#i love that he refuses to even hold a gun

[forever-rogue]

you asked for fallout request, so here i am, eagerly writing this…

i’ve been craving a cooper howard x reader oneshot where him and the reader are navigating through life in their own way. maybe a run in with tricky people?? angst?? fluff??? it’s up to you best friend. THANK YOU!!!

AN | Alright, let’s goooo. First go around with Cooper and we had to go with some fluff because that is my specialty. I’ve loved Fallout for a long time and I love the show too❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; gun violence

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure if you'd call yourselves friends.

More like…an unwitting duo of sorts. Unwitting on your end more than anything.

You'd promised him that you absolutely didn't need company or anyone to assist you. He'd insisted that the only way he'd let you go on your own was over his dead body. You'd contemplated that idea for a few moments. Given his reputation, you decided not to push him too much.

The realization that he was a stubborn old man who wasn't going to change his mind was the only reason he was still next to you. Begrudgingly, mind you.

“How much further, darlin’?” His deep voice cut through your internal monologue and you shot a glare in his direction, “I'm starting to think you're not the best judge of distance.”

“If you're just going to complain,” you pointed over your shoulder back to the last town you'd passed through, “you're more than welcome to go back and terrorize that town. I told you that I didn't need you to come with me.”

“And why would I listen to you, huh?” He rolled his eyes lightly as you scoffed, “you'd be dead before the sun went down, sweetheart.”

“So what?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards so you could face him, “why do you care?! You don't even like me!”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do have somewhat of a conscience,” his voice was gruff but somewhat soft, “and if I let you go and then heard that you were killed, I'd be a little annoyed.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve already saved your life once,” he so sweetly reminded you as you sighed heavily, “and I didn't just save your life so you could go and be killed by someone else.”

“Ain’t that sweet? You’re a modern day prince,” you mocked his twang as his expression refused to shift. It was almost annoying how unfazed he remained the majority of the time, “I had it handled. You happened to come at an inconvenient time.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night,” he had to fight to hold back a laugh as you turned back around and you marched in front of him, making it a point not to look back at him. He had to be the most infuriating person you'd ever met. He'd had two hundreds years to perfect being annoying and he had done exceedingly well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you had been traveling together for a number of days. You'd managed not to kill each other, luckily, but otherwise things had remained mostly the same. Silence, and if it wasn’t silence, it'd be harsh words and fast quips.

You didn't hate him - not really. You hated the idea that anyone, let alone a man, believed that you needed help. You'd had things handled and would have kept yourself safe. He'd just happened to come fight when you were in the midst of either killing or getting killed. 

He wasn't going to let that go anytime soon. That much you already knew about him.

“It’s cold,” you announced as the two of you made camp for the night. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame but it was no use, “I’m cold. Can we make a fire?”

“That, princess, is one of the many reasons you need someone out there to keep an eye on you,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost have thought that he was being kind - nice. 

“Listen,” you sat down and leaned against one of the trees near the clearing you’d decided to call home for the evening, “I know it’s not exactly safe or the best idea, but I’d rather do that than freeze.”

“It ain’t even that cold,” he mused, stripping off his overcoat and tossing it over to you. You made a sound of surprise, but didn’t hesitate to put it on, “life really was different for you, wasn’t it? I’d say it was almost as easy as those vaulties had it.”

“It wasn’t…” you knew he wasn’t wrong. You’d come from a place of privilege, having been born into a family with wealth, new world wealth anyway, and had it pretty easy for a surface dweller. You’d lived in a large, well stocked and safe home with people around to do your bidding. Those were some of the perks of having a father that was some sort of merchant prince, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” he rolled out his bedroll, a bitter laugh escaping him, “sounds like you had nothing to do and everything done for you.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, knowing it was futile to lie to him. He’d known your father after all; Cooper Howard was the one sent to fetch you and return you home once your father had found out you’d run away, “it was…good sometimes. There were a lot of bad times too. But I still know how to do things for myself. I could kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Huh,” he grabbed a vial and downed it one go, his eyes never leaving your face, “guess that makes you a killer. Just. Like. Me.”

“I did what I had to do,” you swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that threatened to well up. Cooper knew that you had run away, but he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to cause you to run away, “and we’re here.”

“Tell me what happened,” your eyes snapped to him as you tried to weigh his words in order to see if he was being serious or not. He’d never really taken an interest into your personal life, but you wondered if that was because he genuinely didn’t care or if he’d just created some sort of creed for himself that didn’t allow him to get close to anyone, “what made you run away from your sweet little life, darlin’?”

“Cooper,” you wiped your hands on your thighs and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. You’d never really said his name before and that caught him off guard, “does it really matter?”

“It’s still buggin’ you, clearly,” he mirrored your position and crossed his arms over his chest, “and we ain’t got nothing but time.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and looking at the sky. You could feel his attention still focused on you, “my father told me that there was a man I was going to marry. I told him no and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. Said man found me shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen and he…he tried to…”

You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that had unwittingly rolled down your cheeks. Cooper’s gaze had darkened but he was still watching; the expression on his face looked like he was ready to commit murder.

“He didn’t get a chance to do anything,” you said softly, “I killed him before he could. But he managed to get me a little bit when he was trying to fight me off. That’s why I had a black eye and all the bruises.”

“Darlin’-”

“I didn’t hesitate, Coop,” your expression steeled as you looked him in the eyes, “and I won’t hesitate now. A man will never tell me what to do. And I don’t need anyone thinking I need someone to protect me.”

Cooper had been listening with rapt attention, his mind already thinking of the things he could do to your father.  Bringing you back to him definitely wasn’t one of those things. He’d made up his mind about that almost the moment he’d met you. You’d been sporting a black eye and cut lip, dried blood caked on your hands and arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together.

“For what it’s worth,” he looked back at you with the gentlest expression you’d seen on him, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Those are not men, those are monsters.”

“And you’re going to bring me right back to him,” it was a question presented as a statement. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan with you was; you’d been scared to ask. But he also wasn’t hadn’t mentioned a word of bringing you back to your father, “aren’t you?”

“I ain’t bringing you back,” he admitted and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face, “I never was. I’ve been around a long time, little girl. I know what your father is. I figured it was a better option for me to find you than someone else.”

“You’re not?” you hated how small your voice sounded; how you almost sounded scared. In a way you were. Scared of going back to the place that you hated and would surely make sure you suffered, but you were also scared of forging a new path. You didn’t really know where you were going or what you were going to, “really?”

“On one condition,” of course. You waved your hand, motioning for him to go, “you admit that you have no clue where we’re going and we’ve basically been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

You tried to look serious for a moment, but you couldn’t help but start to laugh at how well he could already read you. Cooper was so taken aback by the soft, sweet sound that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. When you managed to catch your breath, you looked at him and cocked your head to the side, “I have no clue where we’re going and we’ve been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

“Honesty,” he pulled one of his knees toward his chest and drummed his fingers on it, “it’s refreshing. You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

“There’s a place,” you murmured after a few moments of silence, “that my mom told me about when I was little. She made it sound like this magical place. I guess really, that’s where I want to go.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cooper said, “but magical places don’t really exist. They never really did.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it just seemed like that when I was young. She died a long time ago, but I’d always think about that place, going there someday.  She said it was west - just go west and you’ll know when you’re there.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and paused for a moment before getting up and grabbing some nearby sticks and bringing them to the center of the clearing. He started making a fire before you could even question him, “if it draws anything out, I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Thanks Coop,” you watched him work, an odd feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Once the fire was going, he settled down near you, “Cooper?”

“Hmm?”

“We are going west, right?” your question caused him to chuckle before he reached into his pocket and pulled something small out that he passed over you. It was a small silver compass worn and weathered just like him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but we’ve been goin’ east for the last couple of days,” he shrugged as you groaned at yourself. At least you didn’t have anywhere to be at any particular time, “had I know we’ve been searching for a magical place, I could have told you we were going the wrong way.”

“I guess I’m not as handy as I thought,” you grumbled to yourself, clutching the compass tightly in your hand, “you know you don’t have to come, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “you think anyone could force me to do something against my will, you don’t know me at all, sugar. Now stop your yapping and get some rest. We’ll start heading west at sunrise.”

You paused for a moment, pulling his coat tighter around you, “thanks, Coop.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of days of trekking passed in relative peace. The two of you were now making your way west for whatever magical place your mom had made you dream of you. You weren’t sure why Cooper was still with you, but you weren’t about to complain. He provided some decent company since you’d had your little heart to heart, but he owed you nothing. You weren’t exactly complaining; he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in a long time.

But, as things would have it in the wasteland, life threw a wrench in your plans. A wrench in the form of two raiders that definitely weren’t looking to get chummy. 

“Ugh,” you groaned as the two figures approached from a distance. The two of you were outside of a saloon, trying to decide whether to keep pressing on for the evening or staying put and turning in. Cooper followed your line of sight and made a sign of annoyance, “why do I feel like they’re going to make trouble?”

“Well, darlin’, that’s because they’re about to make trouble,” he touched the brim of his hat and pulled it further down. 

“Look who it is,” one of the men sneered at the two of you. He looked about as unfriendly as they came, “the Ghoul of the hour and his little bounty.”

“We heard you were having some trouble delivering her back home,” his partner came up and eyed you without shame. He looked disgusting with greasy hair and rotting teeth, a sinister expression on his face, “so we came to take over.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spit at him, reaching for the dagger that was at your side. You felt Cooper reach for your hand and gently squeeze it in order to stop you from making any rash moves.

“What this charming sweetheart means is that she is not going back with you,” Cooper smirked at them, “so you can run along now.”

“Fucking Ghoul,” the first man snarled at him, “you couldn’t even do your job. Turn the bitch over and we’ll let you go alive…or whatever the hell you are.”

“You can go back to my father and tell him that he can go fuck himself too,” you hissed, blood boiling with sheer annoyance and anger, “and if you don’t turn around right now-”

“What?” His voice was sticky sweet and filled with vinegar as he smiled at you; both of them had pistols in their hands and that made your stomach churn. They could easily get the jump on you, “you’ll kill me?”

“No,” Cooper pushed you behind him and looked at them with a grin on his face. Of course he’d  be enjoying this, “but I will.”

“Why don’t you just-” but the man couldn’t get another word in as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, causing you to stumble backwards and cover your ears. A second shot rang out within seconds and you saw the other body fall to the ground. 

It happened so fast that you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your body, causing you to let you let out a loud sob. You’d seen death before, you’d seen things much worse than before but there was something about the moment that was overwhelming. 

Blood spattered the side of the building, causing you to dry heave as you noticed the bits of brain and bone clinging to it. Your ears were still ringing as you tried not to completely lose your grip on reality.

“Hey,” you heard his voice cut through the fog and you felt his hand on your shoulders, helping to keep you steady and upright. You shifted your gaze up and found his eyes concerned, “hey.”

“I-I…” you couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you looked at him, “they…you. You saved me.”

Before he could even respond, you threw your arms around him and held tightly onto him. He was taken aback for a moment before he hugged you back, and you could feel his breath of relief. There was something so good and reassuring about the feel of his arms around you.

“You would have had it handled,” he insisted and you shook your head. 

“No,” you looked at him and to your surprise he gently wiped away your tears, “I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have saved myself this time. Thank you.”

“No need to thank  me, darlin’,” he took your chin in his hand and kept your gaze on his, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I do,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and nodded slightly, “I do need you. Don’t go.”

“The only place I’m going is west,” there was that smile again, the one that rarely graced his features. The same one that made your legs feel like jello, “are you comin’?”

“Yes,” you promised, “I’m coming.”

“Well then, we best get goin’ sweetheart,” he glanced over the carnage that he left behind, “before someone else comes to make trouble.”

He checked himself over to make sure he had everything ready to. You missed the feel of his touch almost immediately. 

Once he made sure he had everything, he held his hand out to you.

You took it without hesitation. 

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout fic #fallout prime #walton goggins

[gremlingottoosilly]

I loved so much your Fallout!Au, is it's not inconvenient, can you tell us more about what you imagine for this universe?

I can only imagine Konig in three options, kinda - it's either a raider, and we all know just how obsessed he is with his vault girl. Pretty girl, clean girl, especially for Wasteland standards. Konig likes her enough to let her get the first bite of every piece of food they scavenged from an abandoned store or harassed out of traveling merchants. You would always refuse to eat it at first - would say it's not right, it's stealing, those people needed it more than a bunch of raiders. Konig nods and pets your head like you're one of his lanky, scarred battle dogs. Konig proposes you a few options - if you don't want to steal and rob, you can always wait for him in his bunk while he hunts for dumb enough people. While he gets the meat off their bones, making you a nice, juicy, bloody steak. Medium rare. Asks how the hell you managed to live cramped in the vaults without trying human meat. Hold your hair while you were throwing up just at the first sight of it. Accepted normal, stolen food right away. Let him feed you sugar bombs from his blood-stained dirty fingers. Not even flinching as he got deeper into your mouth, making you suck the sugar from the tips. Konig treats you like a princess - as much as a fucking raider can. Lets you sleep closer to the wall on his bed, protecting you from any opportunistic freak who would want to get a piece of your pussy. Licks you like a madman, always making sure you're properly wet and relaxed before he gets his monster cock in. He is probably already infertile from all the radiation - and you whimper, your Vault indoctrination whispering that every intercourse should end with children. Not too much, but also not for fooling around. Still, he protects you. Takes you out for scouting with him, lets you hide the little trinkets you collect, and then displays them in his room. If anyone tries to fuck with you, they're dead - and you cling to his side as he ravages some poor mutant. Will tell you to go and clean his gun after. You do it, like a good girl. The other version of Konig that I imagine is the Brotherhood of Steel paladin...but it's the story for another imagine.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader #yandere konig #yandere cod #fallout tv series #fallout!au

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

I have an angsty aventio idea that’s haunting me (also this one’s a lil dark, just a warning) imagine ratio at some point in the future telling aventurine that just because he’s been lucky so far, that doesn’t mean that his luck will *always* hold out, and tells him to stop putting so much faith into the fact that his luck never run out. And Aventurine, who is exhausted and having a bad day because otherwise he’d make a joke or just play it off, pulls out his gun again. And Ratio scoffs because they’ve already been through this, with Aventurine proving his luck by taking all but one bullet out. But to his shock, this time Aventurine only removes a single bullet. Before ratio can stop him, he spins the chamber and points it at his own head before pulling the trigger. Nothing happens. Then, without hesitating, he pulls the trigger once more, not even flinching as he stares Ratio directly in the eye. The gun jammed, and no bullets left the chamber. And aventurine tells him then, that he’s tested his luck like that more than once, always with the vague hope of getting to see his family again, but something like that happens every time. His luck genuinely prevents him from experiencing a *permanent* death before his time. And then he sees that this time, *Ratio* is the one that’s shaking, with genuine horror and fear in his eyes. (I just love the idea that aventurine is so ‘lucky’ that something will always stop his death, and I want Ratio to feel the gut wrenching fear of seeing aventurine fire a fully loaded gun at himself right in front of him. Ratio probably holds him close and tightly after that and refuses to let go for a long time)

My heart 😭😭😭 Ratio would be left so shaken up by this omg. Especially since his original demand obviously stemmed from his fear of losing Aventurine to his gambles! This is such an excellent concept and I love it!

Also, since my angst-addict brain somehow found a way to make it worse: Imagine an alternate scenario where Ratio understands what Aventurine is about to do and just cannot stand there and watch it happen, not when he could lose the one person he loves most. Panic overrides his mind and he tries to take the gun from Aventurine. In doing so, one of them accidentally pulls the trigger, but this time, the gun doesn't jam. Instead, the bullet hits Ratio. Horrified, Aventurine lets the gun fall to the floor and rushes to his side while the doctor's clothes start turning red with blood. The wound is not fatal, but still, it confronts Aventurine to the very thing that haunts him : the knowledge that his insane luck only protects him from harm, and not those he cares about. It would also force him to acknowledge just how attached he has gotten to Ratio, and he would be an absolute guilt-ridden wreck while waiting at his bedside after he got surgery, scared to death that he might not make it. Once Ratio wakes up, it's Aventurine who'd be the one unable to stop holding him.

Thanks so much for sharing this with me, this is such a great concept, I can already tell I'll be thinking about it for days!

#aventio #ratio x aventurine #aventurine #dr ratio #amazing angst #asks

[quodekash]

Por: Well, remember when Tiw made a romantic dinner for me?

Sound: Por, he microwaved you a pizza.

#I love how canonically one half of every single ship can cook #gun can cook but tinn can’t (even if he was just acting I refuse to believe that he can) #win says he “cooks pretty well” and fics from one of my mutuals has brought me to the conclusion that that means he’s an awesome cook #por is INCREDIBLE and I just think it’s rly cute if tiw doesn’t even know how to hold a kitchen knife properly #he probably burnt the pizza he microwaved for Por let’s be real #tiwpor #tiwsonpor #markford #mark pakin #ford arun #soundwin #winsound #satangwinny #winnysatang #tinngun #guntinn #geminifourth #sound msp #msp sound #satang kittiphop #msp Tiw #tiw msp #por msp #msp por #my school president #my school president the series #msp incorrect quotes

[norrisleclercf1]

Ooooo how about Mafia norstappen and reader with kids where there’s intruders that come into the home and max goes protective mode

Love all your recent blurbs🫶🏼

Movie nights were your favorite. The your two kiddos and your third on the way would quiet down and just lay still and watch the movie. Max and Lando would forget about work and hold the three of you, but you could tell they were still on edge watching everything around them.

"Daddy, tight." You turn seeing how Lando's arm was tight around your baby girl Violetta's waist. Lando's arm relaxes and you see the instant regret in his eyes as he leans down placing a soft kiss on top of her head. At 4 she was every bit of her father. Looking at Lando and her now people would think she was his, but really she was every bit of Max's. Her wild curls were blonde with those sparkling blues everyone fell in love with. She had his fiery attitude as well.

"Sorry, princess." Lando whispers and readjusts them to lie down and she giggles, lying on his chest which has him smiling. Max's hand starts to move again, as you laid against his chest. Your little boy, Michael was the spitting image of Lando. It freaked Max out sometimes just how Michael was the carbon copy of Lando.

You still remember playing a game of baby pictures and asking him which was Lando and Michael. Max felt like crying from that game honestly. Little Michael all 2 years old of him was conked out, drooling a little on Max's shirt who didn't even seem to care. "You're thinking to hard," Max whispers, giving you a soft kiss that has you sighing. "Not that hard, just thinking how much I love our family." Max hums and nods in agreement.

You settle back down, your mind and eyes drifting off to sleep when you hear something shatter from upstairs. Sitting up quickly you almost scream when a hand covers your mouth but you notice it's your husband. "Shhh, someone is in the house, come on." Lando whispers, grabbing your hand. You look around, noticing your babies are gone. "Lan," You almost sob but he turns, "Max got them, they're okay, I promise." You nod as he leads you through the house.

"In," Lando opens a small bookcase and you move and sigh seeing your babies asleep and cuddled together. Lando follows and cocks his gun slowly, not to scare the kids as he closes the bookshelf. "How'd they get in? Where are the guards?" You ask, shaking as Lando puts the gun down and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. "I don't know, but it's going to be okay." You shake your head no. Not believing him.

"Where's Max?" You twist around trying to find out where your other husband is, as Lando's hands tighten on you, refusing to let you go. "Stop, please, he's going.....he'll be okay." Lando's voice wavers and you start to move around more but he stops you.

"Dammit, no," Lando moves covering your mouth and you hear footsteps outside the bookshelf you both freeze, Lando grabbing the gun and holds it up. You try to hold your breathing as the bookshelf cracks open. "Lan? Schat?" You both let out a sigh of breath as Max comes into view.

You balk, shocked to see Max covered in blood but Lando doesn't as he crushes him in a hug. Max sighs and runs his still wet hands through Lando's hair. "How many?" "Don't worry about it," Max whispers and notices your hesitancy to move. You knew their life, what it held, the violence, but they never brought it before you.

"I'll shower, when I can. The others are here, um, cleaning." You just nod and Max looks at his babies and sigh Lando whispers something that has Max nodding. "Are you and the baby okay?" He asks, and you hold your stomach nodding, the little one had been kicking the entire time.

"We're okay," Max nods and Lando looks over him making sure he wasn't injured. You knew Max was ruthless, but you never truly know the lengths someone will go for their children, tonight you saw just a small glimpse of that length, you hope to god you never see the end of it.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagines #f1!poly #poly!f1 #norstappen #f1 x female reader #mafia!f1 #f1!mafia #mafia!max verstappen #mafia!lando norris #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen angst #mv1 #mv1 x reader

[luveline]

I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty 

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning. 

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly. 

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt. 

You'd like to keep it that way. 

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour. 

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again. 

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return. 

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage. 

It's deep but small. A nick. 

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means… 

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor. 

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream." 

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?" 

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?" 

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence." 

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay." 

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?" 

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?" 

"You want to tell me, right?" 

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope." 

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again. 

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?" 

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside." 

"What were you doing up?" 

"That's my business," Morgan says. 

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers. 

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops. 

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby. 

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?" 

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?" 

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading. 

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night." 

She gawps. 

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never…  and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–" 

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?" 

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down." 

"Yes sir." 

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly. 

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…" 

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh. 

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me." 

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now." 

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away. 

"I don't deserve him," you say softly. 

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[igotanidea]

Somebody's watching me : AK!Jason x reader

Request: AK! jason hears y/n’s name from his opponent and just goes nuts like he goes home looking for her.

A/N : the requests is a little twisted, as usual, but I hope you'll still like it anon :D

***

It was gone.

His old life was gone.

And with it, everyone he knew before.

All that was left was revenge, hate, rage. And this unstoppable need for killing someone, destroy something, wreck havoc on every single person who did him any wrong.

Bruce.

Fucking Batman.

He was the Arkham Knight now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Focused on building his position so that no one, no fucking one, would ever hold any power over him.

And if that meant keeping tabs on everyone under his watchful gaze so be it.

And if that meant putting some pressure on everyone who dared to do as much as step a toe over the line, so be it.

And disturbances?

Defnitely not something he was about to allow.

And now he was holding a gun to one of his goons head.

"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice distorted by the helmet

"Sir, I --"

"What did you do?" Jason repeated pressing the metal more into man's head.

"I-- I disobeyed--"

"You disobeyed. And do you know what happens to people who disobey me?"

"Sir, please this is--"

Jason shot in the air and the man almost fell to his feet.

"It was-"

"I'm not going to give a warning shot again"

"I was-"

"I'm gonna count to three now. One."

"There's this girl."

"Two."

"Her name is Y/N."

"thr-- what?"

"She is very distant family, but --"

"Shut up!" Jason yelled, his face twisted with rage, not that anyone could see his expression hidden under the metal. "Shut the fuck up you hear me!" it took him two steps to be in front of the man, yanking him up by the collar and pinning to the wall with brutal force, half-chocking him "you ever do as much as think her name again and I'll kill you and put your head on a stick as a warning to anyone who dare have a thought of himself. YOU HEAR ME!?"

"y-ye-yes..."

"now get the fuck out of here!" the man was violently thrown on the floor, getting up as fast as he could and rushing out the door. It was truly a miracle he lived to tell the tale, cause Arkham Knight was not known for his leniency.

But Y/N.

Someone from his past.

More than someone.

A girl, a woman, he was once in love with.

A woman, whose name he forgot in the pursuit after Batman.

Or rather - tried to forget.

She was the only one who ever got him. The only one to accept him fully, with all his flaws.

His Y/N.

His Y/N who betrayed him just like anyone else. Who forgot him. Who moved on without giving as much as a single thought to him when he was lost. Who was never looking for him.

His Y/N.

It;s been years since he heard anyone mention her. Years since he swore to never get manipulated again.

And then.

Just a few letters mixed together. Just a few sounds.

And she was right behind his eyes, just like he remembered her. Because even his dark side refused to let go of the rememberance of their time together.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes and freckles from the sun, as fleeting as the summer days they were spending together. Her calmness, care and tenderness when she was patching up his woudns, tiredlessly putting on bandaids and stitches.

Fuck!

He didn't need that.

Just another phase of brainwashing. If not from his capturers than from his own men.

Hell no.

He was going to say no to the past life once and for all.

Hunting her down, wherever she may be.

See her for the last time.

Pour hatred in his heart, destroying all the remaining piece of useless softness and caring he carried in his soul.

Burn the last link connecting him to the past down.

***

She was spending the night in her old apartment. Sitting by the same desk, with the same lamp, in the same posture she ever did.

One leg half bent and folded under her ass, the other hanging loose in the air.

"You're going to end up with numbness..." he muttered to himself, watching her from the opposite rooftop.

Obviously she couldn;t hear him, but something made her raise her head and look outside the window while simultaniously changing the position.

Jason smiled despite himself.

His heart skipped a beat and sudden warmth spread in his chest.

Only for a second though, since he rememembered why he was here in the first place.

Look at her.

So fucking good.

So fucking calm and happy, while he-

fuck!

traitorous bitch.

Maybe it was her plan from the very beggining. Conspiring with Batman only to get rid of him, so they could both be free of the burdening presence of a man once known as Jason Todd.

Y/N...

Regardless of how sweet her name may have tasted on his tongue he would rather cut it off than fall down that rabit hole again.

He was cold as ice. Brutal. Cruel. Ruthless.

And it was not going to change because he saw her.

Not in the million years.

She was the reason of his fallout. She should have stopped him from going on that stupid mission. She should have made him stay, showed him she cared enough to keep him grounded.

It was all her fault that that after being captured all he could think about was how she was going to survive without him. How her heart would break into million pieces, instead of figuring out a way to free himself.

It was all her fault that he became the Arkham Knight. Cause inhumanity was equal with survival. And survival meant living. And living meant keeping his legacy.

So yes, he hated her.

He hated her, because every single thing he did and every little thing done to him was because and thanks to her.

She was the reason of him getting on top, but also the person responsible for his failure as a person.

She was nothing.

She was everything.

And for the first time since capturing, torturing and tranformation Jason felt conflicted.

Y/N...

His Y/N...

Not his anymore...

***

When some force made her stand up and come to window all she saw was a blink of metal on the rooftop. And since she spend half of her life with vigilantes, it was easy to realise that this must have been one of them.

But the silhouette of a running man couldn;t have been Dick nor Tim nor any other hero she would recognise.

And despite herself, she felt a shiver running down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #jason todd angst #arkham knight jason todd

[djemsostylist]

The thing I love most about the Warhammer 40k Space Marine game, starring one Captain Titus of the Ultramarines, is that it explains NOTHING. AT ALL. This game goes "well you wouldn't be playing me if you didn't know what Warhammer was, right?" and they would probably be mostly correct except that no, actually, I didn't even know what a space marine was when I first played, way way back in the early 20teens.

The game dumps you into a world where you play as a Captain of the Ultramarines. What is an Ultramarine, you ask? Why it's Captain Titus of course! and Leandros and Sergeant Sidonus. Are there more of them? Maybe, who knows! What's a Blood Raven? It looks like you, but different colors, and there are also only 4 of them. Are all of the space marines just squads of 4? Did you used to have a fourth and he died? Are you an army or a strike force? Who knows! The game for sure isn't gonna tell you!

What's an "inquisitor?" Well, it's Drogan of course! The one you have you save! And he's a psyker see. (What's a psyker, you ask? Well, it's what the Inquisitor is! Is it the same thing? NO IDEA! Just keep killing!) Now, is he also a space marine? Hard to say! Are space marines big, or just people in like, really big armor? WHO KNOWS! Not you, now kill some orks! Why are we killing orks? Because that's your mission of course!

And oh, hey, you're on a Forge World, fighting through the factories of the mechnanicum. What are these things? Well, you're on them and in them, what else do you NEED to know?

My favorite bit is when the Forces of Chaos show up, and a demon rips his way out of the fabric of reality, and it's just like "oh yeah, did we forget to mention you might have to fight demons? OOPS! Well, they pop as delightfully as an ork, so hop to it!" and then they just give you a different sort of Really Big Gun you can use to get on with the killing. Leandros seems concerned, the Inquisitor and Sidonus don't (and who outranks who? The regular men and women call you "Lord" but you call the Inquisitor "Lord" and all of you seem beholden to a "God-Emperor" (and is he an emperor or a God, or something of both?) but the only thing that matters is whether you chose a Plasma Rifle or a Lascanon to get through this next round, so who are you to question anything?

When the Inquisitor tells you to "meet at the monument" you just do, even though the monument is a nondescript hooded figure that says nothing and means little (except that these people do have monuments to something, and is it a saint? a martyr?) and so you go there anyway because there are more greenskins coming and you are about to get a thunderhammer (and maybe a jumppack, though those never last long.)

There are skulls sort of everywhere and everything looks like some sort of outsized Gothic cathedral and the voice that drones on and on sounds British and clipped and the words she says are dystopian and strange but there are always more orks to kill (and demons and men who look like you but aren't you, and are they really men behind those masks anymore, spilling from yawning purple clouds and splattering the walls with blood before vanishing i a lingering miasma) so you just keep going.

At one point a man who is not a man offers you the chance to become a god, to become a creature of whatever form you wish, and you still aren't entirely sure what the ultramarines are (and who is Lord Guilliman and his tenants your battle brother holds so dear) but there is a certainty in your refusal, a rigid belief that you won't fall because you can't fall (and did the man who is not a man who offers you a godhood fall? or has he always been like this?) but you deny him anyway (because you can, because you must, because you are an Ultramarine or because you believe in something more?) and you fight and fight and fight and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and bleed until perhaps there is no blood left (your armor is huge and cumbersome and the floor shakes when you land but you move with grace and speed and roll and dodge and kill and live and what are you even, really?) and in the end you have saved a world and when you say "More than you know" you mean it with your whole heart because you are human, you are, you bleed, and you tire, and you grieve and you mourn (but are you human, really? if you can touch the darkness and not give in, not turn aside, if men call you angels and demons speak of gods) and it all means nothing because men you are you but not you show up, men in black and white (they look like Holy Orders, Hospitallers or something close) and a man who is an Inquisitor who is not Drogan, who speaks softly but firmly and they take you away and Leandros looks on with fear and maybe regret (and you do it to save Mira, you think, her and all the others you died a thousand times to save except you lived, and she lived, and they call you Angels and if you can't die maybe it's true, or perhaps you love them, all of them, the men and women who look at you with awe and fear and love, and isn't that being an Angel, in the end?)

Anyway, I've played this game thrice through (easy, medium, hard) and read all the codex and I still, to this day, do not know what happens at the Siege of Terra and what happens to make 30k 40k, and I think that's really sort of beautiful, in the end.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k space marine #captain titus #ultramarines #still tickled that the siege and all that comes after remains a mystery to me #also sorry this became very stream of consciousness but you know #warhammer does that to me

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

sorry, i was the hades anon!! im very sorry for not reading your rules first (i swear i usually do but i got so excited by seeing your works i kinda just jumped the gun) and im rly sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable w that :")) id love a gn!child of hades x percy, no worries!! it's also completely my fault i didnt read your rules first and i apologise again <33

✮⋆˙ your hands are cold; percy jackson x child of hades! reader blurb

content: percy jackson x child of hades! reader blurb warning: none! author's note: no worries!! i totally understand being excited and it wasn't that i was uncomfortable, per say, i just didn't want to disappoint and like anger someone lmao. thank you for apologizing, i apricate it!! anyways, here's your little blurb!!

"can you hold this for me?" percy asked from next to you and you could just hear the smirk on his lips. without looking up from what you were working on, you held your hand out for percy. he felt his fist fit - perfectly, i feel the need to note - into your palm before his fingers unfurled. they crept to their desired spots of the slots between your own fingers before squeezing at your hand. you glanced over at the boy, who was beaming a proud smile at you.

"...you wanted me to hold your hand?" you prompted with a raised brow and percy hummed before shaking your interlocked hands, trying to escape pitifully. wanting to tease him, you squeezed your fingers around his hand, trapping his palm against yours.

"well, not anymore. your hands are too cold- hey, let go!" percy managed to get through his laughs are he tried to an overexaggerated maneuver to remove his hand. you laughed with him, refusing to let go now, even as percy continued to whine about your cold hands.

"do you even have any blood circulating here?!"

"nah, just bones and flesh," you joked, rolling you eyes as you turned back to your work, his hand still tightly held in your own.

"i actually would be all that surprised if that turned out to be true, you know," hissed percy with a grin that you shoving your shoulder against his.

"whatever. are you gonna warm my hand up or what? don't wanna lose my fingers to frostbite or something," you questioned, glancing at the boy out of the corner of your eye. percy's lips twitched upwards and he pulled your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of your hand. despite yourself, you could feel blood rush to your cheeks and undoubtably your hand.

"you're burning up now!" percy teased and now you were the one trying to tug your hand free.

"hey, no! you're not getting away from me that easily!"

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Imagine 141 & Konig walking home late at night with their gf and as soon as they find themselves near an empty park or a more isolated street, some jerk with a knife / gun tries to rob them. Even worse, he threatens to hurt the SO in even worse ways if they don't comply. Will they avoid violence and cooperate or go Rambo mode on the man? Thank you very much.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾

Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader

Oh YES. I feel like Simon and König would go fully violence mode. Like, they wouldn’t even hesitate to jump this man because how dare he threaten you? Price would try to solve the problem but as soon as he sees it doesn’t get better he would literally break that man. They’re way too protective over you and would absolutely destroy anyone that dares to touch you or even threaten you.

Thank you for the ask I hope you enjoy lovelies 🩷

♫ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯

König

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the darkened streets, you walked alongside König, feeling safe in his presence. The night air was cool and the sound of your footsteps echoed softly as you made your way home. But how were you supposed to know that you guys were being followed by someone with not so good intentions?

As you neared a secluded park or an empty street, a man emerged from the shadows, brandishing a knife or a gun with malicious intent. Panic surged through your veins and fear threatened to overwhelm your senses.

"Give me the woman. Now." the man‘s voice was deep and filled with danger

But in that moment, König's protective instincts surged forth like a tidal wave. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and without a moment's hesitation, he stepped in front of you, a shield against the impending danger.

"You" König's voice carried a steely determination, "will not harm her. Not while I'm here."

The man laughed in a maniac way and the tension in the air grew palpable as the assailant's gaze shifted from you to König. A battle of wills ensued, as the predator met the match in the form of a soldier who refused to back down. König's stance exuded confidence, a silent promise that he would not allow him to harm you.

With a swift motion, König moved, disarming the threat. His movements were precise, a testament to his training and unwavering dedication to protect those he cared for.

As the confrontation reached its climax, König's determination prevailed, overpowering that man. With a final blow, he incapacitated the threat, ensuring your safety and ending the ordeal.

Breathing heavily, König turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He reached out, gently cradling your face, his touch a balm to the frayed edges of your nerves.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an underlying intensity.

You nodded, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding your being. In that moment, you realized that he had risked his own safety to protect you, fighting with everything he had to protect you.

You wrapped yourself in his comforting embrace, as a thank you, since the shock didn’t leave your body. And with a soft sigh he patted your head, reassuring your safety.

Simon Riley

The night was dark and quiet as Simon walked alongside you, the two of you engrossed in conversation, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Your laughter echoed through the empty streets, filling the air with a sense of warmth and joy.

But as fate would have it, you found yourselves near an empty park. And you guys didn’t see someone following you. Suddenly, a menacing figure emerged from the darkness, brandishing a weapon and pointing it at you specifically.

"Your bag. Now. And you little boyfriend, stay where you are. Or she gets it!" Fear gripped your heart, but Simon's protective instincts kicked in. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed. He didn’t move but he kept his cold gaze on the man who was in a very bad shape. He couldn’t stay still and was scratching the arm that is holding the gun and his head. His eyes were red and you could tell that he would immediately shoot you if Simon moved.

"You don’t want to do this mate. Leave now. Don’t tempt me" Simon‘s voice was filled with pure anger and hate. If he had the chance, he would jump him right now. But he couldn’t risk it. He knew that this man would pull the trigger at you. So he didn’t move.

"I‘m not your mate. Do as I say, bitch." the mans focus was on you now and Simon took the chance to push you to the ground. The mans reaction response was slow but he still pulled the trigger which left you in shock. You couldn’t move and Simon‘s heart was breaking into a million pieces at the sight of you being shocked and scared. But he had to protect you first. He would comfort you as soon as he took down the threat. He was too focused on you that he didn’t feel the bullet that pierced into his arm.

With swift and calculated movements, Simon ran towards him, using every skill he possessed to just knock out the man so the police could deal with him. He ignored the burning in his arm and with only one punch he send the man to a sweet slummer.

Breathing heavily, Simon turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. He reached out, his hands gentle and steady, offering you a reassuring touch. In that simple gesture, you felt his unwavering support and knew that you were not alone. "You’re okay now, sweetheart. Look at me"

"Simon. Your arm" you whispered, still in shock. Your eyes were wide but his eyes were so soft.

“I‘m okay, love. Nothing I can’t handle. Come here" he took you in his arms and called the police and price to report what just happened. You couldn’t do anything but hug him tight and hold his bloody arm so he doesn’t lose any more blood. And that’s everything he needs right now. Now that you’re safe, he doesn’t care what happens next.

John MacTavish

You walked beside John and your steps echoing through the quiet streets. The world seemed serene, a peaceful respite from the chaos that defined your lives.

As you reached a desolate park, a sudden chill crept up your spine. Out of the darkness emerged a figure, a sinister glint in their eyes, accompanied by the chilling sound of a knife being unsheathed or the cold presence of a gun.

Panic seized your heart as the assailant's threats hung heavy in the air. Their intentions were clear…your possessions, your safety and even your life were at stake. But amidst the terror that threatened to consume you, John's presence remained steadfast, his gaze unyielding.

"Your bag. Now." The mans voice was loud and clear which left you paralyzed on the spot, next to John.

In that moment, John's cold gaze met the man's eyes, his voice firm and commanding. "You've made a grave mistake, lad," he said, his tone carrying an air of authority that sent shivers down the man’s spine.

With a steely resolve, John refused to back down, knowing that surrendering to fear would only empower the assailant further. He stood tall, his body radiating strength and determination.

"I suggest you leave" John continued, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for negotiation. "Or you'll find yourself in a position you don’t even want to imagine."

Fear crept into the man‘s eyes as they glimpsed the unwavering determination etched upon John's face. Their confidence wavered and doubt crept into their mind. In that moment, the man‘s weapon trembled in their grasp, his initial aggression diminished by the mere presence of John's unwavering resolve.

Sensing the retreat, John took a step forward, his voice a low growl. "Leave now, and count yourself lucky that you encountered me instead of someone with less restraint."

As if awoken from a trance, the man scrambled to escape the grip of fear that gripped his heart. With haste, he fled into the night, disappearing into the depths from which he had emerged.

As the adrenaline began to subside, John turned his attention to you, his expression softened by a mixture of concern and relief. He enveloped you in a protective embrace, his arms a fortress that offered solace and reassurance.

In the aftermath of the harrowing encounter, John's words washed over you, a soothing balm for your shaken spirit. "You're safe," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine care. "I won't let anyone harm you."

John Price

John walked alongside you, his protective presence a comforting shield against the darkness, and his mission now is getting you home safe. As you strolled through the quiet city, unaware of the impending danger lurking nearby, a sense of calm enveloped both of you.

However, fate had a different plan in store. As you neared an empty park a figure emerged from the shadows. Their face concealed, a glimmer of malice danced in their eyes, a knife held menacingly in his grasp. Fear gripped your heart as he spoke but your shock blocked every single word that came out of his mouth.

John, never one to back down in the face of danger, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with resolve. He refused to allow anyone to harm you, to subject you to their wicked whims. With a voice dripping in authority, he tried to intimidate the assailant, hoping to scare them away. But as the seconds ticked by, it became evident that words were not enough to dissuade the desperate individual standing before you. The threat loomed, and John's protective instincts surged within him like a raging tempest.

Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his muscles with years of training and experience. With a fast strike, he delivered a powerful punch that connected with precision, rendering the man‘s unconscious. The danger swiftly subsided, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins refused to relent.

As the man lay unconscious, John turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He gathered you into his strong, reassuring embrace, offering solace and comfort amidst the chaos that had unfolded. His touch spoke volumes, silently conveying that you were safe now, that he would protect you with every fiber of his being.

Kyle Garrick

You walked alongside Kyle, the night sky casting a veil of darkness over the streets. The two of you were talking about his recent conversation he had with Price about how he sees life and the comforting weight of his arm around your shoulders makes you feel safe.

As you neared an empty park, Kyle saw a man coming out behind a tree and in his hand, he brandished a weapon, a stark reminder of the danger that loomed before you.

Fear coursed through your veins as the man‘s demands echoed in the night. "Both of you. Your wallets. Now!" Your heart was pounded in your chest and you instinctively hide behind Kyle.

"Fuck off, man. You think you can scare us like that?" Kyle tried to scare off the man but he clearly didn’t give a fuck. "I‘m serious man. Leave or I‘ll make you leave" Kyle‘s voice is getting colder and he clearly is getting impatient. The man stood still, not saying a single word.

In a split second, Kyle got too impatient and with a swift movement, he delivered a powerful punch, his fist connecting with the man‘s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man's grip on his weapon faltered, the threat momentarily subdued.

As the man crumpled to the ground, Kyle wasted no time in rushing to your side, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you clung to him, finding solace in the strength and love that radiated from his presence.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Kyle whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your mind. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back, grounding you in the reality that you were no longer in danger.

#cod #cod modern warfare #call of duty john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty ghost #call of duty könig #call of duty kyle #call of duty soap #john price cod #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #könig imagine #könig cod #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john mactavish #soap x you #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #john soap mctavish x reader #john price x y/n #john price #kyle x reader #kyle garrick #cod mw2 #cod mw

[vivwritesfics]

POV: Oscar saves reader

An NNTA AU

Just before she is due to marry Carlos, Oscar takes her away

For this, i'm pretending all the US immigration stuff doesn't exist, like, I know its seriously difficult to get a visa to live and work in the US, but i've ignored that here

Series Masterlist

It was the night before the wedding and Y/N was crying into her pillow

You know how the story goes, what happens when she marries Carlos

And, in a way, she knew it too

She knew what was going to happen to her, the impending tragedy she could feel coming

No amount of consoling from Oscar had any effect

In our original story, Oscar disappears to get some beers and let her have one last fun night

But, in this story, Oscar didn't do that

While she had been sleeping, Oscar was wide awake, putting things in place to get her away from Carlos's house

The hardest part had been getting a car and stashing it outside of the gates

If it was still there when they went to escape, he would have been incredibly surprised

"Pack your bags," said Oscar as he gently pulled her away from the pillow and wiped the tears from beneath her eyes

"Osc," she began, but he threw a bag onto the bed and pulled an already packed one from beneath it

Wordlessly, she got on with it, packing her things into the bag

The bag was tiny, not nearly big enough to pack all of her things

But she did what she could

"What're we doing?"

Oscar took her hand and kissed the back of it

He pulled open her bedroom door, keeping his hand on his gun as she looked up and down the corridor

When he saw nothing, he walked out, Y/N trailing behind him

He went to the stairs, kept his gun pointed down as he looked for any of Carlos's men

They had a clear run to the stairs

Oscar kept a tight hold of Y/N as they ran towards the front door

Outside would be a different story - there would be cameras everywhere and probably some men too

"When we're out there, run like hell," he said and waited for Y/N to nod before he opened the door

They did just like that, ran like hell

The gates weren't the most sophisticated and Oscar easily got them open

He took Y/N's hand and pulled her towards the car that was still stashed away

Within seconds they were driving towards the airport, and nobody even knew they had left

"Where are we going, Osc?" Y/N asked as she leaned her head against the window

Finally, he answered her, "The Sargeants have offered us a place to stay in the United States," he said as they drove on the highway

The flight from Spain to the US was long and Y/N slept through most of it

Oscar didn't, though

He kept his arms wrapped around her, alert and protective

When they touched down in Florida, Logan and two other men in suits were there to greet them

"I'm putting my ass on the line for you, mate," (because I love the way logan says mate) he said as he pulled Oscar in close

Oscar looked at the girl behind him

"She's worth it," he said

The Sargeants had multiple safehouses

That was where Oscar and Y/N found themselves, in one of the Sargeant's safehouses

It was their perfect little haven

It was hard for Y/N not to fall in love with Oscar

If she wasn't already in love with him when she lived in Carlos's house, she certainly was now

The safehouse had one bed (because I love that trope)

At first Oscar refused to sleep in the same bed as her

He took a couple of pillows and slept on the floor

But then Y/N insisted that he sleep in the bed with her

They fell into a domestic sort of bliss, and that was how they got together

They didn't think about it the first time they kissed, laying in the bed they now shared

It had become normal for Oscar to hold her close while they slept, still protective

For a full year, their life was normal

Y/N wanted to get a job, she wanted that sort of normality, so she did

She went by her middle name, calling herself Piastri instead of Norris

That made Oscar wear his polite cat smile

Oscar got a job too, working for the Sargeant family

It was really nice, working with his best friend

They went karting together, taking Oscar back to the days before he began working for Webber, when his Formula One dreams were close to being a reality

After a year of peace, Lando found them

It had been a solo mission, something he hadn't told anybody about

His men didn't know, the man that should have been his brother in law didn't know

Lando made the trip to Florida alone, letting Sargeant know that he was on his way

The Sargeants pulled Y/N and Oscar in

Oscar was immediately protective when Lando walked into the room, but the Brit held his hands up defensively

"Relax, nobody knows I'm here," he said, looking at his sister (who had been pushed behind Oscar)

"I'm proud of you," he said, "both of you"

"Both of us?" Asked Oscar, unable to stop the face he was pulling

Lando nodded his head

"You got my little sister away from a marriage that i never wanted to happen"

Y/N stepped forward. "Why are you here, Lando?"

Truth was that Lando wasn't going to come, not until he found out that she was going by Piastri

That gave a certain idea (that they were together) and Lando couldn't not check it out

He was right, it seemed

The way Oscar was protectively in front of her told Lando everything he needed to know

The way Y/N was holding the back of Oscars white button up shirt told him

"I'm here giving my blessing"

"I don't need it," Y/N replied quickly

"I don't care, you've got it"

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @chonkybonky @shobaes @celesteblack08 @watermelonworries @gracielukey @cassie0sstuff @goldenharrysworld @venusesworld @sparklyperfectionstranger @evans-dejong @graciewrote @formulaal

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader smut #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #mafia!f1 #mafia!au

[evermoreal]

thinkin about thigh-riding ghost 👼🏻🎀

cw. nsfw (18+ mdni), thigh-riding, praise kink (im predictable), soft simon <3

often, you visited simon on base. it wasn’t your favourite place to be — cold, clinical hallways walked by gun-bearing, testosterone-drunk men — but if simon had to be there, you would be, too. besides, the 141 wasn’t so bad — they loved recounting stories about simon, worshipped any homemade treats you brought in, and the way they called you “ghost’s girl,” had you blushing every time.

it could get boring, though. even when you were there, simon had a responsibility, and sometimes that included monotonous paperwork.

his office was small — a singular window, desk, and lumpy couch shoved in the corner. resting against one of the throw pillows you’d brought in to give the room some colour (“t’make it less of a prison cell,” you’d said), you huffed, loud enough for him to hear, when switching between the same three apps couldn’t hold your attention anymore.

“wha’s’a matter, lovie?” simon questioned, not looking up from his paperwork. though he’d ditched the mask, he still wore his balaclava — always did, at work.

“‘m bored, si,” you answered, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout.

again, without sparing you a glance, simon checked his watch, and offered, “y’can go if y’want, love. i’ll be home in a few hours.”

another huff, this time only a smidge more dramatically. “i don’t wanna go home. i wanna be here w’you.” then, you stood, making quick work of crossing the room and standing behind him, peering over his shoulder to gaze at the incomprehensible paperwork.

with an almost pavlovian response, simon pushed his chair backwards, stretching out his muscular thigh and offering it up as a seat.

gratefully, you accepted, though your appreciation didn’t last long when he merely returned to his work, scrawling messily along the documents.

“what’re you doin’?” you tried, toying with the strings of the hoodie stretched across his chest.

“mission reports,” he replied, squeezing your waist once. “nothin’ you have to worry your pretty little head about.” then, he pressed a quick, masked kiss to your temple and resumed.

“sounds boring,” you surmised. he gave an agreeing hum.

pursing your lips, you resumed your toying with the strings, looping them into a bow and then tugging them loose. afterward, you sat back, gazing at him.

he was so pretty, even with a fucking mask on. it wasn’t fair. warm, brown eyes locked on his stupid paperwork, barely-there traces of the grease paint he could never fully wash off staining his lash-line. if the sight of him didn’t have a heat blooming in your belly, you could have cried over it.

compelled, you place a kiss on his cheek. he gives another hum, this time lower, fonder, and a squeeze to your hip. creating a path, you continue to kiss the planes of his face — his brow (or where it was beneath the balaclava), his temple, cheek, and jaw. then, you trailed lower, lips trailing beneath his head, over his throat, his adam’s apple, the juncture where neck met shoulder.

when you gently nipped where he was most sensitive, he flexed his thigh, eliciting a gasp from you. the skirt you’d had the audacity to wear did little to protect your cunt from friction.

at the sound you made, you assume, he did it again, flexing the muscles in his obnoxiously large thigh, therefore pressing them against your clit.

arms snaking around him, you hid your face in his neck, and whined, “please, si.”

the way he shook his head could be felt against you — as could the quiet, barely-there chuckle in his chest. “christ, sweetheart. eleven in the morning an’ you’re already needy?”

again, you nipped his throat. “your fault.”

“my fault?” he echoed. “y’re the one who decided t’fuckin mount me.”

“you are the one who refuses to give me any attention,” you argued. when he didn’t deign to respond, you whimpered again, and tried, “please, si.”

simon huffed, breath ghosting across the back of your neck and sending a chill through you. then, like this was some great chore he had to take on, he said, “i really have to finish this, m’love. it’s already past-due.“ he must have felt your pout against his skin. “y’can get off on my thigh, though, how about that? hm? will that hold y’over?”

chewing your bottom lip, you gave an experimental tilt of your hips, nearly jolting at the friction against your damp cunt. “tha’s embarrassing.”

tutting, simon argued, “‘s not embarrassing. y’ve done a lot worse w’me.”

instead of biting him this time, you flicked him. another chuckle, and he was conceding, “how about this: you get off on my thigh, and once i’m done w’this we go out for lunch.”

the fact that it only takes you a few measly seconds to accept his offer might’ve been embarrassing. the way he cooed, though, when you ground your hips into his thigh, soothed any shame.

it was a struggle to find a pattern you could be consistent with. simon was usually all too happy to let you be a pillow princess — getting yourself off hadn’t been a task you’d taken on in a while. seeming to sense this, though, simon used the hand he’d kept on the small of your back to gently guide you, moving you back and forth.

“there y’go, angel,” he praised, causing you to press a moan into his shoulder. “y’even being quiet for me. good job. only i get to hear those sounds, that right?”

words escaped you — the pressure of his thigh rubbing against your clit had you seeing stars. instead, you nodded rapidly against him, clutching at his shoulders.

the movement became easier and easier as your slick soaked through your panties and his trousers. the thought of that had you pressing your heated cheeks against his shoulder, nails digging into him.

before you could think to voice it, simon spoke, “already close, are you, love? that was quick. ‘m sorry for neglecting you f’so long. i’m terrible, aren’t i?”

nearly deluded with pleasure, you shook your head. “n-no. not terrible. love you so much, si.”

a warm, rumbly sound came from his chest. “oh, my sweet girl. i love you too.” finally, he pulled back from his work, yanking the bottom half of his balaclava over his nose and capturing your lips in a messy kiss. only when you began to shake did he pull away, murmuring, “come for me, love.”

as soon as the words left his spit-slick lips, you were tumbling over the edge, clutching him like you’d fall off the face of the earth if you let go. he helped you through it, wet kisses pressed against your sweaty face, unintelligible praised murmured into your skin.

once you’d come down, simon gently squeezed your thigh, and pulled your head back to his neck. “make y’self comfortable, sweets. ‘m almost done.”

“then we go for lunch?”

“after.”

“after what?”

simon tsked, nipping at your cheek once, and stating, “if y’think we’re finished, love, you’ve got another thing coming.”

#wrote this in 20 mins enjoy xoxoxoxox #( 🪻 ) — ghost. #( 🌷 ) — writing. #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #141 x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[tacticaldiary]

I love your fics so much 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x wife reader where he has a nightmare about losing them

Solace For The Rough Nights

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love."

Masterlist

Ghost was running.

Footsteps crunching on dried leaves, he weaves through the trees, shaking off the sounds of harshly barked orders, as crisp and as hold as the cold air around him.

The trees around him are densely packed together, a mixing pot of leaves, roots, and coarsely misplaced footsteps.

He can't remember how he got here, or what op he was on and it sends his normally razor-focused mind into a slight frenzy.

Ghost is a man of action. A plan and a way to execute it was all he needed to bring back a victory in tow, but right now he has neither of those things, hasn't even a bare recollection of ever having those things in the first place.

What was a Ghost without a purpose to haunt?

He stumbles.

It's already an odd situation. Ghost doesn't stumble or hesitate. He's a well-oiled machine, self-sufficient and cut-throat. Missteps are simply not viable with him, especially not something as simple as tripping.

Catching himself on his arm, he swings around, gun already aimed towards the ground, sees a vest-clad figure sprawled over the ground under him.

He fires without thinking. A bullet straight to the head, brain matter splattering the trees and forest, the expanse of his arms. The impact of the bullet jolts the body onto its back and-

Every part of him freezes in pure, undiluted horror.

Because his wife stares up at the sky, eyes unseeing, eerily still. Her hair bloodstained, splayed out onto the ground caught in twigs and branches, face filthy with dirt and crimson that he drew from her.

He's not sure when the trembling starts, only that it begins with his hands and travels up his spine, singeing his soul with a terror that would marr him forever. Circumstances completely forgotten, he drops to his knees in front of her, hands shaking as he calls out her name, pressing his fingers to her neck to find a pulse as if he hadn't just blown her brain out and-and fuck it was still on his arms, his hands, the blood was everywhere and there was no way Ghost had just taken the one thing he wanted to keep in his life-

A strangled sound leaves his lips, not a laugh and not quite a cry. He wants to laugh at the irony.

He's always been so afraid that someone would hurt her at his expense, that someone would take her away, tear her apart from him.

He never thought it'd be him who carried out the deed.

Nothing comes out of his mouth, because nothing can fix this. He gathers her into his arms, shaking silently. He deserves this, deserves to suffer in silence with what he's done.

The release of crying was not one he deserved.

"Fuck, I-...you're okay." His voice breaks, rough and gritty, and desperate. "I didn't-I swear I-..."

Someone's voice sounds behind him but he refuses to look back, letting the screaming in his head, the crescendo of grief consume him. His hands never let up from touching her, pressing her against himself as if his own heartbeat may bring her to life.

How could someone like her face the end when someone as disgustingly tainted and bloodstained as him continued on living?

It wasn't right, but then again, the world never was fair.

He registers he's panicking, knows that he can't quite get a full breath in and that the noise of talking is getting louder but death itself would be the only thing to take him away from her.

"..i..on."

He squeezes his eye shut, rasping out suffocating breaths.

"Simon...Simon!"

His eyes snap open, a strangled gasp tearing out of his throat. It's blindingly dark, and he's...there's hands on him. Steeling himself he sits up hazy and confused, lingering panic making his throat close up.

A click and the room fills with light.

Room. He's in...he's in his room. He's in their room.

"You okay?"

Her voice makes him shiver violently, ignites his frayed nerves. He's almost afraid to look over lest he find her bloody and mangled, because she was, wasn't she? He'd seen it, held her, felt guilt choke him and...

But there weren't any leaves here. No trees, and no blood on his hand (that was the first thing his eyes had snapped down to confirm.)

With a shaky breath, he finally turns his head towards her voice.

Some of the hastily built scaffolding inside him collapses at the sight of her. Alive. Well. Clean.

Worried.

Patient as always, she's waiting for him to get his bearing, not wanting to swarm and overwhelm him.

"Simon?" Her voice is a crack of softness a man like him doesn't deserve. The sheets rustle as she shifts closer. "You were tossing around, mumbling something." She furrows her brows, coming to sit in front of him. "You're all sweaty. Do you feel ill?" The back of her hand presses against his forehead, and the touch snaps something in him.

Breaks apart the harrowing gates of relief, but also smashes the wave of diluted panic he'd been too disorientated to feel.

His hand snaps to her wrist, a gentle and firm hold. Her eyes widen but she doesn't interrupt, lets him press his lips against her pulse point with trembling fingers. "You're all right." He breathes out, half to himself.

"I'm right here." She reassures him immediately. It loosens up his shoulders a little, but he still reaches out to her, pulls her close into a hug so crushingly tight it knocks the breath out of her.

She hugs him tighter, still.

Simon wasn't a hugger, so something must really have shaken him up.

"Hey..." She mumbles against his shoulder.

Simon pulls back, hands travelling up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, to press against her temples. His gaze flickers down to his own arms, then back to her head.

"Talk to me, baby." She says quietly, letting him ground himself. His hands tangle in her loose hair, weaving the strands between his fingers as if he might pick out phantom leaves and twigs. "Why so worked up?"

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"You didn't."

The sharp interrupting startles him enough to still his hands from where they've been mapping out her skin to ensure it was still unmarred.

"You didn't." She repeats. Gently untangling his hand from her hair, she brings it to press against her chest, right over where her heart is. "I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love." She smiles and Simon feels his heart twist. The way she leans forward to press her lips to his is a kind of gentle he's still getting used to. "You're not getting rid of me any time soon." She whispers against his lips, a warmth that's a welcome reprieve from the shivers that wracked his body moments prior.

They sit there taking in each other's presence until Simon's thoughts slow from a sprint to a run to a walk, until the taste of copper, and the tang of iron fade from his senses.

Until it's just her, just them. In their bed, in their home. Off duty and safe.

When she slides her hands up to his shoulders, pushing him down he goes willingly, lets her straddle him. Never once do his hands leave her, they wrap around her hips to keep her steady.

"Tell me about it?" She asks, hands on his chest. After a moment of thought, Simon shakes his heavy with a long, heavy exhale.

"I'd rather not think about it." He rasps.

"It might help." The gentle shapes she traces on his chest give him something to latch onto. "I don't want you to deal with these nightmares alone." She snakes a hand up to his head, gently tapping his temple. "Don't want you to get stuck here without me. We're a team, right?"

"I suppose we are." He hums. Simon considers changing the subject, letting it go and falling back to sleep, but the need to get these vile thoughts out of him...

So he talks.

For once, he talks.

Simon tells her in halting phrases and clenched fists about what he remembers, how he held the gun, how there was no hesitation pulling the trigger.

His tension is met with hums and soothing circles rubbed onto his skin, keeping him with her even when he unravels the threads of his worst nightmare.

"I remember thinking how I was the one who took your life." He swallows harshly. "How I lost someone else...how it'd have been my fault." She doesn't comment on the fact that his grip on her hips has tightened considerably as he spoke.

"Well you haven't shot me yet, so I think we're safe for now."

Her attempt at a joke is met with a blank glare, but she snickers anyway. "Look Simon, if it'd be anybody I'd have liked it to be you-"

"No."

Her smile falters at the way he pushes up onto his elbows. "No?"

"I wouldn't..." He gathers his thoughts, clenches his jaw briefly. "I'd rather cut my own hands off, love."

"That's a bold claim, but-"

"It's a promise."

The conviction he says it with renders her speechless. His eyes so firm and determined and honest in the meagre light of their nightlamp sparks a warm heat through her, a reminder of how much she loves the man under her, of why she adores him.

He means what he says. It should scare her, someone so willing to go that far, but instead it's a fierce reassurance that her passion is returned. Maybe not in hugs or dopey smiles, but instead in moments like these, with promises that carve their way into their very bones, etching the proof of devotion into permanence.

She tips her head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. "I love you, Simon." She whispers. "So fucking much. I'm not going anywhere, alright. Not without you."

A hand wraps around the back of her neck, tugs her down to crash their lips together, the only affirmation she needs. He pulls her down until they're a tangle of limbs and breaths.

He doesn't need to say it back. Not when his hands burn sparks into her skin, when his arms around her guarantee safety and protection like nobody else can provide.

"You're here." He breathes, like he needs to.

"I'm here." A kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. "I'm here."

And he finally believes it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/08/2023)

#fanfiction #fluff #x reader #x y/n #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare x reader #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw ghost #ghost modern warfare #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #modern warfare price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod modern warfare

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #light angst #enemies to lovers

[sleepyangelkami]

MAKE IT BETTER e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.7K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - patrol gone wrong, bumping into the wrong people and landing yourself in a situation where you can do nothing but cry and hope that your girlfriend and saviour can make everything better. her empty promises remain unsure on whether she can truly fix it or not.

☆ WARNINGS - guns, violence, blood, gunshot wound, angst, crying, swearing, gore, use of pet names, tinsey mention of smut (blink n it's gone), use of 'good girl' but not in a sexual way, intended lower case, happy ending guys dw!! nothing I write is ever proofread 🩷

your pants were heavy, blood gushing between your finger tips as your breaths heaved and your eyes blinked.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. weird, she was with you possibly five minutes ago. you had gotten separated when you needed her the most, as soon as she left your line of view, everything turned to shit. your wound bled at an alarming pace, blood oozing out between your fingers which desperately hung to your side in attempts to soothe it.

"where are you?" came the voice of a man, the man in which that had impaled your stomach with his knife already. there was no way you could escape him. he was too fast, too slick, too sly. "you can hide all you want but that wound is gonna slow you down." his voice sounded almost playful, as if he were having fun. perhaps he was, perhaps this was his idea of a good time. "i'm gonna find you eventually..." you could hear his footsteps walking around. "that's okay, i like a good chase."

the thought of him winning, grabbing a hold of you and doing whatever it was he was going to do, your stomach churned. you felt dizzy, partially at the thought, partially due to the blood around your stomach.

how did you even end up here?

"please, els." you were begging now, eyes big and glossy. how could ellie refuse? if there was one thing ellie could call a 'weakness' though she refused she had any, it was you.

she sighed, rolling her eyes. "sweetheart, why do you wanna come on patrol with me?" patrol could mean many things. it could mean going to each checkpoint and ticking off the boxes that there was no suspicious activity while holding hands and skipping. it could mean fighting a bunch of clickers while you yelled and stumbled about. ellie particularly hated taking down zombies when you were around. you were bashful, clumsy. sure, she loved you more than anything in the world but that was just it. she loved you so she didn't take her eyes off you, making sure you were safe rather than taking down the stalker running at her. sometimes, patrol meant being bent over one of the tables in the station, taking her strap like the good girl you were. patrols were never the same.

whatever would come of this patrol, you didn't care for there was only one thing on your mind. "wanna spend time with you." snuggling up against her.

as the air grew colder, you grew needier. there was nothing you loved more than being able to spend time with your lover especially in the cold winters of jackson. whether that was on patrol or snuggled together in your bed, you just wanted her.

her lips had pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, smiling into your hair. "you're cute." you were naive, you knew it but you had ellie williams wrapped around your little finger. and she'd never know.

you stuck your head out from her chest, big grin dancing on your lips. "so can i go?" excitement bubbling in your chest. you hated it when ellie left you alone to go on patrol. more often than not you'd spend your time cooped up in the house, alone. ellie had begged dina and jesse to come get you multiple times, bring you outside for some fresh air or simply join you in the company of your home. but it didn't matter if jesus himself walked into your living room. as long as your girlfriend was away at patrol, you were a pouting mess. which is why you often opted for being alone. you would hate to think that you were making dina and jesse sad.

she rolled her eyes, lips turning up at their corners. "I guess, you can." and she heard that squeal that erupted from you, giggling as you jumped up and down. she could only roll her eyes again, though her smile was growing wider. she loved the days when you smiled, she hated the days when you cried. "c'mon, baby, we gotta go find your scarf." the white one in which has been lost for months now.

"you're not gonna find it." you shook your head as she searched the room, you had seated yourself up on the desk, legs dangling as your tongue danced across the lollipop between your fingers. when ellie said 'we have to find' she really means 'i' for she wouldn't dare let you lift a finger. if she had it her way, she'd be the one holding the lollipop to your mouth.

"yeah?" sticking her head out from the box she had been searching. her hair was sticking up in all directions. she left for patrol early in the morning, there was no point looking then. "why not?"

you shrugged your shoulders, tongue swirling around to taste the strawberry. " 's not gonna be there, been lookin' for ages." when you 'looked' for things, you barely skimmed, standing up and eyes bouncing off every wall in the room. you'd have given up in seconds.

there was a smirk dancing on her lips as her feet moved her to where you sat on the desk. her fingers reached up, taking the lollipop from your hold. "maybe you haven't been looking hard enough, angel." her tongue fell onto the strawberry sweet, swirling around. you stared,  hypnotised. there was something about the way she carried herself, that small, almost hidden smirk and the way she spoke. it made your stomach do cartwheels. but as you watched her tongue swirl around the lollipop that was only in between your lips a second ago, you found your thighs clenching together. how was it that she was the only one who made you feel this way? when she passed it back to you, your eyes were still strained on her lips and the little freckles above it, your stomach swooned and your head suddenly felt rather ditzy. you couldn't pull your eyes away from her lips. until, that was, she pulled out the scarf from behind her back. "found it." she spoke, before her lips met your own.

the lollipop wasn't the only thing you sucked that night (i'm so sorry)

you heaved out breaths, unsure of what to do. your brows were knit together in worry. "come on, angel, make this easy for me, won't you?" you squeezed your eyes shut closed. you wanted to be home by the fire with ellie, you wanted to be away from this man that made your hands shake and your stomach bleed.

you were sat behind a flipped over car, hands practically vibrating from how much they were shaking. where was ellie? you had lost sight of her ages ago, right before a knife had been plunged into your stomach. you didn't scream then, you wondered if she even knew you had been stabbed.

the man knew you were here, he hadn't seen ellie yet. you hadn't seen him at first, thinking the checkpoint was clear. it wasn't until your girlfriend grasped the edge of your scarf, bringing you down to crouch behind a wall with her that you realised you were not alone. when a bottle knocked over, he realised he wasn't alone either.

you were supposed to stay put, wait until ellie snuck up and attacked him before finding her. but you got worried, your stomach churned and your lip had been bitten raw. it had been too long since you'd seen her and you were beginning to get worried. you made the stupid choice of leaving your hiding space to go find her. now, you were sat with your hands holding the wound that you knew was your own fault.

"come out and i'll go easy." he was going to kill you, if the wound in your stomach didn't. your breaths began to get even more laboured. you didn't want to die. you still had so much you wanted to do. you couldn't die, not now, not because of him. the air grew silent, his foot steps stopped. somehow, it seemed even more scary when you couldn't tell where he was. you held one bloody hand over your mouth, covering it so he couldn't hear you breathe. the air was thick and your head turned, barely peaking over the edge of the car. you turned back, a face right next to you. "found you."

a scream fell from your lips, a blood curdling scream as you snatched your hand away.

you tried to run, thrashing against him as you made a swift exit. he grasped your wrist and despite the knife in your stomach, you kicked your leg upwards, hitting him right in the balls (dina had taught you well) it stumped him for a second and you barely managed to move away.

he let you think you could be free, he didn't allow the thought to last too long though. his hand reached out and grasped a hold of your leg, sending you flying to the ground.

you fell, knife piercing your stomach further. it hadn't been too deep earlier, but now? you were sure you were already dead. you didn't scream but your mouth was open, breaths falling irregularly. you wouldn't have been able to turn around until he flipped you over, he'd climbed on top of you.

he held another knife, pressing it against your tear stained cheek as he grinned. "I really did a number on you, didn't I angel?" his fingers danced on the top of the knife in your stomach. you almost wished he'd stick it in further and simply put you out of your misery. "how about i end this and just―"

it had ended, alright.

you watched as an arrow pierced straight through his scull, bloody edge sitting right between your eyes, not grazing your skin. his own mouth fell open, as yours had only he had been unlucky enough to not be able to close it. his eyes rolled back to the back of his head and his body slid off of yours.

crying, you managed to sit yourself up, back against the mossy wall, the knife was plunged in deep, your hands covered in blood, as was your face. "angel?" her voice was sweet and concerned, nothing alike his cold, teasing one. "shit, shit!"

"ellie?" you practically babbled, hands holding the knife. "hurts."

"i know, i know." despite her rushed tone, she still sounded so comforting. "you're gonna be okay, i'm right here, baby." and you almost believed her until you took notice of just how bloody your hands were. it was a deep red, coating every inch of them, you stared at them, unable to move. "can i have this?" she was already unwrapping the white scarf from across your neck. "thank you, sweetheart, you're doing so good." her words would have made your heart swell if it weren't for the fact that your eyes could barely stay open. "I have to take it out, okay?"

your eyes suddenly went wide, as if they hadn't been sleepy at all. you shook your head, tears falling rapidly. "els, no." a whimper falling from your lips. "don't wanna, please." you would have begged her not to. but you knew it wasn't fair. she was trying to help you, she had to help you but you didn't want her to rip the knife from your stomach.

"i know, baby but i have to." she moved you so that you fell limp against her shoulder. the knife twisted in your stomach. "hold my hand, there you go." your hand was in her own, holding it hard. "you can squeeze as hard as you want, okay? ready? three, two―" you cried into her shoulder, holding her hand so hard it might have fallen off if it weren't for the fact that she was holding on just as hard. "good girl, good girl, you did so well, see? it's done, it's over."

she used the scarf to tie around your waist, tightening it so she could keep the pressure. you watched as the red blood soaked the white fabric. " 'm gonna die, aren't i?" babbling as you cried into her shoulder, you couldn't pull your eyes from the blood that left your stomach. though, the pain had dulled and your eyes were heavy. "don' wanna die."

"hey, hey, look at me." your face sat between her palms as she looked into your eyes, comfort leaking into your heart as soon as she did so. "you're not gonna die, alright? you're gonna be fine, els' gonna make it all better, won't she?" speaking about herself in third person as if she wasn't right there.

you nodded, salty tears falling down your cheeks. "you're gonna make it better." you nodded to yourself, eyes opening and closing heavily.

"yeah, yeah i'm gonna make it all better. stay awake, baby, come on, open those pretty eyes f'me." but as much as she willed you to, your eyes couldn't stop fluttering open and closed, heavily blinking at her. "you're gonna be just fine, hold on, baby."

you didn't register when she hauled you onto shimmer, turning you so that your body was limp against her front, head leaning against her chest. you didn't register much actually. the pain dulled and the girl continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. but you couldn't hear now, too caught up in the ringing and how bright the sky seemed to be. your eyes were scrunched shut, head in her chest as you wished and prayed on every star that you'd wake up inside your shared home in jackson, eyes opening to reveal you sleepily smiling on ellie's chest.

you could pray all you want, there was no god coming to save you only ellie williams.

the sound of yelling made you open your eyes against the harsh light. you could make out the muffled yelling of the paramedics taking you away, yelling for certain materials. your eyes were strained on ellie who was being held back by one of the male nurses, James, you were sure his name was. you knew him because he and ellie hated one another. you remembered ellie telling you he was jackson's biggest dickhead and that she'd love to give him a 'knuckle sandwitch' which made you laugh in the moment but right now, nothing could make you laugh. your eyes never left her, though, even after she found her first swinging at the man and suddenly joel was there, holding her back while everyone crowded around the commotion.

when you woke, you were, unfortunately, not in the comfort of you and ellie's home. but you must say, it was much better than the place you had been sitting before, all mucky and bloody.

you blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. "hi, baby." ellie's soft voice as you blinked at her, attempting to get up. "nuh-uh, rest." she pushed your shoulders down softly.

"where am i?" you mumbled softly. you knew where you were but the dosage of your painkillers was so high that you could barely recognise the colour of the bedsheets. and yet, you could see her so clearly, your angel, your saviour, your knight in shining armour.

"med shaft." she spoke, hand holding yours as her thumb brushed against your knuckles.

your eyes glanced down to her hand that was covered with a white bandage. "you hit him." you murmured softly. "the nurse."

"he wouldn't let me see you." she spoke, as if she were defending her own actions. which, she sort of was. "had to make sure my angel was okay, didn't i?"

"you made it better." just like she said she would. ellie didn't lie to you, she wouldn't.

"yeah, i did." she seemed proud of herself. she should be. she saved your life. and if you weren't so loopy right now you would have given her a whole speech and the cuddles of a lifetime.

"thank you." was all you could muster, for now.

"of course, sweetheart." she just wished she could have done more. you shouldn't be here in a hospital bed right now, she should have never left you in the first place, guilt consumed her but she shook it off with a small smile. "we're gonna have to get you a new scarf though." cringing slightly.

"no point." sloppy grin on your face. "jus' gonna loose it again anyway."

she leaned down, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "then i'll help you find it."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

#queer #ellie williams angst #ellie #williams #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #lesbian #the last of us #tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us x reader #ellie williams drabble #ellie drabble #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #ellie williams x y/n #tlou fluff #tlou angst #tlou imagine #tlou oneshot #gay #lgbtq

[babygirl-riley]

Hiiiiii sorry to bother- but i'm OBESSED with dad!Simon. have you seen those tiktoks of dad's crying while their baby girls get ear piercings? They look more in pain than the kid themselves?? I'd like to ask for a short drabble please!! ❤️❤️😩

Silent Treatment

Simon and your baby girl are shunning you after getting her ears pierced

A/N: ANON ANOOOON! Those tik toks make me laugh because it’s like damnnn those dads wanna fight mom soooo bad. 😭 But yes yes I love this idea!

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You felt bad truly, you stood in the door frame as Simon didn’t look at you. Same with your infant daughter. “Si, we talked about it.”

Simon shook his head. “Doesn’ matter, she was in pain. Almost took the bitch’s head off,” Your daughter clanged to her father as she sighed into his shoulder. “We are not happy about it, aren’ we princess.” Simon said whispering to Millie.

You chuckled low before sighing. “Simon she is fine now. She isn’t even crying.”

“Her ears say oth’r wise.” He commented looking at her subsiding red ears.

You smirked as you saw Simon smirk, he was milking it now. You glared at him still smirking as you fold your arms. “You can’t gate-keep her forever you know.”

Simon’s smile grew bigger as he looked at Millie than you. “You try to take her for me and see who’s gate keepin’ who.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling. He was right, she was the one clinging onto him without any hesitation. When you tried to get her out of her car seat she screamed for her daddy. You really pissed her off, you knew she was daddy’s girl but never has she refused you getting her out.

Millie looked over her shoulder and her head was still laying on his shoulder. Her brown eyes looking right through your soul. You could feel the anger on the toddler. God how much both Millie and Simon were alike, even in her toddler years. That look that she was baring into your soul was the same look that her father gave the lady that pierced her ears.

“Okay dad you can go on the other side so I can just snap one on,” The lady said pulling out the piecing gun. Your mom did it to you when you were younger, easier to do it when they won’t remember it. Raise your daughter to have a routine of having earrings. Millie looked up at you as you sat her on your lap. She was confused, first having a stranger holding her ear and mom letting the stranger holding her ear. The lady smiled up at you. “You ready?”

Simon looked over at her. “It won’t hurt her too bad yeah?” You swore he was more nervous than how Millie looking on your lap.

You smiled holding her closer. “She will cry Simon but it shouldn’t hurt too much. It will feel like a pinch.”

Oh how wrong you were, once the piercing went in she screamed. Simon snapped his head up to the lady before giving her a death stare, as he moved over to the side to see her ear red. Millie kicked and tried to pull you off of her. You watched as Simon’s hands clenched into fists. “One more! I know baby.” The lady said walking over to the other side cautiously.

You saw Simon watch carefully as the lady lined up the piercing. You swore you saw fire in his eyes but also pain. You haven’t seen Simon express that emotion in years, it made your heart hurt to see him in pain as well. Millie started to lift herself as she reached for Simon. Simon tapped his foot waiting for the session to just end.

You tried to grab her hand to soothe her but instead she batted away. She tried to reach for Simon once again as you held her still. You looked over to see tears in his eyes, which made your heart drop. “Simon,” You soothed. “She is okay.”

Simon snapped his head to you. “She doesn’ look okay to me.” You frowned as he looked back to Millie as you petting her head until the lady got her gun in place of her earlobe.

After the last snap, Millie screamed again, having her arms raised to Simon. It was like flash of lightning when Simon was right in front of you. Simon grabbed her immediately, bounced her up and down. Shushing her, soothing her, rubbing her back.

Simon left the store immediately, leaving you in the dust. You sighed as you handed the money to the lady. “Don’t worry all husbands do that with their babies. The good ones at that.” The lady whispered to you. “Some of them actually shed tears.”

You smiled and thanked her, however she was wrong about him not shedding a tear. You knew why he stormed out with her, you saw the single tear leaving his eye when he snatched her.

You paid the lady and thanked her as you watched Simon hold Millie closer. Both of them gave you the silent treatment, like you did the piercing. You rolled your eyes as you tried to hold Millie but she refused you as she clanged onto Simon all the way to the car.

After getting out of the car he went straight to her room as he rocked her. Holding her. Soothing her. You followed him into the doorway, as you listened to him mumble sweet things to her. It wasn’t until then he started to speak to you.

“I’m not mad at ya,” He said sighing. “Didn’ like my babygirl cryin’ like that.” His voice lowered even more as he rubbed her back on soothing motions. Holding her even closer than he already had her before.

You nodded. “I know you don’t. I am sorry you felt that way. My heart hurt too, I didn’t expect her to scream cry,” You fell silent as you watched Millie turn to cuddle more close to his neck. Gripping his shirt. You chuckled having Simon start to smile looking at you. “I think you scared the lady as well.”

Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Good she hurt Mills, should have just stared at her the whole time to have her stop.”

You chuckled coming in more, Millie watched as you walked up to her and Simon. “Then she would only have one earring.”

Simon followed with his eyes as you stood in front of him. His eyes softening as he chuckled. “That’s the new thing isn’t it?”

Now it was your time to roll your eyes as you giggled. “I’m sorry baby,” You whispered kneeling down, rubbing the top of her ear. “Think you will be the only one to have pierced ears if we get you a sibling.”

She cooed as you leaned up to kiss her forehead. She laid back into his chest. It was quiet for a moment before you stood up. “Damn right.” Simon mumbled, smirking down at you.

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