.

It had been a bitter pill for the god to swallow; without a doubt.

Earning the team's trust wasn't easy. Everybody despised him; was suspicious - except you. From the first day he arrived at the Avengers compound, you tried your best to give him a warm welcome. You were nice, kind and sweet. At first, Loki didn't like this at all; thought it was just a fake show you put on. A little game you played or something. After all, why should you have mercy? Why would you accept him? It simply couldn't be.

So, Loki pushed you aside - several times; cold-shouldered you. But you stayed stubborn and continued to treat him friendly - like he deserved and didn't let yourself get shoved away by the god for long. It took a lot of time (and energy), but at some point Loki realised that your intentions were pure. You really meant it. He realised, that you gave him something what nobody else did... A second chance. And from then on, he let you in. Step by step, of course, and slow, but he did.

He talked more to you, spent more time with you, trained together with you - and at some point it came how it had to come... Loki fell in love. Hard. Something he wasn't willing to admit, of course. Norns, he'd rather die than admitting that he fell in love with a Midgardian woman. He also didn't want a single soul to get a whiff of this, so his mission was to keep it a secret - no matter what it took.

The problem was, that preserving this secret turned out to be more difficult than Loki thought. It wasn't easy for him to keep his cool around you; given the fact that he didn't feel this kind of love for ages. By Odin's beard, he felt like a lovestoned teenager! Therefore, he tried to avoid being too close to you - not always successfully, though...

"Good boy."

Tony's words brought Loki back down to earth; out of his head. He clenched his jaw. The anger flooding through his veins was back. Full force - but nevertheless, he tried to control his temper and keeping his mouth shut.

"Why don't you like to be in a team with Y/N anyway? I thought you two get along quite well - or did I misinterpret the situation? Do you have a problem with her?" Tony asked suspiciously. Loki blinked. "No, I-" Before he could say something he'd regret later, the warning bells in his head started to ring at a deafening volume; causing his brain to switch into defence mode immediately.

"I mean yes. Yes. I don't like her. She's annoying me."

The billionaire frowned; crossing his arms over his chest. "You're confusing me, Reindeer Games. No, then yes. Geez, you're worse than a diva. Do you have a problem now with Y/N, or not?" Loki was a hairsbreadth away from grabbing Tony by the lapels of his shirt and throwing him against the nearby wall of the conference room.

"Yes," the god hissed. "I can't stand her." To say those words hurt him deeply; his heart wincing in pain - but for Loki, there was no other way.

"Well..." For a moment, Tony's expression was understanding and almost soft - but then he shrugged his shoulders. "Your problem. The teams are set. I don't care. Make it work." With those words and another shrug, the billionaire turned on his heels, walked away, "See you tomorrow, princess." and left the room.

Loki's eyes followed him, before he squeezed them shut; shaking his head. A sigh left his lips. "How foolish..." He mumbled. "How foolish of me to think Stark would cooperate." Running a hand through his raven curls, he returned to his room. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day for him...

The next day arrived way too quickly - and Loki had slept way too less and spent the whole day thinking about that damn mission, causing him to be the first to stand by the Quinjet; waiting for his 'team mates'. It was an awkward situation. Usually, he was never the first - except today.

Tony arrived only ten minutes later; a shit eating grin spreading over his whole face as he saw Loki. "Well, well... Eager, are we, Reindeer Games?" Loki just rolled his eyes; certainly didn't have the nerves for the billionaire's stupid little games.

"Mind your own business, Stark."

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Oooh and we're already in diva mode?" The god clenched his jaw; was about to say something not exactly nice to the billionaire, when a booming voice cut through the air. "Ahhh, brother!" It was Thor, of course.

The god walked over to Loki and Tony with a broad smile on his face. "Finally, the time has come! We're on a mission again together!" He said happily, giving Loki a harsh slap on the shoulder. Loki coughed, "Yes, brother, I am thrilled." and glared at Thor - who didn't even notice his younger sibling's discomfort.

"Ah! Don't fret, brother!" Loki rolled his eyes subtly; already questioning his life choices. But when he crossed his arms over his armour clad chest and slightly shook his head, the god's eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of somebody approaching the team. It was Natasha - and you. Loki's gaze immediately got stuck on you - against his will; eyes widening. "This is going to be..." Thor's words faded as Loki's mouth fell agape and suddenly the world seemed to turn in slow motion around him.

You walked casually beside the Widow; your Y/H/C untamed hair flying in the wind. Unlike Natasha, you wore a white and black body suit. Several pockets were attached to it. For comms, weapons and other gear. It was tactical and convenient, but also form-fitting and especially tight. It showed off your curves to perfection - and by the holy roots of Yggdrasil... You looked stunningly sexy. Not that Loki didn't see you before in your mission gear - but you had never worn something like that before.

"Norns, give me strength..." Loki whispered, before he was able to prevent it; attracting Thor's attention. "What did you just say, brother?" "Nothing!" Loki almost shouted in slight panic, before clearing his throat. Get a hold of yourself, Laufeyson!

"I mean... Nothing. I didn't say a word."

What the god didn't think of, was that his eyes were still locked on the beautiful woman only a few meters away from him - and Thor noticed; raised an suspicious eyebrow, as he followed Loki's gaze. "Um, brother, you're staring."

Fuck.

Loki's eyes widened even more; cheeks turning pink as he quickly pulled his gaze off you. "No, I'm not! You must be blind, brother! Or hallucinating!"

Thor wasn't stupid, though. He knew exactly what he saw - and Loki's reaction only proved his assumption to be right. The god said nothing, only smiled, before he went to greet his fellow team mates.

"Ah, greetings, Lady Romanoff and Lady Y/N!" Natasha gave him a smile and a nod. "Hey Thunderboy." You smiled and waved at him. "Hi Thor!" While the Black Widow went to join Tony already on the Quinjet, you walked up to the Asgardian princes - which caused Loki to get slightly nervous.

"Is that new a new armour I see on you, Lady Y/N?" You giggled; nodding. "It is. Nat told me to try something new and I needed anyway something more... functional, so... Do you like it?" You turned in a circle; showing off your new outfit - much to Loki's dismay. He felt his breath hitching in his throat; his chest seemingly growing tighter - just like the space within the front of his leather trousers.

By Odin's beard... How am I supposed to survive this mission?

"It suits you very well, Lady Y/N!" "Thanks, Thor." Then you turned to Loki. "How do you like it, Mischief?"

Like it? LIKE IT?! I love it. It makes me want to pin you against the wall of the Quinjet and ravish you right then and there.

"I agree with my brother."

"Thanks! Now, let's go, boys. I bet Tony's waiting already for us and we don't want to make our diva angry, do we?" You prompted; already entering the Quinjet - which caused the fabric of your suit to bend and stretch around certain body parts even more.

Shit...

You sat alone in a corner of the Quinjet; checking your weapons and mentally preparing yourself for the task ahead, since Tony had announced that you'd arrive soon. Then you heard steps approaching you. Familiar steps. You didn't even have to look up to check who it was. You knew.

"What's up, Nat?"

Your best friend sat down beside you. From the corner of your eye, you could see that she had already changed. A beautiful black, long-sleeved dress was hiding her catsuit underneath. She looked stunning - as always.

"He's into you."

You frowned immediately; were taken aback by the Widow's words. Nat was definitely not somebody who beat about the bush...

You looked up to face her; seeing her lips curled upwards in a smirk.

"W-What, I- Who?"

"Laufeyson." Natasha spoke out the god's name without even blinking; kind of shocking you.

"Whaaat?" You laughed; shaking your head. "No fucking way. I mean, yes, he probably likes my body - like the handsome naughty little shit he is, but that doesn't mean he likes me. Loki has a lot of women and men..." Natasha raised an accusing eyebrow. "Babes, no... Sorry to disappoint you, but Loki didn't have somebody in months."

You frowned. "How do you know that?" Your best friend shrugged her shoulders. "Bruce's apartment is across his and trust me, babe... I hear if he's giving somebody a really good time, 'cause fucking hell, he apparently does." You almost choked on your own spit by her words. "Nat! You cheeky minx!" Again you got just a shrug, accompanied by a grin.

"Okay, let's say you're right... That doesn't mean he's into me." The Russian beauty rolled her eyes. "Y/N... Sorry to say that, but... Are you blind? I don't mean what happened earlier. Sure, his eyes almost popped out of his head, seeing you like this - but that was just another proof." Now you were the one raising both your eyebrows.

"Another proof? What is that supposed to mean now?" Your best friend giggled; shaking her head. "You really didn't notice." "Notice what?" You asked almost desperately know. "The way he's looking at you? How his mood always seems to lift when you're in the room? He smiles - as soon as you're around him. The way he opens up to you? How kind he is to you?" You blinked; staring at your best friend.

"Uhhh, no? I, um, no..." "You should pay a bit more attention then," Nat said; winking. You were still a bit stunned and overwhelmed by those 'news'. That was never your intention. "I... I didn't mean to... I was just trying to be kind. I always knew there's more in Loki than just the bad guy everybody thinks he is. All I wanted was to give him what he deserves... A second chance and a way to proof everybody wrong."

The Widow smiled; placing a hand on your shoulder. "Well... It seems like you were successful in bringing out this other side of him. There is more. You were right about that. But it also seems like you tickled something else awake inside of him... Feelings." "Feelings?" "Feelings. That man is head over heels for you." You bit your lip. That wasn't what I wanted... "Are you sure?" Natasha stood up again, "To 100 per cent." and walked away with a smile; leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You sighed; leaning back against the wall. Your head hitting the metal with a soft thud. You couldn't help but to think about what Natasha said. He's into you. Perhaps it was true and your best friend right, but... What were you feeling? Was his love... requited?

You swallowed. Sure, he was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon, with his long, raven curls, chiselled face and trained body. You loved his wit, how utterly charming he could be, how eloquent he was, how well-read, smart and his other-worldly humour. You liked to spent time with him and talk to him. You'd even go as far and say you were some kind of friends, but love? Not yet.

But when you closed your eyes and thought of Loki, you could easily picture a future with him as a couple - and who knew... Perhaps it was going to happen.

Okay, maybe you had a tiny crush on him.

"Alright. Everybody knows what to do. Let's get those documents, so we can finally make sure that this asshole gets behind bars," Tony spoke and everyone nodded.

The mission was... Well, you wouldn't exactly say easy, but with a good team perfectly manageable. The Avengers got the assignment to help the police to get one of the biggest drug dealers of America - and literally the whole world finally behind bars. Bernardi had always managed to slip the F.B.I through their fingers the past years. Now it had to end - and it was going to.

Today was a big gala in New Haven, Connecticut - the best chance to get Bernardi. But to finally convict him, important documents of the next big drug deal were needed - and they laid safely in a safe in his security monitored and secured suite in the big building, where also the gala took place.

The plan? Tony was going to hack the security camera systems, to make you and Loki - who were going to sneak through the ventilation shafts of the building and actually 'steal' the documents. Nat was going to attend the gala with Thor as her backup and caused distraction - if needed. This time, it was no 'going like a bull at a gate' task. It was no big fight or war. It was some kind of movie like spy mission - and you were hyped.

You didn't understand first, why Tony hadn't sent you and Nat to get the documents, but then you realised that Loki and Thor probably weren't the best duo to attend the gala together. Their cover would probably blow up faster than Tony's patience...

"Y/N, are you coming?" The soft, low timbre of Loki urged to your ears; causing you to blink and snap out of your thoughts. "On my way." You checked if you had everything you needed, then joined your team mate. "Ready, partner?" Loki smiled; gesturing for you to walk down the ramp of the Quinjet. "Lead the way, milady."

Tony had given you the exact positions, coordinates and maps. Loki 'was just your helper' - like the billionaire put it and 'had to follow your orders'.

You sneaked around the big building at the dead of night; looking for the exit of the ventilation shafts. You were quick to find the exact one Tony told you to find and quietly removed the grid, while Loki's eyes scanned the area for any 'intruders'.

"Let's go." You grabbed Loki's attention with your words; nodding towards the ventilation shaft. Just when you were about to climb inside, Loki stopped you. "Y/N, wait! I, uh, I think I should go first." You turned to face him; looking a bit confused. "Why? That wouldn't make sense, Mischief. I have the maps. I know where to go. That's why I..." You climbed inside the ventilation shaft. "... go first. Now come!" Unbeknownst to you, squeezed Loki his eyes shut; face scrunching. "Loki!" "Coming!"

He sighed, then followed you. It was dark inside, of course, but you had your torch and Loki, well, his seidr. Nevertheless, the light source in addition with his position gave Loki the perfect view of your ass; sending shivers down the god's spine. Exactly what he wanted to prevent. Sure, he enjoyed the view, but it was also torturous. You were close and yet so far. "Norns... Can this evening get any worse?" He mumbled underneath his breath, while crawling behind you. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing!"

After crawling through the tight, dark space and crossing endless corners for what felt like eternity, you finally announced that you and Loki had reached the destination - the tenth floor of the building.

"Oh!" You abruptly stopped; causing Loki to almost bump head first in your bottom - head first. "What?" "I think we made it. According to Tony's plans, this must be the exit we have to take. The tenth floor." "Let us do that then. My knees hurt." You giggled; working on getting the hatchway open. "Not used to kneel a lot, are we?" "Sounds like you are." Loki answered dryly, without even blinking - and your jaw almost dropped. A blush creeping up your cheeks. He just couldn't help himself. You had given him the perfect opportunity.

"No! I-I mean... I do a lot of work on missions which affords... Kneeling and crawling." The god nodded, but gave you a cheeky smile. "Sure, Y/N. I do kneel from time to time, too."

Gods... You felt the heat in your cheeks increasing, so you busied yourself even more with the hatchway - and to your sheer relief it clicked open mere seconds later. Carefully, you peeked out; head first, looking for any signs of security guards. "Not a single soul to be seen. The coast is clear." You sat up; ready to jump, when your partner stopped you for the second time. "Allow me to go first this time." "Alright." Loki jumped and you followed; the hatchway falling close behind you.

The hallway you had landed in was big with white, clean walls and a black tiled floor. It reminded you of a hotel, but also didn't look like such at all.

"Where to now, milady?" Loki whispered; just in case. "We have to find Bernardi's room," you answered in a hushed voice; pointing down the hallway. "This way." The god nodded; following close behind. So, you sneaked down the hallways; crossing each corner carefully. Another look on the map told you that you weren't far from your destination, when you suddenly heard voices - and they came from behind you.

"Securityguards!" You whisper-yelled at Loki, who looked surprisingly just as panicky as you did. Well, after all you were in a hallway... Not exactly many opportunities to hide there. Loki was about to just teleport you somewhere else, but before he could make use of his magic, you had reacted faster and literally shoved him inside a little broom closet you had spotted mere seconds ago. With one hand clasped over his mouth, the other gripping the lapels of his leather coat tightly and your back stemmed against the door, you hid away from the nearing threat. It caught Loki completely off-guard of course, but he found himself once more enjoying the situation. Your touch. The roughness of it. He liked it.

Once you were sure he wouldn't make a single sound, you let go of him. "Sorry. I just had to make sure that-" "I know," he interrupted you, nodding. You nodded back at him; staying quiet. You had to wait until the security men passed. Unfortunately, though, the broom closet was everything but spacious. Quite the opposite... tiny. And with cleaning supplies all around the two of you, it was a really tight fit. So tight, that body contact was inevitable. Your chest almost touched his. You were so close, you could feel his minty breath on your face. Loki's chiselled bone structure looked even more handsome from this point of view - and dear god, had he always smelled that good? Like a mix out of leather, blood oranges and charred wood? You couldn't explain why, but it smelt so comfortable to you. So rich and musky, yet sweet.

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Focus, Y/N, focus.

Unbeknownst to you, Loki had the exact same problem; struggling even harder. His hands almost trembled from holding back from touching you. He would've loved to just kiss you right here and now; your scent intoxicating him. But he couldn't, and he knew that.

"I think we're good to go," you breathed out then; slowly lurking through the crack of the door. "Come."

Loki had noticed the slight tremble in your voice - and it sparked something inside him... Hope. Perhaps he had a chance to win your heart. A chance he never thought he had. And maybe, just maybe he shouldn't see this mission as a burden, but as the first shot he could shoot.

Loki knew that women liked to be wooed. So, he decided to try to impress you. After all, he had conquered already a lot of hearts. He knew how it worked. But you... You were different. You had conquered his heart first - and you didn't even know it.

Wordlessly, the god followed you, until you had reached Bernardi's room. A complicated lock adorned the door. Easy access? No chance. "Alright," you stated; switching on your communication device. "Tony. We're standing in front of the room. Pick the lock." The billionaire answered immediately. "Consider it done, Y/N." "Perfect."

Tony's 'consider it done' took longer than you anticipated... Almost fifteen minutes had ticked by and the electric lock still hadn't moved an inch.

"Hey Tony, what's taking so long?" "It's more complicated than I thought. Give me another minute."

And even another minute wasn't enough. So slowly, Loki grew impatient. After all was the risk very high of getting caught by security guards any momenr. Rolling his eyes, he stepped over to the door and placed his hand on the lock. "Loki? What are you doing?" You asked, eyes widening. "Unlocking this damn lock." You blinked. "And, uh, how?" The god gave you a smirk; "Seidr, darling." winking.

Not even a second after he said that, a green cloud enveloped the lock - and it clicked open. Your jaw dropped. "Woah... That's... That's pretty cool."

Step one of impressing Y/N: Done.

"Tony, we got it." "Yes, I can see that... How?!" You smiled; following Loki inside the room. "Mischief." You could practically hear how Tony rolled his eyes at your answer.

After tiptoeing through the big, spacious room and 'stealing' the documents like professionals; you and your partner left again, as if nothing happened. Loki even managed to fix the lock with his magic.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" You nodded; checking your watch. "We should, yes. The 10 o'clock patrol will pass this hallway in exact... ten minutes. Either we hurry, or tell Thor and Nat to distract them." "I know I have no say in this mission, but I would recommend option two, Y/N. Better safe than- uh... How's this Midgardian saying going again?" You giggled - music to Loki's ears. "Better be safe than sorry." "That's it, yes. Thank you." "I guess you're right... Nat, can you hear me?" "Loud and clear, babes." "Perfect. Can you and Thor distract the 10 o'clock patrol up here? We won't make it in time." "Sure thing!"

Well, unfortunately, it turned out they couldn't...

Just as the two of you rounded the corner into the hallway of the ventilation shaft, rounded a group of five security guards the other corner. You and Loki stopped immediately in your track; standing like frozen to the ground. "Well... Now we have a problem." The guards noticed you, of course, immediately. One of them gave you an angry look. "Indeed we have," the bulky man snarled; switching on his walkie-talkie. "We have intruders on the tenth floor. Most likely burglars; calling for back-up." "Understood, Sir. Back-up is on the way."

Now you were really fucked.

You sighed; cracking your neck and prepared to fight. "Guess we'll have to-" That was the moment Loki had waited for. The ultimate chance to impress you. His hand on your arm interrupted you; pulling you gently behind himself. "Stay behind me, darling. I am going to take care of this little... issue." Loki stepped slowly forwards - like a wolf stalking its prey; read to fight, when suddenly something caught his attention... A small loudspeaker box hanging high up in the corner where both hallways met.

Smiling mischievously; he snapped his fingers. Let's put on a little show for the lady.

The security guards didn't know what was coming their way. Especially not as 'Holding Out for a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler started to echo through the empty hallways. And before any of them could react, Loki had already started his attack. Unlucky for the men, they were just as surprised and kind of shocked how you were. The god moved gracefully; dodging here a kick and there a punch. The security guards didn't stand a single chance. Not even the back-up - and by the end of the song, Loki had knocked out every single man who had stood in his way.

You just stood there; mouth agape and not quite knowing what to do or think. Loki though, had a victorious, smug and self-confident smirk on his face. Running a hand smoothly through his black curls, he leaned casually against the wall. "There we go. They won't bother us anymore."

Loki didn't quite know what he anticipated of your reaction. A nervous smile perhaps. Reddened cheeks or a impressed facial expression - but he certainly didn't anticipated what came his way... "Umm... Thank you? But I could've taken care of them as well. I know, uh, how to fight."

The god had a hard time hiding the shock on his face. And the embarrassment, which followed only a few seconds later. She didn't like it. She thinks I'm stupid. I made a fool out of myself. He face-palmed himself internally.

Swallowing nervously and clearing his throat, Loki stepped away from the wall again; trying to somehow 'save' this situation. "Sure, I... I know that, of course, Y/N. I just... wanted to be... nice." "Well, I appreciate it. Thanks." Before an awkward silence could settle between you and him; the god cleared his throat once more. "We, um, we should leave." You nodded, "We should, yes." and watched him turn on his heels; quickly walking away.

Therefore, Loki couldn't see how a dazzling smile spread across your face. Whatever it was what he just did - or tried to do... It was very sweet of him.

The rest of the mission went smoothly. You and Loki made it safely and uncaught out of the building.

When you reached the Quinjet, Natasha stood on the ramp, already changed in her black bodysuit; grinning. She said not a single word as you and Loki passed her by, just kept grinning. You gave your best friend a confused look; mouthing: "What?" All she did was winking, before she followed you as the ramp closed shut behind the three of you.

After you had handed Tony the documents and the Quinjet was in the air again; heading towards New York, you decided to seek out the Widow.

"What was that grinning about, huh?" You gently poked her side to get your best friend's attention. She turned to face you; smiling again. "Oh, nothing. Just Loki fighting off thirty guys alone," Nat said with a wink. "And this got you smiling, because...?" You looked expectantly at her, not quite getting what she was insisting.

"Gods, Y/N/N... You truly are blind," Nat stated; shaking her head and crossed her arms over her chest, before she walked towards the metallic door. "He did that in order to impress and most likely to protect you. That man is in love with you. Open up your eyes, babes."

The Quinjet landed quite late at night on the compound. Only a few lights were on; signalling that most of the other Avengers were already asleep.

"Alright, guys. See tomorrow," you bid your goodbye to your fellow teammates. After hugging Natasha, you turned to Loki. "Good night, Mischief." The god gave you a soft smile. "Good night." Then you turned and walked away; following Nat and Tony.

While Loki couldn't help himself, but to stare after you with mixed feelings about the last few hours coiling within his stomach, Thor came to stand beside him.

"You are staring again, brother." He stated simply; smiling. "I'm not-" Loki wanted to immediately reject Thor, but the God of Thunder spoke faster. "Do not try to deny it, Loki. I saw everything. You tried to impress Lady Y/N with fighting off those men." Loki's eyes widened at Thor's words - proofing the god to be right. "You... saw that?" "Yes, brother. We all did."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. The cameras.

He couldn't control his body longer; a blush creeping up his cheeks. Thor laughed heartily; clapping him on the shoulder. "No need to be ashamed, brother. I am truly happy you found love - and Lady Y/N is a great woman, if I might say so."

Loki grumbled, but knew very well that he had lost this game. "I don't think Y/N feels the same, brother. I made a fool out of myself. I will never win her heart."

Thor wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulder, shaking his head. "No, you did not make a fool out of yourself. I tried to impress Jane a lot of times and failed." "Yes, because you're an oafish ape. I'm not," Loki mumbled under his breath; inaudible for Thor. "Don't you give up. One day, Lady Y/N will be yours."

After the kind of awkward conversation with his brother, Loki headed straight to his little apartment in the tower. He considered to go to bed straight away, in order to escape the hold you had on him, but he also was aware that his mind wouldn't switch itself off so easily. So, instead to forget you, he decided to fully indulge in his thoughts, heartache and fantasies, and took a very long shower; whimpering your name over and over again in his throes of pleasure at the imagination of you in that damn body suit.

Now the god was standing naked in front of the sink; staring at himself in the mirror. His damp raven curls falling loosely over his shoulders; pecs still glistening with water, causing a few single water droplets to drip from his chest hair.

Loki took a deep breath; shaking his head. "I'm fool... I'm such a fool..." With one simple snap of his fingers, he was perfectly dry. He sighed. "... and hopelessly in love."

After slipping into a fresh pair of boxershorts, he went to bed; laying awake for seconds. Minutes. Hours? Just like he anticipated. The god stared at the dark ceiling above him, arms crossed behind his neck; thinking. Until suddenly his mobile vibrated for a second; announcing that he just received a message. Frowning, Loki turned to reach for his phone on the bedside table and unlocked it - only for his eyes to widen. You... It was a message from you. Quickly, he entered the chat to read it.

Hey, Mischief. Just wanted to say thank you again for fighting off the bad guys. Very cute. Thanks.

Loki's whole face lit up. Cute? He was smiling so bright, like he had probably never did in his life before. She thinks I'm cute? His heart skipped a joyful beat.

Perhaps was his brother right... Perhaps hope wasn't lost yet and one day... One day you will be his.

#the baby fever au #pre relationship #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

842 notes · View notes

incognit0slut · 6 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (15)

She ever thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts. wc: 3.5k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: I want to thank everyone for sticking to this series, don’t worry, I didn’t forget it, life has just been weird lately😔 Also I want to mention there’s like 5 parts left? I think

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"REID, NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

Spencer wasn't sure how many times he heard those words. He knew they were told to bring him comfort, something his team members kept on reciting, yet a sense of skepticism gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were nothing more than lies. How could he not when the only thing he could do was blame himself for what happened?

His shoulders slumped, his eyes were filled with anguish, and his heart held a heavy burden of guilt.

He should've deduced the real Unsub.

He should've been the one keeping her safe.

You also should've never left her fucking house, you idiot.

He hated swearing, even if it was in his own mind—which, truthfully, was so much worse considering he despised being trapped in his own head. Possessing a psychology degree enabled him to understand the detrimental effects of being trapped within one's own thoughts, yet he couldn't escape the clutches of his own mind. The knowledge of this predicament weighed heavily on him, a cruel irony that he understood all too well.

"Pretty boy, are you even listening to me?"

He was, he just didn't want to respond. Morgan was the third person to say those words to him. The first came from JJ, who was the first one to assure him when he had a panic attack at the warehouse. Second was from Prentiss, who he met when he rushed to Y/n's house after collecting himself. And now Morgan was cornering him at the hospital as they waited for Sandy, laid in one of the rooms, to recover from her concussion.

"Reid."

"I heard you," he snapped. Then a thought occurred to him at Morgan's sudden knowledge of his involvement with their witness. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The reason why I'm acting this way." He had to elaborate when Morgan merely raised his eyebrows. "Why I'm... blaming myself so much."

"Everyone knows you're involved with her. Heck, I knew it the first time we met her that night. Remember that? You pretended you didn't know her," Morgan recalled. "You weren't as subtle as you think."

God, that night seemed like it happened yesterday. He couldn't believe how much had happened, and to think she was just a stranger when he first met her, a stranger he would never see again... now all he could think about was her. Her smile. Her safety. His stomach churned. The guilt he felt was a relentless, gnawing ache that refused to let go.

Morgan suddenly pulled him. His sudden, determined grip propelled him toward the vending machine stationed at the far end of the hospital corridor. Irritated, he couldn't help but drag his feet along the floor. "What are you doing?"

"You need coffee," Morgan replied, "you function better with caffeine in your system."

"We need to wait for Sandy—"

"She's not going anywhere, Kid. There's no use hovering in front of her door now."

Reluctantly, Spencer gave in. He allowed his friend to pour a cup of coffee; the warmth and aroma offering a small comfort amidst the hospital's stark surroundings. Slowly, with a nod of gratitude, he accepted the cup from his outstretched hand.

"How are you holding up?" Morgan asked.

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to the question. "It's hard to process everything."

A heavy silence hung between them. Morgan's sigh broke the stillness, and he began, "Look, it's not—"

But Spencer cut him off, his voice tinged with guilt and self-blame. "Not my fault?" he said with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Morgan, I was there before it happened. I was at her house before I left to check the warehouse, just to step into his trap. The Unsub managed to pass through Officer Anderson and hurt her closest friend at the same time. If I was still there..."

"Reid, it's not about placing blame. You couldn't have known what would happen. The Unsub's actions were calculated and malicious, even if you had stayed, we can't predict how events would have unfolded." Morgan gave him a pointed look. "Blaming yourself won't help her, and it won't help you either."

Spencer's head shook with regret as he leaned against the cool hospital wall, his thoughts consumed by the painful memories of that night. "I hurt her," he confessed, his voice filled with remorse. "My words were hurtful, and so were my actions, and the thought of... the thought of her being in danger with the last thought of me—"

"We'll find her," Morgan assured him. "And when we do, you'll apologize to her for whatever happened."

Spencer gazed at him with a sense of desperation. In that instant, he unearthed a deep, previously unrecognized truth buried within his heart. It was a stark revelation, an understanding that struck him like a bolt of lightning amidst the storm of emotions he was weathering.

For the first time, he comprehended the true extent of his feelings. Until now, her presence in his life had been a catalyst, a spur-of-a-moment he never expected. He had taken her warmth for granted, never fully appreciating the depth of his attachment to her.

However, the threat to her safety had shattered his complacency. The fear of losing her, coupled with the regret of leaving their last interaction on such a bitter note, had awakened a realization within him. It hit him with a force that was as terrifying as it was enlightening. It was a moment of clarity, a realization that his feelings were far more significant than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Spencer looked up, but before he could respond, his brief moment of vulnerability was abruptly interrupted by a sudden commotion. Without a second thought, he hastily left his coffee on a nearby chair and rushed toward the end of the hallway, Morgan following closely behind, as a doctor rushed into Sandy's room.

Between the flurry of medical staff, Spencer spotted a passing nurse and stepped into her line of vision. His voice was urgent, laced with concern as he asked, "What happened?"

The nurse delivered the news, "She's gaining consciousness," before swiftly disappearing into the room.

"We'll get some answers," Morgan reassured him from behind. "Don't worry, Reid, we'll find her."

Spencer nodded, his heart filled with a renewed sense of determination. The fact that Sandy had woken up was a glimmer of hope. It wasn't until a few minutes later the doctor emerged from the room, regarding the two men waiting in front of the door.

"She's awake and stable, but we'll need to monitor her for any potential complications." After a brief pause, the doctor continued, "It's apparent that she's still quite shaken. I would recommend that only one of you Agents speak with her."

They both nodded in agreement as the doctor left. Morgan turned toward Spencer. "You should talk to her."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "I'll go check on Oliver in the meantime."

Spencer's thoughts swirled with unease at the mention of Oliver, their suspected Unsub who had turned out to be a pawn in a larger scheme, who was lying unconscious on another floor. He nodded, and as Morgan walked away, he slowly gathered himself and entered the room.

Stark, white walls greeted him as he stepped inside, followed by the beeping sound of the monitors rhythmically punctuating the silence. Sandy lay in the bed, a fragile figure amidst the pristine white sheets. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he called out to her.

"Sandy?" Spencer carefully addressed her, observing the way she shifted on the bed before her gaze slowly met his. "I'm Dr. Spencer—"

"Reid," she finished for him, locking her gaze onto his with a surprising familiarity. "You're the FBI agent she's been talking about."

A moment of surprise shot through him, the realization that she had been talking about him caught him off guard. "She told you about me?"

"On a few occasions," she confessed, and then her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "You hurt her."

Spencer's heart sank deeper, a heavy burden of guilt weighing him down. "What did she say?"

"She never really told us why she looked so sad that night, and considering you were mostly the topic of conversation when I was with her, I just assumed you had something to do with her mood swings."

His guilt deepened, yet he couldn't help but notice Sandy's choice of words. "Us? You both weren't alone?"

Sandy's gaze held a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What happened?" she pressed instead, her brows furrowing. "What happened after I passed out?"

Spencer took a hesitant step closer to the bed. "What do you remember?"

"I remember inhaling something disgusting."

He nodded gravely. "We suspect the Unsub used Chloroform on you."

Sandy's furrowed brow reflected both her confusion and unease. "What's an Unsub?"

"Unknown Subject, it's a term used when we haven't yet identified a suspect in a crime."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as Sandy absorbed the information. Her thoughts churned, and a growing sense of unease gnawed at her. A thought suddenly hit her. She glanced around the room, her anxiety mounting in the absence of her friend.

The question escaped her lips with an anxious edge to her voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Sandy didn't like the expression that crossed Spencer's face. It was a look that confirmed her worst suspicions, and a wave of dread washed over her as she braced herself for what he was about to say.

"We don't have that information," Spencer confessed, and the shock in her widened eyes was unmistakable. Her lips quivered as her thoughts raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. She found herself haunted by guilt that this had somehow happened because of her.

"It's my fault," she whispered, her voice a mere breath, but the weight of her confession carried regret.

Spencer now understood what Morgan meant about avoiding self-blame. "It's not your fault," he reiterated. "Listen, there's no use in blaming yourself, what you can do is help us by recalling what you remembered that night."

Sandy's gaze remained troubled, but she eventually opened up about what had transpired, something he didn't see coming.

"I- It was Eric," she admitted, her voice trembling with the admission. "Eric came with me to her house."

Spencer was struck by shock and disbelief, his mind racing to process this revelation.

"Eric Adler?"

She nodded in confirmation, and his world collapsed.

Spencer wasn't perfect. He knew that, like anyone else, he could make mistakes. Typically, he accepted his humanity and the occasional errors that came with it. However, now was not the time for him to make any mistakes, not when her life hung on the line.

He felt like a complete idiot. He was renowned for his intellect and now it seemed as if his stupidity was mocking him. The realization of his own oversight infuriated him and a storm of anger surged through his veins. He was mad at himself, seething with frustration. He hastily fished out his phone and sent a message to Garcia.

Find everything you can on Eric Adler. Now.

Turning his gaze back to Sandy, his features shifted to a more grave demeanor. The urgency in his voice was palpable.

"Tell me everything you know."

Her head was spinning. Y/n groaned at the relentless ache throbbing inside her head. It felt as though a sledgehammer was pounding her skull, every throb sending ripples of pain through her. Her body felt heavy, each limb an effort to move, and her eyelids seemed to be fused.

She managed to shift, and it was at that moment, as her fingers brushed against the coarse bedcover, that she realized she was lying on what appeared to be a bed. The mattress beneath her was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos inside her head. She shifted again, and after countless attempts, she finally managed to blink her eyes open.

"Took you long enough, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice sent a jolt of panic surging through her, eyes widening as she strained to focus on her surroundings. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint, flickering glow of an old lamp perched on top of a crate. Occasional beams of moonlight pierced through the dusty window panes, casting eerie, uneven patterns on the wooden floor.

The unmistakable scent of hay filled her senses, reinforcing the realization that she was in an old, rustic barn, long past its days of use. The walls, rough and weathered, seemed to close in on her, the space surprisingly narrow with the mattress beneath her positioned by the floor.

But that wasn't what surprised her the most. It was Eric, seated on a wooden chair that had clearly seen better days, watching her intensely with a smile on his face.

"If you hadn't woke up earlier, I would have resorted to my own methods," his smile looked even more ominous. "And I can assure you, you wouldn't have liked it."

Her wide eyes remained fixed on him. What happened to her kind coworker? Or her good friend? This was an entirely different man that she knew of. The eerie smile, so out of place in their past interactions, was etched onto his face like a sinister mask.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he pondered, leaning forward, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. In his hand, she now realized, was a glinting knife, pointed at her way. "It's just me, Y/n, I'm no stranger to you."

He wasn't a stranger then, but he certainly was now. She stared at him, a creeping realization dawning as she slowly sat up, her fingers brushing against something cold and unyielding, and her heart sank.

"I wouldn't move too much if I were you."

Her eyes moved to the chain holding her, the metal bolted securely into the wall. It was a thick, unforgiving shackle, the links rough against her skin, the very sight of it sent shivers down her spine. Fear took a firm hold of her, like a vice squeezing her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She trembled, her voice shaking as she finally managed to speak, "W-Why are you doing this?"

"You're seriously questioning me when you should be thanking me instead?"

Her voice wavered as she responded, her fear making way for a touch of anger. "Thanking you for what? Murdering people?"

"They weren't innocent,” he spat, his anger flaring as he glared at her. "You should know better than to act as if you didn't want them dead."

"I didn't," she assured him.

"You resented them."

She let out a shaky breath. "...maybe, but I would never wish any of them harm." Then she choked out, "Why are you doing this, Eric?"

His features softened, his gaze locked onto hers as he leaned closer. "You really want to know the reason?" He held her gaze with a disturbing tenderness as he whispered, "Because I love you, Sweetheart."

Her heart pounded as his words hung in the air. "No, you don't," she quickly responded, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "If you did, you wouldn't have—"

"I said," he pressed on, the knife still pointing toward her, his eyes locked onto hers with an eerie intensity. "Because I love you."

She knew it was best not to provoke someone holding a knife. Instead, she carefully asked, her voice trembling, "Since when?"

"Ever since you started working with us," he replied with a smile that felt more disconcerting than affectionate. "You've always been very special to me."

"Why... why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I was scared of rejection, I guess. You never took any interest in me, and surprisingly I was fine with that, so the only way I could care for you was to be your friend." He grinned, his smile devoid of any warmth. "And kill people who hurt you, of course."

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and streaming down her face. Her trembling lips caught them, the taste of her own despair lingering on her tongue, a bitter flavor that seemed to confine the darkness of the moment.

"Oh, stop crying. They were never good enough for you," he chided. He got up and started to pace in front of her, his words steeped in a delusional justification for his actions. "Your scumbag of an ex? He should've seen it coming. That pervert of a lawyer? Should've cut him into pieces. And Jamison? Well, I honestly think I was doing a favor for everyone who hated him."

He gazed at her with a mixture of pity and disdain as she continued to cry, his expression an eerie blend of false sympathy. "Don't worry, I didn't kill them all..." He let out a sigh. "I took pity on Oliver."

"W-What did you do to him?" She cried, her voice breaking with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Gave him a few stabs, but nothing too serious," he replied casually, waving the knife through the air as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "He'll be fine."

Her heart sank at his callous response. "I thought you grew up together."

"I lied about not being close with him the other day, you know? We were best friends, actually. But that's another story to tell," he admitted, his words revealing a chilling aspect of his twisted psyche. He then glared at her, a mix of frustration and hostility in his eyes. "You seriously need to stop looking at me like that. I spared him, it was only a few stabs."

Anger surged within her, ignited by his disturbingly casual demeanor, and she found herself unable to suppress her mounting fury any longer. "You're fucking sick," she spat.

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he loomed closer. "You shouldn't talk to me like that," he emphasized, pointing the knife at her once more. "You're chained to the wall, I could do anything to you."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart, though the horror still gripped her like a vice. Her face was etched with a stark, unmistakable expression of fear and disbelief. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't act so scared now, I won't do anything—well, not now, at least," he stated with a laugh, taking a step back, as if he were granting her some temporary respite. "For now... I have yet to finish my vengeance for you."

"V- Vengeance? You think of them as vengeance?" She asked in disbelief. "Oliver didn't even hurt me."

"He kept pestering you when you clearly weren't interested in him, he needed a little lesson," he explained, a chilling justification in his tone. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "But there is one person who has hurt you recently, and I think we both know who that is."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, filling her with a growing sense of dread. Her eyes widened, her voice heavy with desperation. "No! Eric, no, please, don't hurt him—"

"He's not good for you, Y/n. He never will be."

"Eric! Please!" She was beginning to wail, her pleas filled with anguish and despair, as she felt the walls of her world closing in on her. The chains rattled ominously when she moved. "Please..."

"I need to punish him, Sweetheart, he hurt you," he said with a chilling detachment. He gave her a pitiful look. "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Please—Please don't, Eric," She pleaded desperately, her voice shaking with an overwhelming fear. "No..." She shook her head and sobbed, "Don't h-hurt him... please..."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and the disturbing determination in his gaze made it clear that he had made up his mind. He turned around, leaving her in a state of helpless dread. "I'll see you later," he added with a sinister remark. "Don't cry too much while I visit your FBI boyfriend."

As he walked away, the barn's shadows seemed to close in around her. She did exactly the opposite—she relentlessly cried herself to sleep, seeking solace in the safety of her dreams, however fleeting, as she yearned for an end to this nightmare that had somehow become her reality.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: y'all can stop cursing poor Oliver now😭

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @louderfortheback @busy-buzzing @alexis-exe2008 @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @avid-fic-reader-05

@cowstealer427 @thollandsdarling @ghxst-heart @cashtons-wife @kyuupidwrites @you-sunshine @comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore @panic-monster @marimorena06 @alice-ace299 @uncle-eggy @bollzinurmouth @julezs-bl0g @ruhrohragu @eternally-passionate @kazuumii @spencerr3idd @withered-rxse @broken-pieces @siredtomsgilbert @kaiya3333 @furiousbanditnickelknight @pinkangelavenue @slay-and-gay @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @zeysartzone @frxcless @sadroses98

PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

610 notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 12 days

Text

Back to You 💌

You and Eddie used to be friends, the best of friends since meeting during childhood. Now your friendship is in tatters and Eddie hates you? Right?

Enemies to lovers fic, childhood friends, idiots in love, protective Eddie, minors shoo.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Brief Billy Hargrove x Reader

If you have any requests send me an ask 💌 make sure to read my request rules on my pinned post 💞 💌

🎀

You remembered the day you and Eddie stopped speaking like it was yesterday.

Exactly a year ago you auditioned for the cheerleading squad and made the team, you were so excited and rushed to tell Eddie.

He was actually supportive of you joining the squad but the thing he didn't like was your new friends. They thought Eddie was a freak and Eddie hated the lot of them with a passion.

No matter how you tried to make it work the distance grew between you both and culminated in a final argument that the two of you never recovered from.

It was now your senior year and the bond between you and Eddie was still shattered, he became more ensconced in his group of friends and in Hellfire Club and you settled nicely with your friends.

Animosity hung between you both and more often than not it led to the two of you bickering. It was like the two of you were never friends at all.

The thought makes your stomach clench and your throat tighten. For as much as you pretended to despise Eddie, it couldn't hide the fact that you missed him, the little ache never really went away.

Though you had no doubt that Eddie didn't care one about you anymore and that sends a wave of hurt through you. There was only so much that icy glares and mean barbs could hide.

Speak of the devil. Eddie stops talking to the rest of Hellfire and glares at you, there's a stubborn frown on his face that turns into a smirk.

"Staring at me again sweetheart? Anyone would think you were into me" he looks so smug and you clench your fists, remind yourself to count to three before you engage in his shit.

"As if Munson, Your voice carries across the cafeteria. Not everyone wants to hear your delusional rants you know" Eddie's eyes narrow and he folds his arms across his chest, his gaze pins you to the spot.

The rest of Hellfire looks back and forth between the two of you. You and Eddie both argued so much you were sure it must be entertainment for his friends.

Gareth and Jeff used to be your friends too a tiny traitor voice whispers to you and you swallow down the fact that you miss them too.

"Why don't you go back to your table and continue being a bitchy, vapid princess yeah?" God you hated him, you really did.

You give him one final dirty look and don't give him the satisfaction of seeing the words have upset you. It's not like he would care if they did.

He stopped caring about you a long time ago.

...

Parties really weren't your thing at all but this was the third one that Jason invited you to in two months so you figured you better show your face for a little bit.

As soon as you enter the party you wish you could turn around and go back home. The only saving grace is Chrissy who tucks you by her side and takes away some of the anxiety you're feeling.

Eddie is here because of course he is. No doubt he's selling weed, you'd give him shit for it but you know that he does it to help his uncle with money. How could you give him shit for that?

You're pulled out of your musings by a gentle tug on your hair and you turn to find Eddie behind you with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Did you just pull my hair, what are we five again Edward?" His eyes light up and he smiles at you, all dimples and mischievous.

"I love when you're angry princess. It's kinda hot" you still and his words disarm you for a minute. Only a minute.

"Hot? As if you would sully your precious reputation by dating one of them and I quote "Buttheads from the dark side" he was just doing this to rile you up and it was working.

He doesn't answer and you realise your heart is racing waiting for him to say something. A tiny bit of disappointment fills you but you choose to ignore it and storm past him.

Maybe you would be able to enjoy the party if you could just avoid Eddie but then you see one person who you work hard to never see at all costs. Someone worse than running into Eddie.

Billy Hargrove, surrounded by people as he chugged from a keg of beer.

Ugh. Seeing Billy was enough to annoy you at the best of times but this? Drunk Billy was a whole level of irritating. The two of you briefly dated last year and it was nice at first, until he cheated on you with some girl from another school outside of Hawkins and you found them at the cinema making out with not a care in the world.

What the hell did he want? "Hey babe, fancy seeing you here?" he smirks and walks over to you, swiftly blocking your way out. Fuck.

"Hargrove. Move your ass from my sight will you?" you snap, you're already verging on getting a headache, talking to him will just make it worse.

"Such harsh words honey. I mean last year you were all over me and now this?" You wince as you remember being really into Billy, god you were an idiot.

"Temporary insanity" you snap and he grins and leans close to you.

"Oh honey, it's your fault if you think you meant anything to me in the first place" fury curdles in your stomach. Asshole.

"Is there a problem here?" you freeze and let out a groan. Oh great. Just who you need to appear, Eddie.

His eyes are narrowed as he looks at Billy who smirks and moves past Eddie. "Nah Munson, just catching up with an old friend" he winks at you and you turn away still fuming and your eyes wet. Ah fuck.

"Dickhead, Eddie mutters and his glare turns to you but softens just slightly at your tears, "What the fuck did you see in him princess?" He demands and you shrug.

"No idea. He is a dick" it startles you that both you and Eddie are in agreement. You wipe your eyes and Eddie's fist clenches.

"You shouldn't cry over him princess" he tells you and his voice is still gentle. You peer up at him and feel that pull towards him, the pull that never really went away.

"Like you can talk Munson" Eddie's eyes widen and he stiffens when you say this and his gaze turns agonized.

"I never want to make you cry sweetheart" he swallows hard and still looks bereft. You can't stand seeing that look on his face.

"It only happened once" you shrug it off but it still doesn't clear that look from Eddie's face. He follows you as you need outside, trying to think of something to say to him.

Then the heavens open and rain begins to beat down on you both.

"Uh shit. Do you want me to take you home or something?" You shake your head at Eddie's suggestion, it's sweet but your parents aren't home tonight, you were meant to be staying with one of the girls.

"They aren't home. I'm supposed to be staying with one of the girls but I just want to get away from this shit for a night" Eddie nods and opens his van door for you.

"Then milady. To my castle I shall take you" you hadn't been back to Eddie's in such a long time but right now it was all you wanted and you gesture at him to lead the way.

Billy's words still echo in your mind as eddie drives. You thought you meant something to Billy last year but your hopes were quickly dashed. Your hopes of maybe finding someone who could love you for you were smashed to pieces.

If you were being honest with yourself the one person who you thought you would end up with was Eddie, when you were friends the thought would sometimes enter your mind. A far off future after high school where you and Eddie were happy and in love.

Obviously that went to shit too. You weren't Eddie's type. You had seen the girls he hooked up with occasionally and they were nothing like you, now it didn't matter because he hated you.

This makes your mood worse, just a bit. Then again if he hated you why was he being so kind to you right now?

You ask him as he leads you into the trailer, the question won't leave your mind and you need to ask.

"Eddie why are you doing this? You hate me don't you?" his eyes widen when you ask this and you flash back to the first time you met Eddie when you were four and he ran off some jerk who tried to steal your sweets in school. He was protective of you, even then.

"Okay uh let's get one thing straight, you can annoy the hell out of me but I could never ever hate you princess" this warms your heart just a little bit.

"Well ditto"

You kiss Eddie's cheek, his heated gaze meets yours and you're so tempted to kiss him. It's an impulsive thought but it's not really all that surprising.

"You want to kiss me" he gently teases and you swat his arm playfully. He really could read you like a book, even now.

"Please, as if. I know I'm not your type anyway. I've seen the girls you've hooked up with" Eddie is quiet for a second and that startles you, he's never quiet. He's always on the go and running his mouth about something or other, usually Jason.

"They didn't mean anything. They weren't you" he says the last part so softly that you have to move closer to hear it but you do. Like magnets the two of you move closer and closer...

Then Eddie's lips meet yours and it's... It's everything. It's perfect. Wayne also picks the perfect time to walk in and you and Eddie break apart.

Wayne smiles when he sees you, "Well hi there honey, haven't seen you around in a long time" it has been a while and you feel an ache deep in your bones. You've missed being here, it's one of the places that feels like home to you.

"I've missed it, being here" you admit to him and Wayne smirks a little bit.

"Mmm, someone else has missed you around here too" he nods to Eddie who glares at him.

"Yeah thanks for that old man" Wayne shrugs looking like he's trying really hard not to laugh and invites you to stay for a little while longer.

When he's busy with setting up some dinner Eddie leans into you and whispers in your ear.

"I do miss you" his voice shakes a tiny bit and his big brown eyes are full of tenderness. It's taken a lot for him to admit it and you take your hand in his.

"Ditto"

💌🎀💓

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #enemies to lovers #eddie munson imagine

291 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

1800-lemonadeg1rl · 10 days

Text

Anyone other than you

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary- You and your supposed "enemy" get stuck in a cupboard while on a duo mission

Warnings- violence, gunshots, emo Wanda, mean Wanda, forced proximity, claustrophobia, confusion, not proofread!!

A/n - I dont know whether I hate this tbhhh idk whether it's because it took me sm breaks to write it but it feels off idkk

You entered the quinjet while sighing to yourself. How did you let this happen? You thought as you buckled on your seatbelt. Getting put on a duo mission with the one woman on the team who hates your guts. Wanda Maximoff.

You never had any idea what you'd done to make her despise you so much but nothing you ever did seemed to make up for it. Everytime you spoke in a meeting you could feel her stare digging into your soul. The way she'd scowl when she entered what she'd presume to be an empty room only to find you inside. She'd always mumble something in a language you didn't understand before flouncing out the room. Things weren't any better when you were part of a group with her either. She'd barely respond if you asked her something or flat out ignore you.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to get along with her either, trying to be as friendly with her as you were with everyone else. Offering to make her food, help her with household chores or help out with her mission reports but nothing you did ever seemed to stop her from glaring at you. She wasn't known to be the most outgoing person but you never saw her act this way with anyone else so eventually you gave up deciding it best to ignore her the way she did you.

Now, unfortunately you didn't have that luxury anymore. You'd begged and begged Tony not to put you on this duo mission even contemplating getting ill to avoid it. He had insisted you had to go on this mission apparently you and Wanda had the 'specific' skills skillset for this mission, whatever that meant you knew he was just bullshitting to get you to shut up.

So now here you were getting ready to set off on your two day long stealth mission with the girl who could barely stand to look at you let alone talk and work with you.

☆

You'd arrived at the hotel room you'd be sharing with Wanda and thanked God that you'd got their first and the fact there was two beds. Quickly you threw down your bag on the bed closest to the window and began to check out the rest of the hotel room.

You were smelling the soaps in the bathroom when in clomped Wanda, her doc Martins still managing to make some kind of noise over the soft carpeted floor. She was dressed in a long baggy grey sweater and black skirt with patterned fishnets. Her hands adorned with rings and her short bitten at nails painted black.

"It smells of smoke." She thinks out loud without noticing your precense in the room.

"Yeah sorry about that it's my new signature perfume." You try to joke hoping she might happen to be over her constant anger with you. You study her face through the bathroom mirror as you speak watching out for her reaction. At first you see the possibility of a smile forming on her face and a rosy colour on her cheeks but quickly it's replaced by her signature scowl and a disgusted noise sneaking past her lips.

"Oh. You're here." She talks as if she'd expected someone else to be here despite the many debriefs you'd had together about this mission.

You for one had had enough of her attitude around you acting as if you were something below her. "Yes I'm here like it or not. Can we at least just be civil for the sake of this mission." You groan while walking over to where she's stood, raking your hands through your hair. In response she grumbled out some kind of agreement and that was it.

So far things had been going fine, you'd both kept to your own routine with minimal communication between the two of you. For the most part you'd spent your time exploring the hotel you were staying in. It was cheap and smelt damp. You for sure would be complaining at how you got booked in this dingy one star place once this mission was over. You'd been excited originally as the hotel advertised having a twenty five metre indoor swimming pool which was plenty to keep you occupied however when you inquired at the desk the receptionist, who'd been ignoring you stood there for ten minutes while she read her magazine, told it was shut indefinitely.

Eventually you had to return to the room and when you did Wanda was already fast asleep on her bed, small snores sounding occasionally. You took note of how pretty she was when she wasn't scowling before sliding into your own bed for the night.

☆

You'd done the first half of the mission with relative ease, you and Wanda putting a side your differences for the greater good. Now it seemed as if things were taking a turn for the worse. Upon arrival you'd both scouted the building for any kind of agents or security around the building but found none however now it seemed the building was filling up with them. Two men following behind who you were attempting to fire at and run away from, which is much harder than Natasha makes it look in training.

From the whimper of pain which sounded sounded out and echoed down the corridor you assumed you shot one. This was your chance to lose them and Wanda realised that too as you both picked up the pace of your running.

Out of nowhere she grabbed your arm and dragged you inside a small dark box? No it can't be a box you thought as you looked above you and saw an empty clothing rail. It was a cupboard. Your eyes scanned around the little space you had while trying to avoid eyecontact with Wanda who was leaning over top of you with one hand next to your head against the wall of the cupboard to keep her upright.

Quickly the cramped and uncomfortable space became all too much for you. The lack of oxygen in there made you take shallow breaths and sweat pooled from your forhead. It felt like the walls were closing in. You should get out. No you had to. Trying to move to force yourself out startled Wanda who gripped onto your shoulder to avoid you both tumbling out and compromising your hiding place.

"What are you doing? Just stay still." She whispered angrily. Had her voice always sounding that good up close? At that thought a frown crossed your face and you briefly forgot how badly you needed to get out of this space you were entrapped in. It didn't make you completely forget though as you came to your senses and stopped thinking about how nice Wanda's voice was and remembered how your heart was thundering in your chest and you whole body ached to get out of this cupboard.

"Have to.. to get out." You breathe out, expecting some kind of rude response from her as your breathing further quickens and vision fogs up. Her actual response is nothing you'd ever thought you'd hear her say.

"Look at me y/n." She waits to make sure your making eyecontact with her before continuing. "Its going to be okay, this is all okay and this is nothing you can't do. Just focus on me not the four walls.." her voice was soothing and not completely unlike a lullaby. You still felt unsettled but nothing like before when you were desperate to get out. "Your gonna be fine." She says again as she takes your hand in her own gently squeezing it. The cool feeling of her silver rings against your sweaty palms helping further calm you down as your breathing once again becomes steady.

After a few minutes of silence where you just focus on your breathing and the feeling of Wanda's thumb rubbing against the back of your hand you begin to speak. "Thanks.. I know you don't really like me or anything but I appreciated that a lot."

"Its nothing really... also your stood on my foot." She tells you returning to her usual cold snappy voice. Quickly you moved your foot away muttering apologies as you did, unsure how long you'd been stood on her foot. "I don't hate you either. Well not really."

Your about to question her on why she acts this way around you if she really doesn't hate you but before you can she opens the cupboard door and you both stumble out thankful for the airy space around you. "Don't bring this up y/n." She says before leading the way out leaving you trailing behind a little confused. Was she mean? Did she hate you? Was that all for the mission?

197 notes · View notes

a-edgar-allan-hoe · 1 year

Text

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

Tag List: @swissy23 @sualocin @kristalhi @deakyspuff @sometimes-i-write-good @hamilfanyu @princessranch @ig-you-idiot @obitoshotaf @cavern-creature @at0mschutzbunker @eddiesbixch696 @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @jocecymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @aloudplace @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff @notabotiswear @thecraziestcrayon @lilwingedwolfy @sprkthere @shyyxzi @bookmark-anon @simplecole18 @itsourkisses-blog @here4thespice @sunndust @josephquinnswhore @spooniscute @xghostyx666 @nikolai-m-s @he4rtbloss0m @classifiedtoe @killergoddessmm @sm8th0p @lunarayx @iwannabeazoldyck @butterflypillows @lobeliaaaaaa @mxtokko

1K notes · View notes