#like i get it why waste the time money and effort on the part of the costume that gets <1% of screentime

[smeg-and-the-red]

love that the Kryten costume is actually decent until you get to the feet which are just blatantly a pair of sketchers spray painted grey or whatever

[fcstellae]

going from a really tough program that stressed me out 24/7 to some baby easy classes with a lot of people who dont care didnt give me the rewarding feeling i thought it would

[schoolhater]

I met this nice girl through my college friend. She's my friend's childhood best friend and I had heard so much about her so I was really excited to finally meet her. The three of us hung out at a stupid school-sponsored event into the late hours of the night, drinking soda and eating pizza and getting to know each other. At the end of it, she entered into a raffle and ended up winning free tickets to Disneyland. We celebrated and parted ways. It was the highlight of that semester.

A few months later, Israel began dropping bombs on her family home. I watched from afar as her entire life fell apart and her family was displaced and killed. Every time I asked how she was doing, she was doing bad.

In Palestine, as in a lot of places in the world, it is shameful to ask for money. A little bit after the war began, I passed a message along to her family offering to help raise funds for their evacuation, but they declined saying that they didn't want pity from anyone. Now it seems like they're running out of options.

My friend has already lost so much so please spare her the additional indignity of asking for help and not receiving it. I can't imagine how soul crushing it would be to do something you believe to be shameful and for your effort to go to waste.

Their goal is only $5000 and they've already raised ~$820, I don't see why we can't raise the full amount within the next week.

Verified by the fact that this is literally my IRL. DM me if u wanna see her Instagram or other contact info proving she's real. Tumblr is a rather unsafe place for Palestinians so I'd rather not publicize all her personal info but I've been pretty careful with the fundraisers I boost on this blog so I hope you can trust me here.

EDIT 08/24/24:

Thank you all so much for your support. You have no idea what it means to me after so many months of witnessing zionist attacks both online and off, to see so many people come together and commit to helping someone I care about without a single zionist comment. There’s nothing but love here.

My friend reached her goal early this morning and I even saw people encouraging others to keep donating because they realized her family would need more. I am truly moved by this incredible show of compassion from everyone.

As you can imagine, life in Gaza is becoming increasingly more expensive. My friend has raised her goal to $10000 - let’s keep this train going and get her there within a week 🙏

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako 

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria 

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees 

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis 

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts 

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat 

@watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@papenathys @slicedblackolives @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap 

@irhabiya @feluka @anneemay @tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3 

@balaclava-trismegistus @heritageposts @ripley-stark @paandaan 

@itsfookingloosah @rooh-afza @shesnake @akajustmerry @himejoshikaeya

@rainbowsnowflake @saint-oleander @f4rfields @cassandragemini

@fitzfunnymoments @skunkes @asharestupid @jonpertwee

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Bad joke

Summary: Sukuna discovers that you don't like jokes.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Note: Slow updates, my editor and I are in a fight with my university administrators.

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, slight angst

The terrible hours of class had finally ended, the hard day of university had culminated its torture at 6:00 pm, every day you reconsidered the idea of ​​continuing studying so intensely, did you really need that university degree?

Without a doubt, life sounded more beautiful in an imaginary world, being a pretty housewife who patiently waited for her millionaire husband who loved her madly, your days would be spent helping your children with their homework and wasting an unreasonable amount of money on any whim.

“We've told you to stop daydreaming, it could be dangerous in the wrong places.”

Your daydream was interrupted by one of your best friends, it seemed like your group of friends had already finished putting away their belongings and were just waiting for you to leave the classroom.

"Oh I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the future."

“Is the young lady returning to the fantasy of married life with her impolite boyfriend?”

"Hey! I already told you not to talk about him like that."

You argue while you put your notebooks and computer in your bag, the one that your boyfriend Ryomen had given you on your birthday even though you told him that a gift was not necessary, you knew how difficult it must be for him and how limited which can sometimes be the money in your situation; his mother, playing the role of both parents and trying to provide a bright future for her children; Yuji, his twin who had to complete several courses to be a firefighter and also study a Bachelor's degree in automotive mechanics; and finally Ryomen himself, who had to complete his university career as a lawyer.

It was definitely not easy for him or his family, unlike you, who had lived the life of a princess in an imaginary bubble impenetrable by the dangers and worries of reality. Even though you had insisted on helping that modest family financially, you were not allowed to do so. Both Sukuna and his brother and mother refused to accept a cent of your generous support, saying that they did not want to take advantage of your kindness. That did not stop them from you gave expensive gifts to each one on special dates.

Maybe that was the reason behind that expensive gift from your boyfriend, one day he simply listened to you talk about that beautiful designer bag that was going to become fashionable with its next release on sale, he used all his savings and even did part-time jobs, washing cars, walking dogs, helping model clothes for the fashion design department; just to be able to see a cute and excited smile on your face.

You are a princess, the most beautiful flower he could find and of course he would give you everything you deserve, everything that fine society has given you and he does his best so that you do not have any lack by his side, to be worthy of you.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you had pre-ordered that bag thanks to your father's contacts and that you had to refund it, angering some merchants for their wasted efforts.

“Hurry up, if we don't get to the cafe on time the tables will be full.”

Like every Friday you and your friends got together to talk about the latest news in your lives, your social circle was mostly made up of girls just as privileged as you, it wasn't difficult for your father to convince you to choose a career in law, much less make you enter one of the most demanding and prestigious schools in the country.

Your friends are good girls, you knew that otherwise you wouldn't have even looked at them; However, like you, they were overprotected and followed the sophisticated rules that society had imposed on them. This was one of the reasons why they didn't quite agree with your relationship with Ryomen Sukuna, a commoner in their eyes.

Like any conversation between friends, the topic of boys and relationships could not be avoided, a topic in which you came to light with your strange relationship of “opposite poles”, the little princess of the city and the delinquent of the campus, it was the funniest and most interesting experiment your friends could witness.

“So… How is our little princess's relationship going? Did he already ruin it?”

Of course there were going to be silly comments that doubted that your relationship was authentic and that waited for the slightest mistake from your boyfriend to shout in your face “I told you so.”

"No and he won't, you don't know my 'kuna"

“We know his history”

Even though all your friends were always supportive and kind to you, there was one in particular who wasn't very nice. Ann, always making sarcastic comments and believing herself to be better than everyone, everyone could see how jealous she was of you; She had been the last to join the group, one day you saw her alone and decided to integrate her into your group, unfortunately you never found the words to tell her that you no longer wanted to be her friend.

“Come on, darling, everyone here remembers how your relationship began.”

“He has changed, he is not the same person he was before, he is a new man”

Sure, your relationship may not have started off in the most convincing way possible, there were lies, misunderstandings and a lot of tears, but everything is different now. Now you have the romance that any girl could dream of, one full of love, affection and trust of those you only find in books, you would have your happily ever after.

“Well, I'll wait for your bad boy to do one of his things and don't say I didn't warn you.”

"When pigs fly, that's not going to happen"

The atmosphere had frozen in an awkward silence as you and Ann exchanged a big forced smile, it was strange to see you angry because of your sweet personality, but it would certainly be even stranger not to see you jump into an argument that included Ryomen Sukuna's name, you are his unofficial lawyer.

“Okay girls, let's talk about something else…”

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You love Fridays, the best day of the week, since you could sleep over at your loved one's house and enjoy the weekend in his arms watching movies, doing puzzles, taking photos, listening to music, talking, watching videos, going out on dates, ordering takeout or even when he played a video game on the console and you were left coloring the pictures he printed for you (sometimes he needs his space).

That Friday the drawings were finished quickly, so you decided to watch some videos on your tiktok while Sukuna played a video game that you only knew had weapons because of the shots. The videos on your fyp were about pranks between couples (something that amused you), some light and others a little harsh.

Sukuna was someone who was a joker, someone who liked to make jokes but couldn't stand having one played on him; However, you were a couple, a slight joke between you could be kind of funny, it wasn't even a funny joke you just wanted to see how funny his reaction could be.

A message made Sukuna's phone ring, you thought it was the perfect time for your little act as you held back your laughter.

“Who is sending you so many messages? You have another girl, right?”

Your comment surprised Sukuna slightly, you weren't the jealous type, he looked at you for a split second and that was enough for him to know you were joking, he can play too.

"Oh my love. It's not even one girl, they´re five precious ones."

The amused smile that adorned your face disappeared in an instant, being replaced by a strange grimace, your eyes glistening from the tears that formed and that you refused to let go as you bit your trembling lower lip, preventing any sound.

"Really?"

“Of course, pretty. I'm too cool to stay with just one girl."

Memories of your conversation with Ann invaded your mind, Sukuna Ryomen had a past that was difficult to overcome, would he really change overnight for you?

Your boyfriend quickly realized that you had started packing your belongings back into your suitcase, why would you do that? The plan was that you would stay with him like every weekend, what was happening?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Well, you had dropped a little bomb that exploded in your face and you didn't like it, but you wouldn't let him notice that it dealt a low blow at least for you.

“I'm just putting my things away. “Can you pass me my colored pencils?”

Sukuna decided to make the difficult decision to abandon his game and pay attention to the seemingly serious situation that was occurring with his beloved.

He did as you asked, you put away your colored pencils next to your other belongings with quick movements and finally wrote something furiously on your phone.

“I asked you a question, what are you doing?”

“Nothing… I'm asking my driver to come pick me up.”

"Now?"

“Yes, now. In fact I'm writing to him 'Please hurry up, I want to leave here right now, come as fast as you can'”

You could barely feel the force and speed with which Ryomen snatched the phone from your hands, he stood up and placed your phone on one of the highest pieces of furniture in the living room.

"Why would you do that?"

"What do you mean why? Did you hear what you said earlier?”

The hardest question you can ask a man, ask him the reason why his girlfriend was angry. The pink-haired man's reasoning quickly went to work.

Connect the dots, you had gotten angry within a period of 5 minutes, you weren't angry with him before that time, all he had done was play video games. Had that bothered you? No, he had given you drawings of your favorite characters to entertain you, the only thing he had done besides playing had been answering your joke... Oh.

“Ah, that's it.”

“Is that all you will say?”

Okay, a mental note for Sukuna: You like making jokes, you don't like having them made or returned to you. You're a crybaby, but he still loves you.

“Sorry, love, it was a joke. You know that I only love you, you are the only girl who occupies my heart, the owner of my soul and my body, I would kill for you, ask me to kill for you."

Ryomen approached to hug you from behind, he placed one of his hands on your abdomen and one on your shoulder, crossing your chest to bring you closer to him, you could feel his breath on your neck and after a few seconds you shivered from the kisses he gave you. he left on your cheek.

“I didn't find your joke funny.”

“In my defense, you started joking that I had another woman. You’re a baby, jokes aren’t your thing, darling.”

The look on your face made him feel like he had just kicked a puppy, his solution was to carry you back to the couch and hold you in his arms.

"I'm sorry baby. You can choose the movie we watch today, deal?”

"Deal"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 8] Megumi's Baseball Game

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re more tired than you’d like to be. A week passes and Megumi’s baseball games approaches, and you’re thinking of skipping out on it. It’s not like he’ll miss you a lot. Staying home sounds tempting, but then you think about how going to his game gives you an excuse to go out to eat. And even if he won’t miss you, he’ll appreciate having you there. 

After much pondering, you decide to call Toji. You’ll be going to the same place after all, you don’t want to take public transportation nor do you want to spend extra money on a taxi. The phone doesn’t ring twice before he picks up.

“Hello?” He answers, and regret begins to consume you as you hear his voice. Do you really want to see Toji? Sit in the car with him for that long? You stay silent for a moment, and Toji repeats himself.

“Hi, Toji.” You respond, and you debate on hanging up right away. A butt dial? Would he buy that?

“Hi, baby. Is everything okay? Is there something wrong?” He asks, doubting that you’d willingly call him. Every second passes slowly as he waits for your answer.

“I’m going to Megumi’s game… Can you pick me up?” You ask, and Toji doesn’t waste a moment to answer.

“Yes. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Which takes you by surprise since you thought the game was a bit later. You hang up and go to your room to change into something that’s not your pajamas– But something comfortable nonetheless. 

You won’t put effort into your look, you shouldn’t. You’re just going to watch Megumi play a baseball game, and you’ll be with your ex-husband. You shouldn’t put any effort into your look, but you do. You wear just a tad bit of makeup and put on a cute outfit. You definitely put in a bit of effort even if you didn’t consciously intend to.

Toji knocks on your door earlier than the time he had given you, and luckily you finish getting ready right at that moment. You open the door for him, and he looks more relaxed than usual, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve black compression shirt. It’s much different than his usual business wear.

“Are you ready to go?” Toji asks, and you nod your head in response. You know he won’t comment on how pretty you look, on how the shade of pink really goes well with your skin tone, on how you’re literally glowing– Toji has never been the type to really praise your looks.

You walk to his car and get in, where a silent car ride begins. You think about speaking first, but you bite your tongue. You’ll feel like when you were married, constantly trying to start a one-sided conversation that’ll lead nowhere. If he wants to talk, he needs to start the conversation himself.

“So um… Is your morning sickness getting better?” Toji clears his throat, deciding to use his voice. There’s no point for all the silence, it eats him alive, yet, he doesn’t want to put on any music. He wants to hear your voice because he rarely hears it anymore. He wishes he had videos of you talking so he could hear your voice when he feels like it’s faded in his short memory.

“Not really.” You answer. Of all topics that he could bring up, that’s certainly the last one that you want to talk about. Instead of leaving him with the dry response, you change the topic to something else in your pregnancy that’s been bugging you. “I’ve been having some really weird cravings lately.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Last night I wanted bacon drizzled in caramel… And it still sounds so good right now.” You share, and he scrunches his nose up, slightly disgusted. That doesn’t sound too appetizing. Yet he still says,

“Whenever you want something, call me and I’ll try to see what I can do.” Which surprises you. You weren’t expecting him to say that, and it brings a small smile to your lips. You know why he says it, why he’s suddenly part of a man that you wish you would’ve had as your husband. But you still smile, feeling a flake of happiness in you.

“The laundry detergent was also smelling so good–” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“If you want to drink laundry detergent, do it after you have the baby.” He says, which makes you chuckle. You feel as he slowly grows accustomed to the idea of your pregnancy, how he slowly grows excited at the thought of becoming a father again. It makes you happier than you’d like. You were set on having your baby on your own, raising them alone, yet you feel happy when Toji becomes happy about his baby. 

You get to the parking lot of the baseball field, and you find that the game has already started. You follow Toji to take a seat, and you sit quietly amongst a group of rowdy parents and teenagers– It’s a high school baseball game (not even varsity at that), it can’t be that serious. But you do feel the excitement when Megumi goes up to pitch, and you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch him. You do cheer him on, but you aren’t as loud as the rest. It encourages Toji to do the same, but he doesn’t do much, he just whistles.

“I hope I’m not too late.” You’re startled by Toji’s friend, Shiu, as he approaches where you sit. He takes a seat behind you, and just by catching a glimpse of his face, you’re pissed off. Sure, Shiu was very helpful when he helped you move, but you’re still pissed that he left you with Toji of all people. 

Toji greets his buddy while you ignore him. You don’t want to talk to Shiu, and you don’t have to either. No one will force you to talk to Shiu.

“I don’t think Megumi noticed you were missing.” Toji comments, turning his attention back to the game. Shiu smacks the back of Toji’s head, and Toji rolls his eyes. It’s their usual banter, of course you won’t pay much attention to them. Toji throws his arm over your shoulder, and brings you into his embrace, which you don’t fight. 

“It’s weird to find you here.” Shiu speaks up. You’re not together anymore… He understands why you’re here, you have your own bond with Megumi that’s separate from your relationship with Toji, but why is he throwing his arm over you and why aren’t you pushing him away? You don’t answer though, you clearly don’t want to talk to him.

“I forgot to tell you, Shiu. We’re having a baby.” Toji announces, and Shiu’s eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting a lot of stuff but certainly not that. Many questions come into his head, but it’s best for him to stay quiet. But he has to ask one question that’ll eat him up alive if he doesn’t–

“Are you two back together?” He asks, and you get Toji’s arm off your shoulder.

“No. We’re not back together.” You answer, and Toji glares at Shiu. Shiu bites his tongue, knowing that this isn’t the time or place to ask all the questions that flood his mind. What the hell are you going to do?

You watch the rest of the game in silence. When it’s done, you and Toji approach Megumi. He’s with his friends so it’s awkward. When he finally turns his attention to you, he leans in for a hug which you’re reluctant to return since he’s all sweaty. But you still hug him. 

“You had a great game, Megumi. You did such a great job.” You praise him, and he smiles at you.

“How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you much, just what dad has to say… But I don’t trust him all that much.” He says, a chuckle leaving your lips at his comment.

“I’ve been doing good, Megumi. But I want to know how you’re doing? How’s school?” You begin to chat with him, and Toji listens in. He taps his foot on the ground, his patience slowly running out. Sure, it’s nice to see that you two have a bond and whatnot but it’s boring for him to just stand idle.

“How about we go out for food and you two can chat there? Shiu is also waiting for us.” Toji cuts off the conversation, doubting that he can stand still for another minute.

“I actually have plans to go out to eat with my friends.” Megumi says, and Toji frowns as he crosses his arms.

“With whose permission?” Toji responds. You usually don’t get involved when similar issues happen, you did once and Toji reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s parent. But today is different, mainly because Toji is trying to earn your forgiveness, and you use it to your advantage.

“You can go, Megumi. Have fun.” Your arm intertwines with Toji’s, and you give him doe eyes as you look up at him. “Give him some money, Toji.”

Toji huffs as he reaches for his wallet. He gives Megumi some money, and you say your goodbyes before walking away. You know you shouldn’t have stepped in, but Toji won’t scold you for it, especially when your arms are intertwined. You let go of him after a couple of steps since your work with helping Megumi is done.

Your stomach growls, and it’s loud and clear, making your face grow warm of embarrassment. You still smile and say, “Let’s go out to eat.”

“Is that why you sent Megumi off? So we could eat alone?” Toji asks, and it fuels his ego. You have a smirk on your face when you tell him,

“What about Shiu? Are you just going to leave him all alone?”

“To hell with him.” He scoffs. “He’s a grown man, I didn’t even invite him here. I’m not paying for his food.”

“You can convince him to pay yours. Use the fact that you’re having a baby, guilt trip him.” You give him some useful advice, especially since you don’t want to be all alone with him. You don’t trust yourself a lot, especially not lately. Not because you’ve forgiven him and want to get back with him, but because you’re hormonal and don’t trust your body to not make a sudden move.

“You’re right… Let’s do that.” Toji says, his hand going up in the air and waving at Shiu before he calls out, “Hey, Shiu! Let’s go out to eat!”

[barcaatthemoon]

playgirl || alanna kennedy x reader ||

you find alanna charming, albeit a bit infuriating.

minors dni, 18+, smut.

alanna was infuriating to lose against. city thoroughly destroyed united in the first derby of the season, and you were seething because of it. a start was huge for alanna, and while you wanted to be happy for her, you couldn't stand her. every single time that you looked at her, you wanted to punch the smug smirk off of her face.

"so babe, is it your place or mine?" alanna asked as she draped her arm around your shoulders. you had taken a shower in a vain attempt to calm yourself down. now that alanna was so close you with her stupid six pack on display with her crop top, you couldn't deny the feelings of desire you had for her.

"how fucking dense are you? why would i want to go back with you after you spent the last hour taunting me on the pitch?" you asked her. alanna had to admit that she had been a bit of a dick on the pitch, but she felt good with how easy the game was going for city. it wouldn't have been nearly such a walk in the park last season, despite everybody's best efforts.

"because i've got a solid seven inches with your name on it," alanna said. your jaw dropped, but you quickly turned away so that alanna couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. "come on baby, let me help you forget that you just got your ass handed to you."

"charming kennedy, you know just how to make a girl blush." you slapped alanna's shoulder as you moved past her.

"i'll meet you at yours then!" alanna called out after you.

alanna had been over hundreds of times, but you were still feeling nervous as you waited for her. it didn't mean anything to alanna, a point that she had worked hard to hammer in over the course of the last couple of seasons. you guys were having fun, and alanna was the very definition of a player. she came over for a good time, not a long one.

the hookups had been going on for a long time. much longer than alanna said she ever allowed in the beginning. a part of you wondered whether or not she did actually like you, but you tried not to think too hard on it. either she'd make a move or one of you would move on the next person, and your money was always on her leaving you.

you shook those thoughts out of your head as you heard her knock on your door. alanna didn't like to be kept waiting, so you quickly checked over your outfit before you opened up the door. you were far from dressed up, but you had put some thought into your choice of shorts and tank top.

"fuck me, you're hot. i mean jesus christ babe." alanna looked like she was at a loss for words, and yet, she found a way to say the same sentiment over and over again. "god, you're so fucking hot sometimes. come here, i'm not waiting any longer."

alanna let you lead her back to your bedroom with one hand wrapped around her wrist. it wasn't holding hands, something that alanna was pretty careful to avoid with you. she toed the line between girlfriend and fuck buddy recklessly, almost like she was trying to keep you second guessing.

"cute shorts, but they're in my way." alanna wasn't wasting any time with you. she had you out of your clothes before you managed to get to your bed. you felt a bit underdressed with alanna standing there still in her sweatpants and tank top, but she didn't give you much of a chance to think once you were laying down.

every so often, you got shades of the player that alanna had been back in florida. she liked to tease you in a way that was deeply unsatisfying. it was far from unenjoyable, but both you and alanna knew that you'd never cum from it. she wanted you wet enough to make a mess of yourself, and alanna never stopped until she was done.

"alanna please, i need more than this. i need you, please," you tried, but it seemed like no use. alanna didn't let up as she kissed and sucked at your cunt. your hands fisted themselves into her hair in a vain attept to pull her closer. alanna just snickered as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared down at you.

"poor little thing, do you need me to fuck you?" alanna asked. you didn't have to answer as alanna began to sit up and move. she didn't even get completely off of the bed to take her sweatpants off, letting them just hang just low enough for her to pull out the strap she had worn over. "do you think you can take this after the game?"

"yes, lan, just fuck me," you told her. alanna nudged your legs fully apart and guided the tip of her dildo towards your entrance. alanna gave you a few teasing strokes as she watched to make sure that you were ready to take her. you bucked your hips to try and chase after her, more than prepared to take every inch of her.

"fuck baby, does that feel good? you look so pretty taking my cock," alanna said as she started to set her pace. she didn't look away from her cunt for a moment, not even as she spoke to you. your eyes drifted down to watch as she thrust in and out of you, more and more of her strap disappearing inside of you as your body grew accustomed to it.

this wasn't the same dildo that you had gotten used to over the past couple of seasons playing against each other. alanna had gone out and bought a new one, just a few inches longer, but quite a bit thicker than what you were used to. she was practically drooling as she watched the way that you stretched to grip her tightly. you could have been fooled into thinking that she was feeling everything from the look on her face as she watched you getting fucked.

"here," you mumbled as you reached for her. alanna let you tug her down for a kiss. it was messy and your teeth knocked together a little as she continued to thrust into you. still, you didn't let up, even as you found it difficult to keep your mouth on hers. alanna refused to let up one bit, not until she was certain that you were cumming around her strap.

"hey, where are you going?" alanna asked as she watched you. she was still on top of you, just watching as you began to drift away. it was hard to keep yourself focused on anything, including her. alanna pouted until you looked her way and smiled at you. "everything okay?"

"perfect," you told her. alanna leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead as she rolled off of you. "hey, don't run out on me. i thought we weren't doing that anymore."

"i'm not running out, i'm just stretching my legs a bit," alanna told you. a part of you didn't believe her, but alanna never made it any further than your living room. you were close to drifting off to sleep when she came back several minutes later, dressed back in her sweatpants and tank top. "see? i'm still right here."

"yes, but i'd like you in bed with me." you sat up on your elbows and stared at her until she came over towards you. alanna sat on the edge of your bed next to where you laid down. "are you too cool to cuddle with me?"

"do i have to keep my hands to myself?" alanna asked.

"when do you ever?" it was a fair question, and apparently exactly what alanna wanted to hear. she let you pull her down onto the bed, nuzzling her face into your chest as she got comfortable. you knew that she'd be gone by the morning, but at least she'd stay until you fell asleep.

[rosesnbooks]

✨Leo placements✨

disclaimer: i am not a professional and i write this posts for fun, so keep that in mind love

☀️sun in leo - these people have big hearts and they love, love attention. however, i have noticed that even though some like attention most of the time, others prefer it in an environment they can control, such as on stage, where they have rehearsed and know about the possible outcomes. they like to take care of themselves and enjoy life. they also love to spoil those they love, and their love is bright and warm. most of them are very creative and especially talented in one domain that they pursue bravely, such as cooking or writing. people notice them wherever they go, and they seem approachable and a little intense. what i mean by that is they seem excited and loud, which is lovely but too much for some people. this isn't true for all of them though; some can be shy to a certain degree when you meet them. they love talking and making people laugh, and this fuels them. they need people in their lives and cannot spend too much time alone. some time is needed for retrospect, which they usually use. they hate failing because it impacts them greatly, but many of them try to process this and continue like nothing happened. unless it is regarding matters of the heart, then it takes more time to get over someone

🌝moon in leo - they like to see the best in people, and sadly many of them get disappointed with time, but there's a part of them that never gives up on people. they are very sensitive deep down and can get hurt easily. their ego truly is an issue, but if they recognize this and work on it, they can develop healthy relationships with others and themselves. they are very creative, and when they focus on their tasks and things they love, they can excel at them and don't stop until what they're working on is up to their standards. they are curious about many things, which is why they may start a hobby and then disregard it with time if their heart wasn't really in it. when they are angry, they can be really harsh and impulsive, similarly to aries, but i feel like they feel sorry about it more than aries because whatever they said to you remains ingrained in their memory. some of them tend to be selfish because their own happiness and worries are their main priority, which isn't bad per se, but it can get out of hand. they hate to waste time and feel like their life has no purpose or impact. i noticed that they have a competitive nature, even when playing games...they just love winning.

🌼ascendant/rising in leo - vibrant, brave, optimistic, and a bit intense people at first glance. they have a strong hunger for happiness and passion. people mostly like them, but some have mixed opinions since some can feel overwhelmed by their energy and self-love. nevertheless, many appreciate their lively nature, and they are easily noticed wherever they go. even if you don't see them momentarily, you'll hear them because they are often loud and like to talk. they might have issues with overindulging in things like binge eating or spending too much money. they can have a strong desire to lead, and if not, they still want to contribute greatly to something and see their influence. they put effort into their looks if they have the time and money because they want to present themselves in the best light (for themselves and others). people usually notice them by their hair, and i'd also like to add that their eyes are very sparkly and focused, and that they may have really quick mannerisms.

🌻mercury in leo - quite expressive when they talk! humor is important to many of them, and they love people who can make them laugh. many tend to speak fast as well. their comedic timing is really good. if underdeveloped, they can be bad listeners and only want to focus on themselves and when it's their turn to talk. they also tend to have a smile on their face most of the time when speaking, just my personal observation. people are charmed by the way they communicate; they cannot help but feel warm. this placement is really passionate about various topics, and it is interesting to listen to them. they often like telling stories, and it feels like you're watching a movie play out because they are really into it and dramatic. there's a lot of passion in their speech, and while it can be over-the-top for some, many enjoy it. honestly, they are so cute. a downside could be their stubborn nature, which may limit their worldviews or general views on some things. they may seem carefree, but they are not, so approach them with kindness and respect.

⭐venus in leo - they love romance and are very loyal and dedicated partners. they need lots of excitement and adoration in their relationship to remain happy. being with someone who takes life too seriously, doesn't praise them enough, and is not really active as a person is a big no for this placement. they love praising people and giving them thoughtful gifts and watching your face light up when you open them. you'll feel super special with them if they think highly of you. they can get crushes from time to time, but if they love you and want to commit, it is harmless. they are very loving toward their friends and are loud about their affections. basically, they adore all love languages, but primarily quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch would be their top three (in my humble opinion). they also love going places with their loved ones because they have lots of energy and curiosity, and it's really fun to do anything with them. i'd also add that besides leo risings, i've found that leo venus also have curly or generally luscious hair.

♌mars in leo-very bold and a bit stubborn. they need to be active and pursue what they love in order to remain healthy and happy. they are go-getters and they love to spread their positive energy. their stamina is very good. despite their impulsive nature, they are very focused on their goals and try their best to be great. they often get what they want and might really dislike when things don't go their way, but they never give up. may be too stuck in their own ways without seeing the big picture or other perspectives, so they need to be more open-minded because this will help them achieve their goals and form healthier relationships. they are immensely proud of their achievements and especially of the things their loved ones achieved. they can get carried away by their passions, no matter how hard they try not to. their sweetness shines in this placement as well because they truly want to be friends with everyone. lastly, if you're their person, they will be extremely loyal to you

⚡saturn in leo—they may struggle with being more optimistic, putting themselves first, and taking leading roles in any area of their life. they can care too much about what people think or might think about them, so they need to snap out of it. they can be very strict with themselves and quit before even trying things out. just do it, hun; the only way out is through (sadly, but yeah). they are very capable people who already have everything they need within themselves, so trying things out even when scared can bring them lots of luck and, honestly, a better life. putting yourself out there doesn’t mean being vain, pathetic, or needy if you’re not hurting anyone in the process. this placement wants recognition deep down, but they remove themselves from such situations. i'm here to tell you that you’ll survive this and that you won’t lose your individuality in the process. you’ll gain confidence and naturally attract the people who are right for you. on the bonus side, they are often careful and responsible.

🏆jupiter in leo—people with this placement shine brightly when they are in the spotlight. they want to enjoy life and pursue their passions, and the happiness they feel during these moments is contagious. they are generous and inspiring, so many people admire them and feel influenced by them. their generosity is also admirable and fulfilling for them. they can thrive in creative environments and in those where they can express themselves. they are also often good with kids and expressing their childlike nature, which helps them enjoy life and see things more positively. basically, focusing on themselves and others is what brings them luck and joy. they have leadership potential, and at the end of the day, they want someone to recognize their efforts, kindness, and talent, and give them lots of love.

thank you for reading!💛🧡

©rosesnbooks

[aagneauu]

High value habits to elevate yourself 🥂✨

When the term "high value" is mentioned, we often think of things related exclusively to economic wealth, but being a high-value person is an attitude, an attribute founded on habits and a wealthy mentality. So today I wanted to mention a few habits that I personally perceive as something a person with strong standards apply on their lives. ✨

Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language :b

1. Long-term mentality ✦

Enjoying yourself is very important, but when we only think about the things that give us temporary pleasure, is often very likely that we forget to take care about our future stability. For example, if you want to travel, the smart thing to do would be to save the money in order to be able to afford it, but how many times we just feel the urge to waste money on unnecessary stuff just to get that brief satisfaction, that bad habit will take us far from our goals. This rule can be applied on almost every aspect, and if you're able to stick to your goals and take decisions according to them, trust me, you'll get very far.

2. Invest ✦

Stop wasting and start investing; your money, your time and your energy. In terms of money, you obviously can spend some of it on pretty stuff, but instead of wasting your whole salary on things you want, a smarter move would be to use part of that money to invest it on something that potentially can give us another income, maybe there's a valuable peace of jewelry or clothing that not only we could use, but to sell and trade in the future, or even if you have enough money saved, you can invest in a property, to not only live in it, but to rent it. Our time and energy works in the same way, we could be wasting our time and energy with people that don't give us nothing we can learn from, and you're worth way more than that. Find people and habits that not only make you feel good and appreciated, but that will leave you something interesting for your personal growth, and remember, better alone than in a bad company.

3. Details matter ✦

How we talk, how we decide to present ourselves to the world, our values, the effort we put on what we make. Every little detail says something about us. For example, something as simple as spraying perfume before we go out makes a difference, or if you study, the amount of time and effort you decide to put on certain classes. Socially, what you decide to say, and to develop the hability to stay quiet when necessary. Maybe you think that those little things don't make a huge difference at the long-term, but when you see how your life can change drastically with every little step you take, you learn to pay attention to it.

4. Patience ✦

It is a strong word, it is even harder to apply to our lives sometimes. Being patient not only with people, but with our circumstances. Sometimes things that we don't like happens, and we don't even understand why because we thought that we did everything right, but everything happens for a reason, it's like a fruit, you could take it out of the tree earlier because you're hungry, but it isn't that mature and tasty, but if you just wait, resist the hunger, the fruit will be way better. That applies to money, emotional growth and life changes. Learn to understand that sometimes, pain will be the sign to something better than your current situation.

5. Stop following the crowd ✦

Set standards and learn what is good for you, if you just rely on others to decide what is best for you, or even worse; you know something is bad for you and still do it for others, then expect low quality experiences. People time to time will call you boring or even extreme just because you decide to be loyal to your values. If something that everyone is doing seems beneficial, do it, but because it gives you something valuable, not because of the crowd. You can apply this rule to everything; friends, money, and other experiences. The amount ot peace and comfort that you can get with this transformation is a huge life upgrade.

This were some topics that come to mind when the "high value" term is mentioned. And remember, no one is perfect and every little thing makes us unique. Life is a long journey that you can decide to upgrade with every little move.

Hope u enjoyed! ♡

[princesssmars]

holly jolly!

an abby anderson x reader based on my abby winter drabble !

wc : 15.718

contains : fluff, angst and smut . fxf relationship. fem!reader. switch! abby and reader. oral and penetrative sex. strap-on yippee. past abby x owen ewwww. owen hate bc i hate him and its funny. reader is a skier and abby does hockey! shitty dad for reader sorry girls. slight alcoholism sorry girls again. the reader is described as slightly tall i know yall been wanting taller readers. reader is kind of bitchy and abby loves it my fave dynamic (dynamic and pretty much the rest inspired by the little ruse go read it).

a/n : sorry i never got over my drabble guys. i dont know who exactly made hockey!abby but ive read em all so big creds to @angelkissiies @millersaurora @whatwouldsylwrite (and @eightstarr for calling abby princess) everyone else smoochies ily <3 made reader a skier because ive been obsessing over the olympics and i watched mollys game and thought it would be cool if i made a skier reader instead of a figure skater. ballerina next time if yall will indulge my delusions.

christmas has always been a bittersweet holiday.

you can remember the good parts from your childhood. picking out your first stocking with your mom. when your younger brother hid in the cupboard to try and catch santa. when your baby brother got cookie dough all over the kitchen, even on the ceiling. or when you were five years old and your dad gifted you your very first pairs of skis.

but it was hard to remember when the bad could get really bad. constant days spent out in the cold and snow, redoing your runs over and over until your legs burned and your back ached. your days that were supposed to be full of vacationing and fun instead filled with aches and falls and countless arguments once you realized you could start talking back.

some of the few friends you've had over the years tried to get you to focus on the good times and not the bad. that dwelling in the past wouldn't help you move forward. when you were younger you'd just call them assholes and move on, but recently it didn't seem worth the effort. that's probably why you started college with no close friends.

it was fine. you had your smarts, which helped you to get a full-ride scholarship when a skiing one fell through after a bad leg injury a few months back. because of that, your mom managed to convince your dad to get off of your ass for a while as you recovered. you had money thanks to your parents and you had your looks which would land you a hookup once in a blue moon.

you'd even made two acquaintances on campus, your roommate, tonya, who was pretty mellow and made sure not to bring the weed she smoked inside your dorm, and a girl named nora in one of your general ed classes whom you would partner up with often.

so yeah. it was fine. at least until the end of your freshman year.

you were running late for your ten am class, sleeping in because tonya had somehow managed to convince you to go to a small party with her last night and take body shots, and then when you were close to being drunk you saw one of your past hookups in the corner who you had dropped for getting way too attached way too quickly, so then you had to quickly find tonya and run back to your dorm-

youre in the middle of remembering ton's bird-like laugh when you nearly faceplanted into your front door when you ran full force into a hulking mass of a body.

the sound of them lightly cursing and asking if you were okay falls on deaf ears as you pick up your bag and hike it to your class, ignoring the stairs of the other students when you rush and plop into your seat.

luckily you manage to get yourself together afterwards, fixing yourself up at your dorm before heading to your next course with nora. as soon as you sit down she's teasing you about a video she saw of you getting wasted last night and you don't even have the energy to entertain her.

"well, instead of getting drunk off your ass again how about you join me tonight? one of my friends is on the hockey team and i got some nice ass tickets."

"c'mon, nora. hockey? seriously?"

"oh, im sorry ms. olympian, is hockey too good for you suddenly? just a bunch of women tossing a puck around too barbaric for you?"

"wait, you didnt say it was women's hockey."

"well, it is."

"..."

"..."

"what time does it start?"

at around five you're putting on a cute sweater and a puffer jacket before joining nora on the campus bus where she tries to quickly explain the rules of hockey to you in the span of five minutes. she asks how on earth you haven't been to one of the games or at least heard of the team's star breakout player. you have to carefully explain that you've had enough of sports to last a lifetime.

the indoor arena is packed, and you have to roughly squeeze and push multiple people out of the way to get by. nora starts laughing and tells you to leave the violence to the players and you brush her off. (for some reason she constantly loves to tease you.) when you both finally sit in your seats, you notice that they're behind the glass where the team players get out onto the ice and sit for breaks. nora suddenly bangs on the glass behind a player wearing an ANDERSON 20 jersey. the girl stands up and turns around and good god.

you weren't the shortest girl yourself, standing a couple inches over most girls you knew, but jesus she was easily almost six feet tall, and big, even if her jersey and gear probably made her look larger which really didn't help you focus. you liked the contrast of it with her face, bright, cute, and red from the cold as she talked to nora through the plexiglass. you were just about to admire the shape of her nose when her slightly unnerving blue eyes turned to you.

"hey, i recognize you!"

your brows pull in a deep scrunch.

"from this morning, you bumped into me and nearly knocked me on my ass."

"oh my god, i had a feeling that was you!" you hear the familiar noise of nora laughing at your pain. "jeez, how drunk did you get last night?"

"would you just- look, im sorry about earlier. i was hungover and rushing to class."

she smiles and shakes her head. "its chill, dont worry about it. nora, are you going to that party at derek's frat after? i swear he was begging me to come but i wasnt too sure."

"abby, everyone asks you to go to their parties and you never do! live a little." nora pauses before wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

you knew she was about to say something to piss you off.

"even little y/n here is gonna come and properly apologize to someone for once. isn't that right, hun?"

great.

"well, that wasn't my plan for tonight. at all." you say before picking up your giant hockey-themed plastic cup and taking a sip, hoping the chill of your slushie numbs out the rest of this conversation.

abby adjusts some of her straps and her helmet before resting her hand on the glass, noticing how the rest of her teammates are getting ready to go out on the ice. "well, i'd really like to see you there. is there any way i could convince you to come?"

"i don't know, is there?"

"how about... when i win, you come to the party with me."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard they hurt. leave it to nora to be friends with the walking cliche of an arrogant sports player. you could've been spending this moment in your dorm watching a dumb hallmark movie about a businesswoman falling in love with a farmer while eating chips and drinking a self-indulgent capri sun.

"and if you lose?"

the announcer over the loudspeaker called for the game to start and the players started making their way onto the ice. abby winks at you before turning around and joining the rest of her team.

"trust me, i won't."

you scoffed and flopped back into your hard seat, sucking almost angrily at the bright red straw in your slushie to ignore nora's look.

"are all of your friends that annoying?"

"kind of. thought you'd enjoy it though. birds of a feather."

not bothering to entertain her, you focused on the game that was starting in front of you.

you could understand the basics of the game; one team had to get the puck into the other goal several times until they won. you had a brief understanding of some of the other rules, mostly because your father explained every winter olympic sport to you in great detail when you were twelve. it became so boring at one point that you fell asleep and banged your head on the coffee table, startling the both of you so much he decided to let you go to bed.

but as the game goes on you have to admit that anderson is frighteningly good at what she does. she moves gracefully and quickly on the ice, so well you think to yourself that if she ever tires of hockey she could seriously pursue ice skating, but when an opposing player gets too aggressive with her she returns it with force. she's like an avalanche on skates.

when the game ends you can't tell whether you're shocked or agitated. your team won in what nora called a 'total fucking landslide', the bright 6-1 lighting up the scoreboard like a smack in the face. it felt slightly awkward that everyone around you was yelling and celebrating while you were sitting statue still in your seat.

nora could probably sense your discomfort and gently pulled you up, telling you that the both of you could throw your things away before meeting up with some more friends of hers before heading to the party.

so awesome.

her friends were nice enough, a psychology student named leah and her boyfriend jordan who was some type of biology major. they seemed happy to meet you but happier to make googoo eyes at each other and go to the party, which meant you most likely wouldn't see them again once you got there unless you stumble upon the two in a hallway closet or bathroom. there was also mel, a nursing student who seemed slightly closed off but agreed with you when you mentioned this party would probably be loud and gross. a bunch of athletes celebrating a win is a recipe for disaster.

"finally, the campion herself arrives!" jordan cheers and raises his bag of chips up to abby who's walking up to your group, wearing a simple college sweatshirt and some black sweatpants. for something so basic she makes it look good, and if you didn't have any integrity and weren't pissed off about this party bet thing you'd tell her so. but you are pissed off and still have about half of your integrity, so you keep your mouth shut.

when she bumps into your shoulder with a 'told ya i'd win' you're about to reply with a snarky remark when a tall man with dark blonde hair and another with tanned skin and brown hair come up beside her and raise her up on their shoulders, chanting 'anderson, anderson!' on repeat. you look to nora who just rolls her eyes and tells you that she'll introduce you in the car.

you're all split into two cars, with you riding with the two strange men along with abby and nora. they tell you the guysin the front seats are owen and manny. also that they've all known each other since they were teens which definitely doesn't make you feel like an outsider. but manny keeps trying to joke around with you so you don't feel too awkward which you can appreciate. even if you don't really laugh.

when the car stops at a giant white frat house you arent surprised in the slightest. you were about to prepare yourself for another night of drinking and finding another hookup when abby throws her arm over your shoulder and decides that she likes you enough to spend most of the night by your side.

she walks with you to get drinks and then leaves to go celebrate with some other friends while you sit and nurse your drink for a while. it leaves you some time to think, asking yourself why you're acting like you're trapped here when you could just leave whenever you want, but you don't understand why you don't. maybe it's because you'll use any excuse to have a good reason to drown out your problems with alcohol. or because you're lonely but don't feel like admitting it.

after around half an hour she comes back and sits on one side of you while you talk to nora and joins in. she asks about your major, if you're from seattle, and how you met nora. after a while you stop rolling your shoulders when she asks a new question and settle into conversation with her. and after a few hours you learn more about her too, that her dad is a neurosurgeon and she's following in his footsteps with her pre-med major, but that as soon as she tried hockey she knew she wanted to do it forever. she tells you that she doesn't really like drinking, she knows most of the people on the other women's sports teams, that she used to date owen-

you choke on a sip of your vodka and nora pats your back with a chuckle. you were definitely off your game tonight. but besides that hiccup you have to admit talking to them is enjoyable. even their friend manny comes over and dares you to do shots with him and you were seriously about to do it before the girls talked you out of it.

over the next few weeks, you talk more and more to the anderson girl, to the point where you're staying up at night to talk to her over the phone and waking up to your roommate giggling in your face. once she was so tired after a game she started snoring and you would not let her forget it. just like she wouldn't let you forget the time you got wasted at a sorority party, got on top of the kitchen island, and danced to a city girls' song before she set you back on the floor.

you wouldn't ever admit it out loud, hell you had barely admitted it to yourself, but you had started to catch feelings for abby. there was nothing more mebarrasing and cliche to you than falling for your straight friend, and you really didnt want to be on eof those girls who did so. but in your defense, it was really hard not to. she was annoyingly pretty, lord knows how many times youe admired the freckles dusting her cheeks down to her shoulders. she was strong and smart and every other positive character trait your brain could conure up.

but the worst thing was just how nice she was to you.

in hindsight, the way everything fell into place was honestly the dumbest thing ever. you were at a county fair leah had heard about and asked you to come with her along with jordan and abby. obviously, the couple went in their own direction after a while, which left you and abby to wander around getting on the different rides and getting your reaction to abby eating her first-ever funnel cake. but then it was later, and the two of you had stopped at one of those rigged pop up games and you bet her twenty bucks that she wouldn't win, and if there was one thing you knew about abby it was that she took bets very seriously, so when she won and had to pick her prize you were a little confused when she picked your favorite animal and handed it to you.

when you asked her how she knew it was your favorite, all she could say was 'you said they were cool a few times and they're your profile picture on your private instagram, so i just put the pieces together.'

you went home and didnt talk to her for a week. or at least you tried to, because after a weekend of ignoring her calls and convincing tonya to bring you meals from the lunch hall the blonde girl banged her fist on your door and basically demanded you tell her what your problem was.

"i don't see what the big fucking deal is. i'm allowed a little bit of space from you, abigail."

she scoffed and you could see her tongue bunch in the corner of her mouth before her body pushed past yours until she was standing in the middle of your room.

"i'm not saying you can't have space and you know im not. i mean, one second we're having a good time together and then you just shut me out for no reason. if i did something wrong i need you to tell me. i can't read your damn mind, y/n."

sometimes it feels like you can, you think with a snort, feeling slightly embarrassed by the angry look on her face. you collect yourself and cross your arms over your chest. "i just don't feel like talking to you right now, so if you could please get out now-"

"nope. not gonna leave until you tell me what's wrong."

sometimes you could forget just how damn stubborn she was. it mostly popped up on the ice, and you had once overheard her coach say that if she wasn't such a great player she'd be benched most of the time.

"do you realize how annoying you're being right now?"

"don't care."

"i don't give a shit if you have muscles, i can still kick your ass."

"i'd really like to see you try, princess."

you groan and cover your face, but not before raising them in a choking gesture. you walk backward and sit on your bed, trying to take a breather before anderson follows you and resting on the ground in front of you, her large palms smoothing up and down your thighs.

"please, y/n, just...just tell me what i did and i'll fix it, i promise."

you've never been one to cry. or maybe you had been when you were a young child before your father taught you that 'crying doesn't achieve success, at least not the kind you want.' but you can see how much abby cares about you in her eyes and you know that despite you being unreasonable she'll put up with it anyway. your eyes start to sting and you rest your head in the crook of her neck.

she doesn't force you to say anything more than you want, rubbing the expanse of your back while another hand gently pats your head. after a long minute, you pull your head up and find that the space between your two faces is almost nonexistent, your eyes dart from her eyes to her lips, and before you can say anything else her hand is on the back of your neck and she's bringing your lips down to hers.

its soft and sweet and her lips are soft and feel like heaven against yours, and she doesn't give you a second to be confused about what's happening because she's making the kiss deeper and pulling your body closer to hers by putting her arms under yours and pressing you in by the back of your shoulders. you throw your arms over her shoulders and behind her neck and decide that you're going to enjoy this moment for as long as you can.

but eventually, you need to breathe, pulling your head back and letting out a shaky breath of air when abby just moves her ministrations to your neck, sucking and biting on the skin until it bruises.

"i..i thought you were straight." is all you can manage to voice, the feeling of her body pressed into yours and her teeth nipping at your neck making your mind hazy.

she laughs and kisses your neck a few times before looking you in the eyes. "well, i never actually said i was, you just assumed so."

"seriously? you dated owen? he's the dullest straight girl choice i've ever met. and we live in washington" you scoffed.

"yeah, well. that was a long time ago. i've moved on to bigger and better things."

she plants a big overdramatic kiss on your cheek, repeating so on the other side of your face until she can see your smile and hear you giggle. when you both calm down a little she backs up and wears a more serious look on her face.

"i care about you. more than i've cared about anyone before." she smiles, her thumb rubbing over the back of one of your hands. "except maybe my dad, obviously. and nora, she was kinda my best friend before you. but you get what im trying to say."

you laugh and nod at her. "i understand. i...like you too. a lot."

"geez, you're seriously emotionally stunted. but i'll take what i can't get, you'll warm up to me eventually." she slaps her hands on your thighs, ignoring the annoyed look on your face before scooching your body up until you're laying down on your bed, her body gently flopping down onto yours.

"abby! get the hell off, you're wearing your outside clothes!"

"cmon, just five more minutes."

and as much as you complained during those five minutes, you both knew you didnt mind that much.

after that things were really nice. at least for the most part. you were officially abby's girlfriend, which she had asked if you wanted to be the day after you two semi-confessed your feelings. she knew that this kind of commitment was new to you, and the last time it didn't go so well for her, so you both decided it'd be best to take it slow.

(slow meaning you did everything you two did before with the added bonus of making out whenever you wanted. you weren't complaining.)

but keeping things on the down low was a bit of a struggle. abby was a huge fan of pda, always found hugging one of her teammates after a successful game or cuddling with someone on movie nights. she would hug you when you were just friends, but now that you were comfortable with her touching you more in private it started to bleed into public life, her hand looking for yours when walking around or giving you a kiss on the cheek after you aced another test.

the next problem was your friends. you had told nora over a late night phone call while manny had found out when he had walked into the living room of his and abbys shared dorm and found the two of you with your shirts off and kissing on the couch, shouting in both spanish and english about how his eyes burned but he was happy for you both.

you both knew you could trust the two of them with your 'secret', but you didn't expect that end-of-the-year party owen and manny decided to invite you both to.

it was a mix of things really. you were going to just spend time with your friends and nothing more, but you were feeling really pent up. when you and abby decided to take things slow, that also meant sex. which at first was all right with you, hookups were a lot different than sharing yourself with someone you really cared about. but abby was just so effortlessly hot, and now since hockey season was over she had more time to spend with you and it was driving you up the damn wall. it got to the point that you found yourself nearly always on the brink of an orgasm when after a long day she'd press you into her bed and kiss you until you felt dizzy.

so when she decided to go to the party in a tight long-sleeved top and a normal pair of jeans, you definitely should not have been all over her as you were.

(to be fair. she was also on you like white on rice. you had decided to don a tube top with a mini skirt, figuring it couldn't hurt to dress up a little for a simple party. especially since it made your girlfriend look at you like she wanted to eat you alive.)

after mingling a bit and getting yourself a drink, you meet up with some of your friends and start to talk to leah about some drama in one of her classes when abby rejoins you, moving your body so your body is resting into hers. you aren't used to such a public display of affection, but this alcohol is blurring any desire you had to hide that she was yours and you were hers.

"god, you guys are so cute together it makes me sick." nora laughs into her red solo cup, shaking her head at your adorable but annoying affection.

leah's eyebrows scrunch up and she starts to pinch at your arm. "wait, am i missing something? you two are dating?"

at that point, some other people were listening in and looking in at the two of you, including none other than owen moore. now, you and moore were always cordial, but you wouldn't call him a good friend like you would the others. you always felt that whenever he saw or heard about you abby spending time together or heard about how close you two had gotten so quickly, he would smile silently while staring at you like he wanted to burn lasers through your brain.

and he was doing the exact same thing now, his grip on his bear so tight you feared the glass would break. somehow you were the only one who noticed.

"yes, we're together. finally managed to convince this one that jocks aren't just big dumb idiots a few weeks ago." abby's talking breaks you out of your thoughts, her arms snaking around your waist and pulling you to sit on her lap.

you cant help but roll your eyes. "i never once said that."

"well you were thinking it. i could tell."

some of the people who you didnt know and who were friends of friends said congrats, how cute they thought the two of you were, etc. it kind of weirds you out to have all these people paying attention to you just because of who you were with, but abby's quips to any weird remarks you didn't want to acknowledge made you feel better about anything.

but later on, when the two of you are unseriously dancing in the living room, owen comes over and asks abby to talk in private, leaving you to dance with some girls you recognized from the last party. but after three songs pass and abby still hasn't come back, you get a weird feeling in your chest and decide to go looking for the two. you head upstairs and down a few hallways before you hear two voices in a heated argument, and after numerous visits to her games, you can recognize abby's yelling anywhere.

before you can knock on the door to ask if something is wrong, it opens and you see a red-faced owen, not even saying anything before he knocks into your shoulder and goes back downstairs, clearly ignoring your call of 'fucking dick' to his back.

you scoff and shake your head, turning back around to say something to abby before you slightly step back at the look on her face. its dark, like if owen didn't leave she would have kicked his ass first, and now it's trained at you. you know she'd never hurt you, though. partially because she cares about you too much, and partially because you always keep a taser in your back pocket whenever you go to a party.

"abby? what's wrong? did he fucking say something to you?

she laughs before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. her long legs take seconds to reach the bed, her arm releasing when your body sits and bounces slightly on the bed as she stands above you.

"its...its nothing, just owen being a dick like always."

her voice is strained and her hands are tensing into fists, telltale signs that she was really pissed off. you hold her hands in yours, pressing little kisses to her knuckles. normally you hated being so sappy, but you knew that being cute with her was a quick way to calm her down.

"don't worry. i can guarantee one of these days someone is gonna kick his ass. unless i do it first, and you know i want to." you joke and smile when she laughs, gripping her hands so she can sit on the bed next to you.

"yeah, youre right."

"im always right. you should learn that if you wanna stick with me."

she shakes her head before looking at you in silence, and you feel your face get hot under her gaze. you'd never admit it to her but seeing her so angry really did something for you. the bottom of your leg rubs against hers, and her eyes dart down before trailing up your legs to the point where your skirt is starting to ride up your bare thighs.

"here, babe? seriously?"

you sigh, figuring she was right and having your first time together in some stranger's house during a party was horribly tacky. you start to move your leg before she grabs it and puts it on the bed before grabbing you and resting you in her lap.

"i didn't tell you to stop."

so yes, you did get tacky in a strangers house. and back in abby's dorm. and again after you both showered.

so if there was one thing you could ever thank owen for, it was finally giving you both the push you needed to take the next step in your relationship. but after that night things were a little strained, as abby and owen were on a no-contact basis, their fight having something to deal with them and maybe you although she wouldn't go into details, which just led to this drama also spreading to mel since she was dating owen and was always pretty neutral when it came to you and tense when it came to abby, and mel was close friends to leah who was now close to you and...

it was complicated.

but you were used to not having people around. you had abby, nora, manny, and tonya, and that was all you really needed. speaking of tonya, you don't think you've ever seen anyone as happy for someone else's relationship as you did when you told tonya that you and abby got together. she said it was 'half happy that you found someone for you and half happy that someone will finally get the stick out of your ass.'

but your bliss was partially broken when your mother called a week after you had your last finals to let you know she and her father were going to be visiting seattle to talk to you about something important. at this point you hadn't talked to either of your parents since winter when your dad had not so discreetly told you he would be on your ass about skiing again as soon as your leg was alright again. and you were definitely going to dread every minute you had to spend trying to cordial to them, don't even mention finally introducing them to your girlfriend who you so far had never told them about.

for a few days after the call, you must have been acting weird because abby could tell something was wrong and took you to a relaxing little cafe she had found when she first got to the city. you're sipping on a milkshake while abby does the same across from you, digging into her stack of blueberry pancakes, waiting for you to tell her what's going on while she talks about her schedule now that school is out.

"manny's gonna be gone for a month because of his music internship, so i was wondering if you wanted to come and stay at mine while he's gone. we can watch movies, dance to music, or we can practice those recipes i saw on tiktok."

"mhm, that sounds nice, babe." you continue to at least show minimal attention to what she's saying, briefly slurping at your shake until she speaks again.

"yup. but after that, i might have to leave for a while, i haven't seen my dad in forever and he wanted me to stay for two weeks while my aunt is visiting salt lake."

her words slowly die out when she notices how you stop slurping your drink, your eyes staring into space as your thumb scratches at your palm.

throughout your relationship, you had told abby the rundown of your relationship with your parents maybe once. at first, it was because it was a touchy subject and you would be embarrassed if she knew the reason for the way you acted the way you did and thought your baggage was too much for her.

and then it was because deep down you were jealous. they had their ups and downs, but abby had such a pure relationship with her father that sometimes it made you sick. while he didnt flaunt his wealth because of his principles, but abby would tell you about all the times when she was younger that her dad would give her the best birthday parties, take her with him to conferences around the world, and made sure she had anything she desired.

so when you had to tell her that the most your dad did was give you a break to be a normal adult instead of shaping you into a champion, you don't think there was ever a time that you secretly envied her more.

"this is about your dad, isn't it?" she whispered, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. you nodded, relieved that your girlfriend could read you like a book and you didnt have to say it out loud.

"could you tell me more about it?"

shit.

you sighed, a deep breath leaving your body and clearing your head.

"my parents are gonna be here soon. said they wanted to talk to me about something "important", which means my dad thinks i've had enough time to recover from my leg being nearly snapped in two because he thinks he knows better than the doctor. but hey, maybe when i was gone he got another fuckin degree to throw in my face."

while you ranted abby never said a word, just paying close attention and providing you comfort. out of everyone in the crew, she was always the person people went to talk to when they needed it. she said it was something she got from her mom.

"all my life he's been like this. just pushing me and pushing me until im at the point of breaking until i use my anger to win. there's no doubt he's still doing it. heard my brother is being scouted at his games and he's only fifteen."

abby nods and presses a kiss to your hand, treading carefully with what she says next. "your dad sounds...horrible, honestly. he never...hit you did he?"

you feel your body jerk back and both of your eyes go big at your reaction.

"no, no he would never. im serious. wouldn't make sense from a logical standpoint, id be in front of other people all the time and any injuries would fuck up my skiing."

"well that's a bleak way of looking at it, but im glad he didnt. but the other shit is still bad."

"yeah. definitely not looking forward to dealing with that again in two weeks."

"i know, but im here, and im gonna stick by you every step of the way, alright? even if your parents find out they hate me and curse my bloodline."

you couldn't help but snort at her. "nobody could hate you, anderson. you would annoy them too much and make dirty bets against them."

"what? that wasn't a dirty bet! you'd just never seen my skills before and i used it to my advantage."

"whatever you say abs."

abbys reassurance and patience helped greatly, and by the time you met your parents at their hotel for breakfast, you weren't nervous about whatever bullshit they had to say.

but for some odd reason, they were very cordial. your mom asked you about school, how your grades were, and how you liked your chosen major. when it got to the point if you were seeing anyone, you not so subtly gushed about abby and she seemed really happy for you. your dad even praised you for picking another sportsman, avoiding your look while he ate his eggs.

a week later you even had the courage to introduce them to abby, who told you she would cook something for all of you to eat.

that tiktok recipe she was talking about? it was ratatouille. and you had to admit it was delicious, and you wondered how abby was so good at so many things and she told you when she was a kid she wanted to learn how to do basically everything and her dad was more than happy to indulge her. sometimes you really wondered how she didn't appear to be so spoiled.

but your girl was nothing if not a charmer, and by the end of the night your mom was gushing over how much she liked abby and thought she was a great match for you.

your dad was...your dad. he acted polite, asking abby about her intentions, if she was dedicated to her studies and sports and you at the same time. blah blah blah. abby gave perfect human resources-like answers that she knew would make you giggle and loosen up.

once dinner was over your mother insisted on staying a little while longer to watch a movie, finding out she and your girlfriend both had soft spots for mamma mia and grease and planned to drink some wine and let loose for once. while the two were watching meryl streep panic on screen your dad tapped you on the shoulder and asked if he could speak to you in private, and you were mentally prepared to get into yet another argument.

"i know i'm the last person who gets to say this but..you've seemed to have really grown this past year. I'm proud of you."

"thanks. i guess."

he sighs, shifting on his feet. "i know i've always been hard on you and your brothers. i just-i knew that if you had guidance you could be phenomenal at whatever you do."

"yeah, dad, but that doesn't mean forcing me to train for ten hours a day when i was still in third grade." you could list more instances of him being overbearing and partially ruining your childhood, but you don't feel like being the person who makes the conversation go sour.

"i know. trust me, i know. look, your mother has us going to a shrink and...one of the steps is asking for forgiveness and whatever mumbo jumbo."

you almost snort but pass it off as a sneeze. your dad in therapy was about as believable as a talking donkey.

"well, it's nice to hear dad but it's not gonna be just as easy as being nice to me and my girlfriend for a night."

"i know. which is why i wanted to show you this."

he pulls out and his phone and after a few taps shows you an article. you read the word 'olympics' and nearly blow before he cuts you off.

"just listen, alright? one of the big coaches was caught and fired for doping a bunch of the players, so they're postponing the winter games for another few years for investigations to see if there's any more misconduct."

"are you serious?"

"deadly. and i know with your leg and your schooling you'll have your hands full but, i figured the best way i knew how to bond with you was to help you. it'd be enough time to get extensive physical therapy and train up. but only if you want to."

"dad, i. i really don't know what to say."

"you don't have to say anything, at least not now. just promise me you'll think about it, alright? and if by next spring you still don't want to, I'll never bring it back up again."

after that, your mother comes and says they should get going to get enough sleep for their flight tomorrow, and you bid your parents goodbye with stiff hugs and a genuine smile.

for the next few months into your sophomore year your on the fence. when you were a kid, despite the pain and the tears and the bruises, there was nothing you loved more than skiing. you swear that the adrenaline rushes you would get speeding down slopes were better than anything you've ever experienced, even sex.

(when abby heard you say that one night on the couch, she pouted and wouldn't touch you for a week, telling you to go back to those stupid slopes if that's how you felt.)

but the point was that you were basically going through a beginning life crisis. either stick with the new normal you've created and potentially miss out on fulfilling your childhood dreams, or take a risk and potentially come out more damaged than before.

you were planning on spending the next thanksgiving mulling it over, but to your shock baby invited you to come with her to her dad's house for thanksgiving with her family. when checking in with her to see if she and her dad would be ok with this big step, she told you it was actually her dad's idea and she'd be more than happy to have you meet her family.

you swear to god you have never been more nervous on a plane than you were on the flight to salt lake, only being soothed by the constant free drinks you get in first class, the six hundred page book in your hands, and abbys large hand constantly rubbing on your thigh and back. you suggested that you both join the mile-high club as a joke and she seemed a little too into it.

"babe please, i promise ill be quick. i can even put my fingers in your mouth."

"abby, i was just joking. im not gonna do that and get kicked off the plane. god, you're so fuckin weird."

"you make me weird. pretty please? ill pull out the puppy eyes."

"i really don't give a fuck."

and you come to find out that abby's stories were true because her dad is so weirdly nice. he greets you at the airport like he's known you all your life, and is eager to find conversation the whole drive to his house where you both are staying.

you were glad that like you abby had a smaller family, or at least one she spent thanksgiving with. after her father you only had to introduce yourself to her aunt and her small family, a husband who you have to look down at and likes to boast about his coin collection, and three children. the eldest, ashley, was closer in age to you and abby and was clearly abby's favorite cousin. the middle child was a wild child named kris, who didn't seem at all phased that you were a stranger and kept asking you if you'd ever heard of their favorite anime series.

now, you've never been the best with children, you repeatedly told your mother to throw your baby brother in the trash when you were six, but you couldn't help but fawn over abby's baby cousin lyle, the cutest infant you've ever seen who after a few hours of fussing because of the time change, he calms down into a smiling drooling little thing who, although he keeps tugging at your hair when his mom hands you to him, seemed to actually enjoy your presence and laughs like its the funniest thing ever.

you didnt catch the way abby looked at you fondly while you were playing around with her cousin or the way she swatted her father away when he called her out on it.

so thanksgiving was easy, a peaceful week full of meeting kind people and eating some surprisingly good food. but you didn't even get a week of peace after before abby brought it up.

christmas.

yes the holiday was full of joy and warmth when you were a child. but after a mini teenage rebellion and your energy you just...gave up on the holiday completely. last year you spent it alone inside your dorm which wasn't the worst thing on earth. you got to watch corny feel-good movies like national lampoons, drink hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and had free reign to the library since the librarian apparently used to watch your games on tv. it wasn't like it used to be, but it was enough.

"so, you're coming with us to the cabin right?" nora reaches across the library table and takes one of your fries from the fast food you sneaked in. for some reason she refused to order her own fries, content to pluck the ones from your container.

"what? what cabin?"

"god, abby hasn't told you about this by now? i thought she would have taken you there already and made it her love shack or something." she quickly ducks her head when you toss a burnt fry at her, looking around to make sure no one saw. "it's her dad's cabin at one of the ski ranges in the mountains, she invites us every year for christmas break or new years if we can't make it."

"first, you're a perv. second, i don't know why she hasn't told me about it. id probably tease her for it anyway."

"well when you see her next ask her, because you definitely have to come with us this year."

"i don't know, nors. you know how i feel about skiing right now..."

"you don't have to ski! we literally never do, as sad as it is. we just hang out, go out for drinks, and hit the skiing town. im telling you cold resort parties are insane."

you take a minute to mull it over, staring into space as you tap your fingers on the hardwood table. nora fingers tap on the top of your hand.

"i understand you're going through things, with your dad and all. you don't have to come if you don't want to. but i know we'd really enjoy it if you came, especially abby."

you nod and eat another fry before gegging back to the novel you were reading, some 'all-time classic' abby had said you had to read.

you saw abby a few hours after that, yet again staying the night at her dorm to kick off the following weekend. when you entered using your spare key the smell of chinese food instantly hit you, and it took you by surprise since abby normally insisted on cooking for you and manny.

you set down your things and kicked off your shoes before heading into the little kitchenette, hearing the sound of rather loud whispers that stopped as soon the roommates saw you, noodles stuffed into both of their mouths.

"what the fuck are yall starin at?"

manny snorts before making some weird excuse for leaving, telling you he's meeting up with some meteorology student at a bar and he won't be home until tomorrow. you bid him. a quick goodbye before turning back to abby, the blonde picking through her food.

its only then that you notice the gauze wrapped around her palm, quickly cross the threshold to gently but firmly raise her hand up to your face to observe it.

your about to go on a triade when you see that sad pout on her face.

"tell me who did this to you." you grumble, putting on a fake deep voice.

she chuckles and shakes her head. "you're so weird."

"only because of you. tell me what happened."

"i was trying to cook before we ordered takeout and i just...got distracted and burned my hand. its not a big deal, don't worry about it."

you tell by the way her shoulders were tensing that she was getting into one of her moods, always hating when she failed at something and hating even more when people kept asking her about it.

"well im always gonna worry about, something that's also your fault by the way. what made you distracted."

"nothing."

"abs."

"please just drop it."

"abigail."

she groans before slumping her head into her arms on the counter.

so you decide to drop it. at least for a little while. you put away the rest of the food, deciding to eat the box she bought for you after her mood had been resolved before figuring you'd leave her alone while you took a shower.

but if there was one thing you knew about abby, it was that she took 'golden retriever energy' to a whole nother level. aka most of the time she couldn't leave you alone and followed you near everywhere. after only a few minutes, you heard the shower door open and felt her large arms circle around your waist and her head rest on your shoulders.

"i wanna ask you something. there's this cabin my dad owns that we all head to for winter break and stuff-"

you felt your heart skip a beat. to be honest part of the reason you were nervous about abby asking you this was because you were second-guessing yourself and your relationship. you hadn't even been together for a full year at this point, and even if you knew you loved her and that she adored you, you didnt want to be the one to bring up this thing she does with people she's known for years and get your heart damaged.

"and i wanted to invite you to go with us because i just know youd make it feel so much more special."

"i feel like a 'but' goes at the end of that sentence."

she rubs her head into your shoulder more, kissing at the soft and wet skin of your shoulder blade.

"i didn't tell you much. about my fight with owen. but everyone knows we haven't been talking much, but he's still been my friend since elementary, and i was hoping that maybe during the trip we could resolve things. but if he ever said something to you or about you i think id go fucking crazy."

your turn around and hold her head in your hands. her body is still slumped so her head is more at your level and her pretty blue eyes stare right into yours.

"i appreciate that. your slight anger issues make me feel honored." a smile quirks on her face and she nuzzles her head into your palms more. "and as much as he pisses me off, i don't know how i feel about causing a greater rift between you and your friends. ive only been with you less than a hear, he's known you for-"

"year or not doesn't matter. you mean...so much to me i can't put into words. the only reason i was nervous all day was that i didnt know how to make this sound like i wasn't putting him before you because i wouldn't. ever."

you look at her a bit longer, swiping away wet pieces of her hair back from her face so you can see all of her. because she's looking at you like she can do the same.

you both take an intimate shower without a word, helping the other bathe and lather her hair in apricot shampoo she's become addicted to. once you exit, dry off, and change into some matching fluffy pajamas she bought for you both, you finally head back to the kitchen to eat your food before turning on a movie.

it was only because you both decided to choose some random movie that the stupid thought crossed into your mind.

"could you imagine if we were that touchy all the time? we're already halfway there and it drives your friends nuts." you poked her cheek while you were resting on her, her arm wrapped around your shoulders while your legs intertwined on the couch.

"what do you mean?"

"just like, overdoing it. always with an arm around the other, making eyes across the room. if you wanna get extreme you could carry me on your back."

"or i could carry you on my front."

the shift of her hips and the tone of her voice makes you turn your head to look at her, nearly busting out laughing at the way her eyes are glued to the screen while she chews on her lower lip.

"stop doing that."

"doing what? im watching the movie. watch the movie with me."

"this is just like on the plane. y'know i was kidding about the exhibitionist thing at first-"

"baby, please."

"please what?"

she groaned while you just giggled at her, moving your bodies so she was sitting up on the couch and you were on top of her, adjusting your hips so you were straddling her waist.

"what're you thinking about, bunny?"

a subtle whine escaped from her throat and you smirked in triumph. there was nothing your girl loved more than being called the softest and cutest pet names, and you would frequently use it to your advantage, like the time when she refused to help you cheat on a test 'on principle' and you rested your face on her thigh from under the desk with a 'please, princess?' and she happily gave you the answers after roughly grinding herself on your tongue.

"i just...maybe if we played it up at the cabin owen would finally fuck off and realize im yours. i just thought it'd be funny."

you felt a warm feeling in your chest at the thought, showing your girl all the affection she craved from you on an idyllic vacation while also showing that dick owen who's boss. maybe then he'd finally let whatever his issue with you go. or not. at this point you didnt care.

"ok. we can do it."

"what? are you serious? i was half joking. i don't wanna make you do anything you don't want to-"

you cut off her sweet rambles with a press of your lips to hers. her arms brought you in closer until your breasts were squished into hers.

when abby texted the group chat the next morning next to you in bed to let the others know you'd be joining, you couldn't help but feel warm at the replies.

manny : thank god, i need a drinking partner since no one ever wants irish hot chocolate

leah : because the last time you made it you got drunk by five pm and kept singing baby its cold outside while doing both parts

jordan : and badly

manny : haters

nora : omg thank god

nora : this is all because of me btw

nora : tell y/n we're gonna have sooo much fun

manny : wait is she gonna ski

jordan : stop.

you giggled at your friends' antics. you were already imagining all the crazy things that would happen on the trip and happily listened to all the stories abby had to tell you.

mel : cant wait for the trip! hoping ben's is still open.

owen : 👍🏻

a snort escaped from you. "oh hes so pissed."

"definitely." abby agreed before turning the phone off and snuggling into your neck to relax for a little while longer. "prepare, he's probably just gonna get angrier from our masterful plan."

"technically my plan. and are you sure you still wanna do it? i don't wanna drive a wedge between you guys."

"he started that at that party. either he's gonna deal with me changing for the better or im gonna leave him in the dust. now shush, im going to sleep."

your hand smooths through abby's locks as she drifts back into sleep, and you soon follow her into it, dreaming of pale snow and the sight of the slopes.

the nex two weeks before break starts you're horrifically busy, finishing up some tests while also buying and packing everything you'll need for the trip. which is really just an excuse for you to get a bunch of those cute thick sweaters you saw on ebay but that's neither here nor there.

once your last class was finished abby immediately called an uber to take you to the airport, citing that as the host she always headed to the cabin earlier than everyone else to fix it up and stock up on little things, everyone would need or forget like extra blankets and lots and lots of water. during the trip to the airport, waiting in the airport since you were both 'get there hours before the flight' girls, and on the flight itself, abby was telling you stories of the cabin and what has happened on the past few trips that you should know about.

apparently, the cabin (in aspen, which you teased her was so basic) was bought by her grandparents (more teasing) for family trips when her dad was little. but as his siblings got older and started their own families the trips dwindled down, until his parents decided to just leave the place to him, telling him not to sell it for anything since it was worth a fat load of cash by now. hed take abby and her mom there before she passed, and then once she turned sixteen told her he trusted her enough to bring her friends up there if they could.

"honestly, i think it was part of him being nice and feeling sad we didn't spend much time together then. we were still mourning and he was always working." she sinks into her first-class seat, sipping on her complimentary ginger ale can. "but we're better now, and i get to have a laid-back vacation with my friends every year."

"sounds like a win-win to me. traumatic way you got there and all."

"you of all people saying that is hilarious, truly."

a few hours of talking and napping later and you've landed in colorado, a rental car waiting for you in the airport parking lot.

"abs, you are so secretly bougie. like, why didn't you rent a private car that time yours was in the shop and we were stuck in the rain downtown?"

"it's for emergencies and the necessary."

driving through the roads of aspen snowmass is something close to magical. at this point, the sun has set and the twinkling lights of the villages are everywhere, and you can see a plethora of christmas decorations inside shop windows.

when abby parks outside of the cabin your jaw is close to dropping, and you have to hold it up once you step inside. there was obviously a lot of wood, making up the floors, walls, and beams that connect both. but it was also decorated with relaxed brown and cream furniture.

"i want you to know if we get married, im not signing a prenup."

abby cackles before sneaking up behind you and tickling your waist, cackling at your shriek followed by a scowl.

"'if' babe, really? nice to know you're so committed."

"i'll be more committed if you give me a tour of this place."

the cabin was big, of course. enough bedrooms for your whole group and a few more. you honestly couldn't pick your favorite. there was a game room with a pool table you were just itching to beat jordan and leah at, a hot tub outside on the deck looking down onto the village that looked like the perfect place to drink champagne with nora talking shit about her recent ex.

"now, this is what i really wanted you to see," abby smiles before pushing open a wide set of doors on the upper floor and revealing to you the grand bedroom. there's a giant bed against the back wall, with a warm little nook tucked into a bay window.

"it's so nice here abs, really. i can't wait for everyone to get here so we can start doing stuff." you drop your bags by the front of the bed and flop your behind onto it, loving the way it bounces you up and down a bit. and you can tell that abby also loves it by the way she's staring at the way your boobs jiggle.

"im glad you like it, baby. but we don't have to wait for the others to get here to have some fun." a pervy little smile lights up her face and she starts inching towards you, making stupid little grabby hands as she does so.

"you're insatiable. aren't we supposed to be making sure this place is ready for everyone else?"

"wasn't it your idea for us to play everything up for fun? that includes sex. a lot of it. strap-ons are allowed on planes, by the way. and other things."

"...seriously?"

"seriously."

at this point, her arms are caging you into the plush of the comforter, and you don't know whether to look at the veins in her arms or her eyes or her mouth-

"you're staring, pretty."

"well you're all i can see, gorgeous."

she presses a soft kiss to the underside of your chin, her tounge poking out to lick down your neck.

"god, abs, please."

"please what?"

you groan and she just laughs at you.

the hardest part of being a switch was that abby could just throw shit back in your face when she became more dominant. it was both infuriating and arousing.

“im not gonna say it."

"you sure?" her large hand slips beneath the band of your pants until its resting over your underwear, teasing you.

"yes i a-am!" your refusal is cut off when two of her thick fingers slide inside of you, filling you up in the most delicious way. it doesn't help your case that there's no restriction, the wetness between your thighs letting her know just how much you were enjoying this.

"y'know, your master plan isn't exactly gonna work if you have an attitude with me, baby." her words are gravelly as she speakes into the crease of your neck, occasionally looking up at you to ingrain your reactions into her memory.

"god, abs."

"this is one the things i love most about you acting like a brat, just means i get to fuck and love on you until it goes away. and i've got all the time in the fuckin world."

just when you start getting close to your orgasm, you could've sworn in the distance you heard the sound of a door opening before closing a few minutes later. the feeling of abby kissing you and adding a third finger inside of you. you decided to just drop it

later on, after a nice long shower and putting on this cute warm sweater you bought, you and abby decided it was time to head out and get enough groceries to last for around two weeks until everyone else would arrive and decide what meals they would want after. it was very entertaining to watch abby standing in a fluorescently lit market aisle decide if she wanted to make a giant chicken pot pie or some creamy chicken soup one of her teammates told her about. she just stuck her tongue out when you looked at her.

once you returned to the cabin you could hear some music coming from inside the house, and despite your initial worry abby just smiled and rushed inside, your brain seriously wondering if you had chosen correctly romantically.

you headed inside with a few of the bags, setting them on the kitchen counters before heading to the source of the music that appeared to be coming from the living room. once you cross the threshold you are happily surprised to see your girlfriend and manny talking and laughing in the middle of the room.

"ah! nice to know abs hasn't broken you already." manny comes over to give you a big hug before setting you down and shaking your shoulders, just laughing when you start smacking his hands.

"jeez, what is with you guys? be normal."

"you forget im abby's roommate. this is because of you. you gave me this trauma."

you roll your eyes before patting him on the shoulder.

"ok, ok. why did you come early? when do the others get here?" abby asks from her place still on the couch.

"what, i cant just come because i love and miss two of my best friends."

the room is silent as you both stare at him.

"well just so you know, that was half true. but also," he looks down a dark hallway before tugging you closer to the couch so he can speak quietly. "mel and owen are here."

you blink. "thats...odd."

"very odd, but maybe it's a good thing? who knows, maybe owen's gotten over the whole fight and wants to put it to bed." abby turns to you, those big blue eyes filled with hope that you don't have the heart to squash with a joke.

"yeah, maybe."

"well if he did do that, i don't think he's in the mood for it now." manny chuckles.

"why not?"

"he was confused to see a car in the driveway, so he came by two hours ago and left like two minutes later. his face was as red as a tomato, you know how he looks when he's flushed."

oh my god.

you turned to abby and her cheeks were puffed, a clear sign she was trying not to laugh.

well, it looks like your plan was already working.

the next three days were more laid back, just spent taking a chance to relax and sleep in after your grueling semester. you decided to spend these days exploring more of the cabin, admiring all of the rooms and the random really pretty art pieces on some of the walls.

you swore that nothing could beat the bliss you felt on that second day, waking up to the faint sun in your eyes and abby gently snoring next to you, deciding to cook up a bunch of waffles, one of the meals you excelled at, and read a four hundred page book on the sofa.

(the plan was still in motion at this point, just more tame.

once jordan, leah, and nora came things really took a turn for the exciting. after hearing that you'd been cooped in the house these past few days, leah insisted you come with them to some bars and other hot spots around town. you hadn't been drinking much lately but figured that since you were surrounded by people you trusted and a bunch of strangers you'd be able to handle yourself.

and you did.

for the most part.

you just weren't expecting the bartender to be the chillest girl you've ever met and make a killer strawberry daiquiri, because before you knew it they were playing some old-school song over the speakers and were hanging off of leah's arm like a koala.

"oh my god, im so glad you invited me out. this place rules. have you tried the daiquiris? serenity said she'd make me one more but you can have it."

"her name is trinity, and you're getting touchy. where's abs?"

you shrug and she shakes her head, looking over your shoulders to see if she can spot the hulking blonde. she waves someone over and then abby is in your vision, a soft expression on her face as she tugs your body into hers.

"how much have you had to drink, baby?"

"mmmm, not too much. i could walk in a gay line. look, i even made a corny joke!"

"yes, you did." she squats down a little bit and you wrap your arms around her neck and your legs around her waist, trying to restrain yourself from making any noises when she lifts you with ease to the amusement of some of the people in the bar.

"how about we head back and take a long bath, pretty. ill even try those rose face masks you bought."

you were about to agree when out of the corner of your eye you catch owen, sitting inside a booth with jordan and manny, sparing looks in your direction.

you smirk down at her and she can already guess what you're thinking, tightening her grip on your hips.

"or we can do that later. and dance now."

you nod and loosen your legs for her to drop you but she just holds you tighter for a moment, leaning her head up to place a heated kiss on your lips before pulling away, fighting to ignore the tiny string of spit that connects your lips to hers.

"ok. now we can dance."

abby told you the next day that owen had asked to talk to her one on one in the morning and she didn't really understand what it meant. he apologized for lashing out at her, apparently, but still didnt agree with some of the 'drastic changes to her personality' that were happening lately.

you really tried to promise her that you wouldn't cuss him out, telling you she'd handle it later after having a conversation with manny to figure out when the hell he started acting like this.

focus on tried.

you and nora were in the kitchen that night making cups of hot chocolate, taking the chance to top them with all the stuff you weren't allowed to as a child. also probably increasing your risks of cavities, but whatever, it was nostalgic. you were laughing at the absurd abundance of whipped cream in her mug and the three candy canes in yours when you heard footsteps coming into the kitchen, looking over to see owen looking over some things in the fridge.

you looked at nora. she looked at you.

"so owen, how are things going with mel?"

his hand pauses over some leftover noodles, gripping it with a fist.

"we're great actually, thanks for asking norsie."

noras eye twitches, bumping into your shoulder before leaving the room to rest in the kitchen and wait for you before starting a movie.

owen turns and suddenly its just the two of you. staring at each other. you with a three-caned hot cocoa and he with a tupperware of linguine.

"what's your fucking problem."

his eyebrows shoot up, almost like he wasn't expecting you to actually bring up the tension at hand.

"y/n, is this really the time-"

"yes, it is the goddamn time to ask you why you've been acting like a dick to me and my girlfriend."

his mouth quirks downwards and you nearly laugh at the realization of the words, the glances, how he would look at abby sometimes like a kicked puppy even when his damn girlfriend sat on his lap, it was all because he couldn't move the fuck on.

"seriously? that's the reason? you've been putting me, putting abby through hell because you're still hung up over her? this is my worst gay nightmare."

"it's because ever since she's been with you shes been different, always acting like she's some better person now that she's over me. like i was the thing holding her back. how do you think that makes me feel, huh?"

you stare at him after his quiet outburst, his face that signature shade of pink and his eyes enraged. but he doesn't scare you.

you walk closer to him, entertained by the way she avoids you like the plague, and presses his back into the refrigerator. you want to lash out more, to scream at him until your throat is sore, to whisper all the little flaws about him you've noticed over the past year that are driving everyone away, but you won't.

"i hope it makes you feel like the heap of shit you are. goodnight, moore."

when abby feels you snuggle into her later that night, feeling your hands squeeze into her stomach from behind you, she asks if everything is ok, and you press a kiss to her cheek and tell her to go back to sleep.

the next morning it's christmas eve, and everyone is in the dining room eating breakfast and talking about how everyone somehow has no plans when you make a suggestion for the day.

"i wanna go hit the slopes today."

you swear most of them look at you like you've grown another head that just started trying to sing the tequila song.

manny continues chewing his eggs before giving you a thumbs up, but you can tell he's secretly been waiting for this. after you first met he asked you if you've ever skied again after your accident and then dropped it when you gave him a death glare. but since you've gotten closer he knows more about how it's not that you can't ski, but almost as if there was a mental block that stopped you from doing so.

"uhm...sure. i can see if we can do that. are you sure you want to?" abby rests her arms on the table and leans her head into yours, trying to give a sense of privacy for your answer.

"i'm not made of glass, abby. it's about time i get back out there. its the only way i'll known for sure about what my dad said."

"what'd your dad say?" mel speaks up from the opposite side of the table, her hand rested over owen's on top of the wood.

you straighten your shoulders. "some stupid doping scandal got the olympics postponed, and my dad said if i wanter he thinks he could get me back in shape by then to apply."

"holy shit! i mean, it's your choice obviously, but that's cool as hell. i think you should do it." jordan exclaims, sipping on his orange juice through a straw.

"wait, what about your leg? you've only had problems with it a couple of times, but is it alright enough to go ski?" nora asks. she was the one who besides abby you've told the most about your skiing problems, and once took you to the pharmacy to pick up your pain meds like it was no hassle.

"it's better if i don't push myself too much, but the blue and reds should be a piece of cake."

you look at abby, and even though she has no idea why you've had this sudden change of heart, she can hear the subtle excitement in your voice and nods her head at you with a smile.

thanks to everyone always waking up at the break of dawn for some reason, you're checked in to the slopes and ready to go only three hours later. jordan and manny even decided to join you and try their hands at the bunny slopes, the rest of the group deciding to find somewhere to sit and relax while they watched you all.

"mama please, you're embarrassing me." manny groans while you tilt his head from side to side to make sure all of the straps for his helmet and goggles are secure. you weren't about to have him getting a concussion and blaming you for bringing him here or the workers for their sloppy job.

"no one knows better ski safety than me. now shush, I'm almost done."

once you were finished you gently smacked his head and headed to the side of where the slope ends, abby beaming at you from over the rail. she was wearing this cute little beanie she bought for the trip and this all-black bomber jacket that made her look so much bigger than she already is.

"hello? babe, did you hear what i said?" abby's hand waves in front of your face bringing you back to focus. you slowly blink and she shakes her head. "you're so weird."

"again, i get that from you."

"whatever." her gloved hand rests on your face and she brings you closer so she can press a soft kiss onto your lips. when she tries to pull away but your arms are wrapping around her neck and pulling her body into yours, starting an impromptu makeout session before jordans wolf call yanks you out of it.

her fingers reach up to push a strand of hair back into your helmet. "are you sure you'll be ok up there? if your leg hurts just pull over to the side and i'll try to come up and help you-"

you cut her off with another kiss. "i'll be fine, princess. don't worry about me. just worry about all those losers I'm gonna show up."

she laughs that cute and loud little laugh of hers and sends you off, waving to you multiple times when she sees you go up the lift.

once you are at the top you go over everything again, making sure all of your equipment is snug, the track in front of you is good, and your skis are tight and before you know it you're standing at the top of the slope breathing heavy and feeling like you're about to have a panic attack.

your head feels like it's on fire and you swear that you are close to passing out when someone taps on your shoulder. you turn around and it's some teen by his face unobstructed by the goggles, a go-pro attached to his helmet.

"hey, sorry if i'm being annoying but, you're y/n l/n right?"

you nod, hoping he can't see the strained expression on your face.

"i just wanted to say that i think you're like, so cool. i saw that video of you training for the super g at thirteen and it changed my life, seriously."

your head felt a bit better at the memory. the adrenaline you got skiing down slopes at top speeds and then dodging the flags your father asked the owners if he could put on the track to help you train. they were nice people, and even let you pick what flags you wanted. a mix of pink and black.

"thank you. i swore that training took everything out of me. but at least i didn't have to worry about how i was doing in algebra."

he laughs and bobs his head. he clears his throat before slightly hopping on his two feet.

"you ok, kid?"

"yes, yeah, i just... ya see i have this youtube channel where i post videos of me riding down the slopes, helping beginners, trying the harder slopes, and stuff like that." he taps the go bro on his helmet. "and i was wondering if you wanted to do like, a friendly little race? i don't know, you don't have to i know you're leg is probably still healing, i can just go if you wa-"

"i'll do it."

his eyes bulge, surprised at your answer. you have to admit you're slightly surprised too. you weren't planning on doing anything more than inching your way down the intermediate slope a few times, but the memory of the super g has energy suddenly rushing through you. besides, it'd be a nice distraction from everything else. your dad. owen. you.

when you both get to the edge of the slope, you let him know you'll give him a twenty-second head start before you follow. he nods, and a few seconds later you're skiing for the first time in years.

and it feels fucking great.

at the speeds you are going the wind is whipping across the unprotected parts of your face, the stinging cold keeping you focused as you turn around trick hills and get your legs used to the feeling of slight strain. but your legs feel fine, and that makes you feel even better.

before long you can see the kid ahead of you and your friends in the close distance, nora's red coat bobbing up and down as she cheers for you. only five seconds after you pass your fan and can hear his slight spluttering before you're bringing your skis to a stop and the ice is flying from underneath them.

your heart is pounding as the kid, who tells you his name is aidan, thanks you for 'kicking his ass, i swear it'll get so many views". he tells you he'll tag you, and you do him one better by saying you'll follow him back and you're a little scared he's about to have a heart attack before he leaves to check in with his parents.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god! that was so fucking cool! i really thought you were gonna wipe out there for a second but I'm glad you didn't." leah squeezes your body in a hug rocking you from side to side. "are you gonna go again? if you do i swear I'll put on some skis and go down the bunny slope."

you throw your head back with a laugh, imagining leah slowly going down the snow while pizza and french frying her skis. you bask in the compliments given to you by nora who was watching the whole time and manny who tells you he successfully completed the green slope with no falls or bumps. you feel the urge to talk to abby, to have her tell you she's proud of you when you see her near one of the equipment cabins, talking to owen.

"are you gonna go again or do you wanna stop for the day?"

you look at nora with a grin. "yeah, i'll go again."

later that night, after a few more hours of racing your friends and even seeing a few more fans who recognized you, even one lady who said she remembered you based on your form, everyone is headed back to the house to end the day after getting some drink from the community lodge

for some reason, abby hasn't talked to you since, and based on what you saw you're preparing for the damn worst. a small part of you knows you might be overreacting, that there's no way she would fall for the bullshit more had to say to her, but her avoidance of you isn't helping that little part take charge.

like she could read your mind, she's on your tail and following you into your bedroom, taking off her clothes as you do the same but still no word before you head into the shower. under the heat of the water, you rest your head on the wall and close your eyes to try to center yourself. you know abby, you know how much she's done for you. owen wasn't going to get in the way of that and you refused to let him.

you dry yourself off, brush your teeth, moisturize your body, and decide not to put on your pajamas and just this cute robe abby bought for you before leaving the bathroom. after turning off the lights you stop in your tracks, abby sitting on the side of the bed and staring at you.

your feet slowly carry you closer to her before she rolls her eyes and tugs you onto her lap. your face is neutral, even when you can feel the bulge inside of her sweatpants. you tilt your head and she replicates it.

"let me guess, you got an attitude again?"

"you're a fucking hypocrite."

"wh?" her face jerks back in confusion. "what are you talking about?"

"don't play fucking dumb with me abigail. biggest personal growth moment for me in forever and you spend it talking to your damn ex, who if you didn't catch it is still hung up on you, by the way."

"i know, just let me explain-"

"no, i don't want to know. if you're just doing all this as some fucked up way to let me down gently i swear to god-"

you get cut off when one of her hands moves from your waist to cover your mouth, her eyes drooping when you nip at her palm.

"stop it. you know i wouldn't do something that shitty to you, please stop being so paranoid." she waits to gauge your reaction before she decides that you aren't likely to cut her off, softly rubbing at the skin under your eye. "please don't cry."

"im not gonna cry."

"just wanted to make sure. because i care about you, and that's what i was letting owen know that when he was being a jealous dick about you skiing earlier. told him I'm this close to kicking him to the curb for good."

"wait really? what'd he say? i bet he was pissed when i skied over that stuck stump, probably wishes i rode over it and fucking broke my back."

"jeez, you really do despise him." she shakes her head, smiling and rubbing her hands on your thighs. "but yes, he was wondering if maybe now that you were fine to ski you were trying to upstage me or something."

"and do you? and why were you ignoring me?"

she sighed. "literally the opposite. you're just...so amazing, and funny, and talented, and i just know soon you'll be this olympian and wont wanna deal with me and my dumb ex anymore."

"i mean, i am amazing you're right about that," you brag, giggling when she pinches you. "but i'd deal with anything to be with you. i don't even have the words. i wouldn't have gotten on that slope without you always pushing me, despite how annoying i may find it."

abby's' face is beaming and suddenly she's kissing you like you're air, leaning back into the bed so you can hover over her. she stops kissing you just to move her ministrations to all over your face, repeating little 'i love you's' as she does so, reveling in the little hums that leave your throat.

"ok, are we done being sappy so we can fuck now?" your question ends in a squeak when her palm slaps your ass. you look at her with a glare and she just dopily smiles at you, gripping your hips to flip you underneath her.

"y'know, owen and mel picked the room right next to ours." she grinds her hips into yours, the friction of the strap rubbing against you heightened since your robe was riding up to show her bare cunt.

"god, you want me to be loud, don't you?"

"mmhm." she grins as her hand moves down to push the band of her pants down, the feeling of the toy grinding out forcing you to bite your lip to hide your moan, embarrassed by how quickly she could make you want it. her thumbs moves to pull your lip from between your teeth.

she continues humping you until she can see you're wet enough to slide in, looking for your nod to push the strap into you, groaning as it just slides in.

"y/n, we barely did any foreplay-"

"shut up, please shut up."

for some reason she takes that as a sign to start thrusting, reveling in your moans as they finally start to pick up volume. you try to bite the back of your hand when she pulls it away, holding it in hers and holding it above your head. the action is so sweet it almost makes you cry, instead thrusting your head up to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

"mm, love when you're all sweet like this honey. wanna stay like this forever, love you so fuckin much i swear to god." she accentuates her last couple of words with short but harsh thrusts that knock the breath out of your lungs. your orgasm is fast approaching at this rate, and she can tell by the way your eyes are fluttering and your hand is squeezing hers.

"you gonna cum? huh? gonna cum all over me baby?" you nod your head, not trusting the words and sounds that are coming out of your throat. she moves her hand down to rub at your clit and suddenly your stomach is pulsing and your orgasm is hitting you like a truck, abby's following after yours as she's groaning into your neck and thrusting harder to grind the base of the strap into her clit.

it takes a minute for both of you to calm down, the bliss overtaking the both of you.

"was...was that loud enough?" you whisper and feel her silent laugh on top of you, rubbing your leg over the back of hers.

she pushes her head up enough to look you in the eyes, and you really regret asking the question because she's got that dumb-ass smile back on her face and shaking her head.

only a few minutes later she's got you on all fours, leg propped up as she forces your hips back and forth on her dick. and then after that she makes you ride her, and then the position she knows you're obsessed with: her fucking you while standing up.

"a-abs! abby! oh my god!" your throat is sore as her fingers grip the meat of your thighs, the force of her bouncing you and thrusting her hips up getting you closer and closer to euphoria. your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back, doing anything to avoid the way she's looking at you like you're some goddess she's been blessed to witness.

"just a little bit more baby. cmon, tell me how much you love it."

"i do! fuck abby, love it so much."

"love what, honey? you can do it, know you can. god you're so perfect."

your mind is hazy with the feeling of the strap hitting that sensitive spot inside of you with every bounce of your hips and her words that you barely even register her demand, groaning when she bites at one of your tits that have been bouncing in her face.

"tell me what you love. please, please tell me."

"nghh, love you abby! fuckin love your dick so much!"

"that's it, thaaat's it pretty girl. let everyone you're mine, that i'm yours-"

you're pretty sure she kept talking after that, but the rush of your orgasm deafens every sound and lights your body on fire, only able to feel the high and the cum leaking down your thighs. you go in and out of consciousness but come back to when you're both back in bed, abby pulling you onto her chest and she rubs a soft hand down your back.

"love you." you mumble, snuggling into the warmness of her.

"i love you too, y/n."

"'m sorry about earlier."

"me too. promise that i'll tell you whenever i'm feeling down. or when i'm dealing with a douche."

"me too."

you get the best night's sleep you've had in years.

in the morning everyone seems ecstatic for the holiday, ready to share their gifts with each other after breakfast. you decide to join in helping to cook, which gets you a crazy accusation from jordan saying your helping is just 'sitting on the counter so abby has something to look at while you drink a mimosa". whatever. abby is standing between your thighs and talking to you about her new workout schedule when owen and manny walk into the room, manny bidding you a sly 'good morning' with a smirk as owen grabs water from the fridge.

"hey owes, can you hand me one?" abby asks, her fingers drumming on your thigh as she uses the other to catch the bottle he tosses to her with a polite smile. your eyes are following the action suspiciously before abby is for some reason keeping a grip on the middle of the bottle as she opens it so the liquid spurts onto a bit of her shirt.

"ugh, abs! wait a second." you start to move off the counter when she holds your hips down.

"its fine, babe. i'm used to things squirting on me, anyway."

your face scrunches up as you smack her in the shoulder, your face hot as you hear jordan and manny cackling like hyenas and owen chugs down his water. abby just presses a loud kiss on your cheek.

other than your friends constantly teasing you, nora whispering a 'love shack' in your ear when she walks behind you in the living room, the day really is perfect. when the sun sets everyone is exchanging the gifts they got for each other. leah got jordan some necklace he's had his eyes on, manny bought mel some earmuffs after hers broke a month ago. some of them teased you for having surprisingly thoughtful gifts despite having a heart of only half-thawed ice, making you only reply that you weren't past taking the gifts back.

and then you open the gift abby got you and nearly cry; a custom snow globe, inside two mini figures dancing on a mountain of snow, one wearing skis and the other wearing skates. the she almost does the same with the corny 'cooking for two' book you bought her and the limited edition version of her favorite novel.

its a night full of warmth and laughter, and once it ends you find yourself standing out on the balcony, looking out at the lit lights of the village and the lifts on the slopes. your phone is in your hand and you open the text messages to your dad.

tell everyone i said merry christmas. its going to take me time to mentally heal enough to train. but if you're willing to do it with me then i'm in.

"hey, it's fucking freezing out here." abby opens the slide-apart door and comes up beside you, wrapping her arms around you to look out at the view with you. "are you ok?"

you sigh, turning to admire her. the redness of her cheeks, the tiny snowflakes in her hair. the way she's looking at you.

you nod your head.

"i'm on top of the world."

fics keep getting longer to overcompensate allah take me now. spent so much of yesterday aka my birthday writing this omg but it was so fun to write a more developed reader. uhhh idk stream cobra by megan.

[notmyneighbor]

resistance - doppel francis mosses x female reader

part 1/?

words | 4.4k

cw | eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter. post nightmare mode lore reveal setting.

summary | You work as a secretary for the DDD, a well paying job that offers you an extra sense of security and safety.

Until you meet a doppelganger on the run after work one day, an imposter that defies everything you’ve ever known about these monsters and makes you question whether the organization that employs you isn’t the real deceiver.

taglist | @jazminetoad @uhnanix @fangwh0r3 @zenxvii

ao3 link

You’d seen a doppelganger once.

Not up close; but nearby, from the balcony of your apartment. It had been raining earlier that evening. There were puddles of water everywhere, reflecting the light of the streetlamps, mirroring the clear night sky. A beautiful, peaceful scene, until you’d noticed the vans bearing the DDD logo approach the lone figure walking below. You’d instinctively stepped back into the interior of your living space, keeping to the shadows. The cleaners, as they are called, had blocked the doppel’s path with their trucks, with dozens of men clad in yellow hazmat suits. You’d heard boots splashing, shouting. Then silence. There is never any gunfire. You still don’t know how they dispatch of the replicants. But it is always neatly done. There are never any bodies. No lingering evidence. The suited men had departed as fast as they’d arrived. You’d stepped back onto the balcony to peer at the street below.

You could no longer see the stars reflected there, the pools of rainwater scattered.

***

The doppel’s eyes open.

He can’t see the faces of the humans that took him—they’re still encased in the hazmat suits that both protect them from being replicated and shield their identities. They’re standing a short distance away, hovering near the side of the room, making way for yet another human, this one not disguised, no gear encasing him. He approaches and immediately the doppelganger does not like him. There is an arrogant swagger to his walk, a cruel glint in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. The replicant tries to move, testing his bonds, and finds he’s been completely restrained.

The cocky man wearing the loose fitting, unbuttoned labcoat reaches the captive doppel and rakes a hand through his dark hair. There is a badge on a lanyard around his neck, bearing the DDD logo and the name Dr. W. Afton. “You almost made it inside. You’re a dead ringer for Francis Mosses. So what did you forget? Missing documents? Bad forgeries?”

The doppel frowns, his struggles slowing as the man addresses him. “Neither.”

“Where’s his paperwork?” This now directed at the two suited figures. One hands him a clear plastic bag where the clone’s ID card and entry request had been confiscated and stored inside. The doctor snatches it from the gloved hand and extracts both items, studying each before tossing them and the bag on a steel table nearby.

“These are flawless imitations as well. So I’ll ask again: Why did you get caught?”

“I don’t know.”

Afton sighs. “Do you have any idea how much money has been invested in this program? How much time and effort, how much sacrifice? It makes the Manhattan Project look like child’s play in comparison.”

The doppelganger doesn’t understand what the researcher is lamenting. He has only a rudimentary understanding of human finances. He has no idea what project he’s referring to. But he can read body language well enough, and he recognizes the anger and frustration that is bubbling just beneath the seemingly calm exterior.

“Now we’re back to square one. If you can’t even infiltrate an apartment building, how the hell are you going to invade enemy lines? Damn near worthless,” the man in the labcoat growls.

The doppel grits his teeth, renewing his attempts at escaping his bonds. He doesn’t like humans on principal, and he especially doesn’t like the one standing in front of him, insulting his kind. He wouldn’t even waste time eating him; tearing him to pieces would be satisfaction enough. He tries to shed the human disguise he’s adopted to reveal his true form beneath, to have sharp teeth and claws at the ready, alarmed when he’s unable to do so.

The doctor smiles, and the doppelganger freezes again. It is not a friendly gesture. “You’ve been given a suppressant, so don’t bother trying to change back. As for the other…I understand now. You’ve got a temper. That’s why you failed. If you’d been able to control your emotions for a few moments longer, you would’ve achieved your goal. Well, that can be adjusted. Maybe you aren’t a complete failure after all.” He turns towards his two suited coworkers. “Wipe him, and then I’ll have the team make the necessary adjustments and we’ll send him back out.”

One of the pair nods in acknowledgment and Afton departs from the room, the hem of the oversized white coat fluttering behind him. The doppelganger doesn’t know exactly what he’d meant by ‘wipe’, but he has a sneaking suspicion, and it fills him with a cold dread. Memory erasure, perhaps. His artifically created mind once again a blank slate, a naked canvas to work on. He won’t remember any of this.

He’s trying to escape for a different purpose now, attack no longer his priority, but it makes no difference. Something metallic is shoved against the side of his neck, there is a hiss of sound as something discharges, shooting into his circulatory system, and then his vision goes dark, granting him passage into oblivion.

***

You’re working late.

You don’t mind as much as you might otherwise have, because you are earning overtime. There are more and more sealed documents for you to file every day; more and more people to contact. The doppels were spreading like a virus, in spite of the efforts of the organization you’re employed by.

By now the fear is something that still lingers, but people have grown somewhat accustomed to it, going about their daily routines. Just as life had gone on during the most recent world war. Beyond your control, so your only choice was to adapt to the new normal. To men leaving and dying to protect freedom, to preserve the lives of their countrymen. Waiting for an end. Hoping for victory. It wasn’t so different with the doppelgangers; it was just that the fight was on native soil now, with both doppels and humans fighting for survival and supremacy.

You don’t recall exactly when the government run organization had come into existence; only that the DDD had mobilized fairly quickly after the news of the replicants had spread. The details had always been vague on where the doppelgangers had come from, but the general consensus was that they’d invaded from another planet. You’re not sure you believe that, but it’s also difficult to accept that there are monsters capable of wearing the face of a friend or family member, so maybe that explanation was as good as any other.

Regardless, you’ve done your secretarial job for several months now, with the added bonus of residing in a DDD guarded building. There are no guarantees of safety, of course, but it does make you feel a little more secure. The building you work in is massive; you’ve never even seen most of its interior. You’re simply relegated to an office near the entrance, one that is openly guarded, with men carrying actual weapons. Another level of safety. You’ve never witnessed an incident, never seen any type of a break in, save one overzealous news team that wanted to come in for an exclusive scoop, but that had only happened once. You’ve since seen interviews on television, prerecorded, likely scripted. Stating facts that everyone already knew. Most things still shrouded in secrecy.

Still, the DDD is keeping you safe and at the end of the day that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? You stow the last folder and switch off the desk lamp. Your work is finally finished. It’s time to go home.

You nod to the guards on the way out as you exit the building, settling your handbag over your shoulder, your ID badge tucked away, car keys in hand. It’s a beautiful evening, the season just edging towards summer. You’ll need to switch out your wardrobe soon, exchanging sweaters and wool skirts for cooler blouses and flowing dresses. The employee parking lot is a massive affair, extending far past the structure you’ve just vacated. There are still a large number of vehicles parked there. The building operated around the clock.

You finally reach your car and insert the key into the lock, momentarily distracted as you’re contemplating what you’re going to make for dinner when you get home, when you hear a voice, a low, masculine rumble, directly behind you.

“Go around to the other side and unlock the door.”

You turn to see a familiar face crouched down between the cars. The handsome, perpetually tired looking milkman from the apartment building you both live in.

Except it’s not him. Not really. You don’t need to see his ID card or entry request to know it. There’s a look in his eyes that his placid, real counterpart doesn’t have.

This is a doppelganger.

You glance past him back at the building. You’re nowhere near the entrance. No one else is around at the moment. You’re on your own.

You carefully thread the keys on the ring clutched in your hand between each finger so the jagged metal edges peek between the spaces, your fist tightening. Not the ideal weapon, but it was all you could come up with on such short notice.

“Sure,” you say, turning slowly. “I’m happy to give you a lift.” You attempt a smile, your arm striking out.

Utter failure. You’ve scratched his cheek, but that’s all. The doppel stands upright, looming over you, one hand absently touching the injury, the beads of ruby dotting his fingertips regarded for a brief moment before his eyes glare at you. “Don’t try that again, or I’ll kill you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me to escape.” It’s beyond foolish to try to barter with a replicant, but you’re feeling strangely brave. “I doubt you know how to drive a car.”

“I’m a fast learner,” he growls, grabbing your upper arm, and some of your bravado vanishes. “Unlock the other door, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” You try to shake him off but his grip is like iron. You have no choice but to let yourself be maneuvered to the other side of the vehicle, completing his request.

“Don’t do anything but get behind the wheel. If you try to make a run for it to get help, I will kill you.”

“I understand.” He releases you, settling inside the car, and you loop around, hoping someone will make an appearance and come to your rescue. But there’s no one. Not a soul. You sit down and shut the door, slotting the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The apartments.”

You shake your head. “What is it with you doppels and that building? I don’t understand why it has such a rep—” You hear an alarm, audible even inside the car, your words abruptly halted. Your eyes meet the mimic’s.

“They’re looking for me. Drive, now.”

“They know you’re here?”

“Drive,” he says again, his fingers clamping on your arm again. “Or—”

“—Yes, I know,” you interrupt. “You’ll kill me. I’m going. I need my arm to shift gears.”

The imitation milkman relaxes his grip, allowing you to reverse the car out of the parking space and out of the lot just in time before you see a flurry of activity behind you: armed guards and men in hazmat suits, prowling around between the parked automobiles.

Francis’ doppelganger slinks further down in his seat, swiping absently at the cut you’ve inflicted, his eyes warily focused on the passing scenery outside the windows.

You debate about just going to the police, but again, you’d be gambling with time. You know how swiftly the doppels can kill. You’re not even sure if regular bullets would be effective. In any case, you’d probably never make it out of the car. Your only chance was behind you, growing further and further away the more distance your car traveled. So close. You’d been so close to rescue.

“So what were you doing lurking around a DDD facility?” You start to lower the driver’s side window, but his hand is gripping you again.

“Don’t touch anything. Just keep driving.”

“I was just trying to let some fresh air in.”

“Don’t,” he repeats again. You nod and his fingers drop from your upper extremity. “I don’t know why I was there. I woke up, and I escaped. I don’t remember all the details. I think I was given something to make me forget.”

You squirm in your seat. “Wait, you’re saying you came from inside the building? It doesn’t make sense. The DDD kills doppels. It doesn’t collect them.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “It’s like parts of my memory have been erased. I can’t remember how I got there.”

“How did you get out?”

“They didn’t check all the restraints when they were transferring me. One of them was loose. Pretended to still be knocked out. They believed it. That’s all I needed.”

“But the security. You couldn’t have just waltzed out.”

“That’s what they were expecting, yes. Guarding the doors. Not the roof, though. Stairs on the outside made it easy.”

“The fire escape,” you murmur. There had to be a rather sizeable distance between the top floor and the roof, but perhaps the doppels weren’t bothered by such things. It was clever, really. He was resourceful, if nothing else.

Your palms feel sweaty against the steering wheel. “So what’s going to happen when we get back to the apartments?”

He glances over at you. “What do you think? I’m going in.”

“And then what?”

“And then…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay there for awhile. Plan my next move.”

“I doubt Francis is going to want a doppel roommate.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’ll be staying with you.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy! I’m not going to harbor a fugitive doppelganger.”

“You can go about your daily activities. I won’t interfere.”

You’ve reached your destination. You park the car, killing the engine. “You’re not even going to make it inside the building without…paperwork,” you say the last softly as he withdraws documents that have been tucked into one pocket.

“You know there’s something strange going on inside that building.”

You hesitate. You’ve never doubted the organization you work for; and yet, this replicant, belonging to a species who exists solely based on its ability to deceive, seems sincere, as foolish as that sounds. They could be the words of a desperate creature, but they don’t feel like that. The dark eyes that watch you look guileless.

He could have torn you to pieces already if he’d wanted to. He could still do it right now, but he’s making no violent moves against you. So that couldn’t really be his goal.

Your surprise yourself when you nod. “There are going to be rules. Boundaries. I’m not going to walk out of the shower and have you perving on me,” you mutter.

His lips twitch, his features softening, reminding you more of the human he’s trying to imitate. “Believe me, I have no interest in anything of that regard. I’m simply looking for a place to shelter.”

“If the doorman doesn’t let you in…”

“They will.”

“You can’t go in there looking like that.” You dig a packet of tissues from your purse, handing him several. “You’re going to have to spit on it, try to scrub some of the blood…yeah, like that.” The scratches are still there after he runs the moistened material over his cheek, but at least it’s no longer streaked and spattered in crimson. “I guess that’s going to have to do. You ready?”

He crumples the stained tissues inside his fist. “I’m ready.”

***

The doppelganger knows the documents are going to pass effortlessly.

The real question is whether the doorman is going to buy his act. He has to explain the cuts on his face now. Any deviation of appearance is an immediate red flag.

You’ve got a bit of a spark in you that’s surprising, he thinks. He hadn’t been expecting you to try to defend yourself, as pointless as that activity had been. You might be employed by that hated organization, but you’re not completely blindsided by their authority. There’s a slight tinge of doubt, and he’s begun worrying that crack open a little wider.

You’ve already gone through, and now it’s his turn to pass inspection. He presents the documents and readies a smile.

“Out late, aren’t you Francis?”

“Long route today,” he replies, forcing his fingers to remain still, his claws sheathed.

“I hear that. Work hours get longer every day, but I don’t seem to be getting any richer.” The doorman slides the card back through the metal slot at the base of the window as the false milkman smiles indulgently. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh,” he says. “One of the new houses on my route has a very unfriendly cat. I made the mistake of trying to pet it. Won’t try that again.” He gives a self deprecating chuckle and the doorman winces in sympathy.

“You gotta be careful. You never know these days. Thing could be rabid. Don’t even need to worry about the doppels; got enough trouble with everything else. Cats,” he mutters, pushing the buzzer to grant the doppel entrance. “Hope you have a good evening, Francis. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”

“Will do. Have a good one.” The doppelganger walks casually through the entrance and sighs when the door shuts behind him. You’re waiting by the elevator, arms folded across your chest, looking nervous.

“You made it through,” you whisper in what sounds like a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I told you. Now let’s get to your apartment before we run into anyone else.”

You press the button to call the elevator and the doors slide apart. The doppel follows you inside. You reside on the top floor, at the end of the hall. He glances down the length of that corridor while you fumble the key in the lock. At last the door opens and he ducks inside, heaving another sigh of relief. Safe, for now.

You set your handbag down on the living room couch, watching as he walks around the apartment.

“Sure, make yourself at home, have a look around. Geez,” you mutter.

“It’s small,” the copycat observes, noting there is a single bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen in addition to the living room.

“It’s all I need. I’m single.” You sound a little offended.

The replicant twitches aside the drapes covering the sliding glass doors that lead onto a narrow balcony. He peers similarly out of all of the windows.

“What are you doing?” Exasperated, now.

“Checking for points of egress. In case of an emergency.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll do,” he declares, tossing the milkman’s cap on the kitchen counter and scrubbing his hair.

“Glad it meets with your approval.” You pause. “I could have ratted you out to the doorman, you know. I might not have survived, but he would’ve been safe behind the barrier. He’d have called the DDD.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Your lips part but you seem hesitant to speak. “I don’t know.” You inhale deeply. “So, about those rules.”

“Yes?”

“My bedroom, off limits. You’ll sleep on the couch. Or hibernate or whatever you do. I don’t know.”

“Agreed.”

“No answering the phone or the door. No using the stove. I don’t want you burning the place down. And you can’t make a lot of noise. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re here.”

“I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here, either. See how neatly our goals align?”

“Whatever.” You drum polished nails on the counter. “You can’t go in the bathroom when I’m in there, either. I’ll be locking the door.”

“Fine.”

“Do you even take showers? Bathe?”

“Of course. We do everything you humans do. Nearly.”

“Right.” Your fingers still. “Well, I don’t know, I guess that’s everything I can think of off the top of my head. I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know what you eat.”

“We have preferences, as I’m sure you do. Meat is obviously most favorable,” he says, his grin wolfish. “But anything will suffice for now.”

“Fine.” You reach for your apron, tying it around your waist before washing your hands. You begin rummaging around in the cupboards and regierator, then turn back to face him. “You’re not going to just stand there and watch me, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do? How am I going to learn?”

“I’m not a culinary instructor.” You glare at him, then sigh. “You can cut vegetables, I guess.”

“You trust me with a blade?” He raises an eyebrow, then laughs at your expression, an honest gesture of amusement. “That was an attempt at humor. I’m not going to use a knife on you. My claws are likely much sharper anyway.”

“That wasn’t funny. And that’s not reassuring.” A strand of hair falls loose across your cheek as you arrange things on the counter, and he impulsively reaches for it, securing it behind your ear. You look sharply at him. “New rule. Don’t touch me. Ever.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

***

The doppelganger is not, as it turns out, a fan of vegetables.

He makes short work of the meatloaf, though, and even seems to enjoy the dessert you offer, a piece of the cake you’d made the evening before.

You’ve never had a visitor to the apartment, not once. This is the first time the other chair across from yours has been occupied. There’s a definite tension between the two of you. You don’t trust your guest, but you suppose he doesn’t really trust you, either. You’re natural born enemies, both capable of causing each other's demise, just in different ways.

After dinner the doppel surprisingly helps you clear the table and tidy the kitchen. You wonder how much of it is just a game to him; a kind of self challenge to better imitate natural human behavior. You offer him the use of the shower first but he politely declines, insisting you should indulge before him. It’s more than a little nerve wracking, knowing that creature was on the other side of the door, locked or not. You knot your robe tightly over your nightgown when you’ve finished washing. You don’t have anything clean for him to wear. Something you’ll have to try to figure out tomorrow.

You drape a sheet over the couch and tuck a spare pillow into a fresh case from the linen closet, adding a throw to the end in case he needed it. You have no idea, absolutely zero clue why you’re even doing this. It was so, so dangerous.

You hear the doppel’s footsteps in the hall. He’s wearing just his undershirt and briefs, and you look away, cheeks flushing. “You’re all set up. I’ll shut the light off on my way by.”

“Thank you.”

You blink. Gratitude. Not something you’d expected. You’re more baffled than ever. This replicant defies everything you’ve ever known about the doppelgangers.

“Goodnight, Francis. Do I call you Francis? I don’t…” Suddenly you’re backpedaling, thinking you’ve made an error, possibly insulted him.

But the doppel doesn’t seem upset. “Yes. That’s who I am, now.”

You stare at the smudged undereyes and the crooked nose, every detail of your milkman neighbor so perfectly replicated. “That’s who you’re pretending to be,” you clarify softly. “Make sure you keep that cut on your cheek clean, so you don’t get an infection.”

”Wouldnt that be preferable? If I met my demise, without you even having to lift a finger?” You frown, remaining silent. “You look better like this. Natural, without all of that paint on,” he murmurs, his hand lifting and then dropping sharply as if he’d needed to remind himself about your rule not to be touched.

”There’s nothing wrong with wearing makeup. It’s expected. Professional,” you add.

”If you say so. I still prefer this instead.”

”I’m not doing it because you like or don’t like it. That’s irrelevant.” You don’t know why the comment is making you react so strongly.

The imposter shrugs. ”Of course.”

The sudden silence stretches and you turn away. Even after you’ve shut the lamp off, you feel his eyes watching you retreat down the hall.

***

You wake up thirsty.

You lean over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting at the clock. Only one in the morning. You still had a long night ahead.

You try to swallow. Dry as the desert. It’s no use. You need a drink of water.

You shift the top sheet and swing your legs over the side of the bed, then rise and pad over to the door, trying to turn the lock silently, keeping your footsteps stealthy. You don’t want to wake the doppelganger up.

You’re able to find your way in the dark, keeping a hand on the wall, then feeling for the kitchen counter, fingers automatically shifting to count the cabinet doors until you reach the cupboard with the glasses. You softly open the door and lift the faucet, filling the glass. You’ve just taken your first sip when you hear the doppel’s voice from the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed some water.” You enter the other room, finding the milkman’s clone standing in front of the sliding doors, one edge of the drapes held back, peering outside.

“You shouldn’t do that. What if someone sees you?” You switch the lamp on and he drops the curtain, his gaze now focused on you.

Suddenly you realize you’ve neglected to put your robe on. You’re only wearing a sleeveless nightdress, the material thin and flimsy. You fold your arms in front of you, taking random sips of water, trying to act casual.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because you are incredibly noisy. I could hear you in the other room down the hall.”

“I was trying to be quiet.”

“And failing.”

You can’t help but feel a bit insulted. And it’s silly, really. You aren’t the uninvited fugitive alien-monster-thing staying in someone’s home. “Well, I’m going back to bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

“I didn’t say it bothered me.” He pauses. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“What?”

“Your pulse. Fast, like this.” He begins tapping rapidly against his forearm, mimicking the rhythm.

“You can’t possibly hear that.”

“I can,” he insists.

You swallow, finding your mouth is dry again. “I’m going back to bed now.”

“Goodnight.”

You think you hear him tapping again as you shut off the light.

Or maybe it’s just the echo of the real one, throbbing in your own ears.

[frogchiro]

I hear it is time to spread the word of our lord and savior Tachanka? 👀

link: (https://rainbowsix.fandom.com/wiki/Tachanka_(Siege) Context of link: Just the wiki page of R6 operator Tachanka.

But I wanna highlight a few things!!!

Alexsandr Senaviev was born on November 3rd in Leningrad, Russia to a military family. At the age of eighteen, Senaviev was conscripted into military service just as the Soviet Union was ending its operations in Afghanistan. Upon the dissolution of his draft, Senaviev opted to enlist full time. He was part of the wrestling league, where his formidable frame and match strategy earned him accolades. 

Alexsandr Senaviev has a boisterous sense of humor with a booming laugh. He can be quite blunt, but without the intent to offend

Senaviev's younger sister is a doctor and our discussion had barely started when he was showing me pictures of her in her doctor's smock, along with a dozen more photos of his nieces and nephews and his own kids. […] He and his sister grew up in a strict household without many things, which is why he makes a great effort to enjoy life. They both make sure that their kids are loved and raised with laughter. At the same time, he doesn't like to buy or accumulate physical objects and emphasizes this with his children, much to their consternation. I suspect that's also partly to do with his divorce. […]

(Also the main reason why we refer to Tachanka as 'lord'/godly is mainly 'cause his weapons/loadout is shit.)

Ladies and gentlemen, we got ourselves a REAL LIFE DILF <33

From what I gathered on his wiki he has at least two children, one of them a son and an ex-wife! Also him being an ex wrestler because of his size and strength...

Imagine being a babysitter for his kids, a 6 year old boy and a sweet 3 year old girl who absolutely adore their nanny who spends the majority of their time with them since their father is still a busy man and their mother is using her newfound freedom as a divorced woman so you're babysitting the little ones for a hefty sum from their dad whenever you're free from college.

But you have to admit, while the kids are literal angels and a delight to babysit, they nor the money are the sole reason for you being so eager to babysit and their father, Alexsandr, played a huge part in it too.

He was so large and heavily build, no doubt from his years in the military but his charming, boisterous attitude combined with his broad, toothy grin that almost seemed boyish on his mature face was what really made you fall for him :(( Whenever the kids were playing or napping, you two had a little time with each other to just talk and spend time together, get to know each other better because 'Let's not make this one of those stick-in-the-ass rigid employer-employee relationships, yes?' as Alexsandr put it himself.

The connection between you deepened but you were still so shy under his clear blue eyes :(( You couldn't possibly do the first move, what if he doesn't return your feelings? He's much older than you, he has a military career, two kids and a divorce, surely he wouldn't ever be interested in someone like you...right?

Ofc little did you know that Alexsandr was tugging his lengthy, heavy cock every night after sending you off with a thick wad of cash and a loud, happy thank you for taking care of his kids, though in reality he was everything but happy :(( Like it or not but the burly male fell for you, the most cliche thing on earth, the young, sweet babysitter that visited him home almost every day to care for his little ones with a gentle smile towards them and him too, such a stark contrast from his ex wife...

He was cumming every night multiple times to the thought of you right here beside him, in his bed, all nice and naked, sated and warm after a night of passionate love making. He came on his hairy tummy with a displeased growl, once the post nut clarity set in and realized that he wasted so much precious seed when it could be inside you >:(

Alexsandr knew he had to have you, had to confess to you how he felt but didn't know how; his loud, charismatic attitude failing him for the first time in years but these thoughts were for the time being pushed back once again to the back of his mind. He could think of a better solution on how to win you over once he wasn't so terribly horny, testosterone clouding his mind as his heavy cock jumped to life once again, thick potent sperm oozing from his swollen tip and Alexsandr could only think about how well he could breed you, he was a real stud despite his age y'know? Plus he always wanted another kid anyway <33

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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[neiptune]

the best of you belongs to me

c/w: 2k wc, strangers to lovers, so fucking self indulgent, nagi exceeds all expectations and is actually the perfect boyfriend <3

There are quite a few things that people who know Nagi Seishiro don’t believe he’s suited for.

College, because he’s in his mid twenties, already works as a professional football player and wouldn’t be interested in pursuing anything else.

Friendships, because every person in his life has found themself there by mere coincidence and he definitely doesn’t look like the kinda person who would care whether they’re there or not.

Living on his own, because god forbid someone as lazy and demotivated as himself should be looking after a whole apartment and his persona at the same time. Not that he needs to, with all that money, but he’s surely way too lethargic to even consider going through the hassle of hiring someone to do all those things for him.

Relationships, because Nagi Seishiro isn’t interested in other people, let alone women, and he would be incapable of committing to the effort needed to even think about dating someone.

Some people, none of his closest friends, believe his unnatural talent at succeeding is outrageous: the boy is just insanely lucky and gifted with a golden instinct that saved him from becoming a complete waste of space. Underneath all the admiration Nagi is flooded with each day there’s raw envy and bitterness because such is the human nature. But why should that even matter? Even if he knew, Nagi Seishiro wouldn’t bring himself to care. It’s just how he is.

Except he went beyond all that in no time, when you first had met him at Isagi’s birthday party.

Yoichi’s always been one of your closest friends, ever since high school, and although the years and your respective busy schedules have played their bitter part in keeping you separated, you knew as he knew you were always just one call away from each other. When you had casually texted him about being in town, you didn’t even expect him to be in Japan as he’s almost always traveling overseas. But he was and to make it up for the fact that he couldn’t join you for coffee because he had practice, he invited you to his apartment for the birthday party he was planning to have the following evening.

“Yeah, not sure that’s a good idea”

“It’s the perfect idea! If you’re worrying about bringing a gift, I don’t want one”

“I’m worrying about not knowing any of your friends!”

“You know me! C’mon, I really wanna see you”

And so you picked the only dress still neatly folded in your suitcase, packed just in case, and made your way downtown a few hours prior to the party to hopefully find a birthday present Yoichi would actually like. Eventually, you settled for a full grain customizable leather backpack: the shop owner was nice enough to add a laser engraving of your friend’s initials, which you thought was a nice, thoughtful touch.

You slipped a card inside the classy bag the gift was packaged in, one with the drawing of a soccer ball and “hope you have a ball on your special day!” written underneath it.

So that it doesn’t get mixed up with someone else’s when you travel! Happy birthday Yoi, love you x

Too fucking bad the weather decided to take a completely different turn as soon as you stepped out of the subway to make your way across the urban oasis that’s Shirokane, which resulted in you arriving at your friend’s apartment absolutely soaked. You patiently ignored the stares collected while waiting for the elevator in the luxurious entrance lobby, too busy making sure you were able to keep Yoichi’s gift dry.

When he opened the door with a warm smile splitting his face right away, arms were closed tightly around you in a second, warnings about being drenched swallowed by his usual affection. He did, however, take a small step back, surprised as his black button down was no longer nice and dry but still cut off your apologies by quite literally dragging you inside.

“Come in, you have to meet everyone!”

“Yoichi, wait—”

“What’s that in your hand? I told you I didn’t want anything!”

“Yoichi!”

All your protests and resistance proved to be absolutely useless as you found yourself thrown in the middle of a sparkly living room, filled with men scattered everywhere. The soft background music coming from your friend’s portable speakers wasn’t enough to tone down your entrance and, suddenly, most eyes were on you.

Isagi, ever the trusty man, stayed by your side when he introduced you to the whole goddamn room as one of his oldest best friends as you stood there embarrassed and anxious, with droplets dripping down from your clothes and hair to the parquet floors.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you!” a short giggle followed an enthusiastic, thin voice and you turned to your right to find a friendly guy smiling fondly in a way that seemed so genuine you couldn’t hold back a smile in turn.

“Uh, hi, I’m happy to meet you t—” but his ochre eyes cut you off as they left your uncertain features to glare at Isagi, still standing proudly next to you with an arm around your shoulders “hey, this sweet girl’s gonna catch a cold, give her a change of clothes”

As realization finally dawned on him, your friend opened his mouth and then closed it a few times, taken aback.

“Oh, fuck, right! Wait, gimme that” he gently took the bag from your hands and placed it on his coffee table “but what could I lend you? I don’t have any clean clothes, just some tank tops and—”

Bachira’s impatient huff was interrupted by a gentle voice coming from behind him.

“I have an extra change of clothes” the white haired guy sitting on the couch bent down to zip the black bag left next to his feet open “me and Reo had practice today” he said while casually getting up with a slight groan to hand you neatly folded sweatpants and a black long sleeve shirt.

“Why do you have an extra change of clothes?” Bachira looked at him with a skeptical frown that was barely acknowledged as the stranger let himself fall on the couch again.

“I sweat a lot”

“Who cares?” Isagi stepped in, irritated “she’s gonna catch a cold! Go change in my room and get a towel for your hair” with a gentle push to your back, he shooed you out of the room and towards the stairs.

You looked every bit as ridiculous as one could guess, clothes way too baggy and long as your poor dress was left to dry in Isagi’s bathroom. While you patted your hair with a clean towel, you couldn’t help but cautiously pinch the collar of the shirt and sniff at the soft fabric. It smelled nice, of a fresh cleanliness that reminded you of baby powder.

When you sheepishly made your way back downstairs, the overall welcome was far warmer and already filled with a sweet, familiar flavor. Isagi’s friends were nice, funny in their excitement when having debates over matches and considerate when it came to not making you feel left out.

You sat on che couch opposite to the one where your savior was chilling, lazily listening to whatever his buddy was telling him. You had to inch forward and gently graze his knee to bring his attention to you, hazel gaze shortly traveling from your features to how his clothes sat on a body that was definitely not meant to wear them. Nagi just shrugged at your “thank you”, he didn’t mirror your smile nor he introduced himself, but he kept his eyes on you as Bachira resumed his questions about how Isagi was in high school and Kunigami offered you a beer to warm you up.

It was a nice night, one that left you with your cheeks hurting from how much you had been smiling. Catching up with Isagi was nice and even if to this day you still have no idea how he managed to sneakily save his number in your phone under the name of “Bachi”, getting to meet him and everyone else filled your heart with comforting joy. Finding new friends as an adult can be hard and having moved to an entirely different city definitely didn’t help, but the atmosphere in Isagi’s apartment served as a wonderful reminder of how, sometimes, the best surprises are just a text away.

That’s what you thought, while having casual conversations with men you had never met before and the eyes of one of them were so intently focused on you it was as if they were asking for some of that attention, of those questions, to be directed their way as well.  

So you complied and, much to Isagi’s and everyone else’s quiet astonishment, Nagi actually spoke and replied and nodded and turned his body towards you and even offered a hint of a smile when Yoichi started teasing the hell out of your high school self, all worried about grades, clubs, extra curricular activities.

The reason why Nagi kept observing you throughout the night, was mere curiosity. Contrary to popular belief, there were things that could spark his interest outside videogames and football. Someone able to enter a room full of strangers and attract their sympathies right away. Someone with a pretty smile, terrible jokes and a kind spirit that resembled Isagi’s. Someone who looked way too good in his clothes, so good he was tempted to blurt out a “keep them”.

Someone who accepted a ride home from Chigiri and Kunigami at the end of the night, exhanged a long hug with her best friend and endured the one Meguru forced on her with a laugh so sweet he wished he was the one offering you a ride home.

So you were gone, dress still not entirely dry tucked in your backpack and a shy wave of a hand, one promising “I’ll give you these back as soon as I can!” that wasn’t enough to stop him from casually asking Isagi if he could’ve held another party soon enough.

“Why?”

“So you can invite her again”

He doesn’t let the laugh he receives upon the request nor Bachira’s you should’ve asked for her number, idiot embarrass him. What would he know? He’s dated sporadically, things always kept very low effort and casual, girls asking him out and him saying yes because he wanted a spark, that something to be ignited, just like it happened whenever a ball touched his feet. He didn’t like being lonely.

So you and Nagi met again, over a coffee you insisted on buying to thank him for his kindness. His freshly laundered clothes were given back to him in a yellow bag, he still remembers the disappointment of not being able to find out how your scent would feel on his shirt.

His questions about your life were genuine, despite his monotonous tone you could tell he was making an effort at doing something he was not used to, which you found sweet.

Coffee turned into a stroll to get ice cream and when it felt like you had walked for miles through Sumida park, as he asked if you wanted to get dinner you couldn’t find it in yourself to refuse.

You liked listening to him, still tall and broad even when sitting in front of you but presence so oddly soothing you couldn’t stop asking and asking and asking. About his family, best friend, football journey, favorite games to play, that whole blue lock madness Yoichi has already told you all about. Nagi was always part of the “freaks” in his stories. It was never derogatory, he only used the term because “prodigy” would’ve been way too spoiling. Classic Yoichi, still managing to forget that he’s part of the freaks as well.

In the end, he did follow Bachira’s advice and asked for your number.

“I’ll give it to you but I’m leaving tomorrow”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah, I don’t live in Tokyo anymore”

He stared at you with features impossible to read, then took a small step and curled his body forward just enough to be closer.

“Nagoya, right? I could visit. Wouldn’t be a pain”

His straightforwardness was surprising and rendered you speechless for a few seconds, because this was not the guy Yoichi has described to you.

One year into your relationship and Nagi Seishiro couldn’t be more different than how he was presented to you by your friend. He’s sweet, considerate, never fails to ask you about your day and will get offended if you forget to text him goodnight.

When he’s overseas, he only facetimes if he’s absolutely certain you’re not too tired. If it’s too late in Japan, you’d have to be the one facetiming him because he never wants you to stay awake for too long, especially if you have work the following day.

He visits often, always insists on paying for your train tickets whenever you visit him. Loves spending time with you just resting in his arms, big hands sneaking underneath your shirt to gently trace your spine and massage your back if you’re lying on top of him, content sighs escaping his lips if his head rests on your lap and you run your fingers through his snowy hair, gently scraping his scalp.

He plays games on his phone while you read but will get up to help you as soon as you head to the kitchen to start putting dinner together. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your head, if you're not holding a knife he'll start tracing your neck and jaw with sweet kisses until you giggle and turn around to pull him closer.

When he has to leave for practice, he always asks if you have plans because he hates the idea of leaving you bored and alone. If you don’t and you feel like to, you’re always invited to go with him, so often that by now you’re the one casually asking Reo to come over to have dinner together after training sessions.

Nagi talks about his friends a lot, especially when he’s eating. He’d tell you about how Chigiri needs to stop putting too much pressure on his injured knee because it would be such a shame if a player like him had to stop for good. He thinks Isagi’s mind is incredible, albeit a little scary, just like Kunigami’s extra powerful left leg. Reo is the most important person in his life and you always make sure not to overstep, because you’d hate to intrude in a relationship as special as theirs. They both know.

Nagi doesn’t think loving you is a hassle, nor that it’s too much effort. He finds it surprisingly easy, actually. Caring for you and craving your touch feels natural, as if he was born to experience the simple joy of having hushed conversations with you in the dark of his bedroom when you’re both on the verge of drifting off. He's not scared you'll make fun of him so he tells you everything that’s on his mind, including the idea of getting a college degree eventually, maybe in history, just to give it a go. He discovers the wonder of taking care of someone else for the first time in his life, and just how good it makes him feel. He loves attempting to cook for you, brewing tea, heating soup and then feeding it to you if you have a cold. The blissful squeeze of his chest and stomach whenever the soft touch of your lips meets his is a prize he wouldn’t give up for all the world cups and top rankings and golden football career paths offered to him.

There are quite a few things that people who know Nagi Seishiro don’t believe he’s suited for but oh, what a delight has been to prove them all wrong with such ease and so much love not even he was aware he had it in himself to give.

[earthtooz]

𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑨𝑳𝑹𝒀

synopsis: todoroki is a gentleman, even when he's stood you up

warnings: very brief and very mild humiliation, todoroki being majestic (yes that's a warning), fluff!!! todoroki calls the reader beautiful n shit, gn!reader

wc: 1k

todoroki is a gentleman. through and through.

he pulls your chair out for you, he opens the door and lets you go first, he holds your hand in assistance when you are wearing shoes a little too risky to be walking in or when you are fixing how it fits, he gives you his jacket when nights are too cold, he kisses your hand as he gazes up at you with wonder in his eyes, and he goes above and beyond by spoiling you whenever he feels like it or whenever you need it, and despite how you always protest against him wasting money on you, one cold look from him paired with a chilly ‘i insist’ will always shut you up.

chivalry exists!

so why are you sitting in the middle of a lively, three michelin star restaurant, wondering why you've been stood up?

the heaters are on but all you can feel is the chilliness of desertion, no longer comfortable in the outfit that made your jaw drop when you first saw it in the mirror.

you just wanted to go home.

todoroki wasn't answering your calls or texts, and you knew work ended a while ago for him so what gives? where could he be?

it's been almost an hour since you sat down, bypassing the regulations that the restaurant has for how long you can occupy a table. when you make eye contact with the waiter who has been so very polite and hesitating to come bother you, you know it's time to leave.

you'd rather not get kicked out in front of a crowd of expensive-looking people with high incomes to match. regardless, you felt rather humiliated.

the walk of shame out the restaurant isn't pleasant either. with an empty stomach and an even emptier heart, you're texting todoroki one more time, informing him that you're about to leave.

except the text never gets sent because to your right, you hear the iconic, sharp crystallisation of your boyfriend's quirk, getting louder and louder. glancing towards the direction of the sound, the familiar sight of your illegally beautiful partner takes your breath away despite his dishevelled appearance and frantic expression. his white hair has completely tangled with his red strands and whilst one palm is emitting ice, the other is on flames, melting the ice path he left behind. 

when he meets your eyes, a lovestruck look appears. 

sliding to a stop just a few feet away from you, a chill runs up your spine from the frost. 

he doesn't say anything except stare at you wide-eyed, lips slightly parted, jagged huffs and pants escaping his fluctuating chest as he tries to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. now that he’s up close, you can see that there are ice in some strands of hair.

at least he made an effort to show up presentable. he looks breathtaking in his button down and slacks, paired with a somewhat loose tie.

"hello, shouto," you greet with a nod, breaking the silence.

his eyes scan you up and down, "you look beautiful."

you feel heat crawl up your neck at his compliment, but you don't really know how to further address him. the irritation that bubbles within you due to his flakiness is beginning to boil, and you don't mean to be harsh... but you don't really want to see him right now.

todoroki snaps out of his trance, meeting your eyes once more with panic in them, "i'm sorry," he takes a deep breath, "i didn't mean to be late and i promise i didn't forget. i got carried away with work at the agency."

his words are curt and quick but you know better. as ever, todoroki isn’t a man of many words that can express how he’s feeling. he's worried.

"thank you for your apology, shouto," you murmur but your grace does nothing to calm the nervousness raging inside him. todoroki is familiar with you, he knows every little quirk of yours so the fact that you were slightly facing away from him with your arms crossed over your chest is a blatant indicator that you haven't forgiven him.

"you have every right to be mad at me, y/n, i'm really sorry," he suddenly perks up as if he’s remembered something. then from somewhere (his back pocket, perhaps?) he presents you a devastatingly beautiful bouquet of flowers and if you looked hard enough, some petals were singed and burnt as a result of his fire. "here."

"thank you, shouto. they're beautiful."

"you are more so."

you hate the way your traitorous body reacts to him, but there's always something about receiving a compliment from a man who has been sculpted by the gods and written by a woman, "you flatter me."

"i'm serious. you look absolutely stunning and i can't help but feel like a jerk that i let you down."

he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a frown tugging at his lips. it makes your heart ache. you really needed to learn how to resist him.

but that could be reserved for another time as you take a step towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder and placing a kiss on his cheek. he relaxes against you, hands instinctively coming to hold your waist.

"i am still mad at you," you reaffirm, "but i'm thankful that you came."

when you part, he tightens his grasp on you as a silent way of expressing that he doesn't want you too far away. you begin to pick the fragments of ice clinging to his hair and you're just about done when the rumbling of your stomach catches todoroki's attention, a reminder of his negligence.

he frowns again, guilt washing over him once more.

"do you still want our reservation or would you like to go home to eat?"

"isn't it too late to try and get a table?"

"i think i could do something about that," he offers you a small, intimate smile, one that has you melting into his grasp as you chuckle at his statement.

the number 3 hero could definitely do something about a last minute reservation.

"besides, i’d love to show you off. it's up to you though, what would you like, beautiful?"

"well, you have been wanting me to try this spot, and we are here so why not?”

todoroki takes the hand you placed on his shoulder and guides it to his lips, you can feel his smile against your skin, “your wish is my command.” 

[onceuponastory]

Oh, doesn't he just look perfect? And funnily enough, I had an idea for a Bucky AU floating around in my head, and this gif gave me the perfect push to write it. So thank you for the gif, love!

An Intriguing Stranger

Plot: Despite how poorly Y/N's night at the Gallery of Contemporary Art is going, it soon starts to look up when she meets a handsome stranger. However, he has a secret of his own. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Some swearing and a mention of alcohol. Also Bucky and reader mocking some art. If I miss any triggers, please let me know!

"Care for a drink, ma'am?" A waiter asks, and Y/N grabs a glass off his tray with a smile, following it up with an hors d'oeuvre a moment later. She glances down at the tiny morsel of food in her hand.

"Fucking rich people portions." She hisses. Although, considering where she currently is, the small portions are not too surprising.

Right now, Y/N is standing in the entrance foyer of the Brooklyn Gallery of Contemporary Art. For the longest time, she's wanted to challenge herself, to learn more about the world around her. And what better way to seem cultured than to go to an event hosted at said art gallery?

The only problem is that the second she stepped through the door, Y/N immediately realised that she doesn't like most of the art on display. Unfortunately, though, the ticket cost her a lot of money, and it'll look weird if she leaves so soon after arriving. But mainly, Y/N doesn't want to go because she spent so much time getting ready that she doesn't want her efforts to be wasted. Even if she's not enjoying herself, she'll be damned if she doesn't let everyone see how good she looks.

And besides... not all the art is awful.

Grabbing another filled glass off of the waiter's tray, Y/N stops in front of another painting. The colours are bright, too bright for her liking. She wrinkles her nose disapprovingly.

"Like what you see?" a voice sounds, and Y/N looks up to see a man standing beside her. He runs a hand through his shoulder length brunette hair, smiling at her.

Damn, he's cute. A lot better looking than the art, anyway.

And oh crap, he's staring.

"Well. I don't, really." She admits. The man raises a brow, smirking.

"Oh, really? How so?"

"It's just so bright, and in your face. It looks like the artist just dumped a load of paint on the canvas with no thought of how it would look, or to make something with it. It looks like blobs." A part of her is confused by why she's suddenly unloading her negative opinion on this complete, albeit handsome, stranger, but somehow she already feels comfortable enough around him to do so.

Thankfully, though, the stranger doesn't seem to mind. "I agree. It's chaotic, but I'm not sure if it's in a good way." He nods, tilting his head and nibbling on his finger, as if deep in thought. "It's as if the artist was drunk, and had no care for the complexities of art. He just wanted to make some kind of statement, a 'fuck you', to the expectations of the modern art world."

Damn, this guy really knows his stuff.

Y/N nods, leaning closer to see who the offending artist is. A small plaque reads:

Untitled. James Buchanan Barnes. 2021

"He didn't even title it! Do you think that's part of his 'fuck you' statement?" The man's laughter rings through the air, and soon Y/N's joins it.

"Oh, I know it was." The man clears his throat, grinning once more. "If I may say ma'am, you look wonderful tonight." Heat settles on Y/N's cheeks, and she feels her stomach fluttering. Despite knowing how good she looks tonight, the handsome stranger actually mentioning it is making her go all weak at the knees.

"Thank you." She smiles. But before either of them can say anything else,

"There you are!" another person calls, and Y/N notices an immaculately dressed woman striding over to them. A badge pinned to her chest says 'Gallery Director.' Immediately, fear and guilt fill her veins, and Y/N wonders if she's about to be thrown out of the gallery for her cheek towards the paintings, her chance to seem cultured over before it even began. However, the woman breezes past her, the scent of her undoubtedly expensive perfume intoxicating, and instead, she focuses on the man standing beside her. She takes his hand, shaking it tightly. "My dear friend, it's so wonderful to see you! I'm so glad you could make it."

"It's a pleasure to be here, Natasha." He grins.

"There's a champagne reception for all the guests of honour upstairs. I'd love to see you there." Y/N raises a brow. Her new friend seems to have a lot more influence than she originally thought. Perhaps he's a friend of the gallery? Or a news reporter ready to cover the event?

"I'd like that." As the woman departs, Y/N smirks.

"You didn't tell me you were famous around here." Now, though, it's the man's turn to smirk.

"Allow me to introduce myself." He takes her hand, shaking it. "James Buchanan Barnes. Pleasure to meet you."

James Buchanan Barnes. Huh, that's funny, that's the same name as...

And then, the rudest awakening Y/N's ever experienced hits her, raining down like a tonne of bricks.

Oh shit.

~~~~

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[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LVII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. This chapter is not suitable to those under the age of 18. Chapter on AO3 here.

He should have encouraged you further to use less hot water, Zandik realized, as his hands reached for yours in the scalding water.  Air thick with steam, laced with scents he would only ever attribute to being yours, you’d somehow convinced him a bath was more worthwhile.  And now you and the heat were going to his head and both of you would pay the price later.

A shower would have been efficient. He could have spent the entire time exploring your form, taking care of every curve.  He would feel more invigorated standing.  His body didn’t understand relaxation unless it was to sleep and every waking second couldn’t be wasted.

You’d insisted, however, that a bath would be enjoyable.

Zandik didn’t entirely understand how.  Not at first.  And then you arranged yourself behind him in the tub, a feat considering his own height; at least the tub was more than accommodating.  You pressed your breasts to his bare back before you eased him back into your lap to wash his hair.

How many times had you sat like this with him, he wondered.  Upwards of twenty, no doubt.  Even when your face was obscured to him, you cradled his head in your lap and listened as he went on tangent after tangent.  The last time you’d done so, he realized, was when his Segments still whispered on the wind as you overlooked the Ruin Golem.

“Relax, mon rêve .  I won’t get shampoo in your eyes,” you teased.

Relaxing didn’t take much effort thanks to your soft skin and the way you massaged his scalp as you lathered the shampoo.  He recalled, briefly, that Pantalone specifically spent the time and money getting his hair done for this experience and for once, he could understand why.  Just enough pressure to ensure efficacy but gentle enough to lull him to sleep right here.  Zandik never liked being touched by others, not even by his Segments; vanity to the point that Regrator took it to was a waste of time and mora anyway.

Your words from the courtyard after Pantalone’s dance floated through his head like padisarah petals on the surface of the river, noble and demanding.

He thought like Regrator too, once; Zandik’s turnabout wasn’t even all that long ago in the grand scheme of the universe.  He had outlived you already. He had centuries of experiences, of knowledge, of understanding. Back when he saw himself as a system, less a human and more of a concept in the shape of a human.

How limiting.

You rinsed his hair, thorough and meticulous in the same way you dusted your cello’s bow and body and strings.  When you finished, he reached up and took your hand in both of his and held it above him, mindful of dripping water and lingering suds as he massaged each joint.

You still had your writer’s bump, naturally.  But your palms were rougher, despite your vain attempts to keep them soft.  You exerted pressure on the handle of your claymore in some spots more than others and unless you were in the cold, you never wore gloves.  You used your baton more often now but every once in a while, you preferred to swing the blade yourself, you said; you enjoyed the power in your muscles, feeling the force of the blade and understanding everything as a mere extension of yourself.

A sentiment he more than related to.

Zandik craned his neck slightly to look at you only to find you watching him intently, your other hand grazing his cheek.

Even if he could outlive you, what would the point be?  The universe would never be exhausted but without you to share any of it with, why bother?

“They ache less,” you said. “I couldn’t have done tonight or any preceding tasks without your handiwork.”

“As was intended. Your claymore took away most of your grip strength and left you with little to use on daily tasks.  Eliminate that and you are free to take better care of your joints.  I saw no need for extreme alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“Prostheses.”

“I do rely on my sense of touch. Would be a shame to lose it.”

Your grazed your fingers over the tender spot between his shoulder and his neck; his eyes fluttered shut and his heart shuddered as if he was struck by lightning. The after-effects of the Furnace centuries ago were nothing compared to this sensation.

“A travesty,” Zandik replied. “Without it, your music would lack its soul.”

He would rather have fought and killed you, once upon a time.  Especially upon seeing you burdened with a device that tainted the mind.  He did not want you and yet his very nature demanded your presence, your music, your soul; he was a glutton for knowledge and to ignore you meant turning away from an opportunity to explore the world through a lens he would potentially never have again.

A slave to fate in all but name.  

His past self, or even just Omega, would have laughed if he walked in.

Omega understood, in the end, long before either his creator or you did.

Between his Segment and your thrice-timed persuasion, twice in appreciation of your presence and then once in your absence, and your willpower alone, his choice was made.

He didn’t need to feel his face to know how flushed he was. Amid the steam, he felt his pulse throbbing, lightheaded from the heat.

You fought, you always fought when given the right evidence, and Zandik hated few things more than passive acceptance of one’s intended life. You worked as hard as he had, as had as he did , endured pain he could conceptualize and at least acknowledge.

He wondered, for a moment, if that first night would have been different if you knew , then, in the darkened performance hall. He doubted it. What you lacked in physical prowess you more than made up for in emotional blows.

Which was precisely why, he realized some time ago, you would have gotten away from Omega on your own. You didn’t need him, Zandik, even if at the time it seemed otherwise. Sedatives would have worn off. Omega was distracted enough with the Traveler that you could have woken up without assistance.

And it was your fourth persuasion, feet caked with sand and a wooden cello neck in your hand, that made something finally fall into place.

You wanted him.

If you could have nothing else, no memories, no instrument, no colleagues, couldn’t you at least have him?

And wasn’t that how he felt with himself?  If Celestia was going to force you upon him, he might as well explore the bond.  That hasn’t changed. 

If he could have nothing else, couldn’t he have you?

In the cold depths of the Palace, shut away with nothing but false corpses for company, he came to the root of Omega’s selfishness and obsession over you. The Segments had nothing of their own, despite having autonomy and individuality; what Zandik gave them was what shaped them and he gave Omega his worst self.

All he knew was how to build, create; he learned and he adapted as needed. Moving. Always moving. If he stayed still, he would never reach the next conclusion, the next breakthrough.

And yet here you were, keeping him steady, focused. Wrapped in emotions he repressed in another era of this world. Willing to see what fate laid beyond the stars.

Zandik opened his eyes and caught you lost in thought, face just as flushed as his; no doubt you, too, were feeling the effects of the water. You blinked and looked down, your head titled at the same angle as when you heard a series of notes and were trying to work out the exact positioning to mimic it.

He didn’t deserve you, to feel inspired and anchored and…

“I know,” you whispered, bringing a hand to smooth back his wet hair again. “I know.”

Did you? he wanted to ask.  Did you truly know, understand, the depth of such a thing?  The amount of times he wondered if, for a moment, it was possible for a single person to hold an entire cosmos in their existence, just from looking at you?

A scholar would never stop until every avenue has been exhausted; fate would, inevitably, always find a way, for it was unnatural in its persistence.

So why not explore it?

For every challenge, Zandik saw the world in a richer context, experienced an outcome that, without your presence, would have been fleeting. The two of you would have found one another through other means, if not then, in Sumeru.  The means didn’t matter so much as the result.  The experiment was the journey, in truth, and he could control that.

And he would.  With your input, of course.

He chose. 

He chose you. 

And he would always choose you.