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thewidowsledger · 13 days ago

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The Call

Chapter 5: Rushman

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: slow burn (it’s happening y’all), violence, kidnapping, torture, explicit language, hurt/comfort, 1v4, guard dog and angry angry angry Natty (strong arms Natty🥵 she is back breaking and cracking bones, kicking teeths for a living), vulnerable reader, Madisynn and Yelena's ship is sailing, Fury being a detective and keen observer dad

Author's Note: Missing my wife so here I am…writing while she's out (I hate work😡)

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

"What you think, Rushman?"

"Ask about the arms deal happening at the end of the week."

Natasha listened quietly to the instructions being relayed to her via her earpiece, her face a stoic mask. She evaluated the situation, her sharp mind calculating the security measures in place.

"Not a bad place," she remarked, her tone low and detached. "But do you guys really have the stuff necessary to secure all this square footage?"

She got a couple of looks and tried to remain calm; using 'secure' like that would definitely get her suspected of being an undercover Agent.

Realizing the slip-up in her choice of words, Natasha quickly adapted her demeanor, keeping her arms folded and tight to her sides, the picture of nonchalance. Despite her slight blunder, she maintained her composure, "I know a guy with both hands under the table," she kept her arms folded and tight to her sides. She didn't manage to sneak anything in with her weapons wise. Her fists were enough to hold their own in a battle.

One of the guides brushed off her question, stating, "Don't worry about it." He reassured her, mentioning that more support was on its way.

As they arrived in the basement control room, Natasha observed the smashed window with a furrowed brow. Her instincts kicked in, and she honed in on the details of the scene, taking note of it.

"Did we catch something?"

"You could say that." His grin gave Natasha a bad feeling.

They turned on the singular light bulb that lit the decrepit little space a small figure tied to the chair, dread welled up in Natasha. The figure tried to remain still in the chair, but the blood trickling from their limbs betrayed the restraints' unforgiving tightness.

As Natasha tried to maintain her composure, the sight of the restrained figure hit her like a wave of dread. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't ignore the familiar details—the slender frame, the slope of the shoulders, even the glimpse of the sharp collar bone protruding from the button-up shirt. The stockings were torn, probably from getting dragged to and fro. Shoes were probably the first thing taken from them.

A woman beside the restrained body was wearing her jacket, the same jacket she gave you last night.

Natasha's heart stopped.

She knew it was you before they pulled the burlap off your head.

As they pulled the burlap sack off your head, Natasha's heart sunk deeper, the sight confirming her fears. Before she could even fully register what was happening, a ruthless blow landed across your face, forcefully snapping your head to one side with a sickening crunch. The chair screeched against the concrete surface beneath as it shifted from the force of the punch.

The girl that was standing beside you came up to Natasha and touched her biceps as she circled her.

Natasha steeled her expression, knowing that she couldn't afford any display of emotion. She felt their eyes on her, watching for any crack they could exploit, checking to see if they had found the weakness they thought. If they had found their mole.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the worker bees around her snickered as they watched the show. She ran her hands over Natasha's muscled arms, circled her like a predator, a smug smile playing on her lips.

Natasha clenched her fists tightly under her armpits, her nails digging into her skin with increasing pressure, leaving behind angry crescent indents. The intensity of her grip grew, mirroring the effort she exerted to maintain her composure, even as her jaw worked in a white-knuckled attempt to keep her teeth from clenching too obviously. She forced herself to remain still, the muscles in her neck straining with the effort, despite the overwhelming fear and rage that was making her vision blur.

You didn't utter a word as they laid into you, taking every slap and punch with little more than a grunt or a burst of air. You kept your eyes shut as they hauled your head up by your hair, still pulled back into a ponytail.

The realization hit Natasha that you hadn't been taken from the safety of your home. You were still dressed in the clothes from the party last night, leaving her feeling a wave of nausea as she wondered how long you had been imprisoned in this cold, dimly lit room.

Guilt gnawed at her, regret filling her like a lead weight in her chest. She should've walked you back to the party, or booked you a cab, even if you had protested, insisted that you could manage on your own.

The man gloating about finding you tightened his grip on your hair, forcefully turning your face towards him and inhaling against your cheek. His words rang in Natasha's ears, a reminder of your vulnerability. "We got a tip that there was a real pretty little thing hanging around," he said, a twisted sadistic pleasure in his tone that made Natasha's skin crawl.

"Don't move a muscle, Agent. Stay on target," the warning echoed in her earpiece, and her blood ran cold as she heard the commanding order to remain still.

Fury assigned Natasha to Coulson's division for a while after her mission on Stark. How far were they planning on letting this go? How long had they been listening to you get hurt? Do they even know that the daughter of the director is getting hurt?

The eyes in the room were still fixed on Natasha, testing her limits, pushing her for a crack in her facade. She felt the weight of their gaze. "Y'know, someone let us know that she was with SHIELD." It was clear that they were trying to push her, to see if they could expose her.

Of course someone had tipped them off. How else would they have been able to get the drop on the Furious daughter?

"Y'know what they say," another one slapped her on the shoulder before strolling into the semi-connected interrogation room. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

Natasha wiggled her fingers against her palm, feeling the blood he'd drawn. She felt herself reaching her breaking point, your subtle movement caught her eye, and she glanced in your direction. You pried your least swollen eye open and looked at her, managing just a little twitch of your lips. No one else would be able to recognise it as a smile—they'd sooner assume it was a flinch.

But Natasha could always tell.

You shut your eyes again as one of the men grabbed your neck, forcing you to expose the length of it, their touch sending chills down your spine. "She is a pretty thing, huh?" the man remarked, turning back to Natasha, his finger trailing along the exposed skin.

"Agent, do not move. I repeat: stand down."

Natasha watched the hand trail down your neck to your collarbone, just barely peeking out from your tight black dress. He pulled out a knife, cutting off one the black dress.

The two in the room grinned at each other as the knife trailed exposing just the hint of a white bra with floral lace. "Should we see how pretty?"

The man's eyes glinted with malicious intent as he offered Natasha the knife, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "Rushman? Would you like to do...the honors?"

Natasha hesitated, but she knew what the risks were. So after contemplating, she took the knife handle. She slowly walked towards you, her eyes flickered over your battered face, taking in the bruises, the split lip, the swollen eyes.

The impatient shouts from behind her only fueled her frustration and anger.

"Fuck her already!"

You could see the struggle in her eyes, the internal battle she was fighting. You wanted to reassure her, to let her know it is okay, but your voice was hoarse from the abuse you'd endured—and besides it would blow up her cover.

She caressed your cheek and you leaned on her touch, a tear fell down slightly nodding at her—silently telling her that it's going to be okay.

"Do it Rushman!"

"Fuck her! Like this!" A man shouted, mimicking aggressive gestures with his ring and middle finger. "Give us a fucking show!"

"I know how to give a good fuck, don't tell me how to fuck her." Natasha bit out. She knows she's damned after what she just said besides Coulson's team hearing her words.

Hearing her say that she would give the daughter of the director a good fuck.

You, her boss, hearing her say that she would fuck you.

Natasha knelt in front of you, and mouthed I'm sorry, she caressed your face one last time. "Can you close your eyes for me?" she whispered, "Please, detka."

"Don't open them unless I told you to."

Because she never wanted you to see that side she's about to unleash. It is a version of her that she had buried in the past after she was given a new life, a new chance—a fresh start. The side of her that you are very aware of because it was the side of her that you studied half of your life. The side of her that you hated.

Your mission.

She doesn't want you to see it, especially not now that she is falling in love with you.

But your life is at risk and so is the beast within her.

As soon as you shut your eyes, she turned and grabbed the first man by his head and, with a single, powerful motion, slammed his face down onto the wooden table. The force of the impact shattered the table's surface, sending splinters flying.

The girl reached into the back of her jeans, "Fuckin' mole—!"

Natasha spun on her heel, her shoulder driving into her like a human battering ram and before she could hit the ground, Natasha grabbed a handful of her greasy hair and yanked her head down, ramming her knee into her face with bone-shattering force. The sound of crunching teeth filled the room as she slumped unconscious to the floor, blood pouring from her ruined mouth.

"That is my fucking jacket." She spat out as she aggressively removed the jacket from the girl.

No one can deny that Natasha is by far the strongest on SHIELD—probably one of the strongest agents in the field, if not the strongest.

She grabbed the creepy one by the hand, "This is how you fuck," she gritted before twisting it all the way around to pop it off the wrist. The creep screamed and howled in pain.

The sudden violence in the room had you flinching with each loud impact, your heart racing. Every crack of bone, every thud of a body hitting the ground, made you jump and tremble with fear. Wishing that it's not Natasha.

Only if you know that it was Natasha who was causing those sounds.

The one who had been doing the beating on you held up his hands, backing away from you on the chair, who was still eyes closed and was close to passing out.

"Agent! Stand down, this is a direct order!"

Natasha tore the earpiece and its connected mic out of her ear and let it fall to the ground before crushing it under her foot. She kept her eyes on the man with your blood on his knuckles.

"H-Hey, Rushman," the idiot was at least smart enough to try and barter his way to safety. "Look, we both know you're not gonna kill me—"

"Says who?"

The smaller of the two men shrank a little. Maybe his life wasn't as insured as he thought it was. "O-Okay!—okay, look, I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry. You want info?! I'll tell you—I'll tell you everything! Who tipped us off, e-everything!"

Natasha grasped the bastard by his shirt, slamming him up against the wall, black in the eyes. "You've got a lot of nerve bartering with me after what you did to her—"

"Nat."

The beater hit the floor like a sack of bricks.

Your eyes were still closed but you shook your head side to side. Now you're sure Natasha is safe, and is probably the one causing these idiots to cry since you heard her voice.

"Detka…" Natasha moved in front of you, lifting your chin as gently as she could. You'd have one hell of a black eye, and your naturally sharp cheekbones were split and swollen. "You can open your eyes now."

And you did.

"Backup better be on the fucking way," Natasha growled as she get you freed. Your body naturally folded in on itself in its injured and vulnerable state. Natasha hesitated as she pulled the jacket that the girl stole from you, she doesn't want you to wear that anymore so she shirked off her leather jacket, pulling it around you and zipper it up over your exposed chest. "Or those old fucks are next."

The beater was trying to crawl to safety and Natasha slammed her heel down on his back.

The beater threw up anything that was in his stomach. Natasha leaned down, yanking his head up by the hair, as he had done with you minutes ago. "You're gonna tell us everything."

He nodded.

"You are going to cooperate with every agent you see."

He nodded again, more vigorously.

Natasha dropped the man like a ragdoll, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. She turned her attention to the other, who was struggling to his feet, his face pale and sweaty. "And you," she said coldly, stepping closer to him.

You didn't even blink as Natasha grabbed his shoulder, then his jaw, and twisted. You watched as the man's lifeless body fell to the ground. You looked up at Natasha, "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."

Natasha said nothing. Now you had seen that side of her. This is the Black Widow you have been craving to catch, your mission, your past mission.

Natasha nudged the man's corpse out of the way with her foot, his body falling onto its side, picking you up and sitting down in the chair for herself with you in her arms.

The sounds of your fellow agents storming the building started at the top of the building and traveled through its open, gutted remains. They would be with them soon enough.

Natasha sat and waited. Her mind raced, considering the potential consequences of her disobedience, she would be lucky to be suspended and on probation. Much more likely, they would have internal affairs investigate her for her disobedience and fire her.

But with your safety on the line, you in her arms right now—she'd face them all willingly.

She would accept any punishment they gave her—gladly. She turned her head, pressing her lips to your temple in the slim window of being alone with you.

⧗

"Easy, widow," Yelena held up her hands and took a few steps closer, walking towards your bed and to the chair of your guard dog. "Just checking if you need anything."

"I'm fine."

"Come on, Nat." Yelena pleaded, she knew that Natasha would be grappling with the tragedy, and she had heard that no one could get near you with Natasha by your side. "She's okay, right?"

"She better be," she finally let out a sigh, uncrossing her arms and turning her head halfway away from you and towards Yelena. "It's the only reason I'm here and not hunting down those bastards."

"Natasha, they're being handled by SHIELD." Yelena reassured, calming her Natasha down.

"I am not pertaining about them." Natasha murmured but the blonde was quick to pick up the pieces.

"You know, if anyone were to hear you threaten Coulson's division like that it'd be your position," Yelena warned, to which Natasha didn't even offer a shrug of acknowledgement. Yelena looked at her determined unwillingness to rest if it left you unprotected. "Okay, just...yell if you need me, okay?—either of you?"

Natasha let out another heavy sigh, "thanks, Lena."

The door closed gently as Yelena left, leaving you sleeping peacefully with your guard dog.

Natasha sat by your side, her eyes never leaving you as she contemplated what just happened. You looked so peaceful, as if you two hadn't been together the night after you were kidnapped and brutalized.

She still feels guilty.

It was true; no one had managed to come near you. Natasha had been told that Maria will be handling her questioning, even though she saved you, the daughter of the director, she cannot be saved from the by laws of SHIELD.

Natasha leaned forward, pushing some hair away from your cheek. Her finger brushed the pale—and already bruising - skin there, and you leaned into her touch in your sleep. She smiled, undeniably melted by the subconscious trust you had in her. "Come on, boss. I need you to open those eyes for me."

As if you had heard her plea, your lashes fluttered, and then your eyes opened, revealing the stunning shade she adored. She greeted you softly, her voice gentle, her eyes locked with those beautiful eyes of yours. "Hey."

"Hey," she softly repeated, beaming at you though fighting back tears, her voice a bit thicker with emotions held in check. Her hand softly ran through your hair, the affection pouring forth freely despite the professional front she usually maintained around you. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been strapped to a chair and beat up."

Natasha huffed a slight laugh, but your weak attempt at a glare—despite your exhausted condition it brought a small smirk to her lips. "Now? You're making jokes now?" she replied, her voice affectionate, her smile growing when you tried to glare.

Your smile was heavy and hazy, fighting against the pull of anesthesia. But it was there, and it was real. "You seem like you need it, agent."

Her hand still glided gently through your hair, tracing over your temple and cheek, as if trying to feel the reality, to confirm you were real and not a ghost. There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a raw emotion barely contained, "I-we need you to be okay."

"Then I'm okay."

The moment stretched, as Natasha felt the warmth of your cheek against her palm, cherishing and committing it to memory. She knew this moment was fleeting, that this vulnerability would soon fade.

"Y/N—"

"Natasha," you pressed, and she sat again, pulling your hand into her. "I know you went against orders to come and rescue me in there."

"How is that the problem?!" She shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "And not that I was ordered to stand by and watch while—"

"Focus, Natalia," As you crooned her government name, Natasha felt herself refocusing. The soft tone and the use of her true name anchoring her firmly in the present. Your reassurance settled the turmoil in her chest, the quiet command and your words grounding her, bringing her back from the edge of her worry. "You saved me. You. That's all that matters."

She exhaled slowly, some weight lifted by your words. As she leaned forward, she found your hands, interlacing her fingers with yours, "What hurts?" She asked, assessing your pain.

You gave it a test, shifting faintly under the thin hospital blankets. "Everything?"

"They should have you on stronger meds," Natasha growled, her protective instincts flaring, ready to march into the hall and demand the staff provide stronger medication. She gripped your hand gently in hers, her worry and fury evident in the tense lines of her face.

"Mm," You held her hand, shaking your head in disagreement, despite your weakness. You fought to keep her with you by your side, refusing her protective instincts. "No, just...just leave it be."

"Y/N," she whispered, sounding positively agonized about it. "I don't want you to be in pain."

"I'm fine," was the first thing out of your mouth, only to realize that it was utter bullshit as far as Natasha was concerned. You corrected yourself, "just stay. Just...just...please?"

She all but collapsed, weak in the knees at the sight of your eyes pleading with her. She nodded, helpless to do much of anything else for you. She brought your hand up to her lips, bold move, "yeah—yeah, of course, Y/N. I...I'm right here."

You closed your eyes again, evening out your own breathing as well. "If they know I'm awake they'll have you dragged out of here to question us both."

"I can just be daddy's girl and it's done. I think they're forgetting I have that power and title."

Natasha huffed, a small sign of amusement at your joke, knowing full well that you don't and would never use your title as the director's daughter to sidestep consequences. You have earned your title in SHIELD with your own efforts, own sweat and tears.

"They're not coming anywhere near you so long as I'm here."

"Natasha."

"I mean it, Y/N," she reiterated. She gave your hand another squeeze, "they have no right coming to talk to you when they're the reason you're in here. They can wait until you're released, and that's if I'm feeling generous."

You peeled your eyes open again to smile at her. "If only I could have you as protection for every time I had to talk to those—"

You cut yourself off to yawn, failing to cover your mouth, Natasha fussed with your blankets, her tone gentle and commanding. "You should go back to sleep; get all the rest you can before the questioning begins," she whispered, hoping to spare you any unnecessary strain while knowing it was futile.

Your voice was soft, the medication making your muscles feel heavy as you asked, "Can't wait." Your hazy eyes found hers, searching for reassurance. "You'll be here right?"

She smiled at you, keeping you hand firmly in hers, "I'm not going anywhere."

Meanwhile, Yelena and Madisynn peered at the door, witnessing the tender exchange between you and Natasha. Their fist bumping, "Good?" Yelena smirked.

"Good." Madisynn confirmed.

The two women jumped slightly, freezing in surprise as they turned to see your father—the director of SHIELD standing behind them, holding a bouquet of flowers and your favorite egg pie.

"So my daughter and Romanoff..."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #natasha romanoff x you

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juneberrie · 9 months ago

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DATING APPLEJACK !

request || equestria girls!apple jack x fem!reader

author's note: everyone say thank you to mars for encouraging my delusions & to the person who requested this. also ive been picturing her the way @/cloiiiiii on tiktok draws her so like yeah

ⓘ word count : 0.8k || applejack masterlist

probably didn't realize she liked you until someone (rarity) told her

"what? no way, i don't like-" and then the "HOLY SHIT I DO LIKE HER!"

she was the last to know

rainbow and rarity have to give her advice on asking you out (rarity's is serious and helpful, dash's is just "ask her out dumbass")

probably asked you out with flowers.

"so uh– i was wondering' if you'd, uh, y'know, wanna go out with me sometime? it's fine if not– y'know what, nevermind its stupi–"

she's so nervous!!!

anyways onto the actual dating hcs

she was the one to say i love you first

you guys were probably taking a walk or something and you were talking and she'll like smile at you really lovingly and go "i love you, y'know"

calls you really cheesy nicknames — sugar, sugar cube, pretty girl, my girl, princess, angel, darlin', missy, sweetheart, sweet pea, honey, etc etc

would take you on the cutest dates!!!

sunsets, picnics, apple picking (duh), late night drives

if u like shopping then she's def the kind of girl who'll hold all your bags

she'll also walk you to all your classes / walk you home

also!!! kind of gf who won't leave u alone in public. like if you guys go out she WILL stay with you at all times cause yk 😕

she's such a sweetheart

will open doors for you and get offended if you try to do ANYTHING yourself

SHE WAS RAISED RIGHT 🗣

can and will give you her clothes to wear. PLEAAASE wear her flannels/shirts around her she will lose her mind

"well, darlin', don't you look nice?" whenever u get dressed up

she either gets flustered really easily or she doesnt

pls imagine her in like. a white tank and jeans and cowboy boots

1 million dead 4923 injured

her voice in the morning >>>>>

it has a little rasp and her accent is like ten times thicker and just ugh

she's jacked btw. apple jacked.

she grew up up a farm like what'd u expect

anyways imagine needing to get smth off a shelf or something and she just comes up behind you and reaches to grab the thing and her arms ohmygod

love languages are definitely acts of service & quality time

CONSTANTLY doing little things for you

holding open the door, getting you flowers every week, randomly cleaning your room when she's at your house, filling up ur drink, ordering for you, etc

such a "my girl" kind of gf

"attagirl" "my girl" "pretty girl" "sweet girl"

randomly gives u compliments

also!! i don't see her as the kind of gf who comments under ur insta posts but she's def the kind who'll post them on her story

she's not a very social media person in general, but any post she does make is probably of you

would def write you a sappy letter on your anniversary/valentines/christmas/new years/your birthday

basically any chance she gets she'll write u a long, sappy letter telling you how much she appreciates you and loves you and yap yap yap

i don't see her as a person who wears much jewelry, but i can definitely see her having a locket with your picture in it, or some kind of matching bracelet

randomly starts yapping about you to the girls

"she's so sweet and i love her an–" "SHUT UP WE GET IT." "dang okay"

they're your biggest fans!!!

pinkie probably made a fan account on insta thats just her posting cute pictures of you guys

rarity helps applejack plan dates and shit

dash playfully flirts with you any chance she gets because she finds it hilarious when aj glares at her

speaking of that, i can't see her being someone who gets jealous super super easily?

like, i can definitely see her sidling up beside you, putting an arm around your waist, and glaring at the person who's flirting with you

"who's this, darlin'?"

she has an rbf so if you're really sunshine-y you guys look ridiculous tg

scary guard dog gf!!!!

such an early riser but if you ask her to stay in bed with you she'll be so dramatic about it (she'll sigh and be like "alright, alright, but just this once" <- its happened multiple times)

apple bloom adores you!!! she'll randomly barge into aj's room to talk to you (aj thinks its cute how much she likes you but she does NOT appreciate her sister's interruption)

100% your biggest supporter

if you do theatre or choir or orchestra, she'll show up to EVERY. SINGLE. PERFORMANCE. you will ever have

if you do sports, trust she'll be at all your games yelling her head off and holding a big ass sign

she's really good at cooking so she'll learn how to make your favorite dishes!!! this also means you guys have cute little dinners at home a lot <3

#mlp x reader #my little pony x reader #equestria girls x reader #mlp eg #applejack x reader #apple jack x reader #mlp applejack #liz’s writing ♡

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woniehugs · 27 days ago

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OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.

CHAPTER 2

—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it’s your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you’ve had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better… or the worst.

—✧ pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you’ll see), friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)

—✧ warnings: heavy makeout sesh (w/ consent)

—✧ word count: 5.6k

—✧ author’s note: and the fun begins…

—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra , @witheeseung , @w3bqrl , @freakywonbin , @enhafika , @enhacolor , @woniebuns , @cyberstephzz , @sumzysworld , @woniefull , @aanniikkaa , @faithnsstuff , @wonnienyang , @wonlluvie , @slut4hee , @hwaluvrsblog , @jakeswifez , @dreamiestay , @jiryunie, @friurt, @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @jakesimfromstatefarm , @heefever, @my10monthslovesimjae, @milanco, @khaisdrz . send an ask if you want to be added!

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

the week passed by as fast as the wind, and before you know it, it was already saturday.

your footsteps echoed along the quiet street, breath fogging up in the cool afternoon air. on one hand, you held a paper bag that contained the materials you bought and needed in constructing your generator. you were surprised to know that jake’s house was just around the corner, three blocks away from yours. that’s why you decided to walk the distance instead of taking a taxi.

as you approached his house, you stopped in your tracks, taking a moment to admire its charming, ivy-covered brick facade. the neighborhood is quiet, and his home stands out, nestled at the end of a cul-de-sac. today would be the first time you two would work together outside of school.

“alright, y/n. you can do this.” you tell yourself, walking towards the house. your heartbeat quickened, not from the chill in the air, but from the uncertainty about what the day would bring. you can feel that something in the air lingered between the two of you ever since the conversation about the project, the vague promise of tension.

the door opens suddenly, and you see jake emerging from the front door, tugging a leash as his dog, layla, bounds out with him. “come here, girl!” he calls out to layla, and you smile at the sight.

jake looks up and sees you, “hey, you made it,” he says, surprised to see you this early. he’s wearing a light gray long-sleeve shirt paired with jogging pants, his hair slightly tousled as if he just rolled out of bed.

how blessed is he to look that good even when his hair is all ruffled? you thought, chuckling at him. “of course i did.”

layla immediately trots over, sniffing your shoes before giving your hand a lick. surprisingly, you didn’t inch away. “see? i told you she was nice. i was just about to take her for a quick walk. wanna tag along?”

you felt a little caught off guard but curious nonetheless. “guess this is the first time you’ve proved me wrong, sim.” you teased in reply, “and sure, it’s still early.” you may or may not have arrived earlier than usual to use the time to talk with jake before working. your plan was surprisingly working.

as you two stroll down the tree-lined street, layla excitedly tugs on the leash, leading the way. walking side by side, you and jake make small talk about the project and upcoming deadlines. but there’s a shift in his tone when you mention the group presentation, as if something else is on his mind. the conversation lulls for a moment, the only sound the crunch of leaves underfoot and layla’s panting.

did i say something wrong? was i not suppose to talk about school?

jake glances sideways at you, his eyes searching your face briefly before he turns his attention back to layla.

“so, have you always been this serious about school stuff?” he asks, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“guess so,” you shrug. “but i didn’t peg you for a dog person.”

he chuckles, “yeah, layla’s my neighbor’s, actually. but they left the country now, so i’m stuck taking care of this furball. not that i mind.” he reaches down to give layla a quick pat, and his arm brushes yours as he straightens back up.

“she’s cute, i’ll give you that. i wish i had a dog this nice.” you reach down to pet layla as well, admiring her soft streaks of white fur. you look up at jake, “if she gets pregnant, please do give me one of her pups. i bet they’ll be even more adorable.”

jake shakes his head, smiling, “nuh-uh. highly doubt she’ll have babies anytime soon. she steers away from any dog that tries to go near her, so the possibility is pretty low if you ask me.”

“may be low, but never zero.”

his laugh rings in your ears, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

the walk back is silent as you walk beside jake. his presence beside you overwhelms your senses in a way that haven’t been before. you sneak a glance at him, and he’s smiling to himself, looking down at layla.

eventually, jake strikes up a conversation again, turning to random topics like favorite movies, mutual friends, anything to fill the silence that seems to grow heavier with each step. the kind of silence that makes you hyper-aware of every little detail: the space between the two of you, the way his arm brushes yours every so often, and the warmth of his voice when he laughs.

when you finally arrive back at his house, he opens the door, letting layla scamper inside. the tension seems to thicken as you follow him step through the front door. the house is quiet, save for the distant hum of a refrigerator. jake gestures toward the living room.

“make yourself at home. layla will be okay here alone, she usually sleeps after a walk.” he says, his voice a little softer now. “i’ll grab us something to drink before we head to the work area.” he disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room. you take a seat on the couch, looking around the house as you hear him rummaging around for glasses.

jake returns with two glasses on one hand and a pitcher filled with orange juice on the other. “alright, follow me. unless you want to stay with layla.”

“i think i’d rather be with you, jake.” you blurted out, not realizing the implication behind your words. you shift in your seat when you realize.

jake’s hand pauses just briefly on the pitcher before a faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. he glances at you, his eyes warm with a mix of surprise and something else you can’t quite place. “alright, then,” he says, his voice quieter than before, almost like he’s trying to process your words.

oh my god, i did not just say that.

yes. yes, you did.

you stand up with the paper bag in hand, following jake as he leads the way to a small room just off the hallway, where a cluttered desk filled with technical equipment and materials, and an array of books and papers await. you look to the other side and notice a well-kept bed. you assume jake probably sleeps there whenever he’s too tired to go up to his room after studying.

as you settle in, the air still feels thick with unspoken words. the room is filled with an ambient sort of closeness, an awareness that every movement, every shared look seems to carry weight.

two chairs are placed in front of the desk. jake sits down on one and you follow, as he sets the glasses and pitcher on the side of the desk. “so,” he begins, his voice steady but his gaze flickering to yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “let’s get started.”

as you and jake worked on the project, your hands would linger a bit too long when passing a pencil or paper, fingertips brushing in a way that sent subtle sparks up your spine. you’d catch each other stealing glances instead of focusing on the work at hand, eyes meeting for a second too long before one of you would clear their throat and look away with a shy smile.

while discussing how to approach certain tasks, the two of you would naturally fall into a rhythm of banter, cracking jokes and laughing in a way that made the air feel lighter, more effortless. you found yourself feeling comfortable with jake, so much that you almost forgot your original plans involving him. in those moments, you were just living in the present.

after a while, the project materials were pushed to the side. “i think we deserve a break,” jake said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “we’ve made enough progress for today, don’t you think?”

you nodded, letting out a relaxed sigh. “yeah, we’re basically experts now,” you joked.

“exactly,” jake chuckled, pouring more juice into your glasses. “so, what do you like to do when you’re not drowning in schoolwork?”

you leaned forward, propping your chin on your hand. “i guess I’m pretty into photography,” you admitted. “it’s like… a way to capture moments exactly how i want to remember them, you know?”

jake’s eyes seemed to brighten at the mention. “really? that’s cool. i actually have an old camera i’ve been playing around with. i’m not great or anything, but it’s fun.”

“maybe you’ll have to show me some of your shots,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “unless you’re too embarrassed.”

jake gave her a playful scoff. “only if you promise not to judge too harshly.”

you two continued talking long after the project was forgotten—about random favorite memories, and even plans after you graduate. at one point, layla wandered into the room, curling up at jake’s feet, as if sensing the calmness that now filled the space.

—

“you want to be a physics teacher after you graduate?”

“mhm, seems like the only suitable option for me, and i don’t really mind. all i know is that i won’t be doing soccer forever.”

“you don’t see yourself doing it for a living?”

“nah, just a hobby. i’m starting to grow out of it. what about you? you want to make a breakthrough in the academe?”

“hmm, possibly. i’ll try but i have a feeling i won’t be pushing myself so hard by the time i graduate. i’ll take things a step at a time, not overwhelm myself so much like i used to.”

“that’s good. from what i’ve heard, college is totally different from high school, so it’s okay to lay back a bit.”

—

“uh, i’ve never been in a relationship.”

“really? how about a crush? a fling? a one-night stand?”

“haha very funny, jake. have you seen me? not a single experience.”

“well, it’s bad to judge someone, you know. who knows, maybe the smart girl has a freaky side to her.”

“…”

“do you?”

“no. but you certainly do look like someone who does though.”

“not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“well, do you?”

“you’ll have to find out.”

—

“i noticed the photo card in your phone case. you like bts?”

“oh my god, yes!”

“cool, i like them too! who’s your bias?”

“pretty sure mine’s self-explanatory, hence, the photo card. it’s jungkook.”

“well, you definitely seem like a jungkook girl.”

“i’ll take that as a compliment. how about you, jake? who’s your bias?”

“i don’t have one. i like all of them equally.”

“right, all armys are ot7. i find it hard to believe you don’t like one member more.

“no really, i really do—“

“—maybe you’re a taehyung biased.”

“i’m really not.”

“you do kind of look like him.”

“w-what? no i don’t—“

“you do! maybe with the right hairstyle and makeup.”

“stop lying, it’s not funny.”

“i’m not!”

—

as the afternoon slowly drifted into evening, you realized how easily the time had slipped by, how natural it felt to be there with him, just sharing these moments. with a big smile on your face as you listened to jake talk about his experience with the soccer team, you found yourself wishing this moment will never end.

• • •

weeks went by, and jake’s presence beside you had become a regular part of your life, though you were still trying to adjust. you’d meet up every saturday at his house to work on your physics project, and you looked forward to it every time. you’d catch yourself thinking about him more often than you’d like to admit, whether he was actually talking to you or just doing mundane things like tapping his pen against the desk or running his fingers through his hair.

today was no different. you were supposed to be paying attention to mr. lewis’s lecture on mitosis, but all you could focus on was how jake kept stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. maybe it was your imagination. or maybe he actually noticed you just as much as you noticed him. you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but that flicker of curiosity only fueled your daydreams further.

when the bell finally rang, releasing everyone for lunch, you packed your things a bit slower than usual. jake, however, was still standing near his desk, and you could feel his eyes lingering on you.

“hey, y/n,” he called out, catching your attention.

you looked up, somewhat startled. “yeah?”

he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “you’re heading out to the soccer field again, right?”

you blinked in surprise. how did he know that? “uh, yeah. why?”

“i thought I’d join you—if that’s okay,” he added quickly, as though worried you’d say no. “i noticed you go there a lot, and the cafeteria’s just… not my vibe today.”

you hesitated, unsure how to respond. the soccer field had always been your place of solitude, your escape from the chaos inside the school. yet, the thought of jake joining you didn’t seem as intrusive as it might have before. in fact, a small part of you was secretly thrilled.

“sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “i mean, if you don’t mind the wind and all.”

he grinned, grabbing his backpack. “you’re talking to a soccer player. i think i’ll survive.”

as you walked side by side across the school grounds, you kept your gaze forward, but you could feel jake’s presence closer than ever. you could hear the whispers from students as you walked pass them. jake didn’t seem to mind, and you decided to pretend you didn’t too. their opinions didn’t matter.

once you reached the bleachers, you took your usual seat and started unpacking your lunch while he sat down beside you.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke. you weren’t sure what to say, and the silence seemed to stretch on, almost becoming awkward.

“so… you come out here a lot.” jake broke the silence, glancing at you with that familiar, easygoing smile.

“yeah,” you nodded. “it’s quiet. peaceful.” you gestured towards the empty field. “no crowds. you know, just to clear my head.”

“i get that,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “sometimes you just need to get away from everyone. the school field is the best place, definitely.”

you looked at him, trying to gauge his expression. there was something about his voice that suggested he wasn’t just talking about today. “you don’t seem like the type who’d need to get away,” you remarked. “you’re always surrounded by people.”

he chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of it.”

the honesty in his tone surprised you, and for a brief moment, you saw a different side of him—the side that wasn’t just the popular, charming soccer player. there was a quiet vulnerability there, one that made you wonder just how much of jake’s life was a performance.

remembering the time you saw him out the field during lunch, you decided to ask, “you come here often?”

“sometimes,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “usually after practice. it’s different when it’s quiet, without everyone running around.”

you shared a small smile, feeling a bit of your tension ease. it’s nice to know you shared the same sentiments. “i didn’t think you’d be the reflective type.”

jake shrugged. “i guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“maybe,” you agreed, “but that goes both ways.”

jake turned to you with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “what about you, Y/N?” he asked. “you’ve got that whole ‘perfect student’ thing going on, but… do you ever feel like you just want to do something crazy?”

his question caught you off guard. yes, i’ve felt like wanting to do something crazy for months now. it totally isn’t trying to get you to fuck me senseless. i am exhausted.

you hesitated, wondering if he could sense how restless you’d been feeling lately. “well, yeah,” you admitted. “i guess… sometimes i just want to break free from all the expectations, you know?”

jake’s gaze deepened, as if searching for something in your words. “yeah,” he said quietly. “i get that.”

you took a breath, the conversation feeling strangely intimate. it was the first time you’d spoken to anyone about this, let alone jake. yet here you were, sharing bits of your thoughts with the boy who’d been living in the back of your mind for weeks.

the conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, with the two of you chatting about everything. it was easy, natural, like you’d known each other much longer than you actually had. you found yourself laughing more than you expected, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time.

before you knew it, lunch was over. you hadn’t finished eating, and jake didn’t seem to care about the time either. but the bell was a harsh reminder that you both had to return to reality, and whatever small escape you’d found out here was over, at least for now.

as you both stood to leave, jake paused and glanced back at you. “hey, y/n,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful, “maybe we could… do this again sometime. you know, go somewhere outside of school. besides my house.”

you felt your heartbeat quicken, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. things were really going to take a turn from here.

“yeah,” you replied, “i’d like that.”

• • •

it wasn’t long before you and jake began seeking each other out more frequently. sometimes, you’d find him waiting for you outside your classroom when you had different classes, and other times, you’d spot him at the library, sitting in the back where he’d save you a seat. it was as though an unspoken understanding had formed—a subtle promise that you’d always find each other, no matter how busy or chaotic the day became.

one saturday afternoon (you’re not sure how many weeks have passed), the two of you were finishing up the final adjustments to the generator. you were bent over the desk, scribbling some notes while jake tested the output voltage. you were standing so close that the faintest movement would have your skin brushing against his. as you handed him the screwdriver, your fingers touched his, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

jake froze, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. for a heartbeat, everything else seemed to fade away. there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a question lingering in the air between you. the proximity of his face made your heart pound in your chest, he was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, and you thought, just for a second, that he might lean in. you weren’t entirely sure what you’d do if he did. maybe you’d close the distance too.

that’s what you wanted, right?

your breath catches, and you feel your pulse quicken, then the spell breaks. jake clears his throat and takes a step back, the moment shattering as if it had never existed. “we should get back to it,” he says casually, his voice steady despite the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

“r-right…” you nod frantically, dropping your gaze back to your notes. your hand is still trembling slightly as you pick up the pen, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles where his touch had lingered. you force yourself to focus on the adjustments needed, pretending you hadn’t just felt that small, reckless urge to close the distance between you.

get it together, y/n.

• • •

the following monday, you spot jake in the hallway before your first class. he’s standing by his locker, casually chatting with a few friends, his usual easygoing demeanor on full display. as you approach him, your stomach knots with anticipation, replaying the memory of that saturday afternoon—the lingering touch, the almost kiss. you’re not sure what to expect, but you can’t shake that anxious feeling.

but when jake turns and catches your eye, there’s no trace of the tension from before. his face lights up with a friendly smile, and he gives you a quick nod, as if it were just another ordinary morning. “hey, there you are,” he says, his tone as casual as ever. “did you check the generator’s voltage log yet? I think we might need to recalibrate it before our next test.”

you hesitate for a split second, your heart sinking just a little. his nonchalance feels like a splash of cold water, dispelling the warmth of that near-kiss with a stark clarity. you force yourself to return his smile, trying to mask the uncertainty tightening in your chest. “uh, yeah. i can look at it during lunch,” you reply, your voice coming out more neutral than you’d intended.

as you walk together to class, jake continues talking about the project, updates on the generator, plans for the upcoming test—but you can’t help but notice how effortlessly he steers the conversation away from anything personal. there’s no mention of last saturday, no hint that anything unusual had happened. it’s as if that almost-moment between you had been wiped away, swept under the rug without a second thought.

the rational part of you tries to follow his lead, to convince yourself that maybe it hadn’t been a big deal after all. maybe you’d just imagined the way his gaze had lingered on you a little too long, the way his breath had hitched for just a second. but there’s a part of you—an irrational, persistent part—that can’t help but wonder if he’s pretending not to remember, or if he’s simply choosing not to acknowledge it.

as you settle into your seat, jake gives you one last friendly nod before taking his place beside you. you catch yourself glancing over at him throughout the class, searching for any sign of the tension that had hung between you so heavily just days ago. but jake doesn’t look your way; he’s absorbed in his notes, laughing quietly at something the person next to him says, his attention entirely elsewhere.

it leaves you with a strange emptiness, a gnawing uncertainty about what, if anything, the two of you are really moving towards. and as the bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you’re still not sure how to feel—whether to be relieved that things haven’t become awkward, or disappointed that they haven’t changed at all.

maybe i should bring it up. but then that would show that i might be interested.

you technically are. but i thought the plan here was to make him do the first move, y/n. not the other way around.

well, nothing’s going to happen if i don’t let him know what i want. and i can’t wait anymore.

simp.

perhaps i am.

“ugh, fucking hell.” you curse under your breath, grabbing your things and shoving them into your bag. without looking back or waiting for jake like you usually do, you storm out of the classroom and head to your next class, ignoring his voice calling after you.

• • •

you and jake were back at his house, hunched over the generator once more. the quiet hum of the machine and the occasional clink of tools were the only sounds in the room. as the afternoon wore on, the work slowed, and a familiar tension began to seep back into the air. you could feel it every time jake’s shoulder brushed against yours or when your hands met over a tool, but neither of you said a word about it.

eventually, you set your wrench down and leaned back against the chair, crossing your arms. "can i be completely honest?” you started, even though you could feel yourself shaking by starting off a conversation this way.

“you’ve been... different lately," you continued, your tone casual but your eyes searching his face. "i mean, not that I'm keeping tabs or anything, but you're not exactly acting like the same jake I know. did i… do something wrong?"

jake glanced at you, then back at the generator, fiddling with one of the wires.

ouch. holding eye contact while talking would be nice.

"what are you talking about?" he replied, keeping his voice neutral. "i should be the one asking you since you’ve been leaving me behind the classroom since monday. i’m the same as always."

you cringe upon remembering, "oh really?" you retorted, raising your voice. "because even layla senses that you’re acting indifferent. she kept whimpering the entire time ever since i got here, jake.” you feel tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like you’re being overdramatic about the whole thing. you couldn’t care less anymore. it was now or never.

“last saturday didn't feel like nothing to me, neither are the past couple of weeks." you whispered the last part. your words hung in the air, heavier than you intended, but you couldn't take them back now. it had been said and done.

jake’s hand stilled over the wires, his jaw tightening. he lets out a deep sigh, "we were just... close. it didn't mean anything. you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “spoken like a true fuckboy, huh? how many girls have you said that to? bet it’s half the campus. i’ve probably walked pass by almost all of them in the hallways. they’re always giggling about ‘oh jake, yes, oh he’s so amazing, oh i could—“

“stop talking, y/n. or you’ll regret it.” jake glares at you for a moment, a hard tone in his voice before turning his attention back to the wires.

okay, that was too far.

"right. back to the subject at hand. if i was to walk up to you right now and try to kiss you, it wouldn't mean anything?"

he turned to you then, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. "we’re project partners, y/n. and became friends because of it.”

jeez, how many times has he said my name now? and second, ouch.

“and you wouldn't dare." jake finished, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"i might," you shot back, standing up from your seat and putting one hand on your hip, taking a step closer. "or maybe i just want to know why you keep pretending like it didn't almost happen."

jake let out a short, frustrated breath, standing up and taking a step toward you as well. you quietly gulped at how much taller he is than you. "because it didn’t happen, okay? we stopped ourselves, and that was probably for the best."

"then why are you still thinking about it?" you countered, your voice quieter now, but every word laced with challenge. “you know how much it hurt me when we saw each other last monday and you pretended as if nothing had happened, that everything was alright. i’ve been an overthinking wreck since that day, jake!”

“what are you trying to say?”

“i-“ you started, trying to find the right words without having to explicitly tell him. you didn’t think you could handle being the first out of the two of you to admit what you were feeling the whole time. or be rejected, and find out it was one-sided all along.

“i don’t know…”

“no, you do know. why don’t you just tell me so we can understand each other and what’s going on.” jake was close enough now that you could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his gaze kept flicking to your lips, like he was struggling to hold himself back.

you groaned in frustration, running your other hand through your hair, “goddamnit jake! you really want me to say it out loud? i don’t know if i can, okay?! i’m freaking out!”

"well, then, what do you want me to say?" he murmured, his voice low. even though you were already raising your voice at him, you were glad that jake still spoke in that soft tone of his. that made your heart warm.

"that i do want to kiss you? because i... i do."

you met his eyes, your breath catching. "then what's stopping you?" you whispered, a slight tremor in your voice. "because i want to, too. badly."

silence engulfed in the room, only yours and jake’s heavy breathing could be heard, and you aren’t sure what that insinuated. you could hear a ringing in your ears, and you didn’t think you could bear the heavy atmosphere anymore. you blink your tears back before turning away from him and heading towards the door.

that seemed to break the last thread of jake’s restraint. before you could even take a step, in an instant, jake grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you towards him. you yelp when he closed the distance between you, his other hand curling around the back of your neck as he pressed his lips on yours.

the kiss was hard, desperate, as though all the weeks of tension had finally snapped. you let your eyes fall close as you kissed him back equally as desperate. you can feel the plumpness of his lips that you’ve been staring at only a few weeks. you’ve been anticipating this for so long. and now that it’s happening, you’re not so sure what to do, but you let jake take the lead.

you put one hand on his chest, the other tangled in his hair, eliciting a small groan out of him. you barely registered the moment jake guided you to his bed, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered over you. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck. the kiss deepened, turning hungry, both of you lost in the heat of the moment.

you weren't sure how long it lasted. time seemed to blur together with the feel of his lips and the warmth of his body against yours. for a while, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. just the two of you, tangled up in each other, with all the things left unsaid now spilling over into every touch and kiss.

the kiss grew more heated, and the room seemed to shrink around you. jake’s hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt to touch your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “i-is this okay?” he asks you, voice shaking with need. you responded eagerly, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as if trying to anchor yourself in the moment. every kiss, every brush of his lips against your skin felt urgent, like you were both trying to make up for lost time.

jake pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. but you met his eyes with the same intensity, your lips parting slightly as you whispered, "don’t stop."

he didn't need to be told twice. jake’s lips were back on yours, more insistent this time. he lowered himself over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress in a way that made your pulse quicken. you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, jake’s breath warm against your cheek as he kissed a line down your jaw, then back up to your lips again. it was like he couldn't get enough, like he was afraid if he stopped, this would all somehow slip away.

his hand slipped under your back, pulling you even closer, and you could feel his heart pounding as fast as yours. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, and the unspoken tension that had been building for so long finally had an outlet. it was a release, yes, but also a beginning—of what, you weren't sure yet.

for now, you didn't need to know. all that mattered was the way jake was kissing you like he'd been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

you felt the edge of the mattress dip as jake adjusted his position, pressing his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. his voice was low and rough when he spoke. "you don't know how long I've wanted to do that," he admitted, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

you let out a soft laugh, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "then why didn't you?"

jake’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "i wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. i didn't want to ruin things... didn't want to make things complicated between us."

you reached up, your hand cupping his face. "maybe it is complicated," you whispered. "but I'm okay with that." jake lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. "are you sure?" he asked, his tone hesitant despite everything you'd just shared.

instead of answering, you pulled him back down for another kiss, your lips telling him everything he needed to know. and as his arms tightened around you, you could feel something shifting between you both—something that couldn't be taken back now, but you weren't sure you'd want to even if you could.

you’re steps closer away from the goal.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

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325 notes · View notes

maretinelli · 3 months ago

Text

A SURPRISE OF LOVE

Daryl Dixon X fem!reader

Summary: Where Daryl's wife goes on a patrol and arrives all injured, but during the exams Daryl discovers another member.

Words: 1.7K+

Warnings: Blood, bruises, TWD characters, pregnancy, Daryl daddy, and happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes that may be made. Second, I love Daryl and I wanted him to be the father of my children. That's it!!

MASTERLIST

Things weren't going well in Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop. With the arrival of the Whisperers, it seemed like everything had turned upside down again.

But giving up wasn't something they really wanted to do. They would fight as many times as it took to keep everyone they loved safe.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says, approaching his wife near the Hilltop gates.

Y/n turns around quickly at the man's voice.

"No, you don't need to. I'm just going to take a look at the neighborhood I saw nearby, there might be some supplies to share with Alexandria and Reino." S/n says without worries and smiles.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says again as he asks someone to reach for his bow.

Y/n turns to her husband and holds back a smile.

"Hey, I'll be fine out there by myself. If that's what you're worried about. We've been through so much, one round isn't going to hurt anyone."

•

Minutes, hours passed. And still no sign of S/n arriving at the community again.

Daryl knew where this place she was going to was, they found out together.

"Did you see if S/n arrived? She left a few hours ago and hasn't shown any signs of life until now" Daryl asks Carol, who was on patrol at that time.

"No. Since I've been here, no one has come or gone." Carol says. "Maybe Connie or Rosita could have seen her. Has it been long since she left?"

"About 4 hours. And the place she said is close, there's no reason for it taking so long" Daryl says a little harshly, but inside he was eating himself up with fear of losing his wife.

"Oh... Do you want me to go ask Connie if she saw S/n?"

"No, no. I'll go look for her." Daryl leaves.

from where he was and goes looking for a dog and equipment to leave the community.

Carol starts to worry too. Y/n had been with them since the quarry, the girl who had now become a woman was a great friend, partner and companion of Carol. If she had to say it, Carol would say that Y/n was her best friend.

Daryl walks to the armory to gear up, while Carol returns to her guard post.

The sun was almost setting, but the heat it gave off was almost hellish. Carol wiped the sweat from her forehead when she heard the other guards shout that someone was approaching.

"Open up!! Open up, it's Y/N!!" Carol screams.

When they opened the gates, Carol came across a woman covered in blood. Her hair was half out of her ponytail, her boots were untied, and there was blood all over her body.

"Y/n!!" Carol throws what she has in her hands and runs to the woman. "Oh my God..."

That blood wasn't zombie's, it was all hers.

There was a deep cut on the right side of the woman's stomach. A lot of blood was gushing out.

"Carol..." Y/n said softly, as her legs felt weak.

The blonde-haired woman holds S/n so she doesn't fall to the ground.

"Were you bitten? Y/N, were you bitten?" Carol asks in desperation.

Y/n tries to speak but she feels very weak due to the blood loss. She just shakes her head negatively.

Which made Carol's heart calm down a little.

"I...I..." Y/n tries to say something, but everything around her started to turn black and blurry. "Carol...my...I'm pregnant...five weeks" she says in a whisper before fainting in Carol's arms.

Carol is in ecstasy for a few seconds, until Daryl's voice snaps her out of her trance.

"S/NNN!!"

•

3 days later...

After Daryl got to where Y/n and Carol were, they quickly took her so Enid could evaluate her and give a diagnosis as quickly as possible.

At the moment, S/n was lying on a bed in the makeshift infirmary, which was now run by Enid.

Little by little, the Dixon Woman slowly opened her eyes, getting used to the sunlight after a few days of sleeping.

"Good morning, flower of the day" She hears Enid's voice beside her.

Y/n still tries to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Daryl asked me to open the curtains all the way. He told me you love waking up to sunlight, I thought it would help." Enid says smiling, as she walks over to the window to close it.

Y/n smiles as she imagines Daryl saying that.

"Good morning," S/n says smiling, trying to sit up in bed. But she winces in pain. "Aw, aw..."

"Hey, hey. I'll help you," Enid says, approaching the woman to help her get ready on the bed. "I put some stitches in your belly. Can you tell me what happened? So I can put it in the medical record."

Y/n grimaces in pain, but nods.

"I was attacked by a horde of zombies. I had to jump over a wall to save myself, but there was some barbed wire. I kind of got tangled up..." She says with a half smile.

"Oh yeah, it kind of got tangled up" Enid smiles at Y/n, as she turns to get some more medicine for Y/n. "Well, let me give you a summary of what I did here for you in those days that you slept."

"How many days was I out?"

"Three days"

"Wow..."

"Yes... Well, after Carol and her husband brought you here, I stopped the wound, gave you some medicine to ease the pain, put in some stitches, and went to check on the baby. Carol said that you..."

"Oh shit..." S/n leans back and puts her hand on her head, tears starting to fall.

"Oh no, you didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought..."

"No, no...I knew...I know about the baby. It's been a while now." S/n looks at Enid with tears in her eyes.

"Congratulations" Enid says happily.

Y/n starts to cry softly, while looking at Enid.

"Oh no...I take back the congratulations?" Enid didn't know what to do.

"No, no," Y/n laughed through her tears. "I'm glad I did. But I haven't told Daryl yet... damn, Daryl... Does he know?"

"I told you...I didn't know you hadn't told him, if I had known I would have left it alone" Enid starts talking quickly.

"It's okay, Enid. It's okay..." Y/n agrees with a smile. "It's just that he and I have only talked about it two or three times. He must be in shock, that's all..."

"Look...if that was your concern. Whenever he comes, he asks about the baby first, how the vital signs are and everything" Enid says with love in her eyes.

Y/n chokes back a little more tears, just imagining her tough husband asking about her little baby. She smiles.

"Serious?"

"Yes. For those three days he slept next to you, and in the middle of the night when I came to give him his intravenous medication, I saw him looking at the ultrasound photo. Maybe he's not that shocked after all." She smiles at Y/n.

Y/n smiles too.

Seconds later, they heard the infirmary door open. It was the archer entering.

Seeing Y/n awake, a breath of relief was released from Daryl's lungs, and a few tears could be gathering in his eyes.

"He came back later, you must be doing some tests," he says awkwardly. Y/n holds back a smile.

"Oh, no, no. We were just shooting the breeze. I have to go out anyway," Enid says, looking between Daryl and Y/N. "I'll be back later to see you guys." Enid looks at Y/N, and she nods.

As they pass Daryl, Enid gives him a friendly smile and closes the infirmary door, so they have more privacy.

Daryl approaches Y/n, who begins to shed some silent tears.

"I thought I was going to lose you"

You

You...

For the first time, Y/n heard Daryl talk about his baby.

That was the end, Y/n started to shed tears from her eyes and sob. Covering her eyes with her hands, Daryl approaches her wife and wraps her in a hug. Shedding a few tears as well.

"It's okay...it's okay," Daryl says quietly.

"No. I'm sorry, Daryl...I'm sorry." Y/n's voice was muffled due to her crying and her hands on her face.

"Hey, hey. Why the apologies?" He stands up, holding his wife's hands affectionately, so she can look at him.

"The baby. I knew about the baby for about 3 weeks and I didn't tell you. I know we didn't talk about it much, and I was scared."

"Afraid of what, doll?" Daryl says worriedly.

"That's nonsense to say." Y/n shakes her head. "But I was afraid you wouldn't want him." She looks at Daryl. He can feel his heart break.

"Honey, I would never do that. We may have talked about it once or twice, but never. NEVER. I would let you or the baby go through terrible things. I want him, I really want that peanut" he says all cute at the end, which made Y/n smile at the part where he gave the baby a nickname already. "I may have some fears about being a father, but that's not why I'm going to reject him. I'll do my best, and I know you will too" he hugs Y/n again.

"You're making me cry again," she said smiling as she snuggled closer to her husband.

"Just promise me one thing. You'll never go out alone again."

Y/n nods.

"I don't want to lose you. Or the baby. Please."

"Okay," Y/n sniffs. "But look, I got supplies for the communities," she pulls out of the hug a little and smiles.

"Shut up, woman. You almost died," Daryl says with his somewhat harsh affection, making Y/n smile.

"Okay. I'll stop messing around with this." She says, getting ready in bed.

Silence reigns between the two, a comfortable silence between them. While Daryl held his wife's hand and caressed it.

"I have something to show you"

"But already? Our baby hasn't even been born and you're already like this?" S/n teases, smiling sideways.

Daryl just snorts and rolls his eyes.

"You are impossible"

"Yeah. I am." S/n says laughing, but stops when she feels a pain. "Don't make me laugh."

Daryl smiles and then reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"Here, Enid gave this to me after she assessed the baby. I knew about him right then." Daryl hands over a picture of their ultrasound.

"Look there," S/n said, wiping away some tears of emotion. "Our baby."

"Peanut"

"Oh sure, peanut." She looks at the picture a little longer, before turning to her husband. "Sorry again for not telling you about the peanut sooner."

"It's okay now. We'll be okay, the three of us."

"I heard I'm going to be an aunt?" Carol walks into the infirmary, making Y/n and Daryl smile.

"Yes!!" Y/n says excitedly.

Author: I love reading Daryl a father of babies🤯😫

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #lovers #marriage #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead #babies #baby #carol peletier

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obxologies · 1 year ago

Note

a request if u want tooo🥺 i really like dark rafe cameron i need one where he broke up with her because he is scared to love but she walks on weird dudes trying to as*ault her and he just goes crazy because he realises he really love her

𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

warnings: soft dark!rafe cameron, attempted sexual assault (not by rafe), physical violence, (soft?) angst, a little manipulation

requested?: yes

author's note: i actually had an idea similar to this so i added in a little of my own details, i hope you still like it. if you guys want more dark!character fics, i won't stop you from requesting 👀. dividers made by @cafekitsune

Tanneyhill was overcrowded with teenagers as music blared from every speaker in the house. The back doors were wide open as people went in and out.

Sarah and y/n held hands as they pushed their way to the backyard. Sarah led them to a small area where the could talk alone.

"So, see anyone you like?" Sarah asked y/n as they observed the people around them. "I saw your man from World History inside. What about him?"

"Eh," y/n shrugged uninterested in the boy. "He's cute, but he's unimaginable stupid."

"Okay." Sarah laughed at her. "Well, we need to find you someone. We didn't throw this for not to get laid." She smirked a little making y/n roll her eyes.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. They both turned to see Rafe with Topper and Kelce. y/n rolled her eyes and turned back around while Sarah groaned.

"Why are you here, Rafe?" Sarah asked. "I thought you three were having a sleepover." Rafe rolled his eyes.

"We came back here instead." Rafe shrugged. "Didn't know we'd be crashing a party." He said staring at y/n's back.

"So leave then." Sarah gave him a fake smile and turned back around.

"I think we'll stay actually." Rafe said slowly walking away with Topper and Kelce.

"God, he's annoying." Sarah huffed. "Sorry, he was supposed to be gone until tomorrow." She gave her a 'sorry' smile.

"Don't worry about it." y/n shook her head. "Just help me get to him." She nodded towards a boy who sat by the fire pit with a friend of theirs.

Rafe leaned against the wall as he watched y/n and the boy she had just met talk on the couch. She was practically sitting on his lap as she threw back her drink. She had clearly had one too many while trying to loosen herself up. Rafe's blood started to boil as the boy's hand moved to her thigh and slowly up.

"Can you not stare at them like a creeper?" Sarah snapped at Rafe. He peeled his eyes away from the scene in front of him. "You broke up with her, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Rafe stated through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you stalking her?" Sarah shrugged crossing her arms.

"I'm making sure she's okay." Rafe said. "Do you even know who that guy is?"

"Our friend knows him." Sarah told him. "His name is Cooper."

"Yeah, I know." Rafe huffed. "He's Logan Foreman's younger brother."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Sarah furrowed her brows.

"He's an asshole who treats girls like shit." Rafe told her.

"Oh, and you've never mistreated a girl?" Sarah tilted her head at him. "Can you just admit you're jealous and leave them be?" Sarah laughed. "It's pathetic, Rafe."

"Where did they go?" Rafe stood up straight from putting all his weight against the wall.

"Jesus, Rafe! You're like a guard dog." Sarah scoffed before walking away.

Rafe ignored her comment looking around the house for y/n. He whipped his head around and caught a glimpse of y/n drunkenly stumbling down a hallway while Cooper had his hand wrapped around her wrist; dragging her to a guest bedroom. Rafe immediately started pushing people to get to the stairs.

"Rafe! Stop!" Sarah shouted. "You're so controlling!" She hurried after him, wishing everyone would move out of the way.

Rafe cursed under his breath at the, what felt like, unnecessary amount of stairs. For he once he didn't appreciate having such a big house. He pushed open every door most of them, fortunately, being empty. The only door locked was the last one at the end of the hallway. He started banging his fist on the door.

"Someone's in here!" He heard Cooper shouted from inside only adding fuel to the fire.

Rafe stepped back before throwing his body into the door. He huffed and reeled his leg back, kicking the wooden door open. He stomped inside the room seeing Cooper on top of y/n who was confused, attempting to push him off of her.

"Mother Fucker." Rafe spat charging towards Cooper. He grabbed the back of his shirt getting him off of her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rafe grabbed him roughly making him face him. "You think I was gonna let you get away with that?"

"She's not your girl anymore, Cameron." Cooper chuckled, but was cut off my Rafe swinging at him. His fist connecting directly to his jaw.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." Rafe kicked his legs out from underneath him before getting on top of him and beginning to pummel his fist into his face. Cooper's blood poured out of his nose and mouth onto Rafe's fist and the floor.

"Oh my god," Sarah exclaimed seeing Rafe. Topper and Kelce ran into the room going to pull Rafe off of Cooper. "y/n!" She ran to the bed sitting next to her.

"Sarah.." y/n grabbed her hand. Her brain still fuzzy from the liquor, but being more alert now.

"It's me." Sarah nodded. "I'm so sorry. It's gonna be okay." She let y/n lean into her. She wrapped her arms around her tight. Tears welled in her eyes feeling slightly responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry."

y/n only scooted as close to Sarah as she could. The feeling of her arms around her and her hand stroking her head making her feel safe again.

"Rafe! Man, stop!" Topper and Kelce shouted using all their strength to pull Rafe off the boy before he killed him.

Cooper coughed, blooding splashing onto the floor.

The room fell almost completely silent. The only noises being heard was the boys heavy breathing, Cooper's whining, and Sarah's sniffling.

"Get everyone out." Rafe instructed Topper and Kelce. They looked at Sarah who nodded before they walked out the room. "Make sure she's okay." Rafe looked at Sarah. His stare was hard, telling Sarah he was blaming her.

"I will." Sarah nodded.

Rafe grabbed Cooper and pulled him up. The boy groaned and struggled against his grip, but Rafe was still able to drag the boy away.

"I'm so sorry, y/n." Sarah leaned her forehead against hers.

"It's not your fault." y/n whispered. "Just keeping holding me, please."

y/n laid in Sarah's bed in a pair of comfy clothes she had left before. She stared at the tv not really paying attention to the show as Sarah was in her bathroom showering.

The bedroom door opened making y/n sit up. She relaxed a little upon seeing Rafe. He quietly closed the door as walked over the side of the bed.

"Hi?" y/n said softly. She moved letting her feet hang off the side.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asked sitting beside her.

"Yeah." She nodded looking at him shyly. "Thank you."

"I would never let anyone hurt you." Rafe said. "Together or not. I won't let anyone touch you."

y/n gave him a small smile before looking down at her feet.

"I wanna get back together, baby." Rafe said. He got down on his knees in front of her so her thighs were on either side of him.

"Rafe..." y/n sighed. "You're just saying that because you're worried. You don't love me." She shook her head.

"I love you more than anything else in the world, baby." Rafe grabbed her face in his hands. "I thought letting you go would protect you, but I now know the only way you'll be safest is with me."

"What?" y/n scrunched her brows.

"You can't do things like this anymore. You have to stay with me. You saw what happened tonight when I let you go on your own. What if I wasn't here?" Rafe explained. "You have to stay with me, okay?"

"Okay." y/n nodded slowly.

Rafe smiled getting up off his knees. He leaned down kissing her forehead. "Stay with Sarah tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

#outer banks #obxologies #x reader #obx #outer banks x reader #imagines #rafe cameron #drew starkey #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #sarah cameron x best friend!reader #dark!rafe cameron fic #dark!rafe cameron one shot #dark!rafe cameron imagine

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

Text

More Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley and Taskforce Moments With Little Ghost

+ Featuring Los Vaqueros Uncles, Meemaw Laswell (and her wife?), Peepaw Nikolai, Aunty Farah and Uncle Alex

Did I use the same pictures as I did with the last posts? Yes, because these pictures are so Ghostie coded. Also there's like a slight ✨sprinkle✨ of Angst in there, good luck <3

Tag list: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui HAS THE BEST FREAKING COMMENTARY AND IS SO SWEET, SHE MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'M SOME AUTHOR WHO WROTE A FAMOUS BOOK, ILY CONNORSUI <3 (ngl, I go back to read her commentary over and over again because if how nice they make me feel 😭)

Pairings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

This is my personal AU, I don't think anyone has written on little Ghostie before I did. Not to say that there aren't any works on Dad!Ghost and his kids however Ghostie is a character of mine who holds such a special place in my heart, especially after I started writing more about her and how she acts around everyone.

Possible ships: Farah x Alex (Faralex)?? Alejandro x Rudy (Alerudy)?? Price x Nikolai (Nikprice)??

I know Halloween season is over but y'all can't do anything about this, it's been cooking in my brain for a while now. (Some of these are just regular scenarios though) Ghostie is back y'all!!!

❥ Ghostie who simultaneously made her way into convincing the Taskforce to go with her trick or treating, having her little army uniform that was commissioned for her, a bit visible underneath her pink puffy jacket. Yeah I don't think she's going to stop wearing it unless she's outgrown it, in which case, that would just break her big heart :((

❥ Simon holding little Ghostie's hand while she toddles, she would NOT go anywhere without either her dad's, her mum's or her uncle Gaz's hand. Having her tiny chubby fingers gripping onto two of her dad's fingers as he guides her up big steps. Catching her when she accidentally slips on the slippery steps.

❥ The rest of the Taskforce being behind her like a bunch of guard dogs, ain't nobody is gonna try and scare her because of the big burly men next to her. Photo was provided by my favorite artist last Halloween, @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie having the sweetest voice ever, she so polite, so much so that she makes the her dad and uncles chuckle at her. (This is how I imagined her voice to sound like)

"Say trick or treat.." Gaz whispers, coaching her from behind as someone from the house opens the door. Two women in costumes, holding a big candy bowl.

"trwick or trweat.." Little Ghostie mumbles, far too shy and almost hiding behind her uncle.

"What a cute costume you have there, here, take these ones" one of the women said, adding the candy to Ghostie's little basket.

"Thank you!" Ghostie exclaims, making the two girls awe at her politeness and eagerness.

❥ Yeah Ghostie definitely pronounces Halloween as "Ha-Hoween".

❥ I can't help but think that they came across that one house with a sign that said "leave your single dad's number if he's attractive" and as a joke, uncle Gaz threw in a piece of paper with peepaw Price's number on it, only to have peepaw Nikolai fish it out of the candy bowl when he thought no one could see him.. but Ghostie did.

Not Halloween related:

❥ Safe to say that when uncle Gaz doesn't like someone, neither does Ghostie, if you all can recall that cutscene from mw3, Gaz did NOT even bother to acknowledge Philip's existence. That being said, Ghostie gives the nastiest side-eyes to him the moment he even opens his mouth. (Yeah she got from her dad)

❥ Ghostie absolutely loves getting head pats and giving them, to her, it's one of the best forms of praise. Anyone gives her head pats gets to witness her absolutely adorable reaction, the way her eyes light up, those little lips curling into a smile causing her chubby cheeks to be prominent and her eyes squinting. Mostly loves doing it to uncle Soap, because the mohawk is fluffy.

❥ Maybe at some point, when Philip decides to behave then he can earn the head pats from Ghostie.

❥ Meals with the Taskforce and Ghostie are a certified hit, she has quite the appetite and she shows it. Simon takes it upon himself to always does what his wife does at home when he's out with Ghostie, bringing her silicone bib and baby utensils. (Even the bulky ass highchair attachment that he keeps in that back of his car/truck)

"More please..." Ghostie says, making grabby hands, in the middle of chewing after observing that her plate is yet again empty.

Price chuckles, looking at Simon who was now careful about the amount of food to add on Ghostie's plate because the toddler is on her third round of food.

❥ Ghostie enjoys clapping her hands and anything as well, especially after eating and being satisfied.

❥ Ghostie is into tea, her dad got her hooked on it.

"Aye, what about you Ghostie? What'd you like?" Soap asks the little one who's currently keeping herself busy with her custom coloring book.

"Tea!" She says, looking up for a bit to Soap before focusing back on her coloring.

"You heard her Johnny, make that two.." Simon says with a pretty firm pat on the back for Soap.

"Fuckin' Brits..."

❥ Auntie Farah and uncle Alex are the babysitters when uncle Gaz, uncle Soap and peepaw Price ain't around. Farah loves that kid to death, if she was being honest, she saw a lot of resemblance between Simon and Ghostie. Of course there are looks were, she's basically a carbon copy of him but also mannerisms;

❥ Ghostie who copies her dad, being adamant about being cleanly and tidy, oftentimes catching people surprised that she tidies up after herself immediately after playing before moving onto another set of toys, coloring books and coloring materials. She notices and mirrors how Simon is consistent in keeping things tidy and out the way.

❥ Whenever Ghostie is at home with her momma (you) and Simon had to run errands, she always wakes up first, seeing how her dad gets up early too.

Ghostie rises up with a soft yawn, rubbing her tiny eyes with her hands, she looked around at the still dimly lit room. She turned her head from side to side looking for her dad.

She was met by him standing and dressing himself up in a black hoodie to go out and buy something. She gives him that cheek to cheek smile before leaning her cheek and closing her eyes, mandatory kiss from dad before he left.

"Alright pumpkin, dada's leaving now. I'll be back later, be good and don't give momma a hard time.." Simon reminded her after giving her cheek a kiss.

"Okay dada- promise.." Ghostie yawns mid sentence.

❥ Ghostie who, ever since she way younger, loved to cup her dad's face and nuzzle her nose into his. A tradition that Simon doesn't know if he's ready to see it go when she grows up. Neither is he ready for her to start correcting the words she's been pronouncing wrong;

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart broke once he realizes that the "I love you"s will slowly start to be less and less when she becomes a teen, he's silently wishing to himself that it won't be reduced to not being said at all. You had to reassure him that it won't happen, not when Ghostie's the sweetest little girl anyone could ask for and Simon is the best dad anyone could as for.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Rudy being the seasoned uncles who happened to be absolutely adored by Ghostie, not as much as uncle Gaz but let's be real here, no one is on uncle Gaz's level.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Soap having bets and arguments on who gets to reach their language to Ghostie while she just sits there on uncle Rudy's lap, sipping on her apple juice, quite entertained.

❥ YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT RUDY ISN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING HER TO SLEEP OR NAP, that man is a walking heater. I can just see him standing there while holding her in his arms while she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep, yawning "Uncle Rudy.." before immediately snoring, snuggling her face into his soft blue hoodie shirt. (@icarustypicalfall is living for this, I just know it)

❥ Alejandro who gets smacked in the back of the head by (his husband) Rudy for being too loud and almost waking Ghostie up. (Alerudy when? This is a joke to y'all Alerudy haters, I like the ship, it's cute. Not sure if it's canon here in my AU, up to you guys to decide)

❥ Laswell and her wife absolutely fucking adore Ghostie, shit she makes them want to have kids, she has almost the same effect on almost everyone. Silently making her uncle Gaz wish that he isn't single.

❥ Let's be real here, peepaw Nikolai was the one who Ghostie jammed with while listening to heavy metal. He also got her this mini leather jacket that matched his, with her nationality country/countries flag/s embroidered patch on the side. I can just imagine her little head bangs that peepaw nik taught her 🥺😭.

❥ Also Ghostie has access to almost everyone's prized stuff, uncle Gaz's and peepaw Price's hats, uncle Soap's medals and even peepaw Nik's jacket which looks like she's swimming in it when she's wearing it.

❥ This pic is so Dad!Simon and Ghostie coded:

❥ Something tells me that Simon would send you this pic and you'd probably have a heart attack, your husband isn't the best driver after all but you trust him since he won't put your daughter in imminent danger.

❥ I think most of the time, Ghostie is in her uncle Gaz's arms and/or lap while he sits on the passenger seat, doesn't really matter who's driving.

My past works on Ghostie, in case you haven't seen the posts before this one on my most favorite mini Ghost:

Little Ghost (Drabble)

TF141 Interacting with Little Ghost Hcs

This was far longer than I expected, I just love Ghostie so much and I just have a lot to say regarding her.

A/n: This is now an official taglist for most of my generic CoD works, none of these people asked to be tagged on my mediocre content and I understand that, if y'all wanna be removed from the taglist then y'all could tell me privately or on the replies if you guys prefer it :))

Sidenote: Is it normal to be so excited over something you bought? I literally bought my first ever concealer today, a mascara that I've been looking for and lip oil. I was so excited that I squealed when I got home and immediately used them. Any makeup tips that you guys have? Sort of a beginner at this stuff.. Also does anyone whose had viral posts ever feel like their popular strike is over because none of their works get as much attention? Looking at all my recent posts and hyperventilating because the numbers are lower by so much.

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ottosuricatoblog · 1 year ago

Text

"Protected."

Link to my masterlist

Author: soooo this is my first request! Thank you sm for asking! I hope this is alright! As you can see, reader is also a Stark but this is not part of my series "Fucked". I hope you enjoy it!!💖

Request: Prompt 13 and 23 would he so cute together! Maybe like an arranged marriage🤭 I would love to see what you could come up with 💕

13. “what are you doing in my room?” “oh, you mean, our room?”

23. “and who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?” “i'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.”

When your father told you and your little sisters you were moving to Kings Landing with him, you were less than thrilled. Arya could take it. She's a witty girl. Sansa, though, was an innocent bird, and she had been promised to the prince, the little fucker. You knew you needed to be there for her until she could be there for herself.

The days in Kings Landing were exhausting. You were always looking over Sansa, which meant spending time with the hateful prince as well. The only positive thing about it was getting to know the prince's guard, Sandor. He was quite dry with you at first, but you didn't mind, continuing to be the chatty girl you've always been. He pretended not to listen to you, but he always asked something if you didn't talk, which didn't fail to make you smile. You developed an interesting relationship. He took care of Sansa when you couldn't, and you soon realized he cared more for both of you than he would admit.

After your father's execution, Arya was nowhere to be seen. The now King took pleasure in torturing everyone, but specifically your sister. The second time he decided to take her to admire your father's head on a spike, you couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you really enjoy this?" You hiss, holding your sister as she cries. "You're a monster."

"How dare you disrespect your King? You fucking whore!" He shouts. "DOG!" He motions for Sandor. "Take her to the Great Hall. I'll decide what I do with her on my way there."

Sandor looks at you, anger in his eyes.

"C'mon." He grunts, pushing you slightly.

Halfway through, he stops abruptly.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" He barks. "I can't protect you from the King if you're fucking insulting him in his presence."

"I know!" You groan, still pissed. "I know. Couldn't help it. He's cruel, Sandor. She's just a kid."

"Yes, he's fucking cruel. He's also the fucking King!" The look in Sandor's eyes is a mix of anger and pain.

"When he kills me," You start, and he clenches his jaw. "Take care of Sansa." Your eyes fill with tears.

"He won't kill you." Sandor says and starts walking again.

You arrive at the Great Hall, and ten minutes later, so does the King.

"My King." You try as he's sitting on his throne.

"Shup up!" He says. "You don't get to talk."

You stay still, remaining silent.

"I wanted to execute you, put your head next to your traitorous father's. My mother has advised against it." You sigh, thanking the Gods for Cersei in that very moment. Sandor does the same at his spot.

"Nevertheless, you did insult me, so this cannot remain unpunished." The King continues. "If I recall, you called me 'monster'. You're going to know a real monster." He shows an evil smile. "DOG!" He shouts.

Sandor looks at him confused. "Your Grace?"

You look at Sandor out of the corner of your eye.

"Here!" He says, motioning for you. "Come here."

He does as he is told, standing next to you.

"Lady Y/N, here's your monster." Joffrey says, delighted. "You're to marry the Hound."

You walk back to your chambers, very confused. You thought you were dying today. Instead, you're getting married. You're marrying not other than Sandor Clegane. It could be worse, but you're certainly shocked.

You get to your chambers, going directly to the table and pouring a cup of wine.

The door suddenly opens, and you see Sandor stepping inside and closing it.

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, still a bit shocked.

"Oh, you mean our room?" He says, irony evident in his voice. "What the fuck was that?"

"The hell I know." Yoy say, sipping your wine.

"It's a bit early to drink, don't you think?" He seems amused.

"Fuck off." You mumble, which makes him smirk.

"Look, I know this is not what you dreamed of when you were a child," He starts. "A beautiful lady marrying an old ugly dog."

"You're not." You interrupts him, but he stops you again. Does he think you're beautiful?

"I don’t need you to lie to me, girl. I know what I look like."

"Will you shut up?" You say, walking towards him. "I was a bit shocked because I thought I was going to die, and the marriage news got me by surprise."

He stands there, looking at you.

"That said, if I have to marry someone in this shithole, it would be you." You continue, to which he frowns. "You're the only person here who was been kind to me, at least in your own way. You've protected me and my sisters. You're a survivor, just like us." Hiz gaze softens at that. "And, even if you may not believe it, you're unconventionally attractive." You smirk.

He shows the shadow of a smile. "It's not like you have a choice." He says softly. "I will protect you. I will take care of you. I promise."

You take his massive hand in yours. "I know you will." He pulls you into his chest, his arms around you.

You stay like that for a few seconds, until he hears you mumble against his chest. "If you fail to protect me, I can always marry Ser Meryn Trant." You tease, knowing how much he hates him.

He grunts. "You're not even talking to that fucker again."

You laugh against him. "And who are you to tell me who I can and can't be with?" You say, smirking.

He grunts again, which makes you laugh. He moves you to the wall so you're pressed against it, your faces dangerously close.

"I'm your future husband," He groans against your mouth. "And probably, father of your future children.”

You feel butterflies in your stomach, fighting the urge to kiss him and deciding to tease him a bit longer.

"That so?" You say, smirking.

You hear him say "Mine." before he presses his mouth against yours.

PD: I'm starting a tag list, if you wanna be in it, let me know🫶🏻

#rory mccann #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x you #sandor the hound clegane

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undercover-smutlover · 1 year ago

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Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley…💀

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @ghostsareeverywhereblah2

Guard Dogs Pt.1: “He’s even cuter in person”

Guard Dogs Pt.2: “She’s always listened, just not to you”

The Progeny Series: “Shit, Lt. Looks like you actually have a real admirer”

Grumpy x Sunshine: Who in the world can be in a relationship with Simon?

Works by @lethalchiralium

Delicate + König: You were glad you had them both, satisfying your needs

Raindrops: He’s trying to remember every moment

Works by @ghosts-cyphera

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions: “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

Pornstar Ghost: All genuine, from both of you

Works by @peachesofteal

Dead Disco: The one that’s always left behind

Light On: Simon has a new neighbor

Through Me (The Flood): Still, even in this moment, you leave him breathless

Works by @lvrxly

Singledad!Ghost: "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease

An Odd Feeling:

Works by @chaosandmarigolds

Among the Bullets Ch.1 Pt.1, Ch.1 Pt.2, Ch.2 Pt.1 , Ch.2 Pt.2: “Adrenaline makes the body do some pretty insane things, sir.”

Pre-K Universe

Works by @tojisun

My Baby Swinging: Simon and his pretty little sweetheart’s adventures

The Apple that rolled over to The Tree

It Takes A Rampage (to be a dad)

HockeyPlayer!Simon

Works by @bi-writes

Final Girl

Pregnant!Reader Snapping at Simon

Clean Up Call

Works by @writersdrug

Training For Two

Tea and Cigarettes

Works by @halcyone-of-the-sea

Sole Survivor: “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Digging Gaze: But he was afraid, as well. Terrified

Three Is A Crowd by @xyziiix: Well your Captain always like proving you wrong

Cherry by @barefoothighlander: Ghost finds out about your side gig

The Captain by @as-is-above-so-below: Ghost’s wife joins the team on an op agaisnt his wishes

Bleeding Out Pt.1, Bleeding Out Pt.2 and Bleeding Out Pt.3 by @constantcrisis19: A bomb almost levels the entire town. Ghost extracts you.

Oneshots & Multichapter and Price’s Birthday by @rileyslibrary: An entire collection of Simon Riley oneshots

The Things I Never Said Pt.1 and The Things I Never Said Pt.2 by @lvlyghost: When the inevitable happens, you run

Ghost in the Austrian Asylum by @prazinos: The two of you want him as well

Painless Bruises by @tacticaldiary: Avoiding Simon’s gaze is harder than it’s ever been

The Experiments by @diaryofanidiot: Forced to fight and claw her way to live

The Accused by @amoristt: You fucking ran. What choice did you have?

Badges of Honor by @clairdelunelove: Ghost always recieves the biggest stickers

King!Ghost x Princess!Reader by @hyperactively-me: Stubborn Princess who warms up to the King

Ghost x Civillian Masterlist by @sim0nril3y: How he met his civillian and fell in love

The Twins by @princessdimondheart: He saw his own eyes

How many fingers am I holding up by @sprout-fics: “Don’t hate me for this, Si.” You think weakly

Lime-Sized by @imperihoe-writes: Sighing happily, she wiggled a bit deeper into his embrace

Bodyguard!Simon x Popstar!Reader by @xo-cod: Simon looks on in pride

Phantom Frost Line by @diejager: You’re a new face, unknown to Ghost and he isn’t too keen about the news

Nothing’s New by @thewriterg: He held you like he always will and as he always had

Unmasked Love by @springtyme: she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face

Welcome Home by @babygirl-riley: but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was

Odds On by @bits-and-babs: The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory

His Heart, His Light, His World by @thexsilentxwordsmith: "You deserve it all, Simon. Every once of it."

Unexpected by @dammn-dean: Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself.

If Only You Would Have Trusted Me by @ltghosty: That was the only thing that helped you come to peace with the things you were forced to do in order to protect your family.

Husband!Simon by @ahqkas: he didn’t hesitate to scoop the smiling baby up into his arms

Glory Days by @sstormyskyesss: If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes

Simon Riley Collection by @starstruckmiraclekitty:

Cure For Me [zombie!ghost] by @groguspicklejar:

Who Wants to Live Forever by @writeforfandoms: Then his lips twitched. “Took you long enough.”

Vegas Wedding by @ceilidho: When he stretches an arm up to scratch his upper back, you almost whimper at the way his arm bulges.

Secret Haven by @lightwing-s: and the moment his eyes caught yours you could clearly understand his message.

Lovely by @daisies-daydreams: “Even though this isn’t on my finger while I’m at work, I’ll always act like it is,” you reassured him

Homeward Bound AU by @writeforfandoms: You spared a brief thought of thanks that your mother had taught you everything about this job.

Firefighter!Simon Riley by @thelaisydazy: He loves the ones handed over the counter by the cute worker that smiles at him and fusses over the dog every morning.

Simon’s Favorite Hair by @lovifie: And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Coffee Shop by @sinkovia: His life was good, and he couldn't ask for more

The Next of Kin by @soapybutt17: Many eyes had lingered on you when they heard your last name

Nurse by @jayybugg: Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him.

Gold Rush by @midnightarcheress

Soft Spot by @cordeliawhohung

Hatred For You Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5 by @mangowafflesss

Dad!Simon by @tacticalgirlboss

Accidental Sugar Baby Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 by @brainoutofstock

Special Eye on Singlemom!Reader by @bi-writes

Meeting Single-mom!Reader by @zvdvdlvr

Russian Roulette by @writingangst

No More by @mayflysdie

Footballer Simon by @dante-mightdie

Transferrable Skills by @dragonnarrative-writes

implied fat!reader x bluecollar!simon riley by @drgnflyteabox

Was Warm by @eevee-of-eternity

Ghosting Series Pt.1, Pt.2 by @bittersw33t-lotus

Weird by @fivechapters

Beaded Bracelet by @manicrouge

The Poor Decision by @ceilidho

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#undercover-smutlover #call of duty #modern warfare #cod smut #task force 141 #lieutenant simon riley #ghost #simon riley #lieutenant #favorite fics #fic recs #fluff #slow burn #smut #angst #x reader

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therealslimshakespeare · 8 months ago

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Those Who Can || integrated Female Air Force series

Introductory part 1: Flintenweiber, or “Rifle Broads”.

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlistment and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Authors Note: this is an Au, obviously, and I intend for the de-segregation in the force to not be entirely full, in fact in some ways they would mirror that of the Tuskegee Red Tails where they were held back from many opportunities and placed at a disadvantage, to say the least. However, as this is primarily a POW fic that aspect only effects their reception into the Stalag and the timeline of their crashes.

Inspo: thanks to all of y’all who contributed with suggestions and advice on this fic. I want to say that I based a great deal of the brutal treatment and indignity heaped on these fictional OC’s on the true and horrific treatment of the Soviet Female Soldiers taken as POWs. Taking into consideration that American ties would give these OC’s some leverage, I have moderated these horrors if anything, however as I intend for these girls to be some of the first of their kind, they in many ways endure the brunt of the cruel initiation. If you’ve got any questions or suggestions about this, have at the inbox.

Warnings: 18+ for disturbing content. War, brutality, cruelty, and references to sexual violence. Specifics: a woman’s head is forcefully shaved, a woman is kicked to death, a dog turned loose, concentration camps, brief infighting between Soviet’s and Americans, past tense illusions to rape which are underplayed and may be consequently more disturbing to some. Quite angsty ok?? It’s women at war. Rampant misogyny by Nazis.

Familiar faces: Gale Cleven, Benny Demarco, John Brady, “Hambone” Hamilton

Original Characters: Lt. Maureen Kendeigh (bombardier), Lt. Colonel Ida Brady, Lt. Tallulah Smith

If Maureen Kendeigh heard the word “degenerate” used one more time in regards to her profession, her sacrifice and skill, -she just might do something regrettable.

By this point she was ready to get off this cattle car and go back to talk with Interrogator Glasses about stupid and unnerving shit like why the clock in the mess hall at Thorpe Abbots had a broken arm. Her distressed inner monologue of “how did he know that??” at the time was preferred to this newest method of demoralization: death by aspersion and suspense.

It was nice to be back with the girls, ones she knew and ones from other squadrons. But that held a misfortune too, the fact that it was just the girls, still not a single male crew member in sight. Apparently the Gestapo and the Luftwaffe were having a spat over who got to keep them, these Flintenweiber: “Rifle Broads”.

In the meantime Maureen and her fellows got punted back and forth between the two institutions like unwanted stepchildren. First the horrible isolation but humane treatment of the Air Force interrogation cells. Then back to the prison where all bets were off and the hope of safety came from a herd-like defense of each other against the ever more erratic guards. In these holdings, if one of their members hadn’t been executed by a pistol to the temple by end of day, it was considered a successful defense by the whole. All other atrocity, indignity and assault were unbearable’s that required bearing for the time being until the Luftwaffe took them back.

And then handed them back over.

And on and on it went.

It was effective, Maureen gave them that, after each hosting by the Gestapo, the girls were softer, tenderized and more susceptible to any deal that might procure them a shred of honor and safety. Only Ida Brady, the most senior amongst them at the incomprehensible rank of Lt. Colonel, had held ranks together, spine of steel and bearing more terrifying than most men’s, she’d fought for every grueling respect of rank they had been afforded. Even if it landed them in harsher conditions, worse interrogations -anything to ensure that what happened to her girls were considered as war crimes against lawful combatants when the time came for justice.

But they’d been collecting the downed girls and holding them apart like prized anomalies while conflicting orders came in from Berlin, and while the Red Cross fussed regarding combatant status. Now they had a tidy number collected, well over twenty by the time Maureen saw Ida Brady pushed into the cell, having been downed with a significant portion of them after Munich.

But now they hadn’t seen Brady in over a day. Not since they’d been loaded on this rail car headed to god knows where by soldiers with the dreaded lightning bolts on their collars.

The SS.

With Brady missing, Maureen supposed that made her and Lieutenant Smith a leader of sorts. Most of her “leading” currently took the form of not responding to a single vile threat or taunt by the guards mingling amongst them in the ever rocking car. Ida would be proud of her emotionless detachment at one guard’s suggestion to let the dog loose and see who it chose to maul.

Lieutenant Smith -tender hearted Tallulah with the bronzed skin and knack with animals that rivaled Snow White’s- had made the cryptic observation in Maureen’s ear that she’d never known a dog could be trained away from the throat to go for the breasts instead.

As of last Sunday they now knew, and none of them were likely to forget.

“I’ll be faster next time,” Smith had mumbled in a simmering rage, “I’ll be faster. I’ll have my fist down that cur’s throat before they finish slipping the leash.”

It was a nice sentiment, would’ve been made more so if Maureen wasn’t so sure it would land dear Smith with a bullet in her head. Would be made more so if Sergeant Forsyth had lived from her injuries long enough to benefit from it. Lots of things would be made nicer by heavier coats and the presence of drinking water.

One of the new ones, a terrified little replacement who wore her ordeal on her face, made the rookie mistake of asking for a drink. She’d been given the predictable initiation of being pissed on by a guard in answer and now she bore her thirst as doggedly as the veterans.

When the train cars rolled to a halt, and the great door was hauled back, sprawling out before them appeared the most idyllic scenery one could ever hope for. A crystalline blue lake, dotted on its border with charming structures adorned with red tile roofs, a quaint church of the same, lush fields and sparkling water and deep forest for miles. Maureen did not think they would haul them so near a town only to execute them. But then what did she know?

Nothing, not even where she was.

When they had lined the girls up, some in worse shape than others and a motley collective group from various military branches, they hauled off Ida Brady to the head of the pack, her bruised face considerably more busted than when she’d been loaded on. Maureen could see her craning her neck as she was drug past, counting down her flyer girls, looking for any missing from the trip.

They were marched, four abreast and with guns at their backs, down a wide and well traversed road into town, past cottages on its outskirts with little garden plots and clothes blowing on the line. Maureen was reminded of the idyllic countryside she had landed in with her chute before being seized and hauled off. There were women and children in row boats on the lake and the path they took through the woods was more peaceful than ominous. A traitorous sort of hope began to bloom in Maureen’s heart.

That was dashed when the tree line broke and out before them stretched what seemed to be miles of wire. And beside it a sign, welcoming them to Ravensbrück -a concentration camp. A camp for civilians, a camp to never return from.

Their new guards were ready for them, smiles on their faces and whips in their hands. Among them were a few remarkable for their sex, they were women too -if women who enjoyed such craft could still be called that. And for all the horror inflicted on them by their male captors so far, there seemed to be a general presentment amongst the arriving girls that the finer arts of terror had not yet been endured.

Standing for hours in the infamous square inside the compound, roll call and registration took on a form of torture yet unheard of. Round and round it went, repetitions of ranks and serials over and over and each time they were met with two alternatives. Renounce the ranks and be admitted as civilians with no further targeted harassment. Or-

“If you insist on being special, we will be forced to make you special.” as one officer put it to Brady’s stone cold face. “Ask your Soviet compatriots, the ones who wanted to be special like you. They claimed to be officers too, and now they service officers in Buchenwald. They have not left their beds in months. Special, no?”

“I’m not ‘claiming’ a goddamn thing.” Brady would go round and round with them in turn and up and down the line was the echo of ranks and serials.

Nothing but ranks and serials.

The minute they dropped one or the other, they’d be freed from this standing purgatory, and they’d be as good as dead. They might wish it were so anyway, if the threat was carried out but they’d suffer as officers, with honor. Whatever that meant this far from home and any appreciation of it. A fresh batch of guards relieved the first and the banter continued, even through roll call of the general camp where a mass of the most miserable specters of female kind poured out of the huts and were made to await the call of their one single number.

A serial for a serial. Maureen would keep hers. By dawn she had kept it, as had all but one of her group, a navy nurse with a broken leg who’d succumbed to the allure of a chair.

Civilian status for a seat.

Maureen thought a drop of water might be her own undoing were it offered, but one look at Smith's cracked yet unmoving lips cemented her in her own determination. As did Ida Brady’s talk, straight back in front of her, trousers bloodied on the inseam but not a cringe to be discerned in her stance.

By morning roll call for the entire camp, their guards were tiring of them, or else thought a new method of persuasion more likely to bring success. Off they were marched to their new billet to “meet their Allies” and what Smith wouldn’t give to have her brass knuckles back when met with a hut full of Soviet soldiers. Females, if females could have shoulders like that. They were impressive women with murder on their faces at the intrusion of a new gang of American blowhards.

“Did you give up already?” The one with the most English taunted and for the first time since capture, Maureen saw Ida Brady’s spine bow backwards just a fraction -a pacifying gesture in the face of the Russian’s nose to nose staredown.

“Hey, we’re not here to make trouble.” she insisted, cool and stern. “Did you?”

“We’d rather die.”

Brady gave a sharp nod, “Then we’re Allies in that, too.”

“Your precious Red Cross won’t come for you here.” That likely verdict seemed to bring the woman satisfaction, and Maureen wondered how many months, weeks, hours of this grueling place it would take before she too took savage satisfaction in another’s misfortune. How long before all better impulse to be glad for others was stamped out and all that was left was crowing self preservation. “You are not the firsts. There were others, Americans, like you, they are now wearing the ink of field whores- or they are dead.”

“One might assume the same of your predecessors.” Brady pointed out mildy, and both groups shifted behind their leaders, ready and tense.

“Anyone who accepts-“ the Russian warned, “-we kill.”

With that incentive clear, a tentative peace was made, which included a few trying to fraternize, converse and share news. There was little that aligned to create any cohesive figure, despite their shared experiences and sufferings.

When night fell they were hauled out for roll call amongst the masses, and together after hours of waiting to be called upon, they answered with their ranks and serials, each in their own language. The Russian who had confronted Brady was beaten so badly she did not rise again after it. The guard left her lying there and asked Brady herself what her occupation was.

“Lt. Colonel in the United States Air Force.”

The unfortunate rookie who had so ill advisedly asked for water on the train stood beside Brady; and got a bullet to the head for her superior’s answer. What Colonel Brady thought of her judgment being given to another did not show, her face white and her lips sealed, only the speckle of blood on her profile stood in stark relief in the early morning.

“Kneel.” a very shiny Luger barrel was pressed, still smoking to Brady’s temple.

She did so, braced for the inevitable execution. A soldier's death, it’s what they’d signed up for. The Kommandant waved over one of the female guards and spoke to her in German. She took off at a run to one of the buildings with a bright smile, and Ida Brady stayed kneeling, the splattered brains of the unfortunate dripping out of her hair and into the leather of her jacket, a mockery of her own upcoming fate.

The female guard returned with scissors. “Your poor hair, so pretty. Now it is ruined.” the Kommandant bemoaned, gloved fingers sliding though Brady’s wet tresses, “See what happens to beauty when you pervert the order of things? Now it must be sacrificed. Perhaps then you will see how ugly you are become.”

Maureen felt Smith’s restraining arm before she had even registered her impulse to charge forward, caught about the middle she strained against her friend's surprising strength and in the end was forced thusly to keep ranks and watch with the rest as the Nazis fucks scalped the Colonel of her femininity with a pair of sheep shears.

Dribbling blood down her face and shaking with rage, Ida was in better shape than her Russian counterpart. When her ordeal was over, she rose again, even if she swayed dangerously upon doing so.

And when asked, she had her serial at the ready.

Crowded back into the hut, Maureen and Smith watched the Russians hopelessly fuss over their insensible leader, knowing all too well how likely it might be that they could be found doing the same tomorrow, in a week’s time, who knew. For now, Brady sank down against the wall with the rest of them, the scowl of her formidable brows deflecting any potential commiserations for her battery.

When the navy nurse was pushed into their hut next evening, a dead silence greeted her. One of the Soviets, a sniper by her markings, came up to her and unceremoniously tore open her shirt. If the girls had doubted the Russian’s warning about “wearing the ink of field whores” upon their skin as mere hyperbole, such speculation was removed. It was a dreadful tattoo, large and damning as was the reaction it elicited amongst the servicewomen.

By the end of the night there were two dead bodies on the hut floor. And it didn’t seem to matter who had killed which. One had died for honor, the other for giving it up. And in the end? Where was this ephemeral honor? Ida Brady could only find it in the tense faces of her girls, lining the room from their places along the wall, waiting for another roll call or worse.

But in war, as in peace, sometimes the dead sent favors and in this instance it came to them with screams of:“Amerikaner Soldat!” in the middle of the night. They were marched out to the square and stood to attention once more in the sweep of the spotlight, all the while were shouts of “Amerikaner Soldat!”

All they knew was the bitter waiting in the gray dawn chill and the choking anticipation of some sick, final joke, or some methodical mass execution. Maureen wished she could knock her shoulder into Ida’s one last time and tell her she’d been a rock -she was a rock- but Brady stood there in front alone, as was her privilege and her curse. Talullah Smith would not meet Maureen’s side eyed glance for a farewell. Maureen wished she had less of a roar inside her, wished she could step off calmly into whatever was on the other side but the idea was repulsive, even after all she’d endured, and she looked about in vain for some semblance of the same revolt on her fellow’s faces.

What came instead was the dreaded whistles and the order to march. They were marched right out of the gates and down the idyllic lane they’d been marched up days ago, back through town to the railway station. There the soldiers herded them back up into a cattle car that smelled more of death than livestock, and then the train pulled away, hurtling south -perhaps the only one to do so with living cargo.

There were no guards inside the car, only the cramped space to keep them docile and the lack of promise that the great door would ever grind open again.

“The hell do you think happened?” Maureen hissed to Ida, finding her superior propped up in the corner in a suspiciously casual pose that she suspected hid a limp and unfathomable fatigue.

“Haven’t got a clue, Kendeigh.”

“Maybe someone got word out.” Maureen suggested, thinking of their predecessors, thinking of the useful dead.

“Or we’re headed to a nice rural dumping ground.” was all Ida would speculate. “Or brothels.” she added after a long minute.

Maureen chewed her cheek and kept peering out the slats at the beautiful countryside flashing past. “Well, at least they’ve ensured you’ll be least wanted of the bunch at such an establishment.” she joked and watched with the careful precision of a trained bombardier as her mean joke landed and Ida Brady’s legendary eyebrow ticked up in something that might have been amused disbelief, had she any energy left for such a display.

“Pistol whipped in the mouth and still no respect for rank, Kendeigh.” Brady observed and it was so like her brother John’s flat lined humor that Mauren’s heart throbbed with something alarmingly akin to sentimentally. For John Brady -and all the other lucky souls still at Thorpe Abbots, God willing. “I’m not laying on any damn beds for them.” Brady suddenly broke the silence again in a low voice, one Maureen knew was meant between officers only.

She pitched her head closer in agreement. “Me either.”

“I don’t care if they shoot me first,” Ida went on, as if reciting it to herself, “-and I don’t care if they shoot all of you first. I’m not going to.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” Maureen agreed again, vacillating briefly in her intent before proceeding to say, “That Sergeant -she wasn’t your fault. The nurse either.”

“I know that Lieutenant.”

“I know you know,” Maureen muttured, “but some stuff bears repeating. Places like these, we’re liable to lose our bearings without a little repetition.”

“Mm.”

Maureen shuffled beside her and wracked her brain for pleasant conversation, something besides the Soviet girls they’d abandoned and the skeletons they’d seen at Ravensbrück. “Ya know,” she remarked tiredly, “if someone in here’s hydrated enough to pee, I might be ready to drink it.”

Brady slowly turned from her view out the slats to give Maureen a blank faced stare. “Should I make an announcement or are you hoping to keep that between us?”

“Oh hell, Colonel,” Maureen grinned, mischief bubbling to the surface at the first chance, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you, liable to get stds from this lot.”

“Kendeigh.” Ida hissed warningly but there was that disbelieving wobble to her stern mouth, “That’s not funny -not with where we’ve come from.”

“It kinda is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is- a little. Admit it, a little.”

“It’s not.” And still her cheeks were pink with suppressed amusement, just like John’s got when Maureen pressed him on a dig about basic training.

“You sure you’re ok?” she ventured again, eyeing Brady’s extensive injuries visible above her clothes.

“Yeah?” Ida looked nonplussed, “I mean -what’re you ranking as ok, these days, Lt. Kendeigh?

“It’s just,” Maureen bit her own busted tongue briefly as a spur to get it out,

“-you’re bleeding a lot, Ida. Couldn’t help but notice.”

Ida Brady didn’t even glance down at her trousers or make a motion to feel her lacerated scalp, instead she answered in the same, almost bored way she always did, “Yeah, Candy, it’s called being a good Catholic.”

Maureen blinked. “Oh. Oh Shit.”

“You know, maybe some of you girls had the right of it,” Ida actually winced before staring back out the slats, “go off and do it ahead, in peacetime. But here I am, twenty seven and as sacrosanct as the Virgin Mary, dropping into occupied territory. What could go wrong!” To her credit, her snort was wonderfully genuine.

Maureen kept after her, “You signed up to fight, to get fought against. We all did -never this.”

“Mm, well, couldn’t choose a better gang to get put down with.” Brady smiled, begrudgingly raising an imaginary glass of her own to Maureen’s already raised one.

“To bitches who bite back.” Maureen toasted.

“To bitches who bite back.”

——————————————————-

Two cases of MIA troubled John Brady the most: Egan, who he had seen jump first after their dispute, and Maureen Kendeigh who he had learned from Blakely had jumped over Bremman. That’s two flyers who should’ve been here by now, before him even, in the case of Kendeigh, and yet they weren’t.

He went round and round the argument with Cleven and Crank and Hambone, all three downed from separate missions yet here together - proving his point. Cleven held staunchly to the belief they were being kept segregated, as befitted their ranks and sex. They could be one sector apart and not hear of them. It was the only hopeful response, it was a leader’s response. There had been women downed before Kendeigh, not many but a few of the escort fighters, and none of them had showed either. Brady wasn’t sure that was a good sign at all.

“So where’s Egan then?” he’d always hit back with, “They mistake his shoulders’ for a dame’s?”

“I dunno John.” Cleven would reply with that newly blank gaze of his somehow enhanced by the twin cuts on his cheeks.

Demarco took Brady aside when he arrived to tell him that whatever had happened to Cleven in interrogation wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t ethical. Those cheek scars weren’t both due to flack. Like a dog with a bone, Brady took this already suspected information about his stoic superior and ran with it, pointing out hotly to an uninterested Demarco, “if it’s happened to Cleven, what about them?”

“What can we do about it?” Was Cleven’s demand that always wrapped up the little circular arguments as they sat huddled in their hut. “Red Cross knows they’re not here, no colored flyers either. They know where they are. What can we do besides ask after them?”

He was right, there wasn’t anything, but still, like a presentiment hung over him, Brady found himself leaning on the wire each time a new batch was marched in, counting heads and scanning faces.

“Ida hasn’t even been shot down, John.” Crank kindly reminded again and again.

“As of two weeks ago.” John snapped.

As of two weeks, and then as of three, and then it became four and -where the hell was Kendeigh? Gale had stopped arguing when the subject came up, apparent but impotent fury slowly racking his wiry frame, face gone wane already above his grimey fleece collar. Winter wasn’t even here and they were fading.

And then it happened, what John had been waiting by the fence for, and boy was there a crush at the wire to see them marched in when they came up the muddy enclosure through the gates.

“The fuck are they bringing the women here for?”

“They don’t belong in here, bastards!”

“Ar’those Brady’s Banshees?”

“They’re not gonna hold ‘em here are they?”

Like he’d been reanimated by the presence of a cause, Major Cleven cut his way through the rabble to the front, addressing the German officer escorting them.

“Hey, hey you can’t bring them in here. They’re women, they belong in their own section.”

“If they are women,” the Commandant pointed out, not unkindly, “then perhaps your country should have recognized that before enlisting them? They belong here.”

Cleven shook his head, vehement in his conventions and rules, “It’s not right, you know it’s not.”

“Then tell your Lt. Colonel to stop fighting for combatant status.” he jerked his chin towards Ida Brady and Gale’s eyes widened at her injuries and tufted hair, “The SS had them tucked away at our most prestigious female camp. But they would not accept. They want to be men.”

“Combatants!” Gale argued the point Ida had been making since her feet touched occupied soul.

John Brady yanked his arm, whispering urgently in his ear, “She’s makin’ sign to me, torture, she says. Don’t fight it, Buck.”

Cleven searched the battered faces, some he knew like Ida, T.Smith and Maureen, and some from other squadrons, -ones who must’ve been damned unlucky to get captured considering their safer postings.

“If it can happen to you it c-“ John Brady was a bit of a pain in the ass, Cleven had found, but he had never found him to be wrong.

“Roger, loud and clear, captain.” Cleven warned him his point was made with a bite in his own tone.

“Have we come to an understanding?” The Commandant, amused by the fluster his female charges had caused, it was ample proof that women could never be fully integrated, not even by a society so pervertedly equal as the American’s. “Ja? Sehr gut. It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway, was it?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, let me hear your thoughts and screams, they mean so much to me.

We have so many prompts already thrown around for this AU, I can’t wait to explore them, and I welcome any more if you have them.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added please drop a note below):

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

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crowandmousewritingco · 4 months ago

Text

A Scary Bad Time

Pairing: Benjamin "Benny" Miller x gn!reader

Words: 2.2k

Rating: G, nothing spicy here peeps. This fic just shows off the golden retriever energy that this man radiates.

Summary: You agree with to go to a haunted house with your fiance. Nearing the end, you realize that the whole thing is way too much for you to process and handle.

Author: Mod Crow

Author's Note: This story using the July prompt list from @thepromptfoundry, this fic specifically is using print #8, sensory sensitivity. I don't have the disorder that I chose to write about, so if one who reads this does, please feel free to correct me! The disorder in question is Sensory Processing Disorder, if you would like to learn about SPD, follow the link below.

Info on SPD: https://www.rileychildrens.org/health-info/sensory-processing-disorders

Dipping your hands back into your cardigan’s pockets, your fingers instantly finding the flat, smooth stone that you always kept there. Normally you’d take your fiance’s hand when you started feeling overwhelmed, but he wasn’t next to you at the moment. He was buying tickets while you held your spots in line for entry. Turning towards the ticket booth, you looked through the line trying to see him. When you didn’t see him in line however you could feel your chest tighten. You could feel yourself getting close to that edge, but that was until you saw the familiar brown hair and blue eyes and -arguably your favorite part of his face- his smile.

“Sorry about the wait, sweetheart, the couple in front of me started arguing.” Benny slung his arm on your shoulders and gently pulled him into his side. You couldn’t help but lean into his body, the warmth he radiated was nice in the cool October evening air. But it wasn’t just the warmth, it was him. The fact that was simply touching you was more than enough to bring down the residual anxiety that was left over from just moments ago.

You looked up to Benny, chin resting on the side of his chest. “You promise to stay right beside me the whole time right?” You puffed out your bottom lip ever so slightly, just enough so that you were giving him your famous puppy dog face, or as he likes to call it the ‘definition of having to say yes’.

You scanned his face as he looked at you, he offered back a soft, honest smile, “Of course sweetheart. If they try to take you from me I’ll fight them.” Hearing him chuckle at his joke made you giggle in response. “It’s nice to know that not only is my soon-to-be-husband handsome and funny, but he’s also a body guard.”

By the time Benny returned and you had your chance to calm down, the line finally started moving. You were hoping that the line would move just slow enough that you could convince yourself that this was going to be A-okay; though something deep in the pit of your stomach felt heavy.

“Tickets please.” the sound of the annoyed teen’s voice pulled you from your worrying brain. You looked to Benny right as he handed over the tickets, ‘Too late to back out now.’ Taking a deep breath you put up the front that there wasn’t an ounce of nerves in your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benny wasn’t lying when he said he’d fight someone if they tried to split the two of you up. Right after the two of you had entered, a blood covered butcher was the first to try, and the first to back down. The only other person who tried was a little girl who had dressed as a haunted, cracked porcelain doll. Benny hadn’t actually threatened the kid, but he did do a pretty great job at scaring her shitless.

“I told you I’d fight whoever I needed, sweetheart.” Benny’s voice was soft as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The two of you stood there a moment, maybe Benny realized that you weren’t feeling the best, or maybe he simply wanted a moment to just yourselves. Even if that happened to be right now in a haunted house.

“We should probably keep moving before others come walking through.” You step back just enough to show that you were okay to continue. Benny studied your face for a moment, ‘Oh no, can he tell that something is wrong?’ But just as the thought entered your head, Benny was offering a soft smile before continuing through the Halloween attraction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

According to Benny, the two of you were drawing closer to the end, but to you it looked like this thing would keep going on for the rest of your lives. Your grip on Benny’s jacket sleeve at this point was in a white knuckled, death grip. You’d be damned if now would be the time that you get separated, and you knew it was getting obvious that this was quickly becoming too much.

As the two of you entered a new room -this one decorated like an abandoned laboratory- you looked around trying to familiarize yourself with the new surroundings. Benny however, was looking down at you, worried, laced throughout his blue eyes. Looking at Benny you saw his eyes,and the look on his face. As you went to calm him however, the once dimly lit room suddenly went black. The sudden darkness isn’t what tipped you over the edge however, it was the feeling of someone grabbing your shoulders and giving you a little tug. At the feeling of tugging, you felt a not-so-unfamiliar pain shoot through your shoulders. Then at the sound of the whisper in your ear you realized what was happening. ‘I’m way beyond overstimulated,’ Looking towards where you think Benny was standing, you gave an apologetic look and thought to yourself, ‘Sorry Benji.’ Squeezing your eyes shut, you could feel yourself almost…turn off. You no longer were in control. Shoving the person off of you, you felt your feet carry you in the other direction, the direction of the exit. Or so you hoped so.

With your eyes still closed you felt your body collide with other people, though you couldn’t tell who was another patron, or a scare actor. After the collisions slowed, you finally opened your eyes. Looking around you could tell you were still in the haunted house, but you couldn’t place where. Other than the unfamiliarity of the area, you relished in the relative quietness of the area. Walking closer to the wall, you could feel yourself coming back to your body. Touching the wall you quickly pulled away, the wall felt…wrong. Clenching your jaw, you drop to a sitting position and pull your knees to your chest. You buried your face in your legs, trying to calm yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could tell something was wrong when they had the last couple of rooms. Something just felt off about you. Maybe it was the way your grip tightened on his jacket sleeve, or maybe it was the subtle way your breathing had changed. Before it was forced deep breaths and now it was ragged quick inhales. Despite having noticed the changes, and prepared for the possible shut down, he wasn’t prepared for the lights to go out. Nor was he prepared for you to let go of his jacket and vanish by the time the lights came back on.

“Sweetheart?” Benny looked around the small room that you had just been in. At first Benny had been relatively calm while looking for you. He had assumed you had found one of the walls of the room and were sitting there. But after walking the parameter and still not finding you, he could feel his own pulse racing. Benny knew you had a hard time in public places because of all of the senses. Going back to the middle of the room Benny stood there a moment, ‘If they’d had run towards the exit, we would have bumped into each other. So that means…’ Looking towards the way back, Benny sighed and made his way through.

Soft ‘sorry’s and ‘pardon me’s left Benny’s lips as he made his way through the crowd. As he walked through the haunted house backwards, Benny noticed the areas that allowed the scareers to hide from view. Walk past each one he would dip his head around the corner and scan the area. The deeper he made it back into the attraction, the more worried he grew for you…and how angry he was at himself. He had promised to not let the two of you get split up, and what was he doing right now? Looking for you because he had failed you, he had broken a promise. Something he had sworn to you the day he proposed to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Inhale for four, hold for two, exhale for six.’ You kept repeating to yourself in your head, hands under the bend of your legs, fingers rubbing the obsidian worry stone that once lived in your jacket pocket.

“Sweetheart?” At first the familiar voice and pet name didn’t register in your brain. Somehow he sounded far away, yet so close at the same time. You also didn’t quite register to the following calls either. It wasn't until Benny was crouched in front of you on the floor, his lips saying your name, that it registered that his hand on your arm. You had expected the touch to feel like before, red hot, razor sharp pins being forced into your skin at electric speed; but Benny’s touch wasn’t. While his touch didn’t hurt like hell, it was still unpleasant, like a loose shirt on healing sunburn.

“Hey, you made me even more scared than Will is with snakes.” You could tell he was trying to help by telling stupid jokes because he knew it was what you liked when you didn’t feel your best. You knew he wanted a laugh, a giggle, hell, you knew damn well that he’d even take that huff of air that sometimes happens with reading something dumb, but dumb that borders on being funny. You wanted to give that Benny, you really did. What you didn’t want to do though, was lie about how you’re feeling.

Shutting your eyes, you move one of your shaking hands to your pocket and drop the smooth stone. Once empty, your hand retreats from the pocket and joins along your other hand, atop your knees. With your hands on your knees, you take a couple of breaths in an attempt to quell the shaking in your hands and the pounding in your chest. As you took your last deep breath, you opened your eyes and locked them with Benny’s bright blue ones.

“Thank you for finding me,” You smiled softly, in an attempt to help you convince Benny that you’re okay. “Oh and I’m sorry about that whole, running off thing.” You joked weakly. You could tell that your joke wasn’t helping calm your worried fiance. Thinking for a moment you decided to reach out and take Benny’s hands. Once you had his hands in hand, you brought them back to rest on your knees. Without talking, you opened his hands and studied them, running your fingers over the prominent lines at first, before turning over his hands to do the same with the scars that were scattered over his knuckles from the years of boxing.

After a silent moment you looked at Benny once again, though this time he wasn’t staring at you. Well at least not at your face, instead his eyes were glued to where the two of you were tangled, your hands. Detaching one of your entangled hands, you lifted it to rest on Benny’s cheek. Running your thumb along his cheek you watched as he lifted his blue eyes from your hands, to yours. As you looked at each other you felt Benny pull one of his hands away. Once his hand was in your peripheral, you looked at it and followed it to its resting point. On top of yours.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What happened back there?” You could tell Benny was still worried, and you knew he wouldn’t feel one hundred percent better till he knew the truth. The whole truth. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

“Benji,” He knew that tone and nickname from the times you were crying, or was giving bad news. “You know how I’m sensitive to…well everything?” You watch as he nods, him almost knowing that his talking might be too much for you right now. “Well there’s more to it than that. I have sensory processing disorder, SPD. I’m more sensitive to things. To me sometimes sounds are way louder than they really are, and sometimes light touches feel like slaps.” You take a moment, the sound of your own voice becoming too much.

“Wh-What happened in there doesn’t happen often. The last time that happened I was a sophomore in high school. I had to give my baby presentation in home economics, and during my presentation a couple of babies went off -mine included- and it became too much. I dropped my papers and kinda speed walked out of the class.” Hearing Benny chuckle helped calm you.

The two of you sat, hidden behind a fake wall, for a while. Just talking. By the time a worker had found the two of you, you were perfectly content. Benny helped you to your feet and dusted off the dirt on your butt and back. Benny led the way to the entrance -since the two of you were closer to that than the exit- you followed happily behind.

Once out of the attraction, he led the way to his car. From there the two of you drove around till dawn, talking over the soft music of the car’s radio. Once the yawns started Benny was quick to get home. He was even quicker to get you from your side of the car, unlock the door and let you in. Not only was it quick for him to help strip you of your date clothes, but also help you find your way to your bed. He wrapped his arm around you the second your legs were on the bed, pulling you in close. He kissed the side of your face to the best of his ability, and whispered an ‘I love you’. As soon as the words left his mouth you slipped off to dreamland.

#crow and mouse writings #mod crow writing #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x gn!reader #benjamin miller #benjamin miller x reader #benjamin miller x gn!reader

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queen-of-reptiles · 1 year ago

Text

MASTERLIST

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

about the author:

hey, I’m Queenie.

Taurus

18 +

Bi-sexual

she/her

cis-gendered female

Hammer

Lioness Lover

Chaotic

hope you enjoy and requests are closed for now while I work through my current asks - will be open again soon! xx

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

woso

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

WIPS

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

𝙻𝚄𝙲𝚈 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙽𝚉𝙴 || 𝟷𝟻

• secrets - social media

• secrets part two - ficlet + photos

• my girl - ficlet + social media

𝙻𝙰𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙽 𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 || 𝟷𝟶

• hotter than yours - social media

• smiles and stands - ficlet + social media

• smiles and stands part two - ficlet (18+)

• uh oh - ficlet

• oh fuck - ficlet + social media

• one

𝙺𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙴 𝙼𝙲𝙲𝙰𝙱𝙴 || 𝟷𝟻

• swan - social media + small ficlet

• cigarettes and stolen breathes - ficlet

𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚇𝙸𝙰 𝙿𝚄𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰𝚂 || 𝟷𝟷

• rules - social media + ficlets

𝚂𝙰𝙼 𝙺𝙴𝚁𝚁 || 𝟸𝟶

• nonsense - social media + ficlet

𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙰 𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚂𝙾 || 𝟸𝟹

• champion - social media + ficlet

𝙳𝙴𝚈𝙽𝙰 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚂 || 𝟷𝟶

• ace - social media + ficlet

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙴 𝙷Ö𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 || 𝟷𝟺

• transfer - social media + ficlet

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝚈 𝙱𝙾 𝙺𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙽𝚂 || 𝟶𝟽

• merseyside derby - social media + ficlet

𝚂𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙴 𝙻𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙶𝙰𝙰𝚁𝙳 || 𝟷𝟻

• waves - social media + ficlet

𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽𝙴𝙰 𝙳𝙴𝙻 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙾 || 𝟸𝟸

• surprise - social media + ficlet

𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙰 𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙸𝚇𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚁𝙸 || 𝟶𝟺

• knockout - social media + ficlet

𝚅𝙸𝙲𝙺𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙳𝙰 || 𝟶𝟼

• time to go - social media + ficlet

𝙾𝙻𝙶𝙰 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙰 || 𝟶𝟽

• safe hands - social media + ficlet

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• games - social media + ficlet

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• hammer time - social media + ficlet

𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙰 𝙴𝚅𝙰𝙽𝚂 || 𝟶𝟽

• velvet - social media + ficlet

𝙻𝙰𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙿 || 𝟷𝟷

• pages - social media + ficlet

𝙻𝙰𝚄𝚁𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙼𝙱𝚂 || 𝟶𝟽

• manchester red - social media + ficlet

𝙼𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙰𝙽 || 𝟸𝟶

• crush - social media + ficlet

𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙷𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙽 || 𝟶𝟽

• about time - social media + ficlet

𝙲𝙷𝙻𝙾𝙴 𝙺𝙴𝙻𝙻𝚈 || 𝟶𝟿

• sand - social media + ficlet

𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙷 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙾𝙽 || 𝟶𝟼

• hooked - social media + ficlet

𝙽𝙸𝙰𝙼𝙷 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙴𝚂 || 𝟸𝟷

• soft - social media + ficlet

𝙺𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃𝚈 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚃𝙷 || 𝟶𝟸

• questions - ficlet + social media

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙽𝙴𝚁 || 𝟶𝟻

• sleepy - ficlet + social media

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙸 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃 || 𝟶𝟸

• what looks good? - ficlet + social media

𝙹𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚁𝙺 || 𝟷𝟽

• rough - ficlet

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝚉𝙸𝙴 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝚁 || 𝟸𝟶

• wheel of love - ficlet + social media

𝙹𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴 𝙵𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶 || 𝟷𝟽

• candy - ficlet + social media

• guard dog - ficlet + social media

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙾𝚆𝙻𝙴𝚁 || 𝟶𝟾

• sunsets and sea - ficlet and social media

𝙺𝚈𝚁𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚈-𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 || 𝟹𝟸

• cherry - ficlet + social media

• cherry II - ficlet + social media

𝙺𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝙶𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 || 𝟸𝟸

• mama - ficlet + social media

𝙺𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝚆𝙸𝚂 || 𝟷𝟻

• down for the count - ficlet + social media

𝙾𝙽𝙰 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝙻𝙻𝙴 || 𝟸𝟸

• secrets - fic + social media

part one

part two

part three

𝙼𝙰𝙿𝙸 𝙻𝙴𝙾𝙽 || 𝟶𝟺

• sister - fic + social media

part one

part two

part three

𝙼𝙰𝚉 𝙿𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙲𝙾 || 𝟹𝟹

• mark, set, go! - ficlet + social media

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

#woso masterlist #masterlist #about me #social media woso #woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #lauren james x y/n #deyna castellanos x reader #katiemccabe imagine #katiemccabe x reader

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bythepen98 · 2 years ago

Text

Fem!Izuku 💚

Technically a doodle since it only took me 2-3 hours to finish.

I know Horikoshi drew him as a girl with short hair but I like to imagine it longer, fluffy and styled like his mother's.

Not entirely sure how big of a difference growing up quirkless as a girl would be and how much that would've affected her once she entered UA but, again, I'm no author so I'll keep it simple:

As per my headcanon, she's still roughly the same with ofc more feminine mannerisms and I reckon there'd be some differences with her fighting style/patterns even when she's trying to imitate All might (bc I know I'd probably move different if I was a guy). She's still bestfriends with Iida and Ochaco but would also be closer to her other female classmates and would attend any scheduled hang outs with them unless it falls on a training day with All might or smtg--Girls night every other week or month once they enter the dorms.

Speaking of All might, he's already doting on male Izuku but he'll probably be even more protective if he was a girl (doesn't help that he's reminded of Nana when he sees her hairstyle). Aizawa doesn't believe in the notion that girls be automatically coddled bc of their gender but I'm sure after getting to know his number one problem child, he'll low-key be more sweet on her than the rest and is extra harsh during training bc he wants to make sure she can protect herself.

Izuku is exasperated but also appreciates it and would indulge them bc they're her dads.

Self indulgent thought: She has her hoard of admirers (villains included) but is extremely dense and anything but a blunt no nonsense confession to her face will be perceived as a reach out for friendship. Katsuki is her guard dog in these matters bc he definitely likes her but is being stupid about it, understandable considering their still unresolved-complicated past, so he takes it upon himself to keep away other dunces who think they can get lucky. Shouto and Hitoshi have a pass bc they're her friends, but he keeps an eye on them just in case.

Self indulgent thought #2: as a girl who grew up quirkless, she's def more sensitive when it comes to sa/ppl generally taking advantage of others and so would've snapped and had Mineta expelled on the first week, if not first day of class. That would've opened up a spot early for Hitoshi to join in. With Izuku's power of persuasion to wear down his i-didnt-come-here-to-make-friends stance and Hitoshi finding out that she was the reason for him getting into hero class so soon? The guy was an instant goner and never looked away since. The todoroki vs deku fight during the festival is a fixed event in my hc so Shouto fell in love there.

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ms0milk · 11 months ago

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𝟏𝟑 | 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you."

no cw memories of an overprotective prince and high fever. author is blatantly in love with Kirishima. whole apologies, half apologies, wordless promises, technical treason. learning how to speak softly. covering each other's mouths so the truth can't slip out because I want them to kiss as badly as you do. somewhat suggestive. nonviolent touches in the palatial bedroom of a long-dead prince. part ii: fin 6.7k

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Mina Ashido is sick, not like you finally breathing softly on a bed the size of a merchant village, but with guilt. She flicks a bric-à-brac she found on some grand writing desk and Denki punches her shoulder when her nail taps the metal absentmindedly. Click. Thud.

Their eyes dart to the far side of the room across a row of white windows and stop on the knotted body of their prince, folded like a trench soldier on a chaise half his size. His hair shags over his sleeping face and crossed arms but Mina can still see the veins of his jaw, clenched and dreaming of adrenaline.

One loud sound might be it for them– Bakugou would eulogize sleep schedule before skinning them like fish but it’s four in the afternoon and Mina knows it’s actually because your fever broke this morning and he would detonate if anyone disturbed you.

You can lay there like an angel because you never really fall asleep, right? Sick as a dog and dreaming of work. Sero pokes his head inside for a second to check the firewood cache and steps out again. Kirishima wears a path from the kitchen to your new bedroom with his constant lumber deliveries because he knows you wouldn’t want to see him at your bedside. Dead, conscious, or otherwise. All four of them rot.

You make a spectacle of the prince wherever he’s seen with you and this time you weren’t even awake to witness your destruction. Bakugou, dripping wet for some reason, roared through the halls of Takoba at midnight which wouldn’t have been special save for how tightly he held you and how little you moved. Safe but limp in the crook of his neck.

The castle at midnight is so much more lovely than during the day. There are no accusing Takoban eyes to make your Alderan shoulders itch and there was no loss of dignity in practicing her waltz in an empty ballroom. Mina swayed safe and alone and filled with excitement for the impending party. She anticipated Uraraka and practiced her flirtiest glances to deploy when the soldier inevitably found her, as she did every night, and sent her back upstairs. Mina was just a mage after all, not a lord or lady. Not a royal guard.

Boom! Rattled the ceiling from the floor above and where Mina was expecting a round-faced girl she’d gotten a heart attack. She snapped her candle in a startled fist at the first familiar eruption and darted up two staircases to Kirishima’s quarters with the second and third.

The champion was already half dressed. The heartbeat of the castle woke him up, the sound of hundreds of little bees mobilizing at royal orders.

They joined the flocks of servants and butlers in their night clothes all crowding, choking yawns, and rushing through the hallways, up higher and deeper into those frozen parts of the castle where their prince’s fury vibrated. The place no one dared breathe since the king left eleven years ago.

The North Wing was closed forever and someone had lit a spark at its highest point. Maids to her right, butlers and nurses to his left, Kirishima and Mina became insignificant in the river of nightgowns and candles and slippers and whispers. There is always more staff in Takoba than soldiers. Who could he have possibly picked a fight with at this hour? The farther Takobans hiked, the deeper their bones felt the cold in this place no one should be. Death march.

“Katsuki!” Someone rasped. The champion hoisted Mina onto his shoulders when they could no longer force themselves forward up stairs and through archways. Only little Shuzenji’s great big voice called out clearly for the crowd to hear, “Katsuki– you’ll be arrested, this– this is, I mean, you’re– fuck.”

At the end of the hallway, two red doors hung open, one truly dangling by its top hinges. The prince crouched just inside, squat by the light of a beautiful fireplace and its fine tinder. Chairs and ottomans, a writing desk, curtains and rugs, all delicate and silver and crushed and melting and screaming with moisture in a white Alderan fire.

“She needs fresh air and a fucking fireplace.”

You were melting in his arms too, quietly.

Sweating and indifferent to how carefully he supported the back of your head or with what level of self control it took for him to surrender you into the lap of the exasperated Takoban doctor.

“This is a lot of fuss for a fever, Katsuki.”

“Get useful or die trying.”

Six footmen at the front of the crowd panicked at his words and knelt immediately to collect splinters from shattered furniture. They winced as the crowds continued to push around and above them to get a view of just what the Alderan guest would do with Prince Touya’s long dead bedroom.

He knelt in it. When the fire in its place wheezed, he fed it the dead boy’s gilded furniture and knelt again near you.

He lurched but didn’t strike when you were moved from the floor to the bed and found a seat again. He glared at loud noises from the foot of the bed but sat still as superstitious servants trembled while lighting candles. He rumbled when Princess Fuyumi squeezed herself through the frozen crowd with Uraraka in tow and immediately made an order for fresh bedlinens and firewood because before anything, before she was even a sister she was a saint.

He didn’t do too much more than that. He sat like a threat until dawn while staff and nurses buzzed around to make the North Wing breathe again. He waited for arrest.

He frowned at his Alderan company as they hovered in the doorway and sometimes he let them sit with you when he knew he needed to sleep. He balled his fists as he told them your misunderstanding and nothing else. More than anything he waited for you to wake up.

Prince Bakugou sleeps like a psychopath, you bewilder as you rub your eyes. He’s still pretty, knotted half a million ways to hell on the velvet chaise across the room and seeing him asleep is much more unusual than seeing him surrounded by books like this. There’s a pile at his feet and another at his head and a console table between them for his teacup and a pen.

It’s less scary to think about touching him when he’s sleeping. About rubbing his shoulder with your soft palm and stumbling back to this obnoxiously comfortable bed with his heat at your back– no. About rolling over in this obscenely large bed through morning chill and sunlight to find his magic-worn hands already pulling you against him. Fumbling to tuck every part of you inside his arms half-alseep– slipping under your–

About finally throwing your weapon aside as dust settles, victorious, and rattling his skull with the bloodiest punch you can manage. Breaking your fingers on his golden jaw– about kneeling over his battered body, panting, as he uses the last of his strength to raise his arms, to– no– to trace his fingers over your cheeks– no– and through your hair where you loom above him. About letting him pull you down with the last of his strength to kiss you on the battlefield.

Something outside clatters and crashes and your eyes fly open as you sit up in the room you made in a dream. You rub your eyes, deja vu, and spot your golden prince right where you left him. Scowling, pretty, on a sofa across the room in the afternoon sun. Someone shouts outside and you lurch from an aggressively comfortable bed with the confidence of a person who has just woken up without a question for reality. You are a captain and there’s violence outside the place where your prince is sleeping. No thoughts to your ten-pound beddress or the continental mystery bedroom or the fire that blazes in its white marble fireplace.

“You oaf!” Someone hisses as you pitter-patter pitter-patter and clear the room barefoot to throw open one of two elven doors. That someone is Mina. She is pretty and pink and she stares at you with her mouth open in a hallway cold enough to outline her breath in small puffs of shock.

Takoba is a series of beautiful rooms tied to tall hallways, this one’s no different. Mina is bathed in the warmest sunlight October can offer even in a place like this and she’s hunched and pointing in the middle of scolding Sero who has also frozen to stare at you on his knees halfway through reaching for a log that’s gotten away from him.

“Do you need help?”

Mina reaches for you like the air is too thick to move. You almost call her Lady again before you remember.

“Y/n,” she breathes. Sero is forgotten on the floor because you’re suddenly here in this doorway while the last vestiges of sleep drip off of you, gooey, onto the marble. “Y/n, are you–” she slips your hands into hers when she manages a step forward.

Bakugou and the sea, right? A column of fire in your chest and a trip back home. Was touching him a dream? They’re no lords. I hate you. One lost Alderan earring and two hands holding you. Last time they were golden and trembling.

Mina’s fingers twitch with every word out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“Mina, don’t–” Sero tries to stop her.

“We’re so sorry, Y/n, so so sorry, please gods we’re–”

“Mina.”

Her body goes rigid but her hands stay soft on yours when she snaps at him, “Like you weren’t in tears two days ago! Don’t pretend to be cool.”

You become aware of your clothes for the first time when you consider their earnest Alderan faces and your tangled hands. Completely unarmed in a quilted dress that drags on the ground. Seashells twinkle when you move.

“Course I’m sorry,” Sero shudders. He rises and your eyes finally adjust well enough to sunlight to catch Kaminari standing statue-still beside a window where it appears you burst onto the scene as he was making to close it, “she’s my captain.”

If you weren’t still processing his lack of lordship you’d order him to his knees for the treason of calling you captain. What purpose does he serve in the castle? A mage like Mina? You cock your head and stuffy nose, and shift to shake away the inconvenient thought that someone’s been calling you captain for weeks with no punishment. Kaminari breathes, “Katsuki told us.”

“We thought you knew– we never meant to–!” And again your attention is on Mina, desperately closer than she’s ever been. Closer than anyone’s dared to hold you gently, “We thought you were playing Y/n, we– I should have said something.”

And of all the things to remember from that night, delirium and immodesty, a humiliating rescue, thoughts that meant to stay inside forever, I hate you, the taste of someone else’s teasweet breath– the one bites the least. They’re not lords.

It’s cold out here, you should invite the lot of them inside to warm up. You should ask them where the fuck you are.

“It’s my mistake Ms. Mina,” you smile pretty like you’ve trained for, “Harmless. Don’t worry.”

Three huge eyes blink out of sync surely because someone thought it was funny to put you in a queen’s night dress and hide your shoes. It’s better they’re not lords to be seeing you in the state.

“We,” Sero starts confidently and trails off with the syllable. Mina’s thinking.

Kaminari speaks beside the window and the three of you turn to his light, “We watched you grow up in that beautiful castle,” he hums. He has spoken with you twice, three times now, and it’s never been particularly affective or affectionate but he’s right that home is beautiful. Aldera is lots of things. You falter in the doorway now that adrenaline has bled from you into Mina’s hands. “You were in my letters class.”

Eight years old and late for Letters in a thunderstorm that swept you to the prince and clobbered you both with peaches. The students gaped when you stepped inside, dripping rainwater and bruised, to take your seat at the head of the class with a weapon still strapped to your back. Kaminari looks as if on the verge of tears which all feels a bit melodramatic for one damp day fifteen-some years ago. “I was afraid of you. Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“I –” Mina releases your hands so she can stand a bit taller, so you turn, “I believed what people told me, Y/n, I’m sorry. I listened in the kitchens and spellhalls when they told me you never eat or sing, I believed them every time I scurried past your post with an errand and back again where you hadn’t moved a breath for hours.” It’s kind that she’s not touching as she speaks but the cold of the hallway is pinching your stupid bare feet. You never cared enough to pay attention to her either, why should she apologize? You never noticed her out of the tens of children that studied with you, worked around you, served you, fell to you in training.

“When you didn’t recognize us at the start of the trip I thought you were so cool. I thought, no, it was just so cool to be traveling with the only Alderan apprentice– Spear of the Queen– you– I watched you get stronger for years. Sero would come to the potion pantry while Kaminari and I organized and gush about any impossible whathaveyou Jeanist’s Second pulled off in the gallery that day. Any Alderan could recognize you from footsteps, you’re– I– I’m not doing a good job.”

“She’s sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she confirms and hovers between your bodies like she’s warming her hands with your fire. “You’re a hero. I’m just a training mage the prince can’t get rid of and you’ve saved the skin off our skulls more times than there are calendars. Y/n,” you look between Mina who presses no closer and the boys behind her, “I’m a coward, I want to know everything about you.”

You are ridiculous, dressed up in a doorway at noon with no idea how you got there and a hunger that teeters on allconsuming. You are a soldier. You are Jeanist’s soldier, you are his prodigy you should have shoes–

Something startles your Alderan company, shoulders jumping, and Sero drops to a knee when he registers the dark cloud gathering behind his commanding officer wilting in a nightgown by the sea.

“Wers, there he goes.”

“I am bound by blood and at your service, my captain! My behavior is unacceptable while you have been serving alone in Takoba.”

A soldier then. Mina turns from her friend on the floor to gauge your new reactions while Kaminari presses two footsteps closer. That night comes back in pieces. You reach for your ear and pinch one lobe in icy fingers while the Alderans look on. What part of the dream is this? First Bakugou, his warmth and anger now these three? What will this one melt into? More fevered confessions? Send them away.

You feel the bark in your throat and wait to see which one of them will scurry from you first. Have they heard your soldier’s voice before?

Go on. No one moves because you can’t actually make the sound. Sero doesn’t raise his head. They are mages and you outrank them. Be gone. “Just–” what finally comes out isn’t the voice of a soldier at all, “please.”

“I’ll help you to bed,” Mina tentatively leans forward as you lean exactly back.

“not necessary.”

“Y/n, you’ve been out for three days,” Kaminari closes in too, “We’ll throw some logs on your fire and get out of your hair, but first can we make sure you’re okay? Call the doctor and get you some food?”

You can only lean so far before you need to take a step, and then only so far after that before your back hits the door that has shut behind you. You haven’t been sick because you don’t get sick. You’ve been dreaming, too much, which is worse.

A series of hollow crashes startle the Alderans again half out of their coats but you haven’t been caught by surprise in seven years.

“Y/n,” Kirishima hardly whispers, barely breathes where he’s appeared a little ways down the hall, dropping stacks of lumber from his arms onto the marble. He didn’t grow up in the castle. He showed up a few years ago stuck to the hem of Bakugou’s cape like tree sap and he’s always made every effort to smile. A smile from a stranger doesn’t mean much.

“Y/n,” he whispers again and staggers forward like he’s tried to catch himself from tripping, “you’re–” at first he is relief and then you remember, in a moment of lucidity, that you’re upset with him. “You’re awake.”

His limp hair flounders red in your direction. What right does he have to look so disheveled? Dark circles and a creased forehead, for what? His palms and sleeves are flecked with splinters and filth that he tries to brush off as he steps over firewood– tree trunks really– that now litter the hallway.

Fury gives you the strength to step forward, “You–”

“You,” the distance is closed. Alderans have stopped pressing into you and watch their companion, rosy cheeks, dark stubble, smile lines thrown to the wayside and big, wet eyes, reach, “You scared me.” And on contact he dissolves into a sob.

Kirishima grabs your sleeve first without his usual care and wrenches you deep into his arms. Maybe you’re tired, you don’t strike him as he shakes.

“You, you have to tell someone, Y/n,” you can only hear the words through vibrations in his chest and now the whole hallway smells like sweet Alderan fire. You should be suffocated, furious, you shouldn’t close your eyes. “You can’t just collapse. No one needs to be that strong– it– you– ’m so sorry.”

The champion’s fingers clutch at the back of your neck and shoulders but you’re too shocked to notice until his warmth, his fire and safety, pulls you away by the cheeks. Kirishima cradles your face in two hands that could crush and tries to speak through agony. Drowning teardrops plummet off his black lashes, “it must have been so lonely.”

And what Mina saw as exhaustion, Sero anger, folds the corners of your mouth like paper, lips trembling, and wets both eyes with a blink.

It is something inexplicable like being thirteen on your way home from Peruro. A day of joy, song dance and feats of strength. Fencing competitions. They don’t give toy swords to soldiers and so you slipped inside the quietest part of the celebrating castletown, victorious two years running, bloodied and something more than tired. Crunch. As you approached the basin in the stables for jockeys to rinse mud from their eyes, you lifted your boot just enough to watch the broken green body of a mantis fall apart between the ground and your tread. One thin arm, little just like yours, remained untouched by your footprint and detached entirely from the creature that was just two more arm’s-lengths too slow.

You were startled for the last time in your glance to the mirror. You usually rinsed muck or sweat off your cheeks in the stables and the horses were here, the smell and warmth were here, but today you were splashed in blood. And so much worse than that, tears ran clean streaks through the filth. When you fall to pieces in your beautiful dress beside the sea it is impossible to hide.

“Please can we help you?” Kirishima blubbers through a smile before you nod, and he pulls you back in tight.

It is so strange to be held and uninjured. A hand materializes at the top of your head and more bodies surround you in the dark of Kirishima’s chest. Splinters poke at your cheeks but you press through them. You hold tight to the fabric of his sleeves and wrap a warm finger around the cold fingers that find yours.

It’s condescending and so unnaturally welcomed. You can’t even cry right. The tears fall and your voice breaks uneven because you’ve forgotten how to breathe with a lump in your throat, how long has it been? Steady arms hold you upright as you try to remember. Anything for you, Majesty. Don’t need a babysitter. Who’re you lookin at? Cover yourself. Captain! Y/n! Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir.

“I’m.. ‘m so hungry,” you sob in muffled fragments and the champion rumbles with true tearful laughter,

“She’s hungry!”

Mina wraps herself around your back and grips the knit of Kirishima’s tunic to keep all three of you tight together. She’s crying too from the sound of it, and rambling as always through the tears, “Don’t just drop dead in the hallway for Kats to collect! Thought he was gonna torch the castle–” she shakes you all, Kirishima as the lighthouse, “my blood pressure’s never recovering from this week snakes on high I know we deserved it but we haven’t had a moment’s rest with that lunatic playing bedside officer,” she is still gentle when she touches you, when she rubs her cheeks to yours, when she leans herself into the champion’s hold to be that much closer, “I’m a much better nurse, Y/n, promise, I promise wouldn’t–”

“Talkin shit?”

What if someone had found you that day in the stables, instead of clapping you on the back for the day’s bloody victories and ignoring your red rimmed eyes? Bakugou crosses his arms over his golden chest and leans against the doorway framed by fire whipping in the bedroom behind him. It’s subtle, but the heat’s made his ears pink. No one moves.

“A bit..”

Mina stuffs her hand over Kirishima’s wobbling lips before he says anything else to get you all sent to the gallows. You just watch and the prince watches back; over the champion’s soft forearms and part of a filthy cotton coat, and partially through Mina’s hair. Bakugou’s collarbones roll with his breath where they poke out from his soft tunic, same with his stomach. It fills slightly with each heartbeat like he’s still too sleepy to harden himself and his posture.

You’re warm in this October hallway and your heart has been picked open by fruithungry doves. Bleeding down the front of this nice white nightgown, pooling rich at your feet. It’s easier to look at him when you’re crying. You stare through a crack in the hug with stray tears tumbling from your eyes like springs.

I’m not letting you out of my sight.

“Go on then, down mutts.” The prince unfolds and steps forward to pry Mina’s arms apart, “Couldn’t trust you assholes to be quiet if I cut out your tongues.”

His Alderan company thaws slightly at the sarcasm and the hands tying you together unravel at every angle under his orders until you are the only one standing on the stain your bleeding heart made.

Prince Bakugou is not the same as he was when he carried you from the sea. He surveys your heavy beddress and bare feet with a frown but no fireworks and today he’s wearing no jewelry at all. Not a ruby, bone, nor sun in sight. He is still clearly out of place here, golden milk and glowing like coals; two red eyes that love to glare and his lips that called your name as you both choked on ocean foam.

“Hungry?”

You nod and the shake dislodges loose tears.

He grunts and tips his head towards the bedroom door, “Back inside. The rest of you,” and then turns to his company who has stiffly lined up along the wall to try and avoid the punishment their prince laid out very clearly in the event a series of Alderan shenanigans woke you up, “put your pea brains together and track down Uraraka– she’s late. And stop fucking crying.”

The prince would pull rank against a baby. He oozes control and ego and desperation for the self and it is infuriating how much he gets away with and how often he is right. His eyes are pomegranate seeds behind slits that shift constantly towards you in the cold hallway.

“Go on.”

You exchange a glance with your company behind you and each one of them is glowing with life. Mina has cleaned herself up with a smile and Kaminari leans against her, almost behind her, grinning nervously at his hellfire prince. Sero and Kirishima fight back tears and the lot of them hold their breath.

The mages delay their prince’s orders no longer. They file down the hallway. “Welcome back, Y/n!” Mina waves and rolls her eyes at Bakugou’s seething.

“Rest well,” Kirishima smiles and wipes his eyes with his filthy sleeve while collecting the logs he dropped. Kaminari manages a curtsy, which makes you laugh, and they all round the corner with unsubtle exhales.

For all his spitfire, cunning and rage, for all their worry and apology, your Alderan company never objects to leaving you alone with the prince. For all their apologies, for all his harsh words and actions. Is it their trust in you, or their trust in him? Alone and for a moment you stand just two arm’s lengths away from your prince while he looks pointedly down the hallway after their footsteps. His posture is returning. He rakes his hand like a claw through his hair to settle in itch and pauses for one more beat before turning to you. Prince Bakugou saved your life and you told him you hate him.

He cocks his head, “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, Highness.”

One fricative cough like laughter slips out of his chest and his eyes widen a bit, as if surprised by himself, before settling back to a scowl. He’s soft today, sleep deprived. You wipe the last of the salt from your eyes.

“Go back inside,” He instructs as he moves forward and corrals you back step by step.

“Where am I?”

Fury has been replaced by something wet inside of him, doused and smoking like a forest fire. He slips past you inside the white bedroom and marches to the camp he set up around his chaise to collect two books and a pen, which he tucks inside one cover before sticking both volumes under his arm. Prince Bakugou saved your life and slept beside you, and you told him you hate him.

You step toward him when he walks past again, this time out into the hallway, just too quickly for you to trap him with a stare. Your stomach cramps with hunger and your throat is dry from crying.

“Just go lay down.”

He does not get farther than one step over the threshold before you reach though, and clutch the hem of his tunic in a clammy hand.

Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you.

Prince Bakugou saved your life. He turns now when you dare to touch him, and when he looks at you the smoke inside him pours from his ears. The eye contact is not difficult like a spotlight or the sun, it’s more like a candle in the dark that stains the backs of your eyes for many few minutes. He looks like a dream in your delirium. What you must look like beneath him..

He squeezes his books tight under his bicep and fully squares himself to you, “I didn’t,” he starts. It’s a croak. It’s foreign to speak so softly as he speaks now, so softly you drop your hand from him and lean away. His ears are still red. “I didn’t tell them,” he frowns with thought, “about the sea.”

You stare at him like always and today like a void, and melt a little in front of the candle he is. What else is there to say? You nod and move away. His wax will burn you.

“Don’t–” he huffs. You weren’t surprised for seven years, not through contests or training, not under orders, not truly by the queen at the foot of your bed all those weeks ago, not camping with your new company and holding magic in your palms, not by blue fire. Bakugou clutches your wrist, your hand, when you turn away from him and the static shock makes each hair on your body rise. He squeezes your fingers through the goosebumps.

“Don’t ever–”

“Yes sir.”

“– not ever again.”

“Yes–”

“Y/n.”

You look forward unblinking while your prince reels you in like a fish, rolling your fingertips in his palm. You can’t even manage a frown when you face him, all that bubbles up is bitten lips.

You get one more chance to look at him, and when you do he doesn't bark or spit. Earnest red eyes watch under a frown.

“Just a prayer gone wrong, Highness. I promise.” You can’t feel the faint smile. You do not know what makes his eyes widen or scowl fall.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him and the pair of you jump. Bakugou is quick to catch the books that fall from under his arm and you both rush to wipe your hands at your hips. Uraraka. She leans her weight against the door, “Sleeping beauties,” and smiles at you while your prince jerks away.

“You’re late,” he spits and pushes into the hallway.

“High Lords are waiting.”

“Spare me.”

Uraraka preens less than your Alderans but still ushers you to bed and rings a bell on the wall labeled ‘kitchen.” A log falls in the fireplace. Embers spit onto the marble hearth. The last glimpse of gold you catch is in your prince closing the bedroom door behind him, his hand like a claw again violently tousling his hair. You are a liar, you lie and tell lies, and you do not hate him at all.

Embarrassment is replaced with shame when you learn the princess has filled your new dressers with her old winter nightclothes. And when Uraraka tells you about her brother, the late prince, and his palatial bedroom locked away from the world with his mother’s sorrow.

You will find the princess tomorrow and press your head to the floor at her feet, you will kneel to the queen in thanks for her generosity, but tonight you will find your prince.

It won’t take long. Uraraka told you where his meeting was while she braided your hair and only half-heartedly instructed you to stay in bed when you asked for privacy. There is no lame guard stationed outside of this room, a room so high in the castle the fireplace can suck oxygen straight from the night sky above you. Warm like home. It’s easy to keep a fire that excited alive so you tent logs over the embers to feed it while you’re gone. Your white arming doublet blocks the cold– dragontooth brooch glowing– when you step into the hallway lit by torchlight, a gift and invitation from Master Aizawa.

The hallway is thawing slowly from it’s edges to its center and seems to be lined with every flammable item one could think of; candlesticks, torches, candelabrum, chandeliers– if a flame escaped from your fireplace the castle would burn from this hallway to it’s cornerstones like a match.

You smile watching the fire dance in place as you walk past them and into darker parts of the castle. Down staircases and through white hallways lined with their seed-sized carvings. Your temples ache with the change in temperature.

“Office of the King?” You ask a passing footman and they make a point to avoid eye contact before murmuring directions and shuffling away. Deeper you descend and even with rest and warm food in your belly your lungs start to work with great effort. “Office of the King?” You catch a housekeeper this time who is less timid but still keeps his head down like you are noble.

“Straight ahead,” he points and when he bows slightly to leave you no longer register his presence, because a fluffy golden head slips back inside a door in the hallway. You step down the last stair in front of you and into the corridor. Your boots would creak on wooden floors at home but along the marble you are silent.

There aren’t half enough torches down here to adequately light the way or warm the castle from the chill of its many windows. The door your prince tucked back inside of glows when you approach it. This is when you would steady your hand on your weapon, or shift your shoulder blades to feel the weight of your master’s halberd.

Office of the King. You trace the silver details with eyes and fingers because it is beautiful and you have finally found all the places your prince could possibly hide. With your relief you should have considered how to hide from him. The door flies open with too little forewarning for you to dodge and stops just short of knocking you across an already throbbing temple. Bakugou emerges in an air of tempest.

“Knew it,” he crackles like you are exactly who he was looking for and is wholly aggravated by it, “you’re fucking fired, get back in bed.”

He is wearing fine silks from Aldera and their golden fixtures and tassels stop your heart. His hair is soft tonight. It is pushed back with a jeweled comb so that pointed fringes fall barely over his eyes while medals and brooches pin silk in a bunch at the shoulder of his gambeson. He looks more like a general ready for war than a guest in a seashell castle.

The prince simmers, “We’re planning the ball not a coup, I don’t need a sentinel.” And squints when you don’t budge, eyes unfocused. He tuts his head in the direction you came, “Rest. Now.”

“Yes Majesty– Highness,” you snap and reach for a pair of passing maids who squeak when they can’t get past the Alderans fast enough to hide, “one of you, fetch me a chair.”

“Belay that,” he growls and they squeak again, “you’re a fucking handful.”

Bakugou pauses on you for three seconds and rolls his eyes before turning back inside to address someone, “Please continue without me,” with a voice you’ve never heard before.

When your prince walks you back to your bedroom he steers you from just slightly behind and at the exact angle you would use to escort a prisoner to the Hold. The only signs from him are in the thick of his black trousers beside your own legs or a sleeve ushering you up a staircase. When your breathing becomes obvious he slows pace. If you lean the wrong direction his head dips down close to glare and guide you with a trail of smoke. He’s only this quiet when he’s thinking.

What’s the time? Stars twinkle at the highest points of the castle lined with torches and tall windows.

“Ahead,” Bakugou murmurs and waves you forward with an open palm to the red doors around the bend. Your own corner of Takoba. You don’t remember the night that you were brought here. You don’t remember anything past, ‘I hate you.’

The prince clears his throat to answer your unvoiced question, “Shuzenji arranged it. Told the queen you needed a fireplace.” He walks clear through the logical spot to stop and leave you on your own for the evening, and marches right beside you to the doors. Add the doctor to your tour of thank yous and apologies.

“I told that shit apprentice not to leave you alone. You’re the gods' perfect little flight risk.”

It would be easier to stand close together if you still brimmed with unbridled fury. You drift beside him, too tired for any strong feelings one way or another. He does not hint at eruption. Your prince only grumbles and watches to make sure you step fully inside after pushing down the door’s silver handle.

The wave of hot air inside is a cushion at the end of what should have been a simple journey and instead knocked the four winds out of you. They were telling the truth, you must have been fighting something for days. It could be midnight, it could be dusk, your body cannot tell the time past its fatigue. There’s one more thing you have to do before you can give it what it wants.

“Kirishima’s coming to morning meetings tomorrow. I don’t need you both,” the prince speaks awkwardly loud like the thought came out too fast. He is telling you to rest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for summons.”

He’s asking you to trust him.

“Yes sir.” You are too tired to lace the words with instigation and so Bakugou does not flinch like you like him to do when you call him sir. You turn away from the white warmth, fine cushions and curtains and fireplace, back to His Highness still stood stubbornly under your doorway. His headpiece glistens in the moonlight.

You will be his captain and you are not too good for a borrowed pair of greaves. You do not hate him. He can be the first stop on your tour.

Weary in your own little world and surrounded finally by fire, you steady your hands at your side and bend to take a knee. Forgive my…lots of things. “I’m–”

But Bakugou reacts again faster than you can fall. He jerks forward and catches you by both shoulders with his spark-leathered hands. The the last creature alive that can still startle you, not with his hold or speed, not with his magic, but his eyes. He stares through you in distress behind a pinched and stormy gaze. Spilled wine.

“Do not,” his voice rumbles through his touch. He pulls you up to standing and does not back away. Each hint his shoulders give promises that he will close any gap you try to make and so you do not move. He’s warm, his ears are red. Bakugou reaches between the gold clasps of his tunic and pulls out his fist for you to puzzle over in the few seconds it takes him, first to breathe, and then to open his hand.

One tiny sun, no bigger than an apple seed and polished to its core, twinkles like a spark on his palm.

He makes fine magic for you, he always has and you’ve never known it. He breathes again, “I. I’m..”

And you don’t mean to startle him, touch or stop him, but you do all three in rapid succession. Your hand jumps to his mouth because you don’t know how else to stop the birth of a star. You’re not ready for an apology.

His eyes mirror yours in their paralysis, his cloudy, yours panicked. His lips are damp. They part against your skin for a moment as he breathes once more deeply. As he closes his eyes– breathes you in. As you contend with the pulse of his tongue one last shock away from tasting the salt between your fingers. He is soft here. Here and when he wraps his own hand around your knuckles to disarm you. He does not let go when he lowers your hand, he does not let go after tucking the sun into your palm and closing your fist around it. Just for a moment.

Infinity is what exists in the void that replaced your fury and tonight it is full of fruit. Bruising peaches. Falling plums. Sneaking dinner under the Oak to watch his twinkling magic and to hide from crowds. Never questioning why students who told ghost stories about the child soldier never dared to bother you. Ignoring the peculiarity of Jeanist taking only one apprentice.

Inside, your expertly timed fire eats itself up in the silence and collapses to break the trance.

Immediately Bakugou dips away. He pulls back like you were the one holding him in place and leaves you briskly with his heart in your hands. He shakes his head and barks like a startled dog and does not look behind him, “Another time.”

The fire giggles and spits out embers. He hurries down the hallway because something in him died at sea to save you.

As you jump and skitter inside to the smell of smoldering rugs, your brooch and earring lay side by side where you toss them and leave them and try to sleep despite them, safe on the green velvet chaise.

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#i am so excited to enter into part iii- the last part!- with you all :')#theres only one more turn this relationship can take #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #thank you for being a part of this adventure with me #a hymn to black water #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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