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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts.

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles.

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head.

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest.

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts.

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!”

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly.

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you.

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back.

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod.

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes.

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even.

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet.

He stands like a statue.

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.”

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.”

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John.

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.”

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals.

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.”

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material.

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk.

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively.

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind.

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down.

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again.

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window.

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.”

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs.

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away.

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker.

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech.

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows.

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head.

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air.

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.”

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk.

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows.

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder.

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!”

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip.

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?”

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed.

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat.

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing.

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed.

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently.

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips.

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.”

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should.

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear.

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece.

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.”

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another.

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want.

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything.

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed.

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava.

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.”

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.”

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight.

What in the hell was going on?

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible.

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was.

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too.

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively.

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed.

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.”

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly.

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt.

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment.

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.”

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment.

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften.

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?”

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.”

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.”

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out.

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt.

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back.

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire.

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm.

A secluded home. Nothing around.

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death.

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you.

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside.

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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inkdrinkerworld · 18 days

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post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before

It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.

Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.

He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.

You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.

He’s never seen you like this.

“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”

What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.

He strains his ear and hears you whisper,

“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”

You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.

“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.

“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.

Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.

Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.

“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.

“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.

You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.

“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.

Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.

“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”

You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”

Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.

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jaylver · 4 months

Text

SLUT! — P.JS

synopsis: experiencing love in your last year of high school was totally unexpected, especially when it’s the fact that you had fallen for the boy everyone wants. what you weren’t prepared for was the troubles that came with it. however, you were willing to pay the price just for the sake of love.

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: acquaintances to lovers, high school au, romance, angst, coming of age (?)

warning(s): profanities, (slight) slut shaming, underage drinking and partying

wc: 6.7k

a/n: last fic of 2023! thank you for all the support 🫶 a little piece dedicated to everyone and also those who loves this song equally as much as me! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Finding love was the last thing you had on your list right now.

It was the final year of high school. Everyone was freaking out over the fact that they were growing older and their time in high school was over. The Californian air couldn't be any more duller after that. Senior prom and graduation preparations were already starting even though it was just the start of the year. What was stopping them anyway?

Being a teenager was art, but what they didn't tell you about growing up was the process of falling in love.

It was torture. Witnessing people in love all around you while you struggled with advancing past the talking stage. No, it wasn't fair. However, having cupid strike its bow at you unexpectedly one day was the worst of crimes.

You know the embarrassing feeling when you see your classmates outside of school? Right. That was how you felt the moment Park Jong Seong walked into your mother's clinic, your eyes widening behind the counter. Must you be responsible for the counter at this very hour?

“Hey—Y/N?”

Jay was a classmate. You didn't really know him and neither did he know much about you. It was just neutral, where you coexist in the same space until the bell rings and the day ends. You get the gist.

That doesn't exclude the point where Jay was widely known, though. He wasn't like his popular jock friends or an athlete whatsoever. Instead, he was a studious guy who kept his reputation clean. Basically, he was your typical golden boy. You knew he wasn't completely innocent to an extent, but at least he was good at hiding it.

There is no denying that everyone wants him. He was a nice guy paired with strong, distinct features. It was no secret he was also known for his looks and caring manners.

“Jay? What are you doing here?”

He was wrapped in a thick hoodie, hands hidden in his pants pocket. “Caught a cold. I thought I should drop by to see a doctor and get some medicine,”

“Oh no,” you tried your best at giving a concerned expression, though you were busy skimming through files on the laptop. “Do you have a record here?”

“I do. Not my first time,”

You tried for his full legal name instead of ‘Jay Park’ and thankfully, his record showed up. “Found it,” you glanced up just to find him staring back at you. This was probably the first time you were this close to him, enough to be able to distinguish the moles on his face.

“I'll call you in a bit,”

You did what you always do every time, inform your mother and call the patients in. But Jay wasn't just another patient to you. When you called his name, you watched as he got closer, casting you a sweet smile right before he disappeared behind the door, leaving you to your seat at the counter, overthinking the littlest details that you knew you'd have to spill to your best friend after.

Jay waited patiently by the counter once it was time to pay. His gaze followed your every move as you got his prescribed medicine and stuffed them carefully into a bag.

“Here you go,” you passed the bag over, then accepted the cash he had been holding for a while. “Thanks,” you muttered, taking the chance at avoiding eye contact when you slipped the cash into the register.

“Thank you too,” Jay said, immediately gaining your attention. He was still managing a smile even though you could tell he was shivering slightly.

“No problem. Rest well,” you took a piece of candy from your own bowl of personal sweets stash. “Here,”

“Candy?”

You nodded, humming softly.

“Thanks,” his voice was quieter, sounding as if he was in disbelief. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes twinkled, a hint of fascination lingered. “I'll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you.”

That night, you laid awake replaying the encounter you had with Jay. It was the first time you've ever talked to him, and it was barely anything, but you somehow understood why people liked him by then. Not like you didn't like him initially, you meant, romantically.

It was definitely an odd place to meet and talk to him. Out of all the possible places, it just had to be your mother’s clinic that none of your peers came to once, that was until him. But somehow, it was the right timing despite the location. It was the wrong place at the right time.

Who knew his cold and your candy would soon start something neither of you expected.

“Do you wish you made out with him or something?”

Telling Yunjin about it was probably the best and worst idea. Sure, she could be a great moral support, except she lacked filters when needed.

“What the fuck—no!” You glanced around, hoping none of the passing students heard your stupid discussions. “He's hot but not like that, at all,”

“So you admit he's hot!”

You rolled your eyes, chucking the bag of Doritos back to her. “I never said he wasn't,”

“You intended it, said you didn't get the ‘hype’ around him,”

“Until now!” You threw your hands up in surrender, only getting a cackle from Yunjin as a response. “Whatever. It's a one time thing. He's out of my league. It's a whole ‘You Belong with Me’ music video type of situation excluding me being friends with him,”

“You're yapping at this point,”

“Thanks, I know,”

“It's not that serious, Y/N. You fighting your life trying to defend yourself only makes it seem like you're in denial,” why must she always be on point?

“Whatever, whatever,” you waved her off, stubbornly ignoring what she said. “I'm at the back of the line anyway, I should be worrying about graduation and college,”

“Oh right!” Yunjin physically jumped, her backpack shook. “I need your opinion on something.”

That whole Jay discourse had swarmed your head that was currently leaning against the window. You purposely picked a seat by the window at the back of the class, hoping for some space to think since it was a class you didn't have with Yunjin.

“A dollar for your thoughts?”

To your right stood Jay, shouldering his backpack and offering a warm smile. You knew you shared this class with him, but to have him walk up to you at that very moment was something beyond unexpected.

“Hey,” you greeted rather stiffly, not knowing what to do now that you were put under the spot. “W–what are you doing standing there?” Facepalm.

“Oh—do you mind if I sit beside you?” He pointed at the empty seat next to you, and you shook your head. You usually sat with random classmates anyway, having no close friends in this class was a struggle.

Jay's face broke into a smile of relief, plotting his bag down before taking a seat. “Thanks, I don't really have anyone I know here,”

“You don't?” That's weird. You always noticed how people naturally swarmed around Jay's table, either greeting him or chatting with him.

“Not really. None of them are really my friends,”

But you were?

“You're a friend to me, though,” he added, as if reading your mind at that instant.

You were taken aback, but you hid it well, masking it with nonchalance. “Really?”

He nodded, a sincere smile that told you he meant it. You let yourself loose this time, reciprocating his smile. “I'm honoured,”

“I'm even more honoured.”

Throughout the class, you didn't miss the occasional glances from him and neither did you stop yourself from looking at him. He was much more breathtaking up close. Who were you to deny that?

By the end of the class, the bell rang and everyone started to pack up, some already rushing out in a hurry. You, on the other hand, was too caught up in your headspace to notice Jay was already done tidying up beside you and was waiting for his queue.

“Uh—Y/N?” he tapped you on your shoulder, stealing your attention at once. You stared at him expectantly, blinking with curiosity behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” You dragged the word out slightly, packing your last book into your bag.

“Would you like to go to a party this weekend?”

A party? That'd be your first.

“Where's that? Can I bring my friend too?”

“Yes and it's at Jake's house,” he winced, forgetting you're not one of those frequent party goers. “I'll text you the details—wait, I don't even have your number,” he laughed awkwardly, which only made you smile.

“Real smooth, Jay,” you signalled for his phone, and he grabbed it out of his jeans pocket without saying a word, eyes following your move as you typed in your number.

When you handed his phone back, he didn’t hesitate to press the call button. Obviously, you heard your ringtone coming from your backpack. You glanced at Jay, giving him a face that was saying ‘really?’, quite incredulous that he’d doubted you.

“Just wanted to be sure,” he smiled, scratching the back of his neck out of awkwardness. “I’ll make sure to text you,” he held his phone up, waving it a little and slowly getting up from his seat, to which you followed suit. At that moment, the classroom was already almost empty, so it was just a few lingering students with you and Jay, but it all felt like you were in a completely different universe altogether.

“Cool,”

“Cool,” Jay echoed after you, and you resisted yourself from laughing. Apparently he noticed your tight smile and smiled along with you. Wordlessly, you two communicated through each of your smiles even as you walked side by side out the door.

“Which way are you going?” he was quick to ask, eyes shining with expectations.

“I’m going that way,” you pointed to the right, down the busy corridor.

“Oh,” Jay visibly faltered, the expectations he held behind his gaze were crushed. “I’m heading that way,” he pointed to the left, the opposite direction of where you’re going.

“I guess that’s it for today,” you patted his shoulder, unbeknownst to how Jay had froze under your touch for a second. “Until our next class together, then,”

“See you,” he waved, gradually backing away.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Bye!”

You watched as he walked away, his back now fully facing you. It took you another beat before your feet were willing you away to where you were meant to go. But what you failed to realise as you concentrated on your steps was Jay turning his head back to catch a glimpse of you, his head only filled with the thoughts of you.

He’s so screwed.

Staying at the library was the last resort for you once you got to know Yunjin had an impromptu extra hour class after school. She promised she'd take you to the pool, considering the weather was only getting hotter day by day. But you suppose it'd have to wait for now.

What was worse, the heatwave or high school? Trick question.

The library was mostly empty by this hour, only a couple of students remained to either study or chill around just like you. It was one of those times where you wondered why you didn't explore more. As you wandered along the towering shelves filled with old books, you caught sight of an interesting looking one.

Instinctively, you pulled the book out of the shelf without thinking twice. But what caught your eyes wasn't the cover of the book or the book itself in general. Instead, it was the pair of eyes staring back at you through the small gap from where the book originally sat.

The most surprising bit of all was you knew and recognised who those eyes belonged to. Jay.

Your eyes widened, so did he once he saw your reaction. For some inexplicable reason, you stood up straight, unknowingly fixing your hair out of a nervous habit.

You were nervous? It's just Jay. No, wait, that's probably why. It's Jay. How were you not going to feel nervous around him?

Quick, think! Were you going to find him in the next aisle or run away. Maybe not the latter. You turned on your heel and walked forward, deciding to find Jay and greet him out of courtesy.

You were just about to turn the corner when you stumbled into the man you were looking for, perfect. Actually, not perfect. The moment you crashed into him, you stumbled into his chest and his hands flew up to catch you, the book originally in his possession dropped to the ground with a firm thud.

There you were, literally in his arms and looking frenzied. His wide eyes matched yours. It took a few beats and a moment for your mind to formulate what's happening for you to finally push yourself from him, absolutely flustered from embarrassment.

“Hey,” you dusted your front in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks.

“Hi,” he replied rather breathlessly, mirroring your rosy cheeks.

The book that fell to the ground suddenly became unimportant to Jay, but to you, it was a mark that was burning into the precious floorings. You moved fast and picked up the book, yet you weren't quick to hand it back, instead you took a look at it.

“Pride and Prejudice?” You noted from the old cover, then glanced at him, a glint of interest sparked. “Didn't know you're like that,” you extended the book out to him.

He took the book back into his possession, smiling rather sweetly. “Literature is the death of me,”

“Isn't it a selective subject?”

“It is. I was an idiot for thinking I could hold on,” he rolled his eyes, making you giggle softly.

“I'm sure you will. You're—like—Einstein smart,”

“Are you trying to stroke my ego right now?” He crossed his arms, leaning onto the bookshelf ever so casually.

“No, I'm just pointing it out. You literally rank in the top 5 every year! It's annoying,”

“Is it so?”

“Very much,”

“Should I be flattered? I'm flattered,” he bowed dramatically, unable to hide his smug smile. It was your turn to roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He only let out a laugh at your reaction. “What are you doing here at this time anyway?”

“Oh—Yunjin, my friend, had a random impromptu class so she had to stay back. I was waiting for her since she’s bringing me to go swim, but now I don’t know if that’s happening,”

“You could always stop by my place for a swim,”

You blinked, head tilting to one side. “What?”

Jay seemed to have become embarrassed judging from the reddening tips of his ears that you were (thankfully) oblivious to. “I have a pool, and my parents are out of town for maybe a few months or so for work, so it’s practically unused,”

“What about your friends? Don’t they go over to swim?”

“They do, but they’re looking to take more advantage of it by wanting to throw a party soon since my parents are away,” he grumbled in the last part.

“Well, are you?”

“I guess? I don’t mind it,” he hummed, bright eyes flickering to you. “Will you come if I do?”

“If I’m invited,”

“Obviously you are,” Jay said matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. “So what do you say?”

“Sure,”

“Great. I’ll hold you to it,” he snapped his fingers, and was basically beaming now. It only made you form more visible heart eyes. “But for now, I’ll see you at Jake’s party,”

“Deal.”

That day, you left the library with a lovesick smile instead of a book. You didn’t even get annoyed after knowing it was too late for a trip to the pool, and obviously Yunjin caught onto that. On the walk home, you thought about him and the party. Anxiety and anticipation were both building up, until he came up in mind again and everything disappeared.

You got lovestruck and it went straight to your head. It was almost the first time you’ve actually felt the way you’re feeling now, nobody had once made you fully experience every emotion of having a crush in your years in high school. No one was even capable of it, that was until Jay appeared into your life.

Going to bed that same night, you thought of him again. At that point, you wondered if he would materialise in your bedroom from the amount of times you had him in your head. Maybe he’d be accidentally manifested into life.

Tossing and turning, you kicked your feet at the imaginations you had of him. Upon realising your own behaviour, you covered your face with a pillow and screamed into it. Were you crazy? Oh my God, you were!

Then it hit you.

You’re admitting this now. You like Park Jong Seong.

“I can’t believe we’re here,”

Yunjin was currently having the best of her life even though nothing has happened yet and you both had just arrived at Jake’s house.

The walk in was already shocking. On the lawn of Jake’s house were knocked out drunks, then by the door were people making out and doing weird things you didn’t want to think of again. You were surprised that everything happening before you was something you’ve seen in movies and you were actually experiencing that now.

“Is this even … legal?” you glanced around, cringing at the tacky set ups and badly picked music in the background.

“No. But you’ve drunk before, so who are you to say?”

“Touche,”

Wandering further into the house, you realised there were many people here, but you weren't surprised at all. Jake was a well known footballer anyway, how could he not be popular in the first place?

"Y/N!"

At the sound of your name being called, you looked over your shoulder to see Jay approaching you. His eyes carried the same kind of brightness he has around you, the corner of his lips were curved up into a wide smile. Let's not forget how he has his hair styled up at that moment. Was he expecting you to not feel anything?

"Jay! Hey," you waved meekly at him until he was standing before you. You noticed his gaze on your friend who was standing beside you, a look of unfamiliarity clearly written in his expressions. "This is Yunjin, by the way,"

Yunjin and Jay both greeted each other amicably, though a little awkward but it was natural for it to be like that. Jay turned to look at you, eyebrows raised. "This would be a great chance to introduce my friends but—"

"Jay!"

"I take that back,"

You and your friend exchanged a brief look, stifling your laughter at Jay's demeanour. He was flailing his hand to get his friend to come closer, and by then, you could recognise who it was.

"Bro, why were you running around all night? Were you expecting someone—oh, hey," Jake, the host of the party and the popular footballer, had finally taken account of you and your friend's presence. "I'm Jake, nice to meet you,"

"Likewise, I'm Y/N,"

"Yunjin,"

"Y/N and Yunjin, you guys are new faces around here,"

"It's not really our scene," you nudged Yunjin a little, and she nodded in agreement. It's true, you and her equally preferred a night in with a romcom playing than this. But you'd make it an exception this time, and maybe the next time for Jay's party.

"You're always welcomed. Any friend's of Jay or friend's of Jay's friend are welcomed to our party," Jake patted Jay's back, while the latter only rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Jake! Your toilet's clogged—" another one you recognised to be a part of the friend group appeared out of the blue. It was Sunghoon. Star hockey player and basically every girl's crush, he was known for his wits, charming good looks, and crazy hockey skills, duh.

If you told yourself from months back that you'd somehow become friends with Jay and meet his friends, you'd think you're crazy.

"Hey, sorry," Sunghoon winced, but gave Jake a pointed look after. Jake scoffed in annoyance, then left with a huff and a wave of goodbye to you and Yunjin. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm Sunghoon,"

"I'm Yunjin," when did she become this bold? Whatever it was, you were willing to support her.

"I'm Y/N,"

"You're Y/N?" Sunghoon gasped quietly, glancing between you and Jay, interest forming in his head.

Jay slapped the back of Sunghoon's head, and in the midst of the latter's grumbles, he could only smile awkwardly at you. "Shut up," he hissed to Sunghoon.

"First, ouch. Second, whatever," Sunghoon bumped Jay roughly with his shoulder. "Wanna get some drinks?"

"I'm fine, I'll pass. Maybe Yunjin can go along with you?" You eyed Yunjin, and you saw her giving you those 'i owe you my life' type of eyes.

"Sure," Sunghoon smiled at Yunjin, but gave Jay a firm nudge, his gaze alone conveying the message. Apparently bro telepathy was a thing, because in a few seconds, he decided Jay was staying with you and wandered off along with your best friend.

"It's just us two now," you said, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"Yeah," Jay was equally stiff as you were. "Sounds crazy, but do you want to go up to the room? It's a little loud here,"

"I don't think it's 'a little' but totally, sure. Lead the way," you figured Jay was familiar with his way since it was quite literally his best friend's house.

He wordlessly took your hand and intertwined it with his. It was so casual and sudden that it was unexpected, knocking the breath out of you. He made sure you were walking in front of him the whole time, hand never leaving yours and only gripping tighter as he held you close to avoid the crowd.

In a world of boys, he was a gentleman.

He eventually brought you to a quiet room down the hall upstairs, into a bedroom that was decorated much simpler. You guessed it was the guest room, it would've made most sense.

"Do you normally bring girls here?"

Jay's face contorted into a mix of shock and disbelief, arms thrown into the air. "What—no!"

"Really?"

"What makes you think that?"

You shrugged, taking a seat on the bed. "I don't know? Well, everyone wants you—"

That was your crime.

"—you're popular, smart, cute, kind and—am I talking too much?" You paused, feeling the bed dip beneath you as Jay joined your side.

"I like it," he hummed, turning to look at you. "I like you,"

You blinked. One second. Two seconds.

"What?" Your eyes were widening, whereas Jay was just staring back calmly with an unwavering smile.

"I like you, Y/N," the confession rolled off his tongue like a secret he has been keeping for too long. The eyes that were searching for yours were filled with longing and hope.

Was this really happening right now?

"I like you too, Jay,"

It felt like the world had stopped and it was just you and him there. You were taking in his confession and so was he. It might've been silent but it was comfortable.

"Can I—" he leaned in, but stopping just an inch away from your lips. You could feel his breath on yours, noses making contact. That was how close he was.

"Yeah,"

Just before Jay could press his lips against yours, the door burst open and you jumped, literally. You heard a thud too, and realised Jay was on the floor.

You turned to look at the door, finding the culprit standing there awkwardly. It was Jake, and he, too, was self aware that he had crashed an important private moment.

"Uh—I just wanted to find Jay…"

"Jake, if you don't close that door right now, I swear—"

Jay didn't even need to finish his sentence when Jake slammed the door shut, yelling out 'sorry's and saying he'd be waiting for Jay down the hall. Talk about awkward encounters.

You locked eyes with Jay, who looked thoroughly embarrassed but also humoured. It didn't take long before you burst out laughing and he joined along. Soon, he returned to his original spot next to you too.

"That was … bad,"

"It was," you were fidgeting with your hands, suddenly nervous. "I guess the timing wasn't right,"

"It really wasn't,"

Silence fell between the two of you, and there was something in your mind that was bugging you. "Does this mean we're …?" You didn't need to finish what you were saying for Jay to get the meaning.

"I mean, do you want to try it out first? We don't need to rush into anything, don't even need to be official. I just wanted you to know how I feel,"

"I can do slow," you nodded, catching a brief glimpse of Jay.

"I'll always be waiting for you," Jay took your hand in his, and that was when you finally had the courage to meet his eyes again. "Whenever you're ready."

People say dating the popular guy was a bad idea, but for once, you were willing to let loose and give your heart a go.

Who knew the start of your newfound romance would soon blossom into a whirlwind of tears, love, and scandalous teen romance.

"So you're dating him now?"

Having Yunjin scream into your ear in the morning during the first period was not surprising. Maybe telling her everything over the phone and leaving her hanging wasn't the best idea. It wasn't your fault she was hungover anyway.

"Shush! Do you want everyone to know?"

"I'm sure everyone knows by now,"

You gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Jake kinda saw you guys, then he blabbered it to Sunghoon, and I guess others heard it because he was not quiet about it,"

Jake. You heaved a sigh, shaking your head a bit. "We're not boyfriend girlfriend official, but just … trying things out, you know?"

"I know," Yunjin let out a satisfied hum. "I think he'd be great for you,"

"Really?"

"He's a nice guy, Y/N. Judging from his reputation, he seems like a good man," Yunjin practically gave you her seal of approval, and it left you feeling happy for the rest of the period.

That was until lunch break where everything fell apart way too fast.

Walking out to the cafeteria, you didn't think much about anything else as you listened to Yunjin rant about her latest online purchase. But the moment you heard Jay's name along with yours in passing, your ears perked up. You thought nothing of it, leading up to Kim Minjeong confronting you head on and you knew that's when you should start worrying.

"Are you … the one with Jay?"

You glanced at Yunjin for a split second, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. "I guess?"

"You're a slut. Don't you know I have a thing for him? There's something call girl code—"

"Woah woah, wait, what? Look, we don't even know you like that," Yunjin quickly butt in upon seeing you fall silent.

"Everyone knows me! Everyone knows Jay and I had a thing! What is it you want? His popularity? Money—"

"Shut up,"

Speaking of the devil.

"You okay?" Jay appeared by your side, gaze softening once it landed on you. "I was searching for you, didn't know this is happening,"

"I—"

"Jay! What are you doing? Why are you with her—"

"Can you just quit it? We've been through this many times, Minjeong. I don't like you and I never have, why can't you just accept it?" He sounded exasperated, almost as if he had been putting up with this for ages. "Put my girl's name out of your mouth and leave her out of this. She's the one I want, not you,"

The only way you could describe Minjeong's face there was rageful. Her expressions were contorted and her lips were etched into a frown. She knew she couldn't defend herself further, so she eventually left with a huff.

It was quite unsalvageable at that point and you felt yourself breaking down from the inside out. Even when Jay called your name, you only shrugged him off and brushed past him. The worst part of all: he didn't run after you either.

Great. Now you were going to spend the rest of the day mulling in bed.

That didn't last long either. Once you got into bed, ready to sleep away from the day's incident and think back to Yunjin's pep talk, you heard your phone buzz. Not once, but multiple times. Who was sending messages at that time? Of course, it had to be him.

jjongster: hey, can we please talk?

jjongster: like right now

you: right now?

jjongster: yeah, send me wherever you're most convenient to meet

This was stupid. Sneaking out of your room when it's dark out and meeting Jay down the street from your house. All when your emotions were not stable and set yet. You've sent him the address and now he's waiting there, standing by his car like a dream.

"Hey," he called out softly as you walked closer to him.

"Hi," you hated this, the sudden stiffness and awkwardness that got between you two, you shouldn't be suffering because of it.

"Sorry for asking you to come out this late," he was quick to apologise, taking a step closer to you. He was always so nice, so kind and loving. "I–it's just eating me up, and I really wanted to tell you—speak to you—in person. I wanted to see you,"

"It's okay, I get it. I'm sorry too, for leaving so abrupt and ignoring you. That was wrong of me to do," you were feeling guilty about what you did earlier, letting your emotions get the best of you and neglecting Jay.

"I understand, don't worry. Are you feeling okay? I didn't expect that to happen, I'm sorry,"

"Don't apologise, it's not on you," you brushed away the strand of hair that constantly fell onto your face, occasionally avoiding his stare. "And I don't know. I don't know how or what to feel,"

He frowned. "Tell me, tell me what's on your mind,"

"Jay, what if this was all a bad choice? You're you, and I'm … me. You're the golden boy, everyone wants you! Now they're talking behind our backs and all I do is hear rumours that aren't true, names being called …"

"It's not a bad choice, Y/N! I want you … so much. No one else compares. Can't you see that?" Jay moved closer to you, his hands now on both your shoulders. "Don't push me away now,"

Jay was taking his chance, and you thought it was a big mistake, but he doesn’t. It might blow up in his pretty face, and you didn’t tell him straight on to do it anyway, yet you knew he was going to and he wasn’t going to care what others think.

"I could never," you shook your head, welcoming his embrace as he pulled you in, and before you knew it, the tears you held in all day started streaming down your cheeks.

He held you there on the pavement as you broke down in his arms, his hold on you never once loosened. There that night, under the starry sky and illuminating street lights was a connection and trust formed unknowingly between you and him, love that blossomed like a flower in spring.

"Gosh, I probably look stupid right now crying," you chuckled, pushing yourself slightly off of him to glance at his face.

"You look pretty, gorgeous to me," his thumb travelled to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that remained.

"I shouldn't have said that … us being a bad choice," you said quietly, cursing internally that you've even doubted it in the first place. "I trust you, Jay, I do,"

"Thank you," his hand travelled down to hold onto yours, a smile ever so soft. "We'll go at your pace. Whenever you're ready,"

"Whenever I'm ready." you repeated, unable to stop yourself from smiling either.

Jay knew he was already in deep, experiencing feelings he's never felt before in his eighteen years of life, but seeing you then, made him realise maybe young love was something to believe in. For once, he had a love to fight for.

Jay was true to his words. He, in fact, did throw a party at his place. But what he didn't tell you was the cleaning up, and boy, was it a headache.

Once everyone had filed out a little after midnight, it was only you and Jay left. It was peaceful. In an empty house that had music blasting in the background, you and Jay each struggled to pick up all the rubbish strewn. You liked this. You like him.

It might've taken a while, but eventually you had the place cleaned, or at least, rubbish-less. There was probably more deep cleaning needed (that was for the next day to worry about). However, for now, it was finally just the two of you, and a whole lot of space with nothing to do.

"Wanna go for a dip?"

"Now?" You glanced at the clock, then back at Jay, who was trying to convince you with his starry eyes and nodding his head like an overly enthusiastic puppy. "Fine."

You didn't even know why you agreed to it. It was a lucky decision you brought an extra pair of everything since you were staying over.

Jay was already in the pool, floating around when you walked out. The light coming from the pool was the only thing providing light. Blue reflection and wet messy hair made Jay increasingly dreamy, till the point where you stood there for a bit too long and he had to call for you.

"Coming!" You huffed, but the moment you reached the edge of the pool, you found yourself stuck and feeling nervous.

The sight of Jay's bare front and your lack of clothing was nerve wracking to even think about. Your mind was in a fuzz even as you accepted his hand and let him pull you in, the cool water invading your senses.

His arms came to wrap around your waist, the only thing you could hold for support was his bicep, so that was what you reached for. Jay didn't mind, he only held you tighter, a conspiring glare glazed over his eyes.

"Hey," he tilted his head, gaze travelling all over your features. You were close, very close. It was almost as if you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

"Hi," you whispered back. Your hand was on its own journey, absentmindedly moving to his shoulder.

You should be dying out of anxiety by now, or even freak the fuck out, yet, you successfully kept your composure, in front of a hot man. Hooray!

"How's the water? I swear it's clean. I gated it off before the party,"

You laughed, remembering how Jake was so insistent on keeping the pool part of the party. He claimed that a pool party was way cooler than just a regular party. Jay was not convinced.

"It's nice. Chilly,"

Jay nodded for a bit, pursing his lips, thinking for a beat. "I'm glad you were here today,"

"Why?"

"I just like having you here, that's all,"

"You're so cheesy, it's annoying," you joked lightheartedly, knowing you secretly enjoyed this side of him.

"Whatever, you tolerate it anyway,"

He was right, you did. Over the few months, you've grown to memorise and remember every part of Jay. His habits, his likings, et cetera. It was crazy how your relationship grew with time, but the much crazier part was the fact that you two had not gone official yet.

"Against my will,"

"That's a lie,"

"Whatever you say," you said in a sing-song tone, which only made Jay roll his eyes, reaching up to pinch your cheek.

His gaze never left yours, not even once. It was trained on you, always had been and always will be. The eventual silence got to you, and it was just the distant noise of the water that filled the air.

It was one of those moments where you think 'was this real'. Spoiler: it was. He was testing the waters, you could tell, and you let him.

Jay inched a little closer, eyes flickering between you and your lips. It was obvious that he was nervous from the shaky breath and wavering confidence, but it only made you more relieved.

You let out a breath, meeting his lips halfway. At first, he was shocked, you were too, but for different reasons. Kissing him was a breath of fresh air. His lips moved against yours naturally as if it was his first instinct, like he has been waiting for this for ages, which was not entirely wrong. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you swore you felt yourself imploding.

The moment you two finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could only stare at him and hold onto him tighter as if you were afraid he might not be real. Jay chased after your lips, pressing haste pecks and smiling into every one of them. It was infectious, everything about him was and it had you intoxicated.

You realised at that second that you’d be willing to go against the world for him if you had to. Even if someone called you a ‘slut’ again, maybe it’d be worth it for once, and you knew he’d always be right there to defend you.

“I'm ready,”

“Hm?” he was still in a haze, eyes staring back at you with more than love in them.

“I’m ready to be yours, Jay, I’m serious,”

“You are?”

He has never been so relieved and happy leading up till that moment, just having you in his arms was about to make him burst. All he needed was to see you nod and watch your lips mouthing ‘yes’ as a confirmation before lifting you up, arms tight around you.

Under the moonlit swimming pool, you’ve never been happier.

The night might’ve already ended for others, but to you and Jay, it was still ongoing, and you wished for it to not end. So, there you were, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he lay beside you. There was barely any space between you and him, his hand brushed against yours from time to time, neither of you dared to move from your original position.

Half asleep, you were taking your time to do something. You took the chance to move your hand closer and gently made contact with his. It didn’t even take a beat for him to lace his fingers with yours, his grip ever so firm, calloused skin against yours. You could tell Jay was equally drifting in and out of sleep as you were, mind in a haze but awake enough to comprehend that you were next to him and not a figment of his imagination.

“I’m in love with you,”

It was faint, almost a whisper, but a mumble that was audible came from Jay. You turned your head to look at him, even under the dim lights, you were able to see that smile from him. The one that always made him look like a lovesick fool, that his friend would claim he’d have whenever he talked about you; it was a smile only reserved for you, and you were the cause of it too.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled out, eyes remained shut, but the smile stayed.

“Goodnight.”

There in the bed slept two young lovers, a fresh love that was unbreakable that connected the two of you together, all of it was fated. From the clinic to now, it might’ve started at the wrong place but it surely was at the right time, and you were glad to be next to him, hand in hand, anticipating what the future had in store for you two.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @shinrjj @kgneptun @ilovegyuvin @hyunniesvlog

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melrodrigo · 6 months

Text

my hair

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader

Summary: Wednesday lets you braid her hair.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I don’t think I used any pronouns, so it’s gender neutral really (at least i think so, i can’t rmb) inspired by none other than Ariana Grande’s ‘my hair’. happy halloween 🎃!

“Wednesday.”

The name tumbles out of your lips as easy as the flow of water on a steep channel, and you wonder how a simple word like a day of the week has turned into such a gratifying one.

“Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.” You mumble mindlessly, combing your fingers through her jet black hair.

She makes a tiny huff of annoyance as she stirs in your arms.

She knows you have a thing for words, whether it be big love confessions or simply saying her name throughout the day, which is a thing she’s been trying to get better at, for you. It’s hard, but she’s morphed into the phase of getting used to your soft words and whispered endearments. She bites back the tiny part of her that wants to ignore them, instead letting them seep into and have their way with her.

You ruffle her hair fondly, but not too hard, well aware of how sensitive your girlfriend is about her hair.

It’s something you’ve come to learn about Wednesday, through your many years together.

She does not like her hair to be touched. She also famously doesn’t let anyone else but you touch it.

Admittedly, it only makes you want to touch her hair more.

You nudge her slightly, murmuring in her ear that you guys have to get up for class.

“Ms. Thornhill is going to be so pissed when she finds out I spent the night again.” You say mindlessly, feeling Wednesday tighten on top of you.

She’s still only a second before she’s sitting up straight, rigid, a classic Addams family stance.

“You did sneak in, didn’t you?” She asks.

You roll your eyes, nudging at her to loosen up a little.

“Yes, Wednesday. I attempted to sneak in. She, however, was waiting right outside your dorm room.” You recount, from just the night before.

She turns to you, eyes squinted.

The sight of you makes her heart do a little dance she wasn’t aware it could do. She’ll never understand it, the way you make her dull black heart race. It beats to the melody of her favorite symphony, fast paced and rapid.

Your hair’s a little ruffled, cheeks a little red, while you sit at the head of her bed in your best matching pjs.

She ponders about your words just a moment before she’s speaking again.

“Good. She should know that you’ll be sleeping in here for the rest of the year.” She says, finally.

You grin, childlike.

She purses her lips and makes the decision before she regrets it.

“Do my hair?” She asks, almost more of a command than a question.

You have to keep yourself from practically jumping off her bed in excitement. She’s never asked that before. You try to act nonchalant as you think about it.

Wednesday knows you better though, and she can already tell by the sparkle in your eyes that you’ll say yes.

You could never say no to your girl, after all.

You nod eagerly, following Wednesday out the bed and over to her desk like a love sick puppy.

“Enid better not come in and see this.” Wednesday grumbles, reaching over to grab her hairbrush, one as black as obsidian.

“It would be better than when she came in last night while we were-“ Wednesday squeezes your wrist tight, a sign to shut up, and so you do.

She takes a few rubber bands out her beloved spider shaped box, one you’d given her as an anniversary gift, and places them in a single file line.

You gulp as you realize what you’ve signed up for.

She turns to look at you expectedly, speaking with her eyes.

“Okay..braids.” You whisper underneath your breath, trying to remember how to braid hair.

To her credit, Wednesday doesn’t say anything the whole while you do her hair. Not a complaint about the way it looks, or how you’ve done it.

But you aren’t that dumb. You see through your girlfriends expression in seconds. And you’re self aware, you know you haven’t done the greatest job.

It’s not horrible, by any means. But it’s just not the Wednesday Addams picture perfect braids.

One side is noticeably looser than the other, and it looks more like a loop than a braid.

“Are you finished?” Wednesday inquires, about to get out her seat.

You push her shoulders down softly, and tell her you have a special surprise.

You pull out a set of dark blue bows, tiny compared to her long locks of hair.

“Absolutely not.” She says the minute you show them to her, shaking her head to affirm her statement.

You pout, giving Wednesday your best puppy dog eyes, but her face remains impassive.

“Just one?” You plead, playing with the tips of her braids.

Wednesday lets out a soft sigh and begrudgingly tilts her head so you can put on the bow easier.

“Love you so much.” You whisper, pressing your hand to her cheek lovingly.

You better, she thinks.

“Now, I believe we need to attend class in five minutes. You’ve already made me soft. Don’t make me unpunctual too.” She says, the edge coming back to her voice.

“Wait, are you actually gonna go out like that?” You ask, a little shocked.

“Going to, y/n. There is no such word as ‘gonna’.” She says, and turns on her heel out the door, sure you’ll be hurrying after her in minutes.

Everyone stares at Wednesday as you both enter the class. You’re not late, but everyone’s there already. They size up your girlfriend, questioning gaze apparent as they take in her hair.

“Um..Wednesday?“ Enid sounds from the back of the class, “Why does your hair look like that? And are you wearing a bow?”

You flush pink in embarrassment. Was it really that bad?

One look at you and Wednesday decides she has to once again come to your aid when she clears her throat, directing all attention back to her.

“My hair is normal. And I quite like the bow.” She says, in a tone of voice that indicates that that’s the end of the story.

Wednesday keeps her hair like that the rest of the day. Not once does she touch it, or take it out, even with random inquires coming from all the students at Nevermore.

That evening, you catch her grumbling before you enter her room for your nightly kiss on the cheek, words muffled by the door.

“Love has made me so feeble.” She mumbles dejectedly.

You push open the door, pretending you didn’t hear what you just did, and give her just a slightly longer kiss than you normally would, happy as a clam.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #mine #fanfic #soft wednesday

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welldrawnfish · 5 months

Text

So these last few days has been.. Turbulent. DIFFERENT

I think I may be a System? Infact I KNOW I am a system at this point, but Im also not ready to accept that. Well a part of me isnt, and the other parts of me are like… uh duh of course you are.

*A system in this context refers to the collective consciousness under the DID / OSDD Umbrella, I dont know the correct terminology in all of this, so im so sorry If i I mess up. I don’t necessarily want to give myself a label, there's .. brain scans and stuff I can get to prove it. And I need those, thats the only way I know this is real. But for now, for my own mental health I am treating it as if it were.. “real “ And I dont really know… what to expect…? I want to find something, ANYTHING, on I guess.. Systems waking up? But I cant find it. So I’ll just do this here Im gonna dump out all our thoughts onto some comic pages and we will figure it out. I had a bit of an awakening roughly.. 5 days ago, and for the sake of convenience gonna use Plural/System terminology - There are alters, I have met them, the have names and personalities and some of them are really fuckin annoying i just want to punch him in his TEETH

Anyways, since the alter awakening moment, my brain has been in TURMOIL parts of me accept this, parts of me dont, i keep feeling like my face is like shifted 2 inches to the right and everything gets fuzzy in the real world. Not that these alters have names like.. Files are getting sorted into these proper figures and everything is getting explained and figured out. And its making me feel like I'm not me anymore?

Like I always would argue and barter and fight with my own thoughts, but that's the thing, they wer thoughts, voices in my head with just like, distinct personalities. I just saw it as a different part of me?? Figured that was normal.

But now they are.. stronger ? OR maybe because i'm more aware of them and the personalities I can tell whos out now and like.. Obviously they are happy to get some facetime with the world properly?? But like.. Am *I* just aware of it, aware of them now, aware that it is not just *I* but *We* and so noticing it more, I'm resisting even harder? We feel more fractured than ever.

I have a good friend helping me out, another system, I owe them everything, maybe my life. (PLEASE FOLLOW @transpanda-1 BTW THEY DESERVE IT) They had a few amazing tips, but I cant keep bugging them about every anxiety on my mind thats not fair, so I’ll ask the whole community.

I guess what I want to know is.. Like is this normal? Do all systems go through this? What should I expect in the future and how do I make this more streamlined and stop.. Fighting it? I guess?

I thought I finally had myself figured out, just be the girl who makes the funny relatable trans comics… it was simple.

#did/osdd #osdd system #did osdd #did system #did community #osddid #alters #PLEASE HELP #webcomic #comics #original comic #comic art #web comic #Welldrawnfishcomic

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specialagentlokitty · 24 days

Text

Hotch x reader - a criminals obsession

Can you do prompt 76 (from the second prompt list) with Hotch x bau!reader? - Anon💜

76: “How do you get away with all this?” “The key is not to get caught.”

Walking through the hallway of the BAU, you smirked a little at one of the guards that were escorting you, a tight hold of his gun.

“Come on, you don’t have to be so tense.”

“Shut up.” He snapped.

You smirked a little more, turning your attention to the hallway you were walking down, eyes scanning over every single inch of it.

You weren’t going to be able to run out of a federal building and you knew that, but you also knew they wouldn’t shoot you, the guns were just for show.

You were checking out all possible exits you would be able to take, even if you couldn’t get out the building you would still be able to give them a run for their money if you really wanted to.

You were escorted to an interrogation room where your cuffs were secured to the table, the ones around your feet to the ground, and the two guards stood t the back of the room.

You leant back in your chair, tilting your head back so you could look at the ceiling and keep a watch on the two guards to see what they were doing.

You knew when the door was opened, and when a file was placed down.

“You’re a hard person to find (Y/N).”

You smirked a little more, turning your head towards the voice.

“Aaron Hotchner, it’s about time we meet considering the fact we’ve spoke an awful lot.”

He sat down opposite you.

“You managed to evade us for a long time, yet you willingly handed yourself in, requesting to speak to me and only me, why?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Maybe I was bored.”

“I don’t think so, what’s the real reason?”

You gestured with your head towards one of the guards.

“He’s got my phone, take it and get that tech if yours to unlock it, there’s a message or two on there that I think would be intriguing to you.”

Hotch held his hand out as the guard handed your phone over, and he gestured to you.

“Or you could tell me the pin so I could unlock it and make this all a lot easier.”

You hummed a little bit, giving a small shrug.

“You already know one of them.”

“Strauss offered you a position within the BAU, I’m aware, and I don’t agree with it.”

“You don’t think we’d make a good team?”

“You’re a wanted criminal in almost every single state for a long list of reasons.”

You grinned at him.

“Impressive isn’t it?”

Hotch tapped your file.

“How do you get away with all this?”

You winked at him.

“The key is not to get caught.”

“We’re not going to play this game your way, we’re going to play by my rules, which means you’re going to tell me everything you know about our unsub, including the calls you had with him, then you’re going to sit in a cell and wait while I decide what to do with you. If I decide I don’t want you on my team you’ll be sentenced to life without patrol for everything you’ve done.”

You hummed a little, leaning back in your chair, swinging it on two legs as you thought.

After a minute, you slammed the chair back down, placed your hands on the table as you stood up, leaning over it.

The guards trained their guns on you.

You laughed wildly as you realised Hotch hadn’t moved a single muscle, he didn’t even flinch at your movement.

Slowly you sat back down.

“No. We’re not playing my game by your rules Aaron, we’re playing them by mine. I get to join you little band of crime fighters, I give you what you want once I’m sure that I’m not going to be thrown in jail after this.”

“Not happening (Y/N).”

“Then I guess we’re in a stalemate, right? Is that the right term? Maybe I should ask Reid to come in here, I’m sure it’s easy enough to get into his head, maybe he’s watching right now and I can do it through that mirror, or maybe Garcia, I reckon I could get into her head a lot faster.”

“That’s enough.” He warned.

You smirked at him.

He knew what you were doing of course, you were trying to get into his head as well, the easiest way for you to do that was through his team.

You knew that he valued his team and would want to protect them from you and your manipulation tactics, you were good at that.

Hotch stood up, picking up your file and phone.

“I’m going through your phone so whatever is on there I’ll find, which means I don’t actually need your help.”

“Oh you think the messages from your unsub are on there? That’s cute.”

Hotch stopped by the door.

“They’re not on that phone silly, and don’t bother trying to track another to my name because it’s untraceable, and it’s not registered to me.”

He turned around.

“There’s lives at stake and you want to turn it into a game?” He snapped.

“I couldn’t really care less to be honest, do you think I’d have that long list of charges if I did? I may have never directly hurt another person Aaron but I don’t care what happens to people. There’s nothing in it for me if I did.”

Hotch left the room, joining the others in the conference room where there was a live feed from your interrogation room.

He set your file and phone down on the table.

“You think it’s true?” Rossi asked.

“Yes, they have an obsession with me, I was the first one to ever get close enough to catching them.”

He sighed, crossing his arms.

“They’re also not going to willingly give up information without something in return, that’s how they work.”

“So, we have to give them what they want otherwise they won’t help.” Emily muttered.

“Absolutely not.” Hotch replied.

He knew what your game was, you get what you want, they get what they want and you’d go on the run again.

You learn quick, which means you would’ve already thought of ways to cover your traces from them, he could see how smug you were.

You had everything thought out carefully, you would have played every move in your head over and over until you found the right ones.

Everything you did was calculated to tip the balance in your favour.

And what he didn’t know was that he was actually playing straight into your hands, you had already planned out every possible scenario when you handed yourself in.

You were counting down the minutes until he returned to tell you he was going to have you sent to trail, and that’s exactly what you wanted to happen.

He knew you didn’t care what you had to do, or who you had to put in harms way to get what you wanted, because you loved the game of cat and mouse you had been playing.

You tilted your head back, looking towards one of the guards.

“I think it’s time up. Don’t you?”

The other guard spun around, a loud shot echoing the room, and you stood up, dropping the cuffs that had been unlocked when you were first sat down.

The guard opened the door, and you turned to the camera, giving a small salute as you followed your helper down the hallways as alarms blasted through the building.

At the stairwell, you were handed another phone and you turned to Hotch who was aiming his gun at you.

“Me or your unsub, pick wisely now.”

You tossed the phone, slamming the door shut behind you as you ran down the stairs with a wild laugh.

Oh you really did love the chase

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #Hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #Hotch imagine #Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner imagine

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old-lorarri · 1 month

Text

꒰꒰ ‧₊˚🇲🇲 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌 ─ 𝐂𝐒𝟓𝟓 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ after a long winter break carlos decided to go and visit his gf's family and seeks to gain there approval ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ carlos sainz x fem! ferrari! race engineer! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . . ❨ this is. really short one and I'm sorry it's not very good but I hope you enjoy! ❩

❨ series masterlist | main masterlist ❩

BIG BRO

so when am I meeting him

LIL SIS

when are you meeting who?

BIG BRO

your new bf

did you seriously think I wouldn't find out

LIL SIS

who else in the family knows

BIG BRO

everyone

did you forget dad legit has investments in most of the f1 teams

how long did you think you could hide this

LIL SIS

long enough....

how did i do?

BIG BRO

not half bad

though next time don't make out in the middle of the paddock

even if there are no cameras around

kind defeats the purpose of being "secret"

LIL SIS

fair enough

BIG BRO

anyway you should bring his to the family gathering

LIL SIS

and expose him to gossiping aunties and dad asking him 78374 questions

BIG BRO

they have to learn the hard way

it's the rules

LIL SIS

hi it's carlos here I would love to come meet your family

BIG BRO

we shall see buddy

carlosainz55 . 9hrs ago

seen by landonorris charles_leclerc 89,475,679 others

landonorris replied to your story!

ahhh meeting the parents are we

and the rest of the family

uncles, cousins, aunts, and grandparents

have you been threatened by her siblings yet

yes

all 8 of her brothers have threatened me

5 different uncles

and her father and grandfather

I have never been more scared in my life

anything interesting happen?

yeah all of the aunts gossip is JUCY

spill when you get back ey?

the aunties were mostly gossiping about how I'm gonna be unemployed in 2025

carlossainz55

liked by yourinstagram landonorris 79,568,989 others

carlossainz55 🇲🇲 bruma through the lens of my gf

view comments

user how does it feel to be living my dream

user carlos has a gf???

user I just searched up his gf and she's OLD MONEY how am I going to compete with her now

user forget carlos I want MOTHER

user oh how I wish I could call carlos sainz jr mine

user my parents ya'll

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─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Hi can I request 🇲🇲for the next crazy rich Asian series with Carlos and the driver I’m sorry if I’m being demanding..tho😓But the story line were reader is his f1 engineering and they starts dating and they get to the point were it’s necessary to meet each other’s family like including relatives but reader already met Carlos’s family so Carlos is going to meet readers family and he finds out readers family is like “crazy rich” for generations and he spends a week with the families back in mandalay. With gossiping aunties, flirty cousins and readers protective dad and brothers.I’m sorry again if it seems like I’m demanding. I’m really up for an hour brainstorming for this storyline 😭😭thank you so much for even reading to this point.😅

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crescentbelle · 11 months

Text

Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.”

Beat.

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr.

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek.

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spiderman #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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sweatervest-obsessed · 3 months

Text

Second Chances Are For Winners

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

WC: 2.7k

TW: Swearing, teasings, blood, abduction, breaking and entering, Criminal Minds General list of triggers apply here.

A/N: Hiya gang! so actually I have been so unmotivated to write and I just got back from vacation so I promise I will finish up VDVE soon. But please enjoy this mouth vomit that Just came out of my mind. It's a part one since the rest of it is mapped out, just not written! (also why is like every other gif his mouth moving. This man really just doesn't stfu and it's only hot on him)

Spencer Reid being overwhelmed was an understatement. He needed to get out of that police station as soon as physically possible. JJ confronting him about his hostility towards her had not gone the way she had hoped it would, and Spencer was once again, fuming.

The Oklahoma heat was not kind to someone who only wore sweater vests, a fact in which he would later start to reconsider when planning his outfits to places where the heat had personal vendettas against the living. As soon as he stepped outside, it was like he was met with a brick wall of temperatures well over what they should be. As the sweat dripped down his forehead, so did the tension. He took a couple of breaths before picking up the phone and dialing a number he knew all too well.

“Speak and be heard, Wonder Boy”

“Hey Garcia,” A small smile formed from hearing the familiar voice. “I need you to look up someone, and find their cell number for me, if that’s okay.”

He could hear Garcia roll across her ‘batcave’, “Hit me.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N…”

“Give me two seconds…..Isn’t she—”

“Garcia, please.”

He could hear the smirk forming across her face as her fingers flew across the keys.

“You’re looking up more than her number…”

“One point for Boy Genius everybody. Yes, I’m looking up more than just her phone number. She’s the gorgeous mystery woman who kissed your cheek in front of the whole team—of course I’m going to look her up now that I have her name.”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, starting to regret the decision to call Penelope in the first place. “Can you just send me her number and snoop around later Garcia?”

“Fine Genius.” His phone beeped. “Just sent it to you.”

“Thank you Penelope.”

“Anytime Boy Wonder.” Reid hung up the call before looking at the screen, opening the text Garcia had sent him. He smiled at the number, and almost dialed before thinking better of it. Maybe after the case, he’ll call you and take you out for lunch to catch up. But it’s nothing more, Spencer decided. You probably didn’t feel the same way, but at least he knew that there was someone who wasn’t a part of the team in which he could finally vent his frustrations to. Now he’ll finally be able to get an objective view on the whole Emily situation.

Spencer looked at the file in his hand and sighed, opening it up. As he was reading through it for the umpteenth time, something occurred to him, and he quickly made his way back into the station, and towards his team.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Once the jet touched down in DC, Spencer was the first one off the plane. He walked through the hanger, and towards his car. He could feel the others watching him, especially Emily, but his mind was elsewhere.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, dialing the number Garcia had sent.

“Y/L/N and Associates, how may I help you today?”

Spencer didn’t even try to bite back the smile before he cleared his throat, reaching into his back pocket to grab his keys.

“Hi, yes, I was wondering if I could speak with Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Sure, let me make sure she’s available. Her meeting should be ending soon. Can I ask what this is for?”

Spencer pursed his lips before answering. “She, uh, just told me to call this number.”

He heard the person on the other end shuffle something around before answering, “Good enough for me.” They hummed. “Can I just get a name?”

“Yeah–uh, Spencer–Spencer Reid.”

“Give me one moment Mr. Reid” was all he heard before he was put on hold. He sighed and entered his car, chucking his go-bag into the passenger seat. As Spencer turned on the car, he heard your voice.

“Spencer?”

His face lit up, and a smile graced his features.

“Hey! Yeah. Um” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hi.”

She laughed. “I knew you’d find me eventually, Doctor, but a whole week? I feel that maybe your profiling skills need a bit of sharpening.”

“Well–I was, I was working on cases. I-I didn’t forget—”

You cut him off, voice softer than he remembered. “I’m just teasing Spencer. So what do I owe the absolute pleasure of having Doctor Spencer Reid grace my line.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me your cell number so I don’t have to annoy your secretary…”

You were silent for a moment. “Well my number is going to cost you something.”

“Y-Yeah absolutely.” Answered a bit too quickly, almost out of breath.

“I expect a meal sometime soon, and maybe throw in coffee one of these mornings as well.”

Spencer smiled so brightly he almost couldn’t see the road as he was driving.

“I-I, um, think that’s something I can do.”

He heard you hum in agreement.

“What about tomorrow night?”

Spencer paused.

“I–...I actually can’t do tomorrow night, I have a team meeting, but what about breakfast the next morning?”

He heard you shuffling papers around and a bit of typing on the keyboard before you answered him. “Seems like I’m all yours Doctor.”

Reid smiled and parked his car outside of his apartment.

“Then you’ll have to give me your cell phone’s number and it’s a sealed deal.”

“Are you usually this good at negotiations? Should I start prepping my list of demands for breakfast…” You joked, letting out a small laugh.

Spencer shook his head before he realized you couldn’t see him. “N-No, well yes actually. It’s a part of the whole FBI thing.”

You laughed at his joke before giving him your cell number. “I’ll see you soon Spencer. Bye.”

As you hung up the phone, Spencer sent a quick “hey!” text before getting out of the car and heading up to his apartment. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a tense week after all.

______________________________________________________________________________

The Team isn’t stupid. They’ve noticed that Spencer was somehow in a better mood when he arrived at the office the next morning, despite the way he basically ran away from the jet. They also noticed he was spending a lot more time on his phone than before, especially since Spencer was not the one to text.

As Spencer dumped his sugar into his coffee mug, Derek came up next to him and started to prepare his own coffee.

“Wanna tell me why you’re in such a good mood Pretty Boy?”

Spencer pondered the offer for a moment before putting the sugar back on the counter, next to the coffee pot. “Nope.” and he walked back towards his desk.

Derek was taken back a little bit, but finished his coffee. He made eye contact with Emily and shrugged.

Emily was next, since her desk was next to Spencer’s.

“Morning Spence…”

“Morning Emily.” He quickly replied, and even flashed her a quick smile before his phone lit up and his attention was taken away from her. He sent a quick text, before placing his phone face down and started looking through his files to find the right paperwork to finish the consultation he had started before they left for Oklahoma.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nope.” Spencer replied yet again, and now that Derek was back, he watched the same look pass through Emily’s face before she looked at Derek.

Derek decided he was going to try a different tactic this time. “Hey Reid, wanna tell me who you're texting there man?”

Derek’s face lit up like a Christmas Tree not even a moment later when Spencer ignored his question.

“Is it…oh what was her name…”

“Ohhhh,” Emily joined in, “It’s the lawyer from last week…”

Spencer just shrugged and tried to stay focused on the paper in front of him, yet all he had been doing for the past minute was rereading the same line over and over because all he could think about was when you were going to answer his text.

“The lawyer, right right…” Derek smirked and looked at Emily, both knowing they hit the jackpot. “Wasn’t her name…Y/N?”

At the mention of your name, Spencer made the mistake of sitting up a bit straighter, which both profilers noticed instantly.

“Oh so Y/N has been texting you all morning huh. Is that why you raced off of the jet last night? Couldn’t wait to go see he–”

“No.” Spencer cut off Derek, looking up at the pair. “I haven’t seen her since last week’s case. Now if the two of you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone I have a lot of paperwork I need to make it through before I head home tonight.” He turned back to the file in front of him and tried to read it again. And again. And again. Eventually, Spencer was able to continue his work once Derek and Emily let him be.

But anytime his phone buzzed, he could feel the smirks from his friends, he just didn’t care.

__________________________________________________________________________

You were so over your entire day. Every single one of your active clients decided that they had an issue that needed to be resolved in the second they called you.

So when you woke up, face leaving a print against the wood of your desk, you let out a groan.

The little clock in the corner of your laptop's screen flashed the time, causing you to let out a string of curses.

“I cant fucking believe it’s 2 am. Fuck.” You grumbled, standing up and stretching your arms over your head.

Your phone screen lit up with a notification, which also showed that you had missed a few text messages from your favorite profilers. The last one was a, correct, guess that you had fallen asleep at your desk. You smiled and responded with:

Do you ever get tired of being right all the time Doctor Reid?

As you packed up your things, your phone buzzed.

Not really. It’s just in my nature.

You laughed out loud a bit, shaking your head.

And why are you still awake?

That’s when your phone rang. You held it in your hand, staring at it for a moment, before remembering to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Did you even check caller ID or are you trying to encourage stalkers?” Spencer’s voice rang through your body as you let out another laugh, placing the phone between your shoulder and your ear, packing up the rest of your things.

“Well Spencer, I seriously can’t think of another person to call me at this hour besides you…; and maybe this Baby Daddy who won’t leave me alone.” You grumbled, shoving your laptop into your bag with a little extra force than normal.

“Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, one of my clients, he’s a sweet guy—great dad. But because he’s so worried about his daughter having any sort of parenting time, he’s been calling me nonstop, freaking out about supervised visits. Like, I get it, but it’s fucking 2 am and I stop working at 5, maybe 6 the latest.

You heard Spencer hum in response, but no words. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, I uh–”

“Did…Did you think I was talking about someone I had a kid with?”

Spencer sputtered out a “n-no, why–why would…”

You let out another laugh, that was like music to his ears. “Spencer, I feel like you should have figured that out from the way that you clearly used the FBI to look up my office number to get my cell number. You would’ve found out if I had kids.”

“Y-Yeah I guess…”

“Give me one second Spencer.” and before he could respond, you put your phone down, and pulled out your airpods, letting them connect to your phone so you could go hands free.

“Can you hear me?” You placed your phone in your skirt pocket, adjusting your airpods so that they would be comfortable.

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

“I just had to put my headphones on, I need my hands.” You slid on your heels, and walked out of your office locking the door. “Tell me about your day Spencer, I have to walk around and lock up.”

Spencer hummed again and looked up at his ceiling. He had been sitting in his apartment, trying to read, waiting for you to answer his text–partially because he thought the worst, but mostly because he couldn't stop thinking about you.

“Well. Not much happened. I was at work, and was trying to finish a report for this case I’m consulting on by sending them a preliminary profile, and then Derek was up my ass all day.”

“What about?” You asked, placing your bag on the floor near the office, going to check the rest of the offices to make sure no one was still there.

“Oh, um, well…”

You laughed again, causing his chest to swell again. “So it was me.” You teased me. “Excited to talk to me?”

You could feel Spencer turning redder and redder as the moments went on.

After a brief pause, Spencer responded to you. “And what if I am?”

It was your turn to blush, but it only made you feel a bit bolder.

“Getting a bit flirtatious, Spence. This is not the Reid I once knew from all those years ago.”

You could hear Spencer laugh.

“You sound tired. Why don’t you get some rest Spencer.”

Spencer sat up straighter. “No. I’ll stay on the phone with you—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “Until you get home. What kind of agent would I be letting you walk home alone at this hour.”

“I’m not going to stop you, but if you fall asleep….I’m hanging up.”

“Fine—Just text me when you get home?”

You hummed and nodded. “Can do sweetheart. Night Spencer.”

“Night Y/n”

You hung up the phone and turned on your spotify, listening to some music that would make this fifteen minute walk bearable. You usually drive into work, but it had been such a nice day, and you usually don’t mind getting in the extra walk since you sit behind a desk all day.

You paused before you exited the first set of doors—part of you felt like you should just go back upstairs and sleep in your office. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it would provide a certain agent with a lot more comfort knowing you’re somewhere safe.

But then you thought about your bed, and the new sheets you put on the night before, and the weighted blanket spread out across the bed spread, and you realized you’d much rather sleep under that than on a stale couch without even a pillow.

You managed to make a fifteen minute walk into a ten one. Speeding home at 2 am was not exactly what you wanted to do, but you’d rather that then the couch. You quickly unlocked the front door and made it up the stairs and into your apartment.

You sent Spencer a quick text saying that you had arrived home, and immediately moved into your bedroom.

The apartment was a small one bed, one bath. It would have been considered a studio if not for the door between your bedroom and the kitchen/living room/entrance/dining room. Your bedroom was quite small, with a skinny closet, a dresser, and your bed. You had gotten lucky enough to shove your bed against one wall, and create a reading nook in the turret window on the other side of the room, which was only about ten feet away, but still.

You kicked off your shoes, and made your way into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and listening to whatever music spotify had decided to play for you.

You took off your outfit for the day and pulled on your pajamas, which felt so good against your skin as you slid into your bed, and shut the lights off.

You wished you took the first option when two minutes later, you heard your bedroom door creak open, and a voice tell you not to scream.

To Be Continued...

________________________________________________________

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nerdofspades · 1 year

Text

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

#dp x dc #bruce wayne #batman #danny phantom #dc #batman's contingincies #tim drake #barbara gordon

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nonasuch · 7 months

Note

Did you ever write more to the "vader finds out that leia I'd his daughter" story?

No but it’s been percolating in my head for a while so let’s go

(continuing from this)

The first thing Vader does is cover his tracks. Wipes the security cameras for the whole cell block, wipes the prisoner logs, makes sure that no trace of Leia’s capture or escape will be in the files synced daily with Imperial Center. Puts in transfer orders for that nervous junior officer to somewhere very far away and very quiet. Saves only one short vid clip, to the secret hard drive hidden in his own respirator.

I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.

While he’s doing this, his children (children! plural!) are getting themselves into trouble, and out again. Apparently the trash compactor was involved. He will have more footage to scrub. Somehow they’ve acquired a Wookie.

Kenobi is with them.

Vader should have foreseen this. Of course, Kenobi.

His presence saturates the Force, nearly drowning out Luke— and Leia, too, now that Vader knows to look. It’s enough to break Vader free from the chill of shock, his rightful fury seen as through a window right up until it shatters, and engulfs him again.

But he forces it back. He wants answers, before he kills Kenobi.

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

He hasn’t played the clip again, but it echoes in his ears nonetheless.

When he faces Kenobi, Vader is still off-balance. Kenobi seems as calm, as unruffled as he ever did, though he’s far too obvious in buying time for Leia and Luke to attempt an escape.

Vader asks him: “Do they know?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Kenobi says, light and unconvincing.

“You kept them from me,” Vader says, and that is a thought that feeds the Dark, that lets him hammer at Kenobi’s saber until he’s nearly past his guard—

“I kept them from your master,” Kenobi says, his voice still even and pleasant and false, hardly betraying his exertion.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Vader vows.

“I expect so,” says Kenobi. “I swore I’d die before I let Palpatine harm another child in my care. If dying will keep them from him, it’s well worth the cost.”

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

By the end of this speech Kenobi recovers a little of his old skill, turning Vader’s blows aside instead of merely bearing up under their weight. Too soon, Vader falters, losing the momentum of rage. They both fall back to defensive positions. Any living troopers have long since cleared the area; the whole deck is a ruin of saber gouges and shattered armor.

Vader rarely speaks without thinking. The nature of his breathing apparatus makes this a necessity, more often than not. But the words escape him anyway.

“Who named them?”

And now Kenobi is the one who falters. It is satisfying, if short-lived. “Their mother,” he says. “With her last breaths.”

A long time ago — a lifetime away — there was a list of names. Two lists, really, to start with, and then another of the names held in common to both. No record of it survives, not even on the hard drive hidden next to Vader’s heart.

On Naboo, children are often named for virtues. A child might be called Aluuk, for kindness, or Alié, for wisdom.

On Tatooine, a child’s name is the parent’s hope for its future. Perhaps Lukka would grow to be free; perhaps Leyah would grow to be fierce.

And perhaps they have. Vader does not know. Kenobi took that from him.

Vader won’t kill him yet, though. He still has questions.

#asked and answered #star wars #i wrote a thing

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chaosandmarigolds · 19 days

Note

okay it has been the longest time since I've asked for a request but I freaking LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE!! So I have a Simon riley request. You can really run off with my idea and write it however you want but Ive had an idea in my head about Simon and the reader adopting because reader or Simon can't have kids and I want to know how he'd handle a kid who's probably been thru some stuff to end up in the foster/adopting system.

ANYWAYS ILYSM keep up your amazing work 😍😍

(no cause I actually screamed omg thank you so much for your kind words they truly mean the world to me <333 )

Adoption! Simon Riley Who had zero doubt on that he wanted children with you, even though he was terrified of failing them he wanted to try

Simon Riley! Who took you to all of the doctors appointments and the testing and the trails and never once mentioned how expensive it is

Simon Riley who was probably the only person a bit more crushed than you when the doctor told you both that it wouldn't be possible to have children of your own.

Simon Riley who let the matter go under the radar for a few months before you walk into the bedroom, tablet to chest

"i'm gonna say something and I need you to be open to it."

He blinks a few times as he sets his book down on his lap, "Should I be scared?"

"No. But..." You hold out the tablet, showing him the adoption application you had half filled out, "I mean there's thousands of kids who-who need a family an-and-"

"Finish it up, why don't ya- lemme get the bank statements, yeah?"

Simon Riley! who would rather go back on deployment than have more people walk through his home while making judgments on if it was 'child friendly'

Simon Riley! Who sat up with you every time you were waiting for an update, watching easy going bake shows on the sofa with the laptop email service open on the coffee table in front of you

Simon Riley! Who was a little bit disgusted when the agent sat you both down with the files of children in need, because he did have half a mind to just take them all

"Now I know you both told me you were looking for a baby, and I understand that however the waitlist for that is incredibly long and ultimately it is the mother's choice in that situation," The agent's eyes go to Simon, almost as if to say 'no mother would ever choose that' and she pushes the file to you, "And I always push for the adoption of some of the older kids. There's no pressure."

Your eyes narrow to the folders in front of you and you gulp down, hands shakily going to the folder in front of you and pulling it to your lap, all the while you could tell Simon was just still a little confused by the statement the agent had made before. However, you humored it, flipping through the photos and the tragic backstories that made your eyes water, until you open one that caught your attention, two children sat in the photoinsteadd of one.

Name: Macey-Ann Adams

Age: 11 years

Name: Taylor Kate Adams

Age: 24 months

"Si..." You didn't tell that your voice was muffled by a bit of tears and you hold the file over to your husband, who looked over the pictures, taking you slight interest. So he lightly takes the file and then looks up at the agent.

"These two?" He speaks as softly as he was able to.

The agent looks at the file and then a frown appears on her face, "Macey, she...she's a troubled girl, on her fourth foster home, and she's jumping schools, I would not recommend her."

with a shuttered breath you breath out, "But...but she's just a kid- can...can we meet her and Taylor?"

Simon Riley did extensive research as soon as he got home, finding the articles from the local newspaper on the two girls who were so severely abused by their father that they wouldn't look the police officer in the eye

Simon Riley who was beginning to think it wouldn't be a good idea until they met the girls at the local park

Simon Riley who saw so much of himself in that little girl it made him almost puke

Simon Riley who got over himself when he saw your beaming face as you held Taylor, helping her get the cherry blossom from the tree

Simon Riley who would be lying if he said he wasn't estatic when you were approved for the adoption

Simon Riley who tried to get to know Macey but the girl was quiet, self suffiecnt, she was him

"You're taking Taylor." Macey mutters as she sits on the swing, watching you with her baby sister

Simon squints against the sun and sits down in the swing beside her, and then he looks to you, a smile on his lips for a moment, "Not jus' her."

To that the eleven year old looks at him, a frown on her face, "What? People want babies. Taylor is a baby."

There was a long silence and Simon looked down at his boots, "You like trampolines?"

Macey blinked, "I do."

"Gonna buy you a trampoline for the backyard when the court says it's all over."

Another pause, "You're taking both of us?"

"Figured you'd wanna stay with your lil' sis."

"I-kinda....thanks, Mister Riley."

"Simon. You can call me Simon, or...whatever you wan, and' we gotta get a move on your sister was wan'n a ice cream."

Simon Riley! Who takes careful care in helping Macey unpack

Simon Riley! Who takes the girls shopping every weekend until he thinks they have everything they need

Simon Riley! Who loves his girls more than anything else in the world

( I hope this is good and honestly this is so cute I may write a more in-depth one shot type of thing. Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah! that's it <33

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon fluff #simon x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #dad simon riley #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod imagine #cod x reader #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x female reader #x female!reader

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roosterr · 1 year

Text

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door.

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive.

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here…

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying.

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues, "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep,

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you.

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you."

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

#john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #price fic #mw2 x reader #price x reader #141 x reader #first fic ive ever posted im scared #dont break my heart pls <3 #roosterr writes

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