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euovennia · 2 years

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you are in love | kyle 'gaz' garrick

pairing: reader x gaz

a/n: decided i wanna start writing some fics for other characters on the weekends. not to worry, my 'widow' series will still be updated weekly, but i think it'll be nice to have a little mix. thanks for reading, i hope you all enjoy!!

written with a gender neutral reader in mind, but please let me know if there's any mistakes and i'll fix it asap!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Drink in hand, you lean back in your chair as you watch three drunken girls drag your dear friend Gaz onto the small platform. One of the women stumbles over to the DJ and begins talking with him while the others disperse the wireless microphones to one another. You can see Gaz politely trying to reject the microphone and move past her, but is inevitably stopped when one of the women practically shoves it in his hand and slings an arm around his shoulder.

Upon seeing the look of pure bewilderment and confusion across Gaz’s face at the action, you merely take a sip of your drink in an attempt to fend off the incoming fit of laughter bubbling in your chest.

You watch as Gaz’s eyes move from the woman drunkenly clinging onto his side over to you who was sitting at your two seater table with a wide grin and a twinkle in your eye. He opens his mouth to shout something to you, but is stopped by a wave of colorful lights hitting him in the face as the opening notes of ‘Fantasy’ by Mariah Carey begin to flood out of the speakers.

He can only watch as your smile grows wider with you adding in a teasing thumbs up as the lyrics begin to fill the colorful room and his newfound group of friends start belting out the song in an alcohol induced haze. He remains quiet as he stares you down with a hint of faux annoyance and betrayal dotting his brown eyes, his once immoveable frame now being awkwardly swayed by the clumsy jostling of the group around him.

By this point you were well aware it was way past midnight and while normally you wouldn’t have even considered staying out so late, you had a rather long week courtesy of your prying family and god awful boss. As a result, you readily agreed when Gaz had suggested you grab some drinks at a karaoke bar not too far from your apartment. Now on your fourth piña colada, you were starting to feel rather tipsy.

So, when his face went from one of mild awkwardness and discomfort to one of mischief and amusement you didn’t question it. Even as he leaned down to say something in the girl’s ear. Even as he pointed over to your direction and the girl lit up in pure joy and excitement. Even as she clumsily made her way over to you, grabbed your hand, and began pulling you toward the direction of st-

Wait what.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing beside Gaz with your half finished drink in one hand and a microphone in the other as bright beams of colorful lights strobed across your face. You looked up to see him trying, and failing, to hold back a smug smile as he witnessed you fall victim to the same fate as him.

Refusing to give into his little game, you pushed your drink into his hands before offering him a wink and offering the girl who had practically ambushed you your hand. She accepted it with a giddy smile and soon enough you were belting out the chorus of ‘Fantasy’ with your new best friend whose name you didn’t even know.

As the bridge begins to play out, you halt your singing and allow the other girls to take over. You glance over to Gaz who had since traded his spot on the stage for a new table that sat only a few feet from the stage. You watch as a soft smile spreads across his lips, an unfamiliar gleam of something unknown shining in his eyes.

Just as your feet begin to move in the direction of him, you’re pulled back by the gentle tug of the girl holding onto your hand as she points her gaze at the held tightly in your hand in a gentle ask of you to finish out the song.

You flash a small smile toward Gaz who is still sporting that same look in his eyes before turning away and finishing out the song.

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

“You mind giving me some more hustle, Kyle? You know how Julie gets when people are late,” You call out as you tap a quick message to your shared group chat with a few of your friends.

With nearly all your attention wrapped up into your phone, you fail to catch the sound of Gaz’s bedroom door creaking open as you swipe away from your messages app in favor of a mindless game of Tetris while you wait. Entranced by the colorful blocks, you jump off the couch with a yelp as you attempt to shake off the feeling of the unexpected hand creeping onto your shoulder. Your bout of fright comes to a steady decline as you hear the laughter of your friend fall from his lips.

“What was that? You scared the bloody fuck out of me,” You exclaim as you grab a throw pillow and hit him in his chest.

He fends off your attack with a smile before straightening out his posture.

“I need your opinion.”

You huff, “With what?”

He holds up two long-sleeved button up shirts, one a dark navy and the other a olive green.

“Which one?”

“This is why you’re taking so long? You couldn’t decide on what shirt to wear?”

“Hey, I have a shirt on. I just couldn’t decide what to throw over it.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Julie makes fun of my undershirts.”

“That doesn’t even–” you begin.

He throws you a pleading look.

“–Nevermind. I like the navy, you should go with that,” You concede.

He lets out a sigh of relief and offers you a small smile before tossing the green button-up aside and shrugging on the navy one before beginning to button it up. You look down at your phone as another text from Julie pings in.

“She’s already at the restaurant.”

“She’s just early. No need to worry about it anyway, I’m ready to go.”

You look up at his admission and your eyes immediately dart toward his misbuttoned shirt. A quiet laugh escapes your lips as you drop your phone on the couch and walk toward him, stopping just a few inches shy of him. Your hands make their way up his chest as you begin to undo the buttons.

“You always do this,” You remark with a small smile.

He opens his mouth to respond and, already knowing his response, you speak in tandem.

“Buttons are hard.”

He looks down at you with a smile, “You’ve been spending too much time with me.”

“Who else am I gonna suffer through dinners with if not you?”

A hearty laugh fills the air as his chest rumbles with joy. A few beats of silence pass before he speaks again.

“You know…I could get used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“You undressing me.”

Your fingers stop in their tracks as your cheeks begin to heat up. Not sure how to respond without becoming a stuttering mess, you remain quiet. The silence drones on a bit longer but before it can become completely awkward, Gaz lightly grabs onto your right wrist as his other hand gently lifts your head to face him.

“What’s wrong, was that too much?”

Knowing you couldn’t leave him hanging you reply, “N-No.” “Then what,” He quietly asks.

You find yourself staring into his eyes with baited breath, a warm feeling begins to surge through your body. You shouldn’t be feeling like this.

You gulp, “I was just thinking about how I should tell you that your shirt is stained.”

His face falls as he looks down at his shirt.

“Bloody hell!”

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

The light reflects

The chain on your neck

“I just don't think you waking me up this late is fair. You know I’ve got a rubbish sleep schedule as is, not to mention I have work in the morning.”

Gaz peers at you from the corner of his eye as he responds, “Well I don't, so you can crash with me. Besides, you’re tearing me down an awful lot for someone who jumped at the chance to get a latte,” He states with a smug smile.

You hold up an empty wrapper in your hand, “You know I can't eat my coffee cake without a latte!”

“...Could’ve saved it for the morning.”

Your face scrunches up in a faux fit of anger as you reach over the console and swat his arm with your hand.

“Hey, you can't attack the driver! What if we got into an accident?”

“At least it was with you,” You say before leaning back into the chair and taking a sip of your latte as Gaz comes to a stoplight.

A comfortable silence overcomes the two of you as he takes a quick glance at you, his eyes falling on the necklace wrapped around your neck with a small glow.

“I didn't think you'd still have that,” He says with a quick motion to your neck.

Your hand subconsciously lifts to gently toy with the medallion hanging off the end of the gold chain, “You brought this back for me all the way from Egypt. Of course I still have it.”

Gaz returns his attention back to the road he resumes driving, “I’m glad you do, you make it look good.”

You’re not sure if your next actions were because you were still tired and didn't have much awareness, or because you genuinely wanted to do it, but you can't find it in yourself to care as your hand finds his spare one and intertwines your fingers.

“I love being with you.”

You’re asleep before you can hear his response.

He says, "Look up"

And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch

But you felt enough

You and Gaz were currently sitting beside each other on a fleece blanket as the gentle glimmer of the stars and moon shone down on the two of you. Earlier this week gaz had broken the news that he was set out to go on another one of his top secret missions. Despite you two having gone through this cycle plenty of times before, the mere thought of sending him off knowing full well that there’s a chance he’d never come back to you was as nerve wracking as it was the first time. As a result you’d come to spend every waking moment with him before he was set to depart and, naturally, this included late night picnics spent in the comfort of each other. Despite the two of you being completely silent, you were still able to find solace in the mere presence of one another. You hadn’t had that before him.

You were brought out of your string of thoughts as Gaz nudged into you with his shoulder, “What’s on your mind?”

You looked up at him with a small sigh, “Do you have to go?”

A small frown wove itself onto his lips as he spoke, “You know I do.”

You knew there was no point in fighting against it, he was right after all.

“You shouldn’t have to,” You mumbled.

You felt his knee brush against yours as he continued, “I know, love. I’m sorry.”

The silence made itself apparent once again, but it didn’t have the woven comfort of serenity you had come to love. You can’t stand it.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?”

He looks to you, “Anything.”

“Will you promise to come back?”

He sighs as a pit of despair makes its home into his chest, “You know I can’t promise that, love. Things go wrong all the time, I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Just promise me, Kyle. Even if it’s not possible or if you don’t mean it. I just need the peace of mind, “ You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded at this point. You just needed him to say it.

His hand slowly inched its way toward yours before firmly grasping it in his as he looked into your eyes, “I promise I’ll come back for you.”

The two extra words didn’t go unnoticed.

You squeezed his hand and offered him a weak smile as he did the same to you. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, you were interrupted by Gaz nudging your shoulder and pointing up at the sky, “Look!”

You followed the direction of his pointed finger and let out a small gasp upon seeing two shooting stars flying side by side.

“Come on, love, make a wish,” He practically beamed as he let go of your hand and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to rest against his side.

Praying he couldn’t feel fast your heart was beating or how hot your skin had gotten, you both sit in silence as you make a wish.

You can only hope his is the same as yours.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

Yawn escaping your mouth, you open your eyes only to be met with the blinding light of the morning sun peeking through the thin curtains. You slowly sit up as you move the sheets off your body. You look to the side of you to reveal Gaz already gone. You let out a small hum as you swing your legs off the bed and onto the ground, a chill being sent up your spine as your bare feet make contact with the cold vinyl. You cross your arms, hugging them close to your torso as you wander out of his bedroom only to be met with the strong stench of something burning. A small pool of worry floods your mind as you quickly make your way over to the kitchen, only slowing when you hear a small groan of frustration. You narrow your eyes before poking your head into the kitchen, all of your anxiety flushing away from your body as you see Gaz moving a burnt piece of toast onto a plate. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up at you with a sheepish smile.

“I uh…I tried making some food for us but,” He gestures to the burnt toast.

An easy smile plants itself on your face as you walk over to Gaz and pick up the piece of toast.

“Still better than that time you tried making waffles.”

He rolls his eyes with an exaggerated groan, “I swear the recipe said a tablespoon of salt, not a teaspoon!”

You scrunch your nose, “Those things tasted bloody awful and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you’re right?”

“I can read,” He exclaims.

“Not well enough apparently,” You say with a laugh.

Gaz shakes his head as you laugh at his expense.

“So, we going out for some food or what?”

You shake your head, “No. We can just make something here. I don’t really feel like sharing you with the world quite yet.”

“You can’t keep me holed up in here forever.”

You break off a piece of his failed toast and flick it at him, “I can certainly try.”

You two share a small laugh before he speaks up again.

“I’m sorry for showing up like that yesterday. It didn’t really occur to me to change out of my gear until your co-workers nearly screamed bloody murder.”

You wave him off, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you came back to me.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

You look up at him, “Well it’s like you said, things go wrong all the time.”

Gaz lets out a small sigh before he reaches forward and grabs onto your hands, “I’m always gonna try my best to come back to you, you know that right?”

“I know. ”

Gaz maintains a steady gaze on you before his eyes flicker down to your lips. You tighten your grip on his hands as you feel your heart speed up. You watch with a heated stare as he slowly leans in closer, pupils dilated. He stops just a few hairs shy of your lips, your bodies practically shaking in anticipation.

He disconnects his hand from yours before moving them to toy with the hem of -your- his shirt, “You always did like stealing my shirts.”

Your cheeks grow impossibly hotter.

“I didn’t wanna forget what you smelled like.”

You take in a shaky breath, “Where does this leave us?”

“I don’t know…But I really wanna kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

His lips finally meet yours.

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

It had been just under seven months since that glorious Sunday morning in Gaz’s apartment. All had been well until about two weeks ago when Gaz had arrived back home after being sent away on yet another mission. You had expected a call from him asking you to come over or even a spontaneous visit by him, but instead you had received a message from him that simply read, ‘Home.’

While you were rather put off by his blunt announcement of his much anticipated arrival, you decided to chalk it up to him just being tired. It was just after eleven at night when you got the message, you were just grateful he said anything at all.

With it being the weekend, you woke up later than you normally did throughout the week, just before ten o’clock. You knew Gaz was an early riser as a result of his job and so you reached for your phone hoping for some type of message, but were left disappointed as you saw none. No big deal you thought, perhaps he just needed some time to himself to decompress. You could be patient.

Unfortunately, you weren’t known for your patience and so by the third day of radio silence from your lover, you had decided to march over to his apartment after your night shift had ended.

You bring your hand up to rap your knuckles against his red door, he always did love a pop of color. After a few moments of nothing, you continue knocking only to be met with the same disappointment. You let out a dejected sigh as you turn your attention to the watch wrapped around your wrist.

‘11:54’

It was a perfectly reasonable time for him to be asleep and not a reasonable one for you to be waiting outside his doorstep like some lovesick fool. With one last glance at your watch, you turn around and begin walking away from his apartment door. You’re stopped in your tracks when you hear the familiar sound of a lock clicking and the quiet creak of a door. You turn back to see Gaz poking his head out the door, eyes tired and face sporting a new scar across his cheek from what you could tell. You quietly stared at him for a few moments before he slowly opened the door wider as he stepped aside, giving you room to walk in. You can’t stop yourself from flinging yourself into his arms.

You hear the door close and the quiet click of the lock behind you before you feel his arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you tighter against him. As happy as you are to finally be in arms, you can’t help but feel a hint of anger and annoyance surge through your chest as you pull away from the hug.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You watch as Gaz’s face falls into a look of shame.

“I…I didn’t wanna see you.”

You can feel anger and annoyance dull into hurt as you pull back from him completely, “What?”

Shit, I–” He huffs.

“–I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nearly scoff, “Then how did you mean it? You didn’t respond to any of my calls or texts for three days and then when I finally come to you, you say you didn’t wanna see me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to pull himself together, “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…I needed some time to myself. I didn’t want you seeing me like this.”

At his admission, you let your eyes roam over him. Bruised arms, slouched shoulders, bandages pressed against the side of his neck, and the prominent bags under his eyes say more than he ever could. How the hell did you miss all of this?

You let out a sigh as you step closer to him, taking his hand into yours.

“Mission didn’t go so well then, I’m assuming?”

He wraps himself around as he buries his face in your neck, “Complete shit.”

You bring him closer and hold him in your arms as you bring your free hand up to lightly brush your fingers across the nape of his neck.

“You should’ve told me, love. Had me worried sick.”

His apology is muffled through your skin.

You slowly pull back from the tender embrace and bring your hands to rest on either side of his face, “Let’s try and get some rest, yeah?”

He only nods before you’re grabbing onto his hand again and leading him back to his room. He settles on the bed as you go into his closet and exchange your stuffy work clothes for one of his old t-shirts he keeps around for you when you sleep over. You emerge from the closet and flick off the light before climbing into bed with him. You lay on your side for a short while before he pulls you closer to him, your head resting comfortably on his chest as his arm is wrapped securely around your waist. You look up and upon seeing his eyes flicker to the corners of the room, you bring a warm hand to rest on the side of his face causing him to look down at you.

“I’ll keep watch, love. Get some rest.”

He seems to hesitate as his eyes flicker back up to the rest of the room. You lightly stroke your thumb against his cheek and, with a small sigh, he takes your hand and gives it a small peck before eventually closing his eyes.

True to your word, you dutifully keep watch as Gaz slowly catches up on some much needed rest. You’re awake as the night seems to grow darker, you’re awake when your friend buzzes your phone with some nonsense about her ex-boyfriend, and you’re awake when Gaz awakens with a small gasp just after three in the morning. You gently trail a comforting hand along his arm as you look up at him to see he’s already staring down at you.

“You’re still awake?”

“I told you I’d keep watch, didn’t I?”

He’s quick to fall into silence as he stares at you, his eyes soft and breathing slowing to a more steady pace.

“What’s on your mind?”

He gulps.

“You’re my best friend…You know that right?”

His mouth says one thing, but you know he means something else; a hidden meaning. You just feel lucky enough to know what it is.

“I love you too.”

He cups your cheeks with his large hand and plants a soft kiss to your lips.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

Hands intertwined, you allow Gaz to walk you through the snow covered streets of London. He’d managed to gain a few weeks leave after a particularly brutal mission that had practically made him disappear off the face of the Earth for just under three months. It was hard on you as it always was, but you had faith that he’d come back. He hadn’t dared break his promise he made to you once under that starry night for three whole years and he could hardly bear the thought of it now, especially now.

“For Christ’s sake, Kyle we’ll make the reservation, just slow down,” You cried out with a laugh as he weaved through the crowd.

“We’ve got five minutes until they pass off our table to someone else, we’ve gotta hurry!”

Tired as you were from running around you simply allowed him to drag you along without complaint. He’d been real strung up today, something quite odd and unusual for him, but you just assumed it was a result of him being in such a crowded place. You figured he’d feel more relaxed once you got back to the hotel you two were staying at.

Finally slowing to a walking pace, the two of you stepped into the rather fancy restaurant as Gaz approached the smiling host.

“Hi, I have a reservation for two under the name Garrick.”

The host gave you two a warm smile before looking down at his book, his smile quickly replaced by an awkward frown.

“I’m sorry to inform you, but your reservation was slated for six o’clock, not seven o’clock." Yours and Gaz’s face had dropped at the news, with Gaz being the one to speak up.

“What? N-No, I reserved it for seven o’clock. What do you mean we’re an hour late?”

The host turned the book over to him as Gaz read over it himself. His grip on your hand tightened considerably before letting out a defeated sigh, “I see…I suppose we’ll just show ourselves out then.”

He gently pulls you along with him back outside as he somberly hails the nearest taxi. You clamber in the backseat with him as you try to start a conversation with him to no avail. You eventually decide that it's probably best to simply remain quiet, at least until you both get to the room.

Soon enough the taxi parks outside your hotel and, after paying the fare, the two of you begin your silent walk to your room on the fourth floor. After a slightly awkward elevator ride you eventually get to the door of your room as you wait for Gaz to retrieve the room key from his wallet. He pulls it out and quickly searches through the pockets before his face drops in a mix of anger and despair.

“Bloody fucking hell,” He groans out as he leans his back against the door and slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.

Your eyes widen at the sight before kneeling beside him and speaking, “What's wrong?”

He tosses his wallet to the ground beside him with a huff, “I think I left the key in the room.”

You place a reassuring hand in his thigh, “That's alright, we can just call someone and–”

You're cut off by him removing your hand from his thigh as he speaks,

“I don't wanna call anyone. Just leave me here and let me stew in my despair.”

Your brows knit in confusion, “Love, it's not a big deal. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Oh Christ, it's not about how long it’ll take. Today was supposed to go better than this, I had it all planned out and it's just gone to shit! Everything's ruined,” He declared.

You decided to take a seat beside him on the carpeted ground, “Okay, maybe today hasn't been…Ideal. But we can still go out and grab some dinner, it's not all gone to waste don't you think?”

“It's not about that, darling.”

“Then what is it about? As far as I’m concerned, you're just making me dirty my clothes by sitting on the ground with you like this.”

“I had a whole plan for tonight. We were gonna grab dinner, walk along the Thames, and I was gonna–” He stops himself.

You narrow your eyes.

“You were gonna what?”

“Nothing, it’s not im–”

You cut him off, “What? Were you gonna throw me in or something? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

His eyes widen in horror as he sputters out a response, “N-No! Never! I just don't think what I was gonna do matters much anymore, that's all!”

“I bet you're thinking of some other way to get rid of me now, aren't you? I’ll bet that’s what this whole trip was about, wasn't it?”

Going off the panicked expression on his face, you know you should probably put an end to your teasing but you can't help but indulge yourself a bit. He is rather cute when he’s flustered.

Upon receiving no response from him, you sigh.

“Well…I suppose I should take my leave then. Don't wanna be in the company of someone who wants to get rid of me,” You state as you slowly begin to pick yourself up off the ground.

Your movements are quickly halted when Gaz pulls you down by your forearm however.

He sighs as you give him an expectant glance.

“If I tell you what I was planning, will you stop accusing me of trying to murder you?”

You nod.

He lets out a small sigh before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small velvet box. Your jaw goes slack and your eyes widen as you feel your body freeze. Gaz goes to say something, but stops as he sees your surprised face.

Of course, he thinks to himself, The of you hadn’t even talked about marriage.

He tightens his grip on the small box as he tries to think of an apology that won't make you want to smack him in the face and leave him in the dust. Unfortunately, his mind just seems to go blank. Gulping down the last shred of his diminishing pride, he goes to put the box back in his suit pocket but is stopped by your hand gripping onto his wrist. He looks up at you, confusion swimming around in his eyes.

You suck in a deep breath before speaking, “Aren't you going to ask?”

It’s his turn to be surprised.

“W-What?”

“I’m assuming there's a ring in that box, right?”

He nods.

“Then why haven’t you asked me yet?”

He freezes for a moment as his eyes alternate between you and the velvet box in his hands.

“You really want me to?”

You nod.

At your confirmation, he opens the box with shaky hands as he looks at you.

“Darling…I promise you that I had a whole speech planned in my head, but I can't remember a single thing from it now,” He has to stop himself from laughing at his own ridiculousness.

“But, I do love you. With all my heart. I am so stupidly in love with you and I can't even bear the thought of living another day without being able to call you mine forever. Will you make me the happiest man alive and ma–”

He’s cut off by you springing forward and smashing your lips against his as a steady stream of tears flows down your face. After a few moments, you pull back and lean your forehead against his as you whisper out your answer.

“Yes.”

'Cause you can hear in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 imagine #cod mw2 fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #literally what other tags are there for him omg #anyway i hope y'all enjoy gn #task force 141

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sardonic-courtney · 10 months

Text

Scarf.

Spencer Reid x Reader.

Words: 1182

Warnings: Suggestive. Mentions of Sugar daddy. OOC Reid.

Summary: The team decided to go to Spencer's for take away and find out about his girlfriend.

»»———-　　———-««

The BAU had finished for the week, which means…yep a long Friday full of paperwork from the usual case they had finished yesterday. A normal case, well as normal as a murder case could be. Relatively smooth and simple, bodies in different doll outfits lead to a woman who had a a bad childhood and was using the victims as dolls. So everyone was tired, even Rossi looking worn out.

Spencer Reid, wearing a light grey shirt, top button undone, a black tie with a little embroidery that seemed to be his new favourite and some trousers, grabbing his dark grey jumper was just ready and excited to go home to see her. She was not a secret, but Spencer had also failed to mention his girlfriend of a year and a half..to anyone. He had no reason to. He was ready to leave until Derek came up to him.

“Take away at your house today wonder boy” Derek states, not a question but also not a demand…and as usual Spencer is too awkward to say no, especially when the team seems to perk up at the idea and is excited about it.

Penelope squeals, “Yes! Oh, we haven't been to Spencer’s in aaggeeees. Brilliant idea Chocolate Thunder”.

"I could definitely go for a Chinese," Emily states nodding.

"Wills got the kids so I'm happy to come," JJ adds already grabbing her coat.

That's how the whole BAU team ended up on the sofa and chairs in Spencer's apartment. Hotch and Rossi instantly took the two-seater undoing some shirt buttons to relax. Derek, Penelope and Luke on the three-seater. JJ and Emily sit on the armchairs all chatting and making themselves at home. Spencer stands in the half-joint kitchen, shirt sleeves rolled up and he turns to the cupboard about to get drinks for them as they wait for the takeaway…

But the front door opens, and Y/n walks in from her classes, tired but happy to be home. She takes her shoes off at the door and places her bag on the kitchen counter not looking towards the couches or chairs that joins the kitchen she walks up towards Spencer, oblivious. The now silent BAU team looked confused, Derek slightly amused.

“You” Y/n starts walking towards Spencer with a big grin, “Are a genius”. Her smile is infectious and one Spencer loves. Spencer's focus is on her now and only her as he chuckles slightly, the team are surprised by the look on Spencer's face, affectionate caring and amused. She gains all of his attention, but he forgets to mention they’re not alone as Y/N wraps her wool scarf around his neck.

“Honestly, a Genius,” she smiles, emphasizing the word whilst admiring him.

“I am aware of that, but do care to elaborate love?” Spencer asks amused, his eyes flick down to the scarf about to comment but Y/n does before he can.

“What? I think it suits you” She bites her lip. “Well, okay, maybe not like this… But if it was in a more Sherlock way…”

She adjusts the scarf, folding it in half then wrapping it around his neck and threading the end through the loop, nodding at her handiwork, proud of herself clearly the two are comfortable around each other it wouldn't take a profiler to notice.

“That's not what I was going to say, '' Spencer commented looking at her, his brain noting her cute expressions.

“Oh right…Well, I got my test results back.”

“Really?” his face lights up, curious, “What did you get?”

Y/n pulls herself up and sits on the kitchen counter, her back facing the on-looking strangers. “On what?” she asks with a teasing smirk.

“Results Y/n, what are your results,”

“Oh see that depends on what you are asking about”

He shakes his head, and a little stern he says “All of them princess”.

With a faint blushing on her cheeks, she pretends to think, “Hmmm let’s see… Practical assessment Distinction, Witten assessment pass, pregnancy negative and the Oral assessment distinction”.

Spencer gives her a look.

“What you said is all of my results, that's all of them.” she chuckles.

“Well good job I'm very proud of you” he says, chuckling, shaking his head a little but is cut off by her stomach growling. His face fills with concern “Did you buy food today?”

“With what money? I'm on my apprenticeship wage, I looked in my account today and I have £32.48. I'm two days away from standing on the corner of my street”

Spence rolls his eyes at her dramatic comments.

“You know what I need..” she asks eyes lighting up a little.

“What?” Spencer asks seriously, missing the playfulness in her tone, removing the scarf from his neck, gently and neatly folding the scarf in his large hands and placing it on the counter by Y/n’s legs.

“A sugar daddy” Her face is relaxed and serious even though she's joking, and she gives a small grin.

He shakes his head chuckling again to himself “You do not need a sugar daddy”

“Oh right because I've already got one” Y/n nods smiling as if it's obvious.

“Hmm, you do, do you?” He raises an eyebrow crossing his arms in front of his chest, his work shirt tightening his body.

“Yeah you,” she states with an unspoken, duh.

Derek has to fight a laugh.

“I'm not your sugar daddy” The sternness in his voice and the towering position over Y/n isn’t supporting his statement.

“Hmmm, are you sure about that?” Y/n has a bratty smile on her face.

“Definitely,” Spencer replies, his tone not showing any amusement.

“Spence, define sugar daddy.”

“Well the Oxford dictionary defines it as a well-to-do usually older man who supports or spends lavishly on a mistress girlfriend or boyfriend,” he states factually not clocking her plan.

Smlining as her plans works, “Exactly, you are even a little older than me”

“I don’t…” Spencer starts but is cut off by the look on Y/n’s face.

“Well technically”

Reid blushes

She giggled as she looked past him to the side, “Oh you got me more sodas?”

“Sure did, oh by the way” he goes to his coat that's hanging on the hook getting a small box from the pocket and tosses it her way. “It's a well done for all your studying and tests and passing your apprenticeship, I saw it and thought you would like it.”

Opening it she sees it's a beautiful ring, her favourite metal and in a tiara shape.

“Spencer, oh wow, I love it…you shouldn't have you are the reason I passed. All those study sessions and notes and prepping”

“I wanted to” he walked over, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it on her pointer finger, perfect fit. “And I knew you would like it”

“Not a sugar daddy my arse” she mumbles.

“Quiet,” he says a little dominance coming out as he kisses her lips, deepening until a certain Aaron Hotchner clears his throat, causing her to freeze and Spencer to pull back, “Oh right, we have guests”

Knowing who it would be she hides her bright red face into Spencer's chest.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x yn #xreader #criminal minds

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cas-kingdom · 2 months

Note

NCIS gang with your OC, watching a horror movie for Abby's bday? <3

It was Abby’s idea, of course. No one else would have opted for a horror movie marathon the moment the sky got dark – in fact, Ducky had requested they change it to an ‘80s English comedy night – but it was Abby’s birthday, and so it was Abby’s choice. Horror movie marathon, it was.

Gibbs had offered to host the little party – Emmie said it was for the sole purpose that he could run down to his basement if he got too scared, to which he’d aimed a light head slap, and she’d ducked expertly out of the way.

So, four NCIS agents, two medical examiners, a forensic specialist, and a teenage girl sat, cramped but cosy, in Gibbs’s living room, surrounded by about twenty blankets and pillows, at least three bowls of popcorn (one of which Tony was keeping safely guarded in his arms), closed curtains plunging them into utter darkness, and a flashlight on the floor in suspiciously close grabbing distance from Gibbs, who had, as expected, protested very audibly against the turning off of all lights.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone, but Tony and McGee didn’t care about the bean bags they’d been assigned. Emmie was squished between a practically bouncing Abby, and Ziva, who, after about twenty minutes into the movie, fell promptly asleep against the side of the sofa. Ducky and Palmer were on the two-seater, while Gibbs sat rigidly in his armchair.

The movie was The Blair Witch Project. Abby was ecstatic, reciting lines the moment the movie started and tugging at Emmie’s arm when a ‘good bit’ was about to come up, which usually meant she needed to cover her eyes. Tony and McGee were fixed on the screen, the former giggling like he was watching a romcom while the latter seeming interested solely in the particulars of the film’s special effects. Ducky occasionally spouted the odd horror movie fact, and Palmer…well. He was just happy to be there.

And Ziva was asleep, so Ziva didn’t care what was going on.

Emmie rarely watched horrors. There was the odd time Abby managed to rope her into one on one of their routine sleepovers, but they tended to be more…placid. Ones she could cope better with, at least. Gibbs, meanwhile, rarely watched movies, let alone horrors, and every time Emmie glanced over, just to see if there was anyone else in the room who was actually as terrified as her, he looked about ready to bolt.

“Oooh, Em, this is a good bit!” Abby said for the tenth time, shaking Emmie’s arm.

Emmie promptly pulled the blanket up to her chin.

“Ha, McGee, that’s you after a night out,” Tony quipped with an immature giggle, pointing a finger at the screen.

“Hilarious, Tony.”

“I do believe that the director of an ‘80’s horror was once charged with murder because one particular scene was so well—"

Even Ducky stopped mid-sentence as the room filled with the eerie sound of kids’ voices coming from the TV.

“Oh…” Tony shuffled backwards on his beanbag. “Oh, God…”

Abby grinned in pure excitement, her eyes fixed on the screen.

McGee’s face contorted into something almost painful.

Palmer was looking anywhere but the screen.

Gibbs pressed himself further back into his chair, hand mere inches away from covering his eyes.

Ziva snored.

And Emmie…

The moment the kids’ voices got louder, she let loose an adamant “nope” and shook herself free of Abby to execute her escape. Clambering ungracefully over Ziva, who somehow stayed asleep, she jumped none-too-gently from her sofa to her dad’s. Gibbs, in need of support as much as his daughter, didn’t spout much more than an oof at the sudden weight before wrapping Emmie in his arms and conveniently hiding his face behind hers.

“Good lord,” Ducky said as the scene continued.

“Uh, I need the restroom.” And that was McGee gone.

“Wait for me!” Palmer quickly followed.

Abby rolled her eyes. “You’re all a bunch of babies.”

Ziva blearily cracked her eyes open. “Babies? How—lovely,” she slurred before promptly returning to sleep.

NCIS Masterpost

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Text

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Three: The Other Women

Summary: Things were good between you and Rooster for what felt like a total of one whole minute before your entire world came crashing down around you—just like you knew it would. It’s always the same, the more you fuck around? The more you find out.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. SMUT—absolutely pitiful writing. (Heterosexual) Bradley Bradshaw x female reader.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author Note: EEP! I’ve been waiting to this chapter to go live since I finished editing it. So here it is! I couldn’t wait. Also, let’s play a little game—how many lines from popular songs can you spot!Have a lovely night and see you next week!

You weren’t a closed off kid. In fact you were the exact opposite. You’d talk to anyone about anything as long as they were willing to give you the time of day. But as you got older, you noticed how the people that mattered most to you seemed to vanish into thin air. You started to develop incredibly unhealthy abandonment issues—which at its current, were as heavy and all consuming as they were going to get.

It would be easy to blame it on the fact your dad had given up his fight against throat cancer, or blame Pete Mitchell for basically going MIA for months at a time without so much of an update. You could blame your wingman, Sam for dying when he said he’d see you tomorrow, but that would be selfish. Mainly you blamed your

issues on Bradley Bradshaw—because of all people he was the one who’d slip back in seamlessly, only to break your heart again every damn time. But most of all you blame yourself for letting him do it.

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!” Pete shouted as your feet hit the floor. Rooster and Bob standing nearby as they watched you squeeze your throbbing right hand.

“He had it coming!”

“That wasn’t my question Chaos—I asked what the hell is the matter with you!?” Clenching your jaw you looked at Rooster before your eyes fell to Bob. Sighing, he threw the piece of ginger you’d slipped into his coffee mug when he wasn't looking this morning your way. Catching it with your left. His way of saying tell them everything because he sure as shit wasn’t going to. It was your story to tell. “Answer me—“

“I lost my wingman—“ It was the first time you were saying it out loud. Holding back tears as you looked to Rooster. His own heart breaking for you. “It was a routine training mission, Bob was there, he honestly should have been my back seater for this detachment but I didn’t want to fly with someone again. Didn’t want to be held accountable.” It wasn't an easy decision to give Bob up. He'd been the best back seater you’d ever flown with. But you couldn't do it again. Didn't want to do it again. Something about being responsible for another person in your cockpit made you feel weak, made you tremble in fear and that wasn't something you liked to admit. You didn't play well with others, but you’d easily tolerate Rober Floyd.

“Hangman pulled your file—“ Rooster interjected as you nodded softly in response. Your hand brushed and swollen. “That’s how he knew how to get to you?”

“He was supposed to be fine, it was just a bird strike he–he ejected into the water, ditched the jet—God there wasn’t a scratch on him.” Bob could hear your screams in his head still to this day. Having had to drag you kicking and screaming from the hospital the next day. “I told him I didn’t wanna leave him, said I’d sleep in the corner of the hospital room in one of those really uncomfortable chairs.” Scoffing you felt blood dripping from the cuts Hangman’s jaw had caused your knuckles. “He died of a brain haemorrhage, his helmet was faulty because he had a tendency to drop it.” You explained, your voice soft. Almost inaudible. “I left him and he died and I can’t take that back.”

“One, don’t drop your helmet, it could be the only thing that saves your goddamn life one day.” Rooster heard you repeat inside his head from yesterday. He didn’t realise it at the time but you were watching his back, not just being overly cautious. Not just being annoying.

“I won’t tolerate reckless behaviour in my classroom, or fraternisation in the workplace for that matter.” Pete reminded you and warned Rooster as your head hung low. “Get yourself together, cool off, and meet me and the rest of the crew down by the beach at five.”

“Sir?” Bob stopped Maverick before he left the room. “Chaos is one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with, if you’re about to talk to the admirals? If they do decide to pull her? Please know that could be one of the worst things they could do for this mission's success.”

“Noted Lieutenant—“ Maverick smirked. “Noted.” Bob was hesitant to leave as you stood trying to compose yourself, Rooster having already made his way over to the small kitchenette to fish a handful of ice out of the freezer. Packing it into a clean cloth nearby.

“I got her.” Rooster softly assured the quiet weapons systems officer. Giving him the all clear to leave the room. Bob looked you up and down on final time. He’d heard alot about the man who liked to play tennis with your feelings, with your heart. Bob felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for you. Stepping closer to where Rooster stood. His balls suddenly in his throat.

“All due respect Rooster, if you even think about breaking her heart again—“ Bob paused for a moment as he looked at you over Rooster's shoulder. Now sitting on the nearest table. Legs hanging over the edge. “I’ll kill you.” It wasn’t like Bob to threaten people, but when it came to the people he cared about? He’d do just about anything.

“I wouldn't dream of it, Bob.” Rooster assured him, watching as he nodded– accepting the reality of the situation that was playing out. Leaving you two alone, Bob left the room, his stomach unsettled because you blame yourself too much for the things you couldn't control. Wishing for a moment he could take just an ounce of the weight you placed on your shoulders.

Standing in his place for a moment, Rooster sighed deeply before he made his way over to you, jumping up onto the table beside you with a small audible huff.

“It’s always the weapons systems officers who end up scaring the crap out of me.” Rooster chuckled as he came to sit beside you, his knee bumping yours he sat that close. Smirking, you took the makeshift ice pack Rooster handed over.

“Bob's good people, he really held me together there for a while.” Placing the ice pack over your knuckles as you let your head fall against Rooster’s shoulder. He didn't reply straight away, he simply smiled softly as the feeling of being so domestically close to you. Enjoying the simplicity of the interaction. Nothing ever seemed so simple with you anymore, that was mainly his own fault.

“I wish you would have told me.” Rooster broke the silence as he shoulder bumped yours. Your head lulling off his shoulder as you looked at him. “I would have been there in a heartbeat for you.”

“Please, you wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow, Bradshaw.” You spoke way too softly, Rooster hated seeing you like this. “I didn’t—I don’t.” You corrected yourself. “Wanna let you in again because I know when I do it’s gonna hurt like hell,, you leave me every time I let my guard down.”

“You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you do anyway.” You were quick to justify why you had become so closed off. “You do anyway Rooster and I tell myself every time that you don’t mean to but it doesn’t change the fact I’m left pulling myself together again after Hurricane Bradshaw leaves a trail of destruction.” Pushing yourself off the table you stood before Rooster. His hands instantly drawing you closer to him by your hips. Standing between his legs as he listened to you. His eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips.

“You're heartless, cruel, you take miles from inches Rooster and we never get to finish what we start.” Rooster took notice that whenever he was without you—birds didn’t sing. There was no joy, no one to come home to. Sure he had a fling with some girl called Lindsey in his brief stint in New York but he couldn't commit. Birds stopped singing whenever you weren’t in his life and perhaps that was just something he noticed. Something small you took with you each and every time along with his heart, his ability to love. But as you stood between his legs, his fingertips curled into your hips. The birds outside the window had a reason to sing again. Removing a hand from your hip to burst the hair that had fallen effortlessly across the side of your face behind your ear. Cupping your cheek as he noticed your eyes trailing down to his lips then back to his eyes. “You really really don’t wanna do this.” You mumbled, warning Rooster.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” Rooster smirked as he pulled you down into him. His lips on yours in a hot, needy mess. Both his hands cupping your cheeks. His tongue dancing with yours as you gave him more access to deepen the kiss.

“I don’t know how to properly explain how I feel about you.” Rooster broke the kiss. Letting his forehead rest against yours. “I run because the way I feel about you scares the shit out of me, I’m scared to lose you so I push you away, I think if I push you that maybe it’ll hurt less.”

“What did I call you yesterday? You teased as your forehead fell against Roosters. His hands trailing down your body to fall against your ass. Keeping you close to him as you stood between his legs.

“You called me Dumb–”

“Yeah.” kissing Rooster was as addictive as adrenaline to an adrenaline junkie. It was also just as life threatening. “Seems pretty accurate.” Things were complicated to say the very least. On one hand? Rooster was home. He always was and always would be home. But like one of those disgruntled, abusive manipulative homes? The ones where you just love them too much to see how much damage they’re actually doing until it’s far too late. Yeah—that was Bradley Bradshaw. “You’re no good for me, Rooster.”

“I know—“ You were expecting Rooster to put up some sort of fight, give you some complicated argument that turned the tables back onto you. But he didn’t. Rooster simply pulled back, his forehand disappearing from yours so he could get a good look at you and everything that made you. “Believe me, I know.” It was the way he said it that had your heart melting. Apologetic, self aware. “I don’t bring much to the table, and trust me I know everything that’s ever happened with us has been a direct chain link reaction because of something I did—but.” As Rooster spoke, your fingers played gently with the buttons of his flight suit. Your eyes hooded on his chest. “But none of that, no matter how bad things have gotten? I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.” Something inside the pit of your stomach dropped—not in at oh you were going to be sick kinda stomach drop. But in an oh fuck am I really gonna fall for this bullshit again? Kinda way. Had the handful of times you’d dated Bradley Bradshaw in the past really taught you nothing? Staring at Rooster his eyes begged, pleading with you to say something—anything.

“Perhaps, maybe—if you're willing to try again? I’d be willing as well?” It wasn’t a definitive statement, more so a lingering question. But nevertheless it sparked Roosters curiosity bringing his arms down again to scoop you forward and into him by your waist.

“Is that so?” He teased. Kissing you softly as he kissed him back. Lips melting almost perfectly together.

“Very slowly, at a snail’s pace.” You cooed as Rooster smirked back at you. Kissing you again only this time with more behind it. His tongue slowly ran across your bottom lip as he begged for entry. Wanting, no—needing more of you.

“Is this slow enough?” Rooster knew he was already approaching supersonic, but the way you stared at him? Biting your bottom lip as you chuckled and smirked wildly, was worth it.

“Slower.” You reminded him, your voice hiding whatever anxiety you were feeling in the pit of your stomach about feeling so vulnerable, so open. But whatever it was it all went away when Roosters lips were on your once again. Slowly, passionately. His hands cupping your cheeks as yours rested on his knees. Pushing yourself up an inch or two onto your toes.

“Okay, sure—what about now?” Pulling away breathless Roosted dared to ask you one more time, looking for any sign to slow down despite your obvious explication. All you could do was laugh at yourself, at how pathetic you felt in the palms of his hands. Safe, secure—in the most dangerous position of all.

“You’re becoming an occupational hazard Rooster.” Pushing away, you turned on your heels, sinking your teeth softly into your lip to once again stop yourself from smirking too wide. Too obviously smitten with the man of your dreams and your nightmares. “I’ll meet you at the Beach.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You got a hot date or something afterwards Bradshaw?” Mickey Garcia or as you’d known him by his call sign—Fanboy, teased a very sweaty, very shirtless, very ripped Rooster. You hadn’t really been able to take your eyes off him for the entire game of dogfight football. Rooster knew it too. He would deny it, but he’d been showing off just for you. Flexing his muscles, getting down and dirty. Wandering hands found their way to every part of you too—without shame, without a care. But now? He was flaunting his ego a little too much.

You had him right where you wanted him. Bending over in an attack position—ready to take off running down the beach the moment the whistle blew. You knew he was yours. “Wish someone would take me out!”

“What, on a date or with a sniper?” Rooster shouted back as he laughed, looking your way as you geared up to tackle Mickey.

“Surprise me!” Fanboy laughed, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose just as the whistle blew. Watching as you came sprinting his way. “Oh fuck—“ with a sudden clap of skin contacting skin and a subtly Oof, you and Mickey crashed to the wet sand below. Landing on top of him as the group whistled and cheered. “Jesus Christ, where did you come from!” Fanboy beamed as he let his head rest against the same, feeling you disappear from on top of him as you offered him a hand. Helping him up.

“You were too busy eyeing off Roosters abs, you may as well have had a giant red target on your chest.” Tapping his back softly, you walked side by side.

“Am I stepping on your toes Kazansky?” Fanboy cooed, knowing there was something between you and Rooster he could tease. “Don’t wanna share?”

“Unfortunately I’m not into polygamy, so no, Garcia—keep your eyes off what’s mine.” You could see Rooster out of the corner of your eye. He’d already fallen into the routine of just knowing where you were. Taking in the way you looked so effortlessly immaculate in your shorts, hidden by the cuff off the oversized shirt that adorned your body—deciding that Bob shouldn’t be the only person playing shirts.

“Ohh she’s claimed a camp. That’s cool that’s cool—I’ve still got my one and only.” Fanboy was pure. He was good people, the more time you spent getting to know the different TopGun pilots you knew they’d give anything to protect their own. Everyone except maybe Jake Seresin.

“Left or right?” You teased, questioning the back seater's personal preferences wondering if he’d respond. He did—way too proud.

“Right, but sometimes if I go in with the left it feels like—“ cutting Fanboy off with a groan you stopped him from going into too heavy detail.

“Okay—that’s enough, way too much information!” Laughing together as you reached down for the football, passing back to Mickey.

“So Bradshaw—“ Hangman cupped Rooster's exposed shoulder with his hand. The sun soaking into his skin. “How’s Chaos?” He wouldn’t normally ask, but his jaw still throbbed. “She packs a mean punch—“

“I wouldn’t wanna be the one on the receiving end, that's for sure.” Rooster stood with his arms crossed, watching you run around, laughing. “She’s okay—how’s the jaw?”

“Throb’s abit but nothing I can’t handle.” He wasn’t ready to admit it, but Jake felt bad for bringing up your file. Perhaps he’d crossed an unspoken line. But that would be a redemption arc for another day. “I do wanna know something though.” Hangman paused for a moment, watching you and Bob tag team. Racing up the straight of the beach as Hangman and Rooster stood off to the side—watching the chaos of dogfight football unfold. “I never took you for the eleventh man kinda vibe, always thought you were more of a paper rings person.” Frowning, Rooster turned to Hangman with a questioning brow. Annoyed.

“What are you going on about now?“ The irritation wasn’t very well hidden as Rooster spoke with Hangman. He still hadn’t really processed the tension he felt from the highly escalated training breakdown.

“You know, the eleventh man theory?” The silence could have been deafening as Hangman’s statement fell on deaf ears.

“No clue what you're talking about.”

“Right, well—say there’s a woman sitting around a table with ten men.” Hangman explained as he watched Roosters eyes trail you up and down the beach. “And all ten men are telling her how beautiful she is, how amazing she is. They’re buying her beers, sharing their food, just treating her like some goddess who’s walking the earth amongst us.” Rooster couldn’t help but to think, hell—he thought you were beautiful, a goddess in your own right. A powerful, respectable—independent Goddess. “Then, all of a sudden in walks the eleventh man.” Rooster turned his attention back to Hangman, his eyes off you reluctantly. “He takes one look at her, says, how you going—turns his back on her and turns all his attention back to his buddies.” Hangman let it sink in for a second before continuing his monologue that Rooster hadn’t remembered asking for. “That’s the guy she wants to be with, the eleventh man, not any of the ten men testing her well.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” Rooster couldn’t help but to think this was coming off more an insult to his integrity than guidance.

“For some reason? Women don’t want nice, they don’t want real, they don’t wanna be treated well I mean—not a first and sometimes not ever. And I kinda get the vibe you’re a master at playing that role—the eleventh man.”

“And for some reason I really don’t trust your judge of character, all things considered.” Rooster left it at that as he walked your way, meeting you halfway up the beach as he flung his arm around your shoulders. Feeling your arm smack behind his midsection.

“So I was thinking, you, me—dinner, my place?” Rooster smirked as he tried tripping you up in the sand as you evaded his every attempt, countering his attacks.

“You and thinking are never good together.” Teasing you stopped in your tracks. “But what were you actually thinking?” The sun had turned golden and it made Rooster look oh so fine.

“I heard that Penny has a mean takeaway menu.” The invitation still in the air, for a moment Rooster genuinely believed you may turn his advancements down. “Just between two friends who need to catch up.” At his words you felt smitten, endlessly looped into a world where Bradley Bradshaw would forever have your heart.

“Okay, um—yeah I’ll have a shower and head over if you wanna order?” You agreed, kissing his cheek softly. The warmth the sun had gifted him radiating under your lips.

“Sure, sounds great.” Rooster replied as he felt helplessly into your web. Your touch? pure crack. Always had been always would be. His love language had always been physical.

“Rooster?” You cooed as you pulled away, squinting as the sun hit your face. Holding a hand up to shadow it. “Remember, slow.” Feeling the need to just remind him, because with how good he was looking? There was a slight chance you wouldn’t remind yourself later.

Rooster chuckled, noticing the way your eyes trailed down his body. Reaching out to tilt your chin up. Caught red handed as his ego skyrocketed.

“Slow and steady—got it.”

But things did not go slow and steady. Things got hot and things got very heavy very quickly the moment you stepped into Roosters small studio apartment. The short twenty minute drive off base had you pulling up to the Bradshaw residence. Unlike your first experience at TopGun, you’d been given the opportunity to either live on base in the Barracks or—in Fightertown. Rows of small studio townhouses lined the streets. You were lucky enough to have something a little more spacious. A two bedroom one bathroom. Rooster? He was very much living a Bachelor's dream. The studio townhouse was all he needed. One bed, one bedroom. Small living room with a kitchenette off to the side. But none of that really mattered. Because the second you stepped through the threshold of Bradley’s home? You were on him and he was most certainly on you.

There was a small pause when Rooster opened the door. Your eyes lingered on him as his travelled the extent of all that was you. If you were put on the stand and asked to swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god you wouldn't be able to say who started it. Who exactly made the first move or who definitely made the first unholy move. But nevertheless it happened. As much as your brain was telling you to pull back, take it slow, don't dive head first into the deep end without learning how to swim first. Your lips melted with Roosters perfectly as he took you in his arms. Working to bring you further into his home as you shut the door blindly behind you.

“What happened to slow and steady?’ Rooster teased as he led you down the hall to his bedroom, your hands on the curves of your hips as you reached up to cup his face with one and and to hold the back of his head close to you with the other. Bumping into the wall as he reached behind him for his door handle. “This doesn't feel very slow and steady?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” You mumbled into his mouth, eyes closed, headstrong. Rooster smirked against you–softly biting your bottom lip as he pulled you into his room. Spinning you around before kicking your feet out from under you. Standing to watch you fall back onto his bed before he followed you down. Hovering over you as he attacked the juncture of your neck with soft kisses. Peppering your skin with marks that would surely be visible come the morning.

“Yes ma'am–” You heard Rooster mumble as your hands wandered between you. Reaching for the waistband of his tracksuit pants. Slipping past the band of his boxer briefs, you found him. Hard, throbbing. Aching for some sort of relief. “Ohhh-fugh.” it was music to your ears. The way Rooster buried his face into the crook of your neck as you slowly but ever so surely worked him over. “Y/n–”

“Bradley–” Rooster found your lips again before he pulled himself away, standing to rid himself of his shit, his sweatpants. Almost as if you were trying to match his eagerness, you did the same, ridding yourself of your shirt, your pyjama shorts. Rooster stood before you as you kneeled in front of him on his bed, staring you down like a man who;d been touch starved and deprived of all human contact for weeks, months, years. “Like something you see?”

“Oh I love someone I see.” His words made your heart leap over the moon as he came down to kneel in front of you, his hands pulling you close to him by your hips as he leaned in to kiss you again. Slowly, passionalty, deeply. “So much, you have no idea.” Rooster felt your hands on his length once again, pumping him expertly as he let his forehead rest against yours. “Can't ever get enough of you.”

“You're just saying that so I don’t stop.” Teasingly, you moved your hand a little faster up and down the length of Bradleys shaft, your core dripping at the hitch in his voice as he moaned softly, trying to keep his cool as you made his head spin. All the blood in his body bumping through one body party.

“I'll say whatever you want me to say so long as you keep going.” You were high, looking down as you watched your hand glide up and down Rooster’s shaft. Deciding it just wasn’t enough. Taking charge as you pushed him down onto his back, watching with hungry eyes as Rooster crawled backwards up to where his pillows laid sprawled around. Perhaps sleep never came easy to him either, you caught yourself thinking for only the briefest of moments. Crawling after Bradley you sunk low between his exposed thighs, skin a little lighter where his shorts usually covered. More sensitive. Running your nails up and down the flesh that never saw enough attention, the hiss Rooster made in response orgasmic in and of itself. “Shit–!” before he had a chance to really do anything besides let his guard down, your mouth was expertly taking him. Inch by inch. Slowly working your tongue around his girth, eyes trained on him as you did so. Whatever you couldn't fit? Your hand was wrapped around, making sure every inch was accommodated for. “Oh my god, fucking christ–” reaching down to card his fingers into your hair, Rooster couldn’t help but to guide you down on him. His hips slightly bucking up whenever your mouth came down to take every inch on him. His entire world was spinning—the feeling of your mouth so warm and inviting around his shaft. The back of your throat against the tip of his cock. “Ohh—fuck baby you’re killing me.”

Baby. That was something Rooster hadn’t called you in a long time. Pausing, you sat up, pushing yourself back onto your knees as Rooster followed you desperately. His eyes had never been so dark. So lustful. So hungry. Laying you down as he sunk between your thighs, leaving a trail of soft and subtle kisses up the inner part of your thigh. His arms wrapping up and around your legs, his hands resting on your lower abdomen as his eyes asked you for permission to dive head first into his pandora’s box.

“Bet you still taste like candy—“ it could have been a throw back to the night you and Rooster had lost your virginity together. Or maybe to the hundreds of other times you’d have sex—still, it made you throb at the idea he craved the taste of you. Nothing could compare.

“Why don’t you stop doing so much talking and find out?” Within a second of your taunting tease, Rooster's mouth devoured you. Your elbows that were working to support you kicked into overdrive as Bradley’s Tongue lapped at your core, sending shockwaves of unimaginable pleasure throughout your entire body—from the tips of your toes to your fingertips. Wrapping your legs around his shoulders Bradley got deep, got messy. Sucking against your client as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. “Oh fuck—! Yes, yes yes Rooster just like that, ah fuck!”

“What’s my name?” Rooster pulled away as he quickly replaced his mouth with two of his thick digits, slipping easily past your folds. Invoking an all consuming moan of pleasure from the depth of your soul as you rolled your eyes. Throwing your head back as your elbows gave out. “Say it—“

“I’m not saying it!” You cried as Rooster curled his fingers into your velvet walls. Working the pad of his thumb around in small circles against your clit. He knew you were close by the way you were grilling his fingers. “Bradley—fuck, please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna let you cum until you say it at least once, like you mean it too.” Rooster was having the time of his life, watching you fight for your life as he worked you ever so perfectly towards your high. His fingers coated, his thumb cramping, crawling up slightly to hover over yiu, taking the hardened bud of your nippled between his teeth before sucking. Making a pop before he moved onto the next. “Say it Chaos—“

“I’m gonna cum!” You eyed him down with a slack jaw. Totally consumed. “Bradley—I’m gonna—“

“Say it and I’ll get you there.” You couldn’t hold it back, afraid Rooster would stop his motion you gripped his worst so he couldn’t pull away—leaving you unsatisfied. Looking him directly in the eyes you begged him, pleaded with him to keep going. You were so very close. “Say it baby—“

“Daddy—you’re daddy!” It hit you like a tsunami. The orgasm that Rooster coaxed you through with his fingers, with his touch, with his shit eating grin because he got you to say the one thing you swore on your life you’d never call him. “Ohhhh my god!” You couldn’t help it, your eyes rolled as you moaned and enjoyed the pleasure Rooster had given you.

“Your so fucking gorgeous.” Rooster whispered as he littered your neck with soft kisses. “So gorgeous Y/n.” Coming to you craved more, instantly needed to feel full. When Roosters lips finally made their way to yours, you took the chance to flip over—it was now you in charge. Straddling his waist as Rooster's length laid between your folds. Slick and warm. “My turn.” You smirked. Pulling Bradley’s hands up over his head. You knew in any other circumstance he’d fight you, wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of control. But you had him, he’d do anything you asked.

If anyone was going to know who fucked who? They were going to know you fucked Bradley Bradshaw—he didn’t fuck you.

Bucking his hips up, Rooster aided you as you guided yourself down his length. Taking him inch by inch as he stretched you out. The O sound you made had Roosters head spinning. Gripping your thumbs as you held his hands over his head, pressing him into the bed. Your mouth blinding searching for Bradley’s to muffle your moans. Grinding atop him as you took him entirely.

“Fuck—“ Rooster hissed into your mouth. His teeth crashing against your as you slowly slid up and down, up and down. Your nectar coating his coat so well it was nearly perfect the way he fit inside you. The tip of Rooster's cock kissed your cervix with passion every time you took him deep. Hip crashing with his. “Holy fuck—baby.” There is was again. That pet name. It gave you such an incentive to keep going, keep fucking him the way you knew he liked it.

“I know you wanna cum for me, don’t you Bradley.” You teased as you tried to bring him closer to his high. “Drip down my thighs—fill me to the brim.” If Rooster died tomorrow this was what his version of heaven would be like. His eyes rolled as he threw his head back, neck straining as he broke his hands out from underneath yours. Bringing them crashing to your hips as he bent his knees—planting his feet against the mattress as he fucked up into you. “Fuck!! Yes!! Bradley—!!” It was hard, nasty, desperate.

“I’m so fucking close—“ Rooster could feel his balls, how tight they were. He felt the load ready to release at the base of his shaft, pooling—ready for release. “Where do you want me to?”

“I don’t care, I’m covered.” You were taking regular birth control, although not one hundred percent effective against pregnancy you could always get your hands on a plan B. “Wherever you want, daddy.” It absolutely nailed you to say it, it wasn’t your vibe. But you knew Rooster loved it. “Cum for me baby.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—Fuckk—!!” Rooster groaned as he fucked you hard, his cock pulsing inside you as you felt the warm sensation of his load filling you. Dripping against your velvet walls. “Oh my god.” Stilling, Roosters tense muscles softened. Pulling you down to his chest as you both caught your breath, sweaty. “Jesus Christ—“

“That was not very slow and steady of us.” You listened to Rooster's heart beating as he held your head against his chest.

“Oh god no, we skipped like six thousand steps there.” Kissing your forehead Bradley laid his head back against his mattress. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The gentle sound of the shower running mixed with the alarming sound of Rooster’s phone going off on his bedside table had you jolting away. Stretching underneath the covers, you rolled over. An unknown number lighting up Roosters phone.

“Hey Roos—your phones ringing, unknown number!” You shouted.

“Uh, can you answer it?” Rooster’s voice carried itself out to where you’d laid in his bed. Still naked under the thin sheets as you sat. Yawning as you answered.

“Hello Bradley Bradshaw's phone.”

“Hi, who's this?” A woman’s voice rang through your ear as you frowned.

“Oh this is Lieutenant Kazansky, just answering Roo—“

“Well this is Lindsey, his girlfriend, can you get him to call me back? I had to get a new number, his number wasn’t working with my old one.” It just didn’t click at the time purely because you were stuck on the whole girlfriend thing. “Hello?”

“Sure, yeah uh—sure, I’ll um.” Rooster stepped back into his room with a towel strung low around his waist. Still dripping wet. Turning your head to face him you choked out your words as your jaw clenched.

Un fucking believable.

“I’ll get him to call you back, Lindsey.” Roosters eyes went wide as you dropped his ex-girlfriend's name. If that’s what he’d even call her. Racing towards you as you hung up the phone, throwing it down with a look Rooster never hoped to ever be on the receiving end of again. Scurrying off his bed.

“Y/n wait—“ Rooster watched as you bundled up your clothes, dressing yourself quickly. “It’s not what you think I swear—“ Reaching out as you shrugged him off. Snapping back at the only man you’d ever truly loved. The only person who you thought just maybe, giving one more chance to, wouldn't blow up in your face again. But oh boy did it. Bigger than ever before.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shouted, the agony evident and clear, utter heartbreak lacing every word. Hot tears streamed down your face as uncontrollable quivers made your lip to that unsteady quivering thing children did when they were upset. Only this felt primal, a natural instinct taking over– you needed to leave, get the fuck out of Bradley Bradshaws house, get away from him, remove yourself from his life once and for all. This had been nothing but a mistake you promised yourself you wouldn't make. Yet here you were. As you got dressed as quickly as you could you couldn't stop yourself from mumbling out the atrocity you felt like.

“The other fucking women Bradshaw!” Scoffing, you felt sick to your stomach. “Fuck you’ve made me feel like a lot of things but this? The other women!!” Your chest grew tighter and tighter with every breath you took.

“Y/n I’m serious this isn’t how it looks, I promise!” Rooster tried to explain but you just weren’t willing to listen. “I promised you, and I meant that.” There was a reason the number had come up as unknown. Rooster had been seeing this girl in New York on and off for a few months, nothing serious, super casual. Until one day he came home to find her half way through moving some of her stuff in. it was kind of a red flag he just wasn't willing to take the chance on. Calling it off as soon as he could, as polite as he could. It was needless to say things had been a little crazy there for a while. To the point where he had to block Lindsay on all his socials, his email, his phone.

Rooster should have known deep down that even if the hardest pill he could ever shallow was knowing you could find another him tomorrow, he could never find another you no matter how hard he tried.

“I knew– I goddamn knew I never should have let you in!!” Turning as Rooster followed you out of his room down his hallway. Heading towards the front door. “Don’t you ever talk to me again! Do you understand!”

“Just wait a second and let me explain!” Rooster really did try to make an effort to stop you leaving, stop you from getting away before he had the chance to explain. Reaching out for your wrist you smacked him away. Pointing a stirn finger his way as all the hurt, all the betrayal and anger you felt just poured out in waves. Completely consuming Rooster as it finally clicked.

You thought so little of him and his ability to actually love you that you generally thought he’d do this to you.

“So help me god Bradshaw I will break every bone in your hand if you touch me one more time.” It was the silence that hurt the most, Rooster’s inability to just say he didn't use you. Caught up in his own emotional turmoil at the realisation you must have had incredibly low expectations of him. “I never should have let you in.”

“You really think that low of me that I'd do this to you.” Rooster didn't pick his head up. His eyes never met yours as he stopped any and all attempts to not let you walk out of his house. Perhaps it was the best thing he could ever do for you? Let you believe he cared so little.

“Well I’d never treat me this shitty!” Your face grew hotter with every passing second, Rooster held his own tears back as he felt his heart shattering. For once? He felt an ounce of the heartbreak he’d probably caused you ten times over. “You know something Bradshaw?” There it was again, that sting of his last name. Rooster realised it wasn’t what you said it was how you said it. You'd only use his last name to tease him, get a rise out of him—but you’d started using it to hurt him. “I never told anyone anything bad about you, sure! I told Bob about some guy I used to date who made promises to change but couldn’t pull the trigger and even if I was talking about you? I never—ever said your name!” Shoving at Roosters chest he never budged. “That so embarrassing Rooster, you were my everything!! You are my fucking everything but all you constantly do is make me sad!”

“If you would just stop and listen to me for one second Y/n I promise it’s not what you think.” His final attempt to get you to listen had you stepping back with every advance Rooster made.

“Please—“ Sobbing, you begged him. Pleaded with whatever love you had left for him. “Leave me alone.” Before you made your way out Roosters front door. Leaving him standing in the threshold watching you get into your rusted up Bronco. Roosted watched on as you ripped the chain from around your rear view mirror, pulling it with such force it snapped like every single heart string he had.

It wasn’t long before it landed discarded on his front lawn. Holding the towel that hung low on his hips, Rooster paddled over to where the now broken necklace he had gifted you all those years ago had landed. Picking it up before he walked back inside,

Placing it next to where his own half hung—

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers @katieshook02 @thescarletknight2014 @justanothermagicalsara @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever @puriini @luckylexie @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2 @mizzzpink @unforgettwble @itzyogurl92 @lemoonandlestars @mulletmcghee @redqueeen99 @bucky-barmes @mak-32 @fivsecondsflat

#bradley bradshaw angst #top gun bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x f!reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader

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mlmxreader · 10 months

Text

Tell Me How I'm Gonna Die | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ okay, the classics, “i wanna know who i’m looking at” with ghost would be very nice 👁️👁️ including mcd, of course ❞

: ̗̀➛ one by one, the members of the 141 and their allies are being picked off and murdered, but who could be behind such a bloody massacre?

: ̗̀➛ swearing, graphic depictions of violence/death/etc, anal sex, sex without lubricant, rough oral, rough sex, breeding kink

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The phone rang loudly, almost looking as if it were going to shake from its position on the wall, when a hand with rough and calloused fingers reached for it; almost middle aged, Sergeant John MacTavish was wearing a light beige knitted jumper and a pair of light blue denim jeans, his mohawk dyed blonde thanks to losing a bet with Captain John Price just three weeks earlier.

He was home on leave for the time being, and wondered who would call at such a time.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice. Maybe it was the wrong number.

John thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yes.”

“Who is this?” The stranger asked, almost curious in nature.

“Who are you trying to reach?” John asked bluntly, pursing his lips slightly.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” He asked, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you have the wrong number,” John huffed, about to put the phone down.

“Do I?”

“It happens,” John replied, rolling his eyes. “Take it easy.”

He put down the phone with a click to make sure that the call had ended; maybe it was just some neighbourhood children pulling a prank, or just someone trying to reach a friend. He didn’t really care either way as he put a tinfoil dish of popcorn on the stove and started humming to himself.

He didn’t think much of the interaction that had just happened, more than anything just wanting to get on with his evening; he had not been home in so long, and he had missed it.

The slightly affluent, middle class house in a nice and snug suburban neighbourhood; white wallpaper and white tiles adorning all the walls, light grey laminate flooring. Chairs and a table made from actual oak, along with fashionably made matching drawers and white countertops.

A sleek black stove that sat atop a sparkling black oven. A light grey two seater sofa and a large television in the living room. It was a nice, large house and by all means showed off exactly what John earned with his military career.

The portable landline in the kitchen rang loudly, making John groan with discontent as he picked it up to answer it, doing his best to keep an eye on the popcorn.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” the unknown voice was back, deep and gruff. “I guess I dialled the wrong number.”

“So why did you do it again?” John huffed, nearly losing his temper as he clenched his jaw.

“To apologise,” the voice soothed.

“You’re forgiven,” John grumbled, rolling his eyes and doing his best not to immediately slam the phone down. “Bye, now.”

“Wait, wait,” the voice sounded desperate. “Don’t hang up.”

John went to look outside the patio, humming at the pitch dark of the garden for a moment; he hoped that the hedgehog house he had built a few summers back was still standing, and was optimistic that it would have drawn a few of the animals in.

“What?” John sighed.

“I wanna talk to you for a second.”

“There’s about nine hundred fuckin’ numbers in this postcode alone,” John pointed out with a harsh bite. “Go fuckin’ bother one of them an’ quit ruinin’ me night.”

This time, he really did slam the phone down, shaking his head in disbelief as he walked over to the popcorn; he gave it a firm shake to make sure that everything was cooking evenly, and knew it would not take long.

The tinfoil was already starting to bubble and force itself upwards. He was just about to head upstairs to get his pyjamas on, when the phone rang again.

“Tae fuck d’you want?!”

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

“Who the fuck is this?” John demanded to know, a scowl upon his lips.

“You tell me your name,” the unknown caller purred. “I’ll tell you mine.”

Rolling his eyes, John went back to his popcorn as he resigned himself to having to talk to the caller. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“What’s that noise?”

He smiled. Maybe it was just someone in the neighbourhood who was lonely; maybe it was the old boy down the street who had lost his wife recently and really was just looking for someone to talk to. “Am making popcorn.”

“You’re making popcorn?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I only eat popcorn at the cinema,” the voice sounded a lot more innocent this time. It probably was just the lonely old man.

“I’m getting ready to watch a few films,” John hummed in return.

“Really?” They sounded quite pleased. “What?”

“Just some shite horror film I found,” he admitted with a soft laugh.

“D’you like horror films?”

“Some are alright,” John mused. “Some are just bullshit, though… I mean, why is the killer always mentally ill? It’s like, y’know, they’re tryin’ to tell us that people with mental illness are all killers, when they really ain’t.”

“What’s your favourite horror film?”

John thought about it for a moment, deciding to sit at the kitchen counter so that he could try and see if any hedgehogs scampered around in the garden. “I dunno.”

“You have to have a favourite, surely.”

“Erm, Halloween. You know, the one with the guy with the white mask who just sorta walks around and stalks the babysitters. What's yours?”

“Guess.”

“Let me guess,” John smiled to himself. “Nightmare On Elm Street?”

“Is that the one where the cunt had finger swords?”

John dared to bark out a soft laugh as he shook his head. “Oh, aye… Fred.”

“That’s right,” the stranger purred. “Freddy Krueger - I liked that one. Proper scary.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” John scoffed. “The first was alrigh’, but the rest? Bunch of shite.”

“So,” the stranger hummed. “You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Significant other?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” He laughed.. “You tryin’ to get in my trousers?”

“Maybe… do you have anyone?”

“Nah.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“You got a nice few hedgehog houses out here,” the stranger hummed. “Don’t you?”

“What?”

“I said I saw some hedgehogs.”

“That ain’t what you said,” John growled. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t hang up on me,” the stranger warned.

John slammed the phone down, shaking his head before going to the door again; he couldn’t see anything, but given how fucking dark it was, he couldn’t say that he was at all surprised.

He clenched his jaw, maybe the stranger was just fucking with him and had walked past his back garden a few times and realised he had hedgehog homes.

Yeah, that was it. That was all it was. He tried to shrug it off, until the phone rang again; clenching his jaw, Soap growled as he picked it up.

“Listen here, ya fuckin’ cunt-”

“No! You listen here you absolute wet wipe!” The stranger snapped. “You hang up on me again and I’ll fuckin’ gut you like a fish! Do you fucking understand?!”

“What kinda bullshit is this?”

“It’s just a little game,” the stranger mused. “That’s all.”

John hummed, shaking his head. “Whaddya want, mate?”

“To see,” the stranger paused, as if grinning. “What your insides look like.”

The doorbell rang, and John shouted from his place near the door. “Who’s there?!”

“Don’t you know not to say who’s there?” The stranger asked. “Don’t you pay attention to films? You’ll get yourself killed.”

John rolled his eyes. Fuck this. “You’ve had your fun, matey - now, please, go onto bonny street and jog the fuck on. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else, I’ll get my boyfriend here,” John snapped. “He’s big, he’s SAS, and he’ll fuckin’ kick your teeth in!”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody.”

“I lied!” John growled. “He’s gonna be here any second!”

“Sure he will… I’m so scared I can’t even hold my cigarette.”

“You best fuck off,” John warned. “He really will kick your ass!”

“His name wouldn’t happen to be Benjamin, now, would it?”

John’s grip on the phone faltered, his hands starting to shake slightly. “How’d you know?”

He nearly dropped the phone as he turned the light on, letting out a scream the second the white light shone through the garden; tied to an old patio chair that John had intended to throw away fucking years ago, was Benjamin himself. Otter.

His head was bleeding, duct tape around his mouth sticky with something red and thick. He was screaming, although it was muttered, and he was still in uniform. John went to grab the other landline.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Where are you?!”

“Why don’t you guess?” The stranger chuckled. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Please,” John whimpered out, swallowing thickly. “Don’t hurt him…”

“Now,” the stranger seemed so fucking smug. “That all depends on you, Soap… I wanna play a game, just a little fun one.”

“No… please… please… just let him go…”

“Ooh, no can do!” The stranger laughed. “C’mon, it won’t take long… just turn off the light… good boy.”

John growled softly under his breath, swallowing thickly, audibly.

“Here’s the rules,” the stranger purred. “I ask a question, and if you get it right - your pretty little Otter lives.”

John crouched behind the sofa, expecting something to be thrown through the door. “Fine! Fine, you cunt! I’ll play - but only if he lives!”

“Good boy, I knew you’d come around,” the stranger chuckled softly. “First question - name the killed in Red Dragon.”

“Francis Dolarhyde!” John yelped helplessly.

“Good boy!” The stranger purred. “Next question, same category… name Hannibal Lecter’s first victim.”

“Mischa!” John howled. “It was Mischa Lecter!”

“Wrong!” The stranger snapped. “The Nazis killed Mischa and fed her to him! His first victim was Paul Momund, the racist butcher!”

“No! No, it was Mischa!” John protested. “I watched it dozens of times! It was Mischa!”

“If you watched it dozens of times then you would know that Hannibal never touched his sister!” The stranger barked. “But, lucky for you - there’s a bonus round! Poor Otter, though? He’s out.”

“No,” John weakly muttered, running towards the back door just in time. “Please, no.”

John’s screams were loud enough to wake the dead as he gazed at the sight outside; Benjamin’s stomach was sliced open, his head sitting on his lap and his cheeks missing. Bitten out.

By instinct alone, John ran outside, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked over Benjamin’s body. The blood seeping onto his hands and making the phone slip when he picked it up again.

“You fucking cunt!” John howled. “You fucking bastard!”

“Final question, Soap.”

“No!”

“Do you wanna fucking end up like your boyfriend?!” The stranger didn’t wait for him to answer, already knowing. “What door am I at?”

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

“There’s two doors to your house, Soap,” they explained, “there’s the back door, where your boyfriend has so beautifully brought to life a scene from Hannibal Rising, and the front door… where… am… I?”

John didn’t dare to hesitate, grabbing the knife from the kitchen counter and steadying himself by the back door; even now, he could feel his training begin to kick in as he tried to hide himself as well as he could.

He worked out that the stranger would likely be at the front door, but when he began heading towards it, there was an almighty crash as the chair that Benjamin was in came thudding through, spraying the clear sharp shards everywhere, one landing in Soap’s arm as he desperately tried to make his way to an escape.

Without thinking, John headed through the new hole, running straight for the corner of the garden with all the speed and strength that he could muster, dropping the phone in the process.

But he was caught by a black leather glove, taking control of his wrist and easily overpowering him; John looked up, his light grey eyes meeting large, black, eyes upon a ghostly white mask.

John screamed, hoping it would at least catch them off guard.

But they brandished their own knife, and slowly cut along his forearm, forcing him to drop his knife and watch as it clattered to the floor. John tried to wriggle through, but the stranger grabbed his neck, and forced him down onto the ground.

Straddling his waist as they used one hand to strangle him as he slowly lost the will and the urge to fight back.

A flash of silver. A deep cut across the flesh of his chest, staining his light jumper so easily.

With ease, the stranger grabbed his leg, and began to drag him away, towards the tree; a rope was already hanging from one of the old and withered branches. All they had to do was hang it around his neck; with his final gasp of breath, John raised his hand, and grabbed the mask, his weak eyes growing slightly wide.

“You…”

The stranger nodded, grinning at him. “Me.”

The stranger hoisted John’s body up, slipping the noose around his neck before beating his stomach with the knife until his entrails spilled out; grabbing the bloodied mask, they hummed, admiring their handiwork for a moment before leaving again.

Home time.

Inside the dusty old garage, the fridge was open, and the wooden steps leading into it were silent despite their age and the recent windy weather; although muffled, it was clear to hear the guests in the next room over.

Simon Riley was late, as always, this time he blamed traffic instead of his significant other who he was bringing with him.

Kyle Gaz Garrick was sitting on the sofa with Farah Karim and Alex Killer, watching an old repeat of Friday the 13th on the television in the living room; they all called out in unison when the protagonists made a fatal mistake.

Inside the garage, though, Captain John Price - a handsome man for his age, grey littering his beard, moustache, mutton chops and hair - was rooting through the old fridge for the drinks that he had bought. Nothing fancy, just some off-brand lemonade and a few energy drinks.

They were all on edge, after the recent murder of one of their own - John Soap MacTavish - but it was understandable that they would be; that’s why they had all gathered at Price’s sprawling and large home in the countryside outside of Liverpool - safety in numbers, and all that.

A few tools fell, and Price immediately pressed his back against the fridge, scowling; he had forgotten to lock the cat door that he had installed.

There were so many left abandoned outdoors, he converted his garage into a little safe haven for them to come and go as they pleased - yet when he had guests over, he always locked it.

With a sigh of relief, he watched the cat scramble away and run through the door, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Bollocks! Easy, John, you’re alright,” he told himself, putting his hand to his chest. “Fuckin’ cats.”

He grabbed the drinks he had promised the others, although when he reached it, he found that it had been locked; furrowing his brows, he figured that maybe Gaz or Farah had locked it in order to keep everybody safe - after all, Price did say to keep all the doors and windows locked.

He was glad that they actually paid attention to what he had said, but he wasn’t exactly happy to be locked in his own garage.

“Fuck… oi! You fucking bellends! I’m still in here!”

Carefully, so as not to shake them, Price set the drinks down on his workbench, and went to turn the light on; it didn’t work, even though he had only replaced the bulbs two weeks ago. He frowned. Maybe it was a blown fuse.

He figured it was nothing huge, so he flicked the switch to lift the garage door, and headed towards it; the drinks could wait, he could grab them when he unlocked the garage door again once he was inside the house.

It was slowly opening, rutting and spluttering as it did so, but then it suddenly slammed down in front of him.

Sighing, Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “I fucking thought I fixed that… for fuck’s sake!”

He turned around, about to head for the switch again, when he saw a tall figure in a black robe, donned in a white mask. Price rolled his eyes as he scoffed.

“Oh, bugger off, Gaz!” He was trying not to smile.

The killer shook their head, silent as they dropped their head slightly.

“Cute, very cute,” Price chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “But what’s this from? Jason Takes Liverpool?”

The killer didn’t even move.

“Lose the getup, lad,” he told him sternly. “Halloween ain’t for another year. You missed it, and you look like a knob.”

The killer shook their head again.

“Oh, alright, I get it,” Price laughed, grinning. “You wanna play serial killer?”

The killer nodded.

“I’m guessing you want me to be the innocent bloke that gets stabbed?”

Another nod.

“Alright, let’s see…” Price clapped his hands once before humming to himself. “Fuck no Mr. Ghostface don’t kill me I want to be in the sequel! How’s that?”

A curt nod.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he told them with a soft laugh. “C’mon, cut the shit, we should get back to the others - they’re probably thirstier than a skunk on a Tuesday.”

The killer planted their hand against the doorframe, blocking it.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gaz?”

Grabbing his arm, the killer brandished their stained knife, and slashed his wrist across the fine skin with ease; recoiling, Price furrowed his brows.

“What the fuck?!”

He backed away quickly, opening the freezer of the fridge so that it slammed into the killer’s crotch, making them grunt and double over for a moment; he grabbed some old glass bottles that he had intended to turn into lights, and hurled them at the killer as hard as he could.

“Cunt!”

He ran to the door in the garage, but only managed to get his head through, his shoulders trapped by the narrow angles as he grunted and growled, struggling and kicking his legs; he could feel the floor beneath him fading away, and snarled out a few choice phrases as he struggled even more.

Feeling pressure slowly sink onto his neck. A harsh crack echoed throughout the garage, and the killer gave his leg a firm tug before letting themselves into the house through the door.

They were quick, discarding the clothes in the cupboard but keeping the mask in their back pocket before escaping out into the back garden. Immediately, you ran up to them, and hugged them tightly as you grinned.

“How’d you do?”

“Pretty well,” Ghost agreed with a smile, nodding as he put his arm around your shoulders. “I did miss your voice, though.”

You laughed, leaning into him as you put your hand on his chest for a moment. “It’s a shame you’re not covered in blood this time.”

Eyeing you for a moment, Ghost took a look around, and redirected you towards the bottom of the garden. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” you licked your lips, breath hitching at the mere thought. “I fucking love it when you get covered in blood, you know that.”

“Do you want me to wear the mask this time?” He asked, and when you asked him to, he grinned. “I thought so…”

You were more than ready and willing, dropping to your knees the second that he stopped walking; already eagerly holding onto his belt as you let out a shaky sigh. “C’mon, Simon, please?”

“Hang on,” he chuckled, slipping the mask back on. He fumbled with his belt, taking another quick look around before pushing down his trousers and boxers. “Go on, then, baby, show me how much you like it.”

You immediately jumped at the chance, taking his cock in your hand and stroking it as you nuzzled into it; huffing the thick scent and looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. “Like this?”

“Fuck,” Ghost growled softly, resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and force his cock down your throat. “You’re so good to me.”

You smiled, peppering his cock with kisses from the tip to the base before wrapping your lips around the tip and licking his slit. “Can I keep going?”

“Don’t stop until I tell you to,” he demanded, waiting for you to slowly start taking him in your mouth before he pushed down on the back of your neck, bucking his hips quickly.

Fucking your mouth as hard and as fast as he could until he could feel your tears slowly dripping onto his skin; he couldn’t resist it, tilting his head back and groaning softly as he closed his eyes in bliss and kept using your mouth like his own personal little fucktoy.

You gagged when he hit the back of your throat too many times, but you didn’t stop, and you didn’t tap his thigh twice either so he knew that he could keep going; roughly he pushed you away from his cock, and groaned softly as he looked at you on his knees for him.

“I need to fuck you,” Ghost growled. “Now.”

You grinned, nodding eagerly as you got on your hands and knees; you allowed him to help you push down your trousers and underwear, baring your ass so eagerly. “Please, Mister Ghostface. Fuck me.”

Ghost softly groaned, giving his cock a few good firm strokes before he lined himself up; it was so fucking painful, the girth of his cock stretching your ass out and making you whimper as you gripped the ground so harshly that your knuckles audibly clicked.

Ghost paused only for a moment before grabbing your hips as hard as he could, his fingernails easily breaking the skin slightly; he didn’t wait for much longer, pistoning into you until you fell flat on your stomach, begging for him to keep going between thick and needy breaths.

He was pounding into you, rutting and caring for little else but his own pleasure; but you needed it, you needed every inch and every single droplet that he had to offer.

When he grabbed your throat, leaning over you with his phone in his hand, you moaned so loudly that he had to take his hand from your throat in order to slap it onto your mouth.

“Smile for the camera,” he whispered in your ear, grinning when you made direct eye contact with it just as he pressed the screen to take the picture.

He put the phone back into his pocket, and pressed one hand against the back of your neck, the other keeping your hip ever so propped up as he fucked you so hard that you could feel yourself moving with every thrust; whimpering every time he nearly pulled out and needing him to fill you with every inch and every droplet all the same.

Fuck. He was so rough, so hard, and when you felt him put more pressure on your neck, you couldn't help but to moan so loudly that it was almost a scream.

He was fucking filling you, and you knew that wouldn't last with how he wasn't even fucking you, he was using you; treating you like little more than a fleshlight.

“Ghostface!” You whimpered so softly. “I'm gonna- fuck! I'm close!”

“Wait for me to cum,” Ghost demanded, picking up his pace and getting both faster and rougher with you. As much as he could be, like he was chasing something that he desperately desired. Needed. Craved.

But fuck, when your ass started to clench around him, he couldn't stop it, his movements sloppy and his voice rough as he continued to demand everything of you.

The worst part was that you were eager to give it, even though you did miss the feeling of blood dripping onto you, the thick scent of copper and the taste of it on your tongue when you so lovingly lapped it from the flesh of his chest.

Even thinking about it was driving you over the edge.

Yet, when Ghost came in you, you could only whimper and push back against him.

“Breed me!” You cried softly. “Please, Ghostface, please, breed me!”

Ghost grinned behind the mask, pinning you down and continuing to fuck you as he filled you up so eagerly; he could hear the squelch as he continued to fuck it into you, reaching around and palming at your crotch to push you further and further.

Everything went white. A slight ringing in your ears as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth open and drool slipping from the corner.

Your grip on the ground grew tight once more, knuckles clicking audibly and harshly as you panted his name so desperately and with such awful need.

Ghost didn't stop until you had cum twice, only daring to pull out once he was sure that you were close to collapsing; bliss on your face, he eagerly smacked your ass, and chuckled darkly as he stood up.

“C'mon,” he growled lowly. “There's three of them inside, we can take them.”

You whimpered, taking a moment to steady yourself before you slowly got up, able to feel how stuffed you were as you moaned softly and grinned. “Kiss me.”

Ghost was all too eager to do so, grabbing the back of your neck harshly as he pulled you in for a breathy, open mouthed, kiss. “You're so good for me, you know… you take Gaz. I'll take Alex. We’ll get Farah together.”

You nodded, fixing yourself up before heading over to where you had left your costume; you allowed Ghost to go before you, knowing that he would find a way to split the group left in the house somehow.

As you were getting kitted up, you could see Ghost doing the same inside, and blew him a sweet kiss before you pulled your mask on.

Giddy, you allowed him to split the group by setting a fire in the kitchen; Gaz ran outside, right into your tracks. You were quick, pouncing on him and plunging the knife into his back. All the breath left his body as he tried to grasp, falling down and going limp almost immediately.

You smiled, giving him a firm kick to make sure he was dead before you ran into the house.

Ghost had Alex on the floor, and had slashed him very well; his thighs were all cut up, his arm was split into two down the middle, his scalp was missing.

Yet Ghost was still going, carving and slashing without a single care until he saw you and nodded.

You found Farah hiding in the bedroom, and grabbed her arm roughly as you brought her down into the kitchen; Ghost had killed the fire, and helped you to corner her against the counter.

“What the fuck do you want?! Who the fuck are you?!”

“Surprise,” you grinned as you removed the mask, leaning into Ghost's side.

“Evening, Farah,” Ghost chuckled, removing his own.

She looked between both of you, her mouth agape. “Why?”

“We figured it was the best way,” you hummed with a shrug.

“We were bored,” Ghost explained, putting his arm over your shoulders, “there wasn't really much for us when we were on leave.”

“But you were our family!” She cried, tears streaming down her face.

“No!” You snapped. “Soap, Gaz and Price were family! We were left out!”

Ghost nodded in agreement. “Besides, who needs a motive nowadays?”

“You two have watched far too many films,” she said quietly.

“Well,” you hummed. “That's the thing, innit? There's always been serial killers, but films? A great source of inspiration.”

“It's just a shame,” Ghost added. “They always blame it on people with mental illness - schizophrenia. Psychosis. But that's not the people doing it.”

“Absolutely not,” you agreed. “The only thing that makes you a killer, is wanting to kill.”

“But, unfortunately for you,” Ghost brandished his knife and grinned. “We've gotta kill you.”

“Me and Simon will be the only ones who survived a horrible, bloody massacre,” you grinned. “We managed to escape.”

“Like fuck you did!”

You both turned around, seeing Gaz brandishing a gun as he steadied himself against the door. He didn't even hesitate, pulling the trigger twice. Two bodies thumped to the ground, holes in between their eyes.

“I thought they'd never shut up,” Farah breathed out, immediately running over to Gaz and holding him tightly. “Are you alright?”

Gaz slumped down, sitting against the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah, I think so… fuck, that hurt…”

“They got Alex…” she whispered. “My brother…”

Gaz frowned, holding her hand as tightly as he could. “It's alright… we're still alive.”

“I need to call someone,” she pressed.

“I already covered it,” he groaned softly. “I saw Price…”

Slowly, Farah sat beside him, and rested her head against his shoulder as she gave his hand a small squeeze; she sniffled, but as much as she would miss her brother, she knew that she at least had Gaz there.

Gaz closed his eyes, too weak to mourn as he sniffled. He was just glad he had Farah.

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

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Pancakes, Poetry and Orgasms: Winter Warmers Collection [Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Winter Warmers Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: It's your birthday, and you have three requests. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluff & Smut. Language. Oral (F) A/N: A birthday gift for the lovely @lady-rose-moon 💝

You stirred, the solitary whisper of a fingertip grazing down your cheek waking you gently. “Happy birthday, love.” Loki murmured, sliding a hand over your stomach as your eyelids fluttered open.

You smiled, softly. “Morning baby…” He released a sigh of contentment into the curve of your neck, messy curls scratching against your forehead. “What would you like to do to celebrate? You never told me.” he whispered, kissing your skin. “Anything you desire.”

You giggled, the morning gravel of his voice making it even more seductive than usual. “I don’t know...there are so many possibilities.” Loki raised his head, looking at you sceptically. “No, we shan’t play this game. Name three things. I wish to give you what you truly desire on your birthday.” You pulled the covers up to your eyes, a shy smile tweaking the corners of your mouth. It was the first birthday you had shared together, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to be made a fuss of. “Pancakes?” you murmured innocently, raising your eyebrows. Loki nodded sagely. “Panned-cakes. Yes. And?” “Can we go outside...somewhere pretty, and maybe you could...read me some poetry or something?” Loki’s eyes flickered to the window, the familiar dark grey skies of your homeland clouding in ominous waves of winter wool. He cleared his throat. “Certainly, my darling…if that is...what you desire? We shall.” “It is.” you said, confidently; watching his eyes narrow. “Yes, Loki?” you giggled, pulling the sheets higher; knowing what the next words from his lips would be. “And your third request?” he said expectantly, propping himself up with a fist beneath his temple. You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly feeling unnecessarily awkward beneath your lover’s keen stare; resplendent and unwaveringly regal lying naked in your tiny bed. “Orgasms?” you squeaked, making Loki chuckle. “Pancakes. Outdoor poetry. Orgasms. I think even the God of Mischief can handle this trifecta of requests without too many difficulties, darling.” He whipped the covers off himself. The muscles of his back flexed in mesmerising patterns as he stretched; perched on the edge of the mattress. A thick green dressing gown rolled across his body, making you frown.

“Where are you going?” you whined dramatically. Loki laughed, tightening the cord around his hips as he stood, casting a glance over his shoulder.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it backwards as he gazed at you intensely, a twinkle in his eyes. His sharp jawline came into view as you squirmed, clenching beneath the cotton sheets. “Not even a god can make pancakes simply appear, my love. I must to work.” he winked, striding towards the bedroom door. You closed your eyes, snuggling into his pillow. Low sounds of domesticity rang in the air; pans clattering with the occasional nordic curse thrown in as Loki fell foul of your miniscule kitchenette. Sleep hovered as you dozed with a blissful smile on your face, waiting to be roused. “Darling?” Loki’s strained voice called. “I think breakfast is served.” You slipped out of bed, pulling on your own dressing gown and padding to the living room. A small bunch of your favourite flowers sat in a delicate vase on the two-seater table. Ostentatious golden cutlery that was definitely not from Ikea adorned either side of two plates of steaming pancakes, the heat wafting in waves through the air above. “Loki…” You shook your head with a smile, walking over as he pulled your chair out; a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Apologies for the length of time it did take a few...alterations I- oh...I almost forgot.” With a flourish, an ornate jug of what you assumed was maple syrup appeared in the middle of the table. Loki kissed your cheek as you thanked him, before taking his place opposite you. “Dig in, darling...it’s cold outside.” ---- Freshly fallen autumn leaves crunched beneath your boots, the last vestige of the passing season as deep winter began take root in the countryside you loved.

Frost was speckled everywhere, still glistening on moss and burnt orange vegetation in the afternoon light as you and Loki ducked beneath the low branches en route to your favourite place. You shivered, causing your lover to pull you closer as you made your way to the clearing ahead. He was wrapped in a long, dark wool coat; tufts of raven curl poking out a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked perfectly at home here in the wilds. As pale and mysteriously ethereal as the fresh winter chill tingling your skin. You gasped, clouding Loki in frozen exhale as you squealed with delight. On the ground in the centre of your secret spot was a pile of thick blankets and cushions, several burning lanterns dotted at the edges warming a circle of orange leaves in golden light beneath. Two hot water bottles sat nestled in fur pelts, a small table holding two steaming mugs and a pile of books. “You did this?” you said, the rhetorical question hanging in the air as Loki chuckled; pulling you towards his chest. The firm muscles of his stomach pressed against your back through his coat, his arms enveloping you in loving warmth.

“Trust me, if you wished to fly across the nine realms on the back of Hábrók himself for your birthday, I would make it so.”

He guided you to the blankets, settling you before curling to your side. “Make your selection, my love” he murmured, gesturing to the books. Loki never took his adoring eyes from you as you ran your fingertip down the stack of aged spines; Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, Coleridge, Byron. Browning. You slid the text out, handing it to him in shy expectation. “As you wish...” Loki purred. “Does my lady have any special requests?” He leant forward as you pondered, his tongue slipping between your lips. You fell back against the blankets, the hardness of his godly body pressed against you seeming to suck every willing gasp of air from your lungs. A low rustle fluttered to the side, making your face turn as Loki’s kiss abated. The pages of the book you had chosen settled open against the wind, the final flurry of paper resting some two thirds of the way through. The god sat up, leaving you panting and pink-cheeked in the mess of blankets. He settled back against the cushions, a satisfied smirk toying at his lips. “Dealer’s choice, then. Get comfortable, my darling.” he purred, as you pulled a pelt over your lap. You felt your eyes crawling up his relaxed body, those long legs wrapped in dark denim crossed at the ankles; winter boots styled in the Asgardian fashion reaching his knees. The funnel-neck coat splayed around his hips; the sliver of a crisp cotton shirt fitted tight to his abdomen barely visible. Loki cleared his throat, pushing errant strands of hair behind his ear before licking a finger and inspecting the page. The air was eerily silent, chirping birds silenced by the god’s pregnant intake of breath. “How do I love thee?...Let me count the ways...” his gaze flickered towards you briefly, a glimmer of mischief glinting as he watched your eyes widen at the theatrical timber of his voice. “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. When feeling out of sight, for the ends of being and ideal...grace.” His words slowed, savouring each one with renewed interest. The rumble of his velvet voice seemed to heat the air around you, like chocolate melting on a campfire stove. He paused, inhaling sharply before continuing.

“I love thee...to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee...purely...as they turn from praise.” Loki’s jaw clenched, a muscle below his chiselled cheekbone bobbing. He blinked several times, breaths rising and falling in his chest. You could swear you saw a glimmer of tears swell in his eyes before he swallowed, a brief flick of his hair over his shoulder. “I love thee…” he raised his chin, eyes locking to yours as he cast the book aside. “...with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.” You gasped as his fingers nimbly unbuttoned your coat in seconds, slipping around your waist. The coolness of his hands seeped through your sweater, making you arch up into his waiting embrace as he pulled you close.

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.” Loki’s lips grazed your earlobe, your eyes fluttering shut as he uttered the closing stanza like a spell. “I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if the Norns choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” With the final word, he sucked your earlobe between his lips, pulling gently as a shiver rolled down your spine. “I love you, Loki…” you murmured, hoping not to stir the forest which had hushed obediently as if to listen to his hallowed recital. The empty branches crackled and swayed, leaves fluttering around the blankets. Loki smoothed your hair behind your ear, kissing a careful trail down your neck. “And I you, my precious Y/N” he whispered against your heated skin. In the work of a moment, your winter boots and thick tights vanished; a flick of Loki’s wrist sending a flash of green radiating around the clearing. A warm bluster of air surrounded you like a bubble, catching in your throat like the first breath resurfacing from the ocean. “Loki!?” you giggled, as your heavy coat melted into nothing. Only your sweater and pleated skirt remained as you squirmed between his braced arms on either side of your body. The god’s mouth twitched mischievously, enjoying the coy protestations staggering from your lips as he placed messy kisses down your thighs. Those large hands slid the hem of your short skirt upwards, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he bit down gently. “Loki…” you moaned, feeling his warm breath roll against your pussy. Your hips bucked upward, straining to feel his tongue against your centre, exposed and primal in the wilderness. His gaze found yours, lips never leaving the skin beneath as he worked achingly slowly towards your desire. You began to pant with anticipation, becoming lost in the mess of your own need as he grew closer. “Birthday girl…” he purred against your clit, before latching softly to the wet skin. You groaned loudly, head falling back against the cushions in pure bliss. The branches above seemed to sway with each wave of his tongue, lapping against the slick folds of your delicate lips. Wet slurps accompanied every wide lick that flooded sizzling nerves with feral energy, hands tangling in his hair as he burrowed between your open thighs. “G-god, Loki...yes-” you mewled, raising your legs. His fingers wrapped around the backs of your knees, widening them gently. The sight of Loki of Asgard giving you pleasure was never far from your mind. And while it was happening? It was almost too much to bear. Every swipe of his talented muscle edged you closer to heaven, the dark mess of curls bobbing enthusiastically between your legs as he caressed you in every way he knew you craved. He pushed your knees further towards your chest, his head lowering to tease the very back of your slit. “Loki...I won’t last m-much longer- uhhh...fuck-...don’t...don’t s-stop.”

Moans of his name filled the clearing, rising to the open sky. Loki chuckled against your wet skin, his nose rubbing gently through your soaking folds. He latched again to your clit, undulating licks and sucks making your muscles clench as you began to climax. Your hands flew out to the sides, grasping at the thick blankets surrounding you; wet leaves catching beneath your fingernails as you clawed the ground in bliss. A whining groan thundered in your throat as you spilled into his mouth. Loki’s tongue slid delicately inside your pussy as his palms cupped your ass, pushing you upward. He growled in pleasure, savouring the taste as you became limp against the cushions; one arm coated with debris from the forest floor pressed to your forehead. “That was...incredible...” you panted with your eyes closed. You could taste your essence in his kiss as he pressed his lips to yours; sweet and rich – like the scent of the leaves blanketing the ground. You sighed happily, giggling against his skin as he nuzzled your cheek. “Well, Loki...pancakes, poetry, orgasm...you’ve checked everything off my birthday list and it’s not even mid-afternoon.” You could feel Loki grin before he propped himself above you. The perfect symmetry of his face was dauntingly beautiful in the low afternoon light, the muffled chirp of birds returning. “Correction, my love. Orgasms. The request was plural, I believe.” He sat up, running his hands purposefully over the hardened nipples beneath your sweater as strands of curl fell across his brow. His kaleidoscope eyes were fire, the tangible power of his love blazing against the November chill. “Now, darling…” he purred. “Shall I pick another poem?”

Poem: How do I love thee? (Sonnet 43) Elizabeth Barrett Browning Tags @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @gigglingtigger @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @xorpsbane @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @mrsbarnes32557038 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @lokiprompts @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @ladylovesloki @marygoddessofmischief @ravenwings73 @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokisgirll @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @peachyymallows @soldeloki @tbhiddlestan83

#loki fluff and smut #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #winter warmers collection #loki x female reader #loki x yn #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki marvel

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d-maxhealthcare1 · 11 months

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#hospital_furniture

#medical_equipments

#derma_chair

#medicine #hospital #hospital funiture #medical equipment #hospital beds #icu bed #semi fowler bed #icu five function bed #medical stools #dermatology #ot lights #ot table #waiting chair #three seater waiting chair

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sugoi-and-spice · 11 months

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Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

Chapter Twenty-Three - I’m Not Okay (I Promise)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

Even for a Friday afternoon the arcade was way more crowded than she had expected. The group had originally planned on grabbing a bite at the attached restaurant before gaming, but their new addition had created a bit of a logistical problem.

“I’m so sorry,” the Hostess bowed repeatedly and apologetically, “All of our larger party tables are booked for at least another hour. The most we could fit is a chair on the end of a four person booth.”

“Awww, really? I mean how small are the booths? We’re all friends, we can squeeze!” Nejire insisted, pulling Amajiki into a tight hug at the waist to prove her point, much to the quickly reddening boy’s chagrin.

“That’s against our fire code,” she bowed again, “I’m really so sorry.”

Yuyu, ever the pragmatic one, turned to suggest, “I guess we’re gonna have to split up?”

Nejire pouted, “That’s not really festive.”

Mirio, more than happy to put on a show to either sacrifice one of his friends to table with Shigaraki, or make show of how much he didn’t belong there at the moment, put a hand on Nejire’s shoulder, “Hey, we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

Shigaraki was feeling itchier and pricklier by the second. He didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of gawking attention even under the best of circumstances. And this moment — standing awkwardly to the side as a group of kids already way cooler than he could ever hope to be were actively discussing the logistics as to why he was a complete inconvenience to all of them — was far from the best of circumstances.

He leaned into his one spider’s thread of a tie to it all, whispering nervously, “I’ll just go, this is stupid…”

Mirio, somehow hearing him, as if he’d been waiting for those words frowned “sympathetically” at him, “Awww? Are you sure?”

“Uh, y-yeah…” Shigaraki said, even he was a bit taken aback by how quick Mr. ‘Let’s Make Everyone Smile At All Times” was willing to kick him to the curb, “I-I’m making this weird anyway, right?”

Nobody really wanted to answer. That’s what the group of friends did think, after all.

But then she put a hand, a perfectly manicured lifeline, on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” she pointed out, “Look, there’s a two seater right by that booth. Shigaraki and I will take that and then we won’t have to squeeze anywhere.”

The group all looked about each other, shrugging and mumbling positively. That really did seem like the best option. The group that needed to be altogether — the friends since elementary school — were indeed, altogether, and Shigaraki was neither ostracized nor isolated with people he didn’t know. It was a perfectly fine solution for all.

All except Mirio.

“H-Hey, those big party tables aren’t reserved for the night or anything right?” Mirio asked the hostess, and upon a confirming nod, he offered back to the group, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not starving or anything — why don’t we just put our name down and play some games in the meantime? Then nobody has to squeeze or split, you know?”

Another chorus of shrugs and “Yeah, that’s work”’s — and Mirio had his, admittedly, small victory over the situation.

Though it’s not like it lasted long.

Continue on AO3

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mrsrookhunt · 1 year

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Second one I've done today so MASSIVE thank you to @nvllxiety

For the requests bc I'm such a hoe for ango and I won't write for someone unless the people want them, against my own wishes ahahaha feel free to request lovecraft haaaah Have a lovely night everyone

Drop Me Off Here

Ango Sakaguchi X Reader

Ignoring the suppressed snickers of the few remaining of Ango's 'dear' coworkers at the sight of you in baggy clothes at 2 am, you headed straight down the hall to look your lover in the eye and bring him home to detox from coffee and exhaustion.

However, that's easier said than done. Ango takes one look at you, sighs, and tells you that if you'd like to spend time with him, the couch on the other side of his office is open for you to sleep on.

You are definitely too tall to sprawl out and over that two seater. And besides, that's not what you're here for anyway

"Ango," You plead with him, begging him to take his eyes off his computer.

"Let's go home--"

"Not now," He mumbles, eyes lidded with sleep and head bobbing. "Need a trace on a line and I'm waiting for someone to pick up on the... the.... haah.... What was I talking about?"

"Ango, we're going home."

"No!" He snaps, looking up at you with some renewed passion spewing from the last fumes of energy he's running on.

You sigh and push his wonky-wheeled office chair out of the way.

"Wait.. what are ya doing.... y/n.." The moment his face turns away from the screen, he's already slipping into dreamland.

He isn't even awake long enough in between his forced departure from the desk and the millisecond it takes to swiftly close his tabs and shut down his computer, which stops its incessant groan of data overload the moment you hit the off button on the moniter.

It's quite the same for Ango, who looks blissed out in his chair.

However, you know that if you let him sleep a minute longer you won't be able to wake him up again.

You tap him on the shoulder until he cracks open eyes so bloodshot you're concerned he may need medical treatment, to look at you.

You don't speak, but put one arm under him and hoist his practically limp body out of his office chair. He stumbles a bit, finding purchase against your neck with mumbles and groans.

You drag him out of the office, leaning on your arm, past his jeering coworkers, and past the building doors, which he vaguely gestures back towards when you pass them.

Outside, a light rain sprinkles onto his face. You laugh, knowing he probably hasn't checked the radar to notice the downpour coming in tonight.

You gently put him into the backseat of your car, sprawled across the back row, and throw an old jacket of yours on him. It's a decent drive home, but you'll make it before three am.

He makes incoherent noises the entire time, a few complaints on needing to get more work done and desperate groans about his coworkers. Even in his sleep, Ango is ever-vigilant.

When you get home, you do the same thing, dragging him out of the car and into the contrastingly warm house he bought for the two of you, though these days he rarely graces the home with his presence.

You already have the fireplace crackling, the heat cranked up, and soothing music on. You help him take his shoes and coat off, and dump him right into bed.

Ango moans restlessly. You don't know if he just wants you to let him sleep, or take him back to the office.

Turning off the last lights in the house, you curl up behind him and wrap your arms around him, letting him dive deeper into the blankets and get tangled up in your arms. You move one hand to soothe him, brushing soft, short tufts of his hair out of his face.

"Mm...ahh... y/n..., iloveya...." it's all jumbled, but you know what he said.

"I love you too, my Mango."

He puffs out a small chuckle, hand coming up to squeeze the one repetively brushing hair from his face.

Kissing him on the forehead, you send him off to sleep with gentle touches and the sound of pattering rain.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Writing this one felt like free therapy. Thanks again for the ask ♡

-Kaori

May 20th, 2023

#bsd ango #ango sakaguchi #sakaguchi ango #ango x reader #fanfiction #bsd s4 #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #oneshot #bsd oneshot #bsd x reader

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 years

Text

Stupid Cupid #13

Title: Stupid Cupid #13

Fandom: Top Gun Maverick

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 1,668

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Prompt: Texting

Author Notes:

Gif Credit: @notyoursbutlewis

The soft ding of his cellphone pulled Mickey out of his study session as he looked up from his handbook over to the phone laying face down on his desk. He put a bookmark in the handbook before getting up from his spot on his bed. Walking over to the desk he grabbed the phone and turned it over to see who had texted him. He smiled when he saw that it was from her.

Hey Handsome! Don’t forget to drink and take breaks while studying! Can’t wait to see you this weekend. <3

Mickey grinned as he read the words quickly before he caught himself reaching for the large steel water bottle that he had filled up earlier. He rolled his eyes at himself as he realized that all she had to do was send him a simple text and he was already doing whatever it was she wanted him to do. But then Mickey’s mind turned to the free weekend he had coming up and how he had plans to spend all of it with her.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Mickey looked up from his phone to see Payback holding onto the door as he peeked into the room. Payback’s eyes were on Mickey’s phone that he was still holding in his hand before he huffed out a breath at his back seater.

“She’s texting you during study time?” He asked sounding disappointed.

“Only to remind me to drink water and take breaks.” Mickey defended and Payback looked taken aback for a moment. “She knows how serious this is for me. She’s not bothering me.”

“Alright but make sure you get back to studying man. Can’t afford to mess this up.” Payback reminded him and Mickey nodded his head easily as he texted out a simple response to her before setting the phone back down on the desk.

*-*-*-*

The next time he got a text it was after his exam and he had just joined the squad at the hangar while they waited for the last of the squad to finish their exam. The little ding that alerted him to a text from her made him grin softly as he fished his phone out of his pocket. A soft scoff from his right made Mickey shake his head as he looked down at the phone screen.

How do you feel? I bet you aced that exam! I’m so proud of you. Only three more days until I get to see you! <3

“Look at this fool and that smile.” Payback teased him and Mickey grinned as he looked up at his friend.

“Whatever man, she’s just checking up on me.” Mickey said in defense of you as he typed out a response to you about the exam.

“Keep your head in the game though man. Don’t let her become a distraction.” Payback warned him softly and Mickey frowned at his words wondering if you were starting to become a distraction for him. “That’s all I’m saying man, don't let her pull you away from what you want out of the Navy.”

Mickey looked down at the phone at your text message and wondered if Payback was right. But then another text from you came in and he knew without a doubt that Payback had it all wrong.

I am so proud of you and know you’re going to get everything that you dream of.

*-*-*-*

The steady beeping of the vitals monitor set Payback’s nerves on edge. He knew he should’ve listened to Fanboy when they were in training today but for some reason he hadn’t and it had cost Fanboy a trip to the medical wing. The doctor had told him that he’d be fine but they needed to keep him for observation since he had hit his head pretty hard on the console when Payback had tried to evade Fritz’ plane.

Gritting his teeth Payback sat in the chair next to the hospital bed watching over Fanboy as he rested peacefully. Just then a soft ding was heard and Payback sighed softly as he reached over to the table and picked up Fanboy’s cell phone. He had already let Fanboy’s family know that he was in a minor accident but that he’d be alright so he wondered who it was that was texting him.

Hey Handsome! How was training? Did you make sure that Payback was alright during training? I know you said he was nervous for this training session did it all go alright?

Staring down at the phone Payback had completely forgotten about you and notifying you about the accident. Looking up at Fanboy he was still sleeping peacefully in the bed and Payback wasn’t sure if he should wake him to respond to your text. He quickly typed out a response letting you know who he was and that Fanboy would be okay but he was in the medical wing for observation. He was surprised by your response.

I’m sorry there was an accident! Are you alright too? I hope you’re okay, I’m sure you both did your best during training and things just happen. Thank goodness you’re both alright though. Can you ask Mickey to call me when he gets out of the medical wing? I’m gonna be a nervous wreck until I can hear his voice again.

Payback sat there rereading your text message as he sat there realizing that maybe he had been wrong about you and your relationship with Fanboy. He typed out a response that it’d be the first thing he did when Fanboy woke up, you thanked him and the conversation ended there making Payback realize that you were someone so much more than a fling for Fanboy. He sighed as he sat back in the chair after setting the phone down, he had a new understanding of you now that he’d talked with you.

*-*-*-*

Mickey is anxious to be released from duty on base, it was the weekend and he was just shy of being able to spend two whole days with you uninterrupted. Finally when Maverick gave the order that they were free he shot up from his chair wincing as it scraped loudly against the floor. Payback chuckled softly next to him and Mickey snapped his head towards him to look at him while Payback held his hands up in faux surrender. Just then a ping came from his phone and Mickey grinned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw your text message.

Hey Handsome. I’m here at the Hard Deck. Waitin’ on you aviator. <3

The grin that formed on his face was almost blinding as he rushed out of the hangar and back to his dorm room where he quickly grabbed his duffel bag. The squad were all heading to the Hard Deck for drinks and he was going to catch a ride with them, but they were moving so slow.

Mickey tried to be patient as he waited for the squad to finally get back to the dorms and waited another few minutes for them to freshen up and get everything they needed for a night out. Payback chuckled as he walked out of his dorm to find Mickey practically dancing with excited energy in the hallway.

“Calm down man. She ain’t gonna leave ya. I’m pretty sure she’s more excited than you are.” Payback said reassuringly to try and calm Mickey down but it didn’t work.

“Like she could be more excited than me right now.” Mickey scoffed and Payback burst out in laughter as Bob came walking up to the two of them.

“You alright there Fanboy?” he asked and Mickey just nodded his head quickly as his eyes darted behind him trying to see who was coming out next.

“He’s going off base to spend the weekend with his girl.” Payback told Bob who grinned shyly at Mickey and nodded his head.

“Understandable.” Bob said easily and Mickey huffed softly before nearly bouncing in place when he saw Phoenix step out swinging her keys around her index finger. She smiled at him before rolling her eyes at his antics.

“Alright c’mon you goons. Let’s get this one to the bar so that he can see his girl.” She teased Fanboy as she wrapped an arm around his neck and began leading the three of them out of the dorms to her car. While he waits anxiously in the back seat of the car Mickey tries to keep himself calm as the others get into the car and Phoenix begins to drive. He looks down at his phone and quickly sends you a text saying that they were on their way to the bar.

It didn’t take very long for Phoenix to turn down the road and Mickey began to get more excited as he spotted your car parked in the parking lot. He grinned widely as he saw you leaning against the side of your car waiting for him. You were dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a light colored flowy blouse with big sleeves. You looked stunning as a breeze came off the ocean and blew through the parking lot making your sleeves flutter in the breeze.

He doesn’t wait until Phoenix completely parks the car before he’s hopping out and rushing towards you with his duffle bag in his hand. Payback can see from the front seat of Phoenix’s car the beaming smile on your face as Fanboy swoops you up into his arms and holds you tight. Your laughter dances through the air as the three aviators sit and watch Fanboy greet you with the happiest grin on his face.

“Oh boy.” Bob says softly from the back seat as they all watch Fanboy kiss you as if his life depended on it as he lifted you up into the air making you laugh brightly at his antics.

“Boy’s in love, man.” Payback says softly and laughs while shaking his head.

#my writing #top gun maverick #stupid cupid #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey fanboy garcia x reader

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sopejinsunflower · 2 years

Text

2022.001.007: The Blip

a/n: Tada! Are you surprised? hehe Sorry for the late update but this week has been hectic! I hope the Namjoon one shot was enough to make it up to you guys. This chapter is a bit short and rushed though but I hope it's still just as good. Again, I want to remind people that this is a slow-burn. I promise things will begin to get more interesting later on down the line ;)

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Once again, the house is empty.

This time though, I go door to door and knock three times each, waiting a few seconds before moving on to the next. None of them is home and it’s ten o’clock on a Saturday. I make my way downstairs to the dining hall as Mrs Oliviera pours me my cup of tea and retreats back into the kitchen without as much as looking at me. I eat my breakfast in silence, wondering about where the guys went off to.

After breakfast, I fetch my laptop and bring it outside to the patio. The day is good to be spent sitting outside for hours without worrying about it being too hot. The sun is out but there are too many clouds in the sky to call it sunny yet the clouds are white and fluffy for it to be considered cloudy. No hint of rain anywhere.

The patio is set up like an outdoor living room under the sky, with wooden sofa sets and a glass table in the middle. A swing chair sits in one corner and I pick that one as my perch to do my assignments in. It’s cosy and provides that bit of a gentle rock that keeps me focused enough to finish my work uninterrupted. Thirty minutes later, Mrs Oliviera comes out with a tray of sweet iced tea and a bowl of cut up fruits. Again, she doesn’t say a word before going back inside.

You watch her go, her steps quick and almost like she doesn’t like being outside walking through grass. Mr Chang is by the greenhouse, a small smile on his lips as he looks at the housekeeper zooming past him.

“I really don’t get her,” I think aloud, sipping on the iced tea. It’s good and refreshes your slightly parched throat. I make a mental note to maybe be nicer to her next time.

~~~

“I really don’t get her,” you say aloud and Taehyung snorts back a laugh.

“Neither of us do,” he says back, peering into the bowl of fruits in front of you, wishing he could pluck at one of the grapes. He smacks his lips together before pouting sadly and Jungkook pats him on the back in comfort.

The seven of them occupy the sofa set, all sitting in a variety of positions to get comfy. Taehyung and Jungkook sit closest to you with Namjoon at the other end, ankle resting on one knee. He’s looking at the house in quiet contemplation, one finger casually rubbing at his chin. Jimin and Hoseok are both on the two-seater, easily facing you, both of them leaning on their elbows against the armrest on either side, eyes never leaving you. They could watch you for hours. Yoongi takes the single sofa on your other side, occasionally leaning over to see you work.

Standing behind your swing chair, leaning against the basket that makes the chair, is Jin, arms crossed over his chest, scowling softly at your screen. They’ve lived through centuries, have watched the world warped and changed by war and evolution, been through colleges and universities too many times to count, so Jin prides himself as very knowledgeable in a lot of different courses. Right now he’s observing your writing and thinks, if he’s being honest, that you could do better.

Jin clicks his tongue loud enough for the others to turn around. He’s fully frowning now, eyes still glued to your laptop screen. “I don’t think that’s correct, love,” he complains, shaking his head. “C’mon. Research some more. Dig deeper. Go to a library where you can get authentic, reliable information. This internet thing is a huge mess. And you keep getting distracted! Stop checking the little blue bird thing!”

“This is hard!” you suddenly groan and Jin stumbles backward, tripping over his own feet. The others laugh but almost nervously as they look at you to confirm that you really didn’t actually hear him.

Jin’s mouth is in an O, eyebrows all the way up and his philtrum elongated, looking from you to the others then back again. You heave a sigh and throw your head against the back of the swing chair, shaking it. “I hate this topic. I hate this class,” you mutter with your eyes closed.

Jin steps forward cautiously. “Then why did you sign up for it?”

You pull a pout and open your eyes, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds pass by. Then you let out a sigh. “I wonder what they’re up to now.”

It takes a second for Jin to comprehend that you meant them and a cheeky lopsided smile creeps up his lips. The others first let out the breath they had been holding before sitting back calmly, joy and pride clear on their faces. You’re thinking about them. You’re thinking about them; them, who are supposedly her new sudden housemates. Only two days and you’re already thinking about them when they’re not around.

Hoseok knows this pattern too well but he didn’t think for it to happen so fast. Most importantly, he didn’t think he would get to see it as it happens, sitting in the front row seat. Your forehead is scrunched up like you’re annoyed that they’re not there and he’s probably right. You’re here tackling homework while they’re missing. Do you think that they’re out and about, somewhere in the city, enjoying the weekend? Oh, baby girl, I wish you knew how wrong you are.

Then you let out another whine. “It’s the fucking pandemic! Why would they go out and about like that? Are they dumb?”

Okay, maybe not exactly what he thought you were thinking. Jungkook, Jin and Namjoon start to laugh and Hoseok lets out a chuckle. Jimin is shaking his head but with a smile and Taehyung gets up to stand in front of you, feigning anger. “Hey, missy, how dare you talk bad about us in front of us.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Yoongi has a soft smile on his face but he keeps his eyes on the glass coffee table instead.

You’re still grumbling, removing the laptop from your lap and finally spearing a piece of apple onto your fork and plopping it into your mouth. “An invite would’ve been nice, guys. Like, hey, we’re going out tomorrow to get infected with a virus, wanna join us? But nooo~ I get left behind all alone while they get to have fun.” Your words are a little incomprehensive, spoken over your attempt to chew the fruit, your scowl growing deeper and deeper. “And I gave you a place to stay, too!”

Yoongi finally turns to look at you, growing more endeared just from the look of your annoyed face, knowing that you’re just venting. Your mouth is too small for the piece of fruit to fit properly, your tongue all tangled up as you try to speak and chew at the same time. As much as he’s amused at your little private monologue, he’s also a little regretful that he can’t, in any way, soothe your mind that no, they haven’t disregarded you, that they’re right here next to you because there’s nothing else they'd rather do. Or could do, but the latter isn’t important.

If you’ve existed for as long as they have - he doesn’t say live because this is not living, merely existing - then you know that they have done everything and anything that this plain world has to offer. When you have travelled to every corner, eaten every cuisine, jumped out of a plane or deep dived into the ocean, experienced life a hundred times over; everything, and he means everything, is reduced to be mundane. Everything except anything that comes to you.

You - the silver lining, the blessing in this curse. You could be sleeping and they’d still watch you as if you’re a masterpiece drawn by a dead artist hung in the Louvre’s main hall. The world changed so many times through the centuries but the one thing that remains constant is the love, the fascination, the adoration that comes from being with you, both platonically and, later down the line, romantically.

Jungkook stretches his arms over his head. “We’ll have you know that viruses can’t see ghosts so we’re good, princess.”

“So unfair,” you whine in a smaller voice, pouting a mile. But you pull your laptop back to you and focus on your work, much to Jin’s delight, though he still prefers that you hit the local library. He’s old school like that, having none of this technology crap but that could also be because the last time they had been out of the attic had been in the nineties. They have a lot to catch up on.

After making sure that you’re actually making headway on your university assignment, Jin finally steps back to sit with the others. He looks up at the house, creeper plants covering most of the walls, strategically flowing around the big windows with the sailor’s knot in the glass, the celtic knot that represents eternal love. It was a private joke they shared a long time ago to incorporate it into the building, something that doesn’t seem so funny anymore now.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves you, still in love with you as much as the first time. But there’s only so much one can take before the soft edges turn sharp from being broken too many times too much. The jagged pieces are the reason that he thinks eternal is starting to feel too long. It’s exhausting. He just wants to fall in love, grow old with it and die peacefully, knowing that he had had the fortune to even experience a love like this, a love like you.

Jin heaves a heavy sigh before turning to the others. “So, what do we tell her about our day today?”

Hoseok rubs a hand over his face. The beginning of every cycle is always the worst; they’re nothing but a lying mill, producing every lie in the book to establish themselves seamlessly into your life. With a sigh, he starts to explain to the others how you had tried to look them up on the internet and that whatever information they offer should be something you can’t verify easily.

His stomach churns at the deception they’re cooking up but as Namjoon lays out his ideas, he only nods along quietly.

~~~

I spent the better half of the day tackling most of my homeworks, assignments and projects. After lunch time, I was free and literally bored out of my mind.

The guys are still not around so I find myself wandering the house back up to the third floor. The cloud has shifted and it’s too hot to remain outside. For the first time in a while, the house suddenly feels too big and too silent in the absence of other people, something that I haven’t really noticed before. It’s a loneliness that comes around after being with companions, noticing how quiet it can be when it’s just you and your thoughts filling the space.

I don’t go into all of the rooms, just pacing the hallway. Suddenly reminded of the incident of the housekeeper walking through walls, I go back to it to try and debunk what I saw. Again, the wall looks plain enough, wide and empty with yellowing wallpaper that’s peeling back around the edges if you look closely enough. It’s the wall between the window at the end of the hallway and the first door where my grandaunt kept most of her relics.

My eyes fall to the baseboard of the wall. Instead of a smooth length running from end to end, there’s a sort of grooves in two places, about two metres apart. I crouch down to look at them closer and see the markings on the floor, a semicircle of flattened carpet. I stand up, getting excited. Tentatively, I push at the wall but nothing happens. I push harder and this time the wall gives, swinging backward under my palms while the other side swings forward. A revolving wall.

The child in me literally claps her hands together gleefully. I glance back down the hallway making sure that Mrs Oliviera isn’t suddenly appearing up the stairs. Convinced I’m alone and that she wasn’t going to storm up the stairs anytime soon, I peer in, not quite stepping through yet. It’s pretty dark but I can tell where the carpet meets grey masons, telling me that through the wall is a hidden part that is probably from the original house. How old is the house?

~~~

“Is she supposed to go in there?”

They all shake their heads, answering Taehyung’s question unanimously. It’s just an old hidden passage, made to be used by servants back in the day, not that they ever had any. There’s nothing particularly spectacular about it except that it’s old and dark and dingy, a bit moist if they would explain it. Dangerous for untrained eyes as there is no source of light. It’s mostly a moot feature of the house, installed by the mason on Jungkook’s whim. Only the housekeeper uses it for reasons that are more personal than they care to know.

You take a step in, pass the wall and stop. Namjoon is only hoping that the dark would deter you from going further in but you take one more step, peering into the darkness. You’re hesitant so that’s a good thing. Namjoon sticks close anyway, literally breathing down your neck, willing for you to turn back around. He, on the other hand, remains on the carpet, safely in the light.

Jin slips through the wall to stand in front of you, hands on his hips. He’s about to tell you to go back when you take one more step forward, craning your neck, stepping through him that makes him gasp the same time you shiver, rubbing your hands against your arms. God, he hates it when that happens.

~~~

The cold spot feels a little clammy, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

My heart starts to race but I don’t move, feeling slightly rooted to the spot. The passage is dark and damp and the light that passes through the opened wall only reaches so far. There’s a curve up ahead and that’s as far as I can see. From the slight incline, I’m guessing it leads downstairs. A part of me wants to explore, the childlike curiosity of wanting to go down the passage and see what secrets it will reveal, but another part of me is frozen in fear. The thought of going forward and having the wall closed on me is, quite frankly, paralysing. Something about the darkness gives me complete fear.

But I can’t move backward either. The house has ghosts. That's the only thing that’s echoing in my head right now, reminding me of the pastely phantoms I encountered just above my head where the attic is. Suddenly it feels like something is crawling up towards me in the shadows ahead, just seconds from rounding the corner and coming face to face with me, something so hideous that I cannot, should not turn my back towards it lest it attacks me and drags me to wherever monsters and demons come from.

I have to leave, I have to go. Now, before it’s too late and it gets me. But I can’t move.

~~~

Jin watches your face change from curious to anxious to completely frozen all in just a few seconds, your hands still resting on your upper arm but almost laxed.

You’re staring at a spot somewhere behind him but when he turns to look there’s nothing there, just a stone wall in the curve of the bend. Jin can literally see the colour draining from your face, the blood disappearing from your pink lips as your eyes grow wider and wider in horror. The look on your face itself is enough to make his stomach sink. You’re not breathing, he notes, and then it hits him that you’re having a panic attack. Or about to. He goes over to that bend in the passage and starts waving his arms around.

“There’s nothing here, love,” he says loud enough that it surprises the others waiting on the other side of the wall. “There’s nothing here.”

Of course, you can’t hear him.

~~~

It’s coming. It’s coming.

I can feel my chest constricting, heart beating wildly enough for the sounds to fill up my ears that I hear nothing else. The rational part of me, the one that can easily explain this fear away has been reduced to a tiny speck, pushed to the back of my mind. Like a child that truly believes that there’s a monster in the closet, I stand there transfixed to that one dark, shadowy part, feet frozen, blood running cold.

Without any warning, the revolving wall behind me moves on its axis and swings back into place, drowning me in complete and total darkness. I can feel myself growing tense, the muscles spasming so hard until I can’t feel my fingers. My throat constricts and breathing is difficult. The darkness is debilitating, the kind where you can’t see anything yet the shadows seem to be moving, swaying, shifting.

I need to get out of here. Someone, anyone, please...

~~~

“Help.”

One word, a whisper barely audible if Jin wasn’t literally in your face, repeating over and over again that there’s nothing in the spot that you’re staring at, that whatever you’re seeing now is not real, attempting to shake your shoulders. And this, this is the part of the curse that Jin hates the most, the fact that he can’t reach you the way he needs to when he needs to. You’re here in front of him but nothing has ever been this out of reach, untouchable.

For a moment, Jin is pulled back in time, far, far back when things first started, back when time flowed for them just like it did for everyone else. He remembered the glare of the sun in his eyes and that it had been hot. They had been hiking for awhile now, just you and him, heading for the waterfall spot Jin and Namjoon had discovered long before you came into their lives. It’s only about a couple of hours out through the forest behind the house and Jin had the whole day planned out.

They did get to the place but the beauty of it is long erased from Jin’s mind, distorted by the traumatic event that happened not even half an hour after arriving. They had played on the shallow side, the water cool against their hot and sticky skin. He doesn’t remember the details but he does remember watching you climb the side of the waterfall in alarm, scaling the rocks nimbly right to the top. You had called for him, waving your arms over your head to get his attention, grinning from ear to ear.

And then you jumped, disappearing into the water with a splash. Seconds passed by and then it became too long for you to be underwater, too long to be normal, too long for him to not panic. He waded in further to the middle, water up to his waist and called out your name, warning you that this wasn’t funny, that the prank should be up now, and that he was getting angry. Yet you still hadn’t resurfaced.

The panic rising in Jin made him lose all senses, everything was both too loud and too quiet, the water too cold, his feet too heavy to move. He took a few more steps forward and felt his feet sinking in what felt like mud. He looked down, but compared to the shallow end’s flat rocks, the water was suddenly murkier, darker.

Jin dove, not even thinking twice and swam through grey water, pushing against twigs and other debris out of his way. He searched for you blindly, his arms motioning wildly in front of him to find you. His feet no longer touched the bottom. It’s too deep. His chest burned from the lack of oxygen. He had to resurface, filling himself with gulps of air before going back down again, searching, searching. Frantic. Desperate.

His fingers brushed your shoulder. Jin had been tall and lanky but strength and stamina has never been his thing. That was Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s. But you weren’t moving, buried up to your chest in mud, the momentum plunging you deep the moment you hit the water. He struggled, pulling and pulling, air bubbles escaping his lips before he could finally dislodged you. When he pulled you out of the water, he begged and begged that you’d be alright. As he pumped against your chest, tears and water mixed together dripping off of his face and nose. And when you finally coughed and spluttered water, Jin sent a thank you to the heavens above, whether silently or not he can’t remember, tears prickling his eyes.

He had held you, rocked you back and forth more to comfort himself than to comfort you, to reassure himself that you were fine, that he could feel your heart hammering against his touch, your warmth coming back as your blood pumped through your veins. He barely even registered how every muscle on his body screamed with pain from all the energy extorted to pull you out of the mud and then swim with you to shore. He doesn’t even acknowledge the stinging in his pain from the lack of oxygen.

None of that mattered because you had been safe. Safe in his arms. You were safe because Jin had been able to reach you, did reach you in time.

Unlike right now where his transparent fingers flow just inches through your shoulders as he tries desperately to pull you back out from the abyss you’re sinking into, the abyss that’s much like the water, mentally drowning you, sucking you into its mud. He’s calling out to you, throat rubbed raw from pure anguished. If he doesn’t reach you now, you’ll forever be lost and Jin can no longer differentiate between then and now, reliving the memory of being under the waterfall, searching and searching.

Please, I need to get to her.

~~~

Suffocating. It feels like I’m choking on air, unable to make it go in the right pathway, stuck somewhere between my oesophagus and trachea, not really flowing.

I can feel the tears and snot flowing, sticky against my cheeks, salty on my lips. The sensation of drowning is so overwhelming I’m convinced that if I take a breath, water will surely fill my mouth. The distant knowledge of where I am, that I’m at home, in the wall of a hidden passage, standing on the old rock foundation of the house, floats just within grasp of comprehension.

I’m drowning, please, somebody help.

A face so familiar yet hard to place flickers in front of my eyes long enough for me to start blinking rapidly, my neurons suddenly starting to fire up again and reconnecting. Then I hear my name, loud and clear and almost like someone is screaming it in my ear, calling me. My brain is slow to process, dismissing it as only a voice in my head. The only problem is that it’s not my voice.

What happens next feels more like a blur. I thought I saw Jin, standing in front of me, face so distraught that it pains me to see. There’s a sharp pain in my shoulders and I look down to see him gripping me so hard. He’s shaking me. I can feel his hot breath against my face as he screams, “Baby, please!”

~~~

Light is starting to come back into your void eyes but Jin doesn’t let up, not until you’ve fully recovered, not until you’re fully back, here with him.

He doesn’t notice that he can feel you in his hands, flesh squeezed so hard it’s turning white from the pressure of his distress, his nails digging little semi-circles all over the skin of your shoulders for you to discover later in the privacy of your bath. What he does notice is the sudden fluttering of your eyelids and your hyperventilating short breaths finally starting up.

Jin finally has half a mind to look for the others but they’re nowhere to be seen. He’s a little angry because for fuck’s sake, why isn’t anyone else walking through the damn wall to help him help you?! When he looks back down to you, his eyes make contact with yours seconds before your eyes flutter up and roll back in their sockets. You stumble backwards into the wall, pushing it open again, revolving against your weight, and Jin’s hands close over nothing as he misses from catching you before you crash to the floor, unconscious.

He hears the voices of the others scrambling around him, asking him questions, panicking about what happened to you or something or rather, but he’s not listening. He’s kneeled by your head, fingers curled into fists in his lap to prevent them from shaking too much. The others crowd around you, speaking over each other but incomprehensible in Jin’s ears. He doesn’t care for what they’re saying because there’s only two things on his mind.

One, he failed to catch you. Two, he is as sure as hell that right before you went down, your eyes had met his, dead on like you could see him. The eye contact had been a lucid one, one that he could tell somewhere in the recesses of your brain, something connects. You had seen him.

He stares down at his fists, translucent as always, a useless form. What’s the point of being seen when he couldn’t do what he needed to do? In a burst of anger and frustration, he slams his fist against the floor. The pain that travelled up his arm and into his shoulder surprised him just as much as the others were surprised at his outburst, cradling his fist to his chest and looking up to Yoongi with wide eyes. He had connected with the carpet, felt the wooden flooring beneath.

It’s not just that; in between Jin and Yoongi, you startled awake, looking around in mixed confusion and surprise, rubbing at the ear closest to where Jin’s fist had landed.

“Y/n?” Jin watches your face closely, wanting to see if he can catch your eye again.

You stagger to stand, swaying on your feet, shaking the dizziness from your eyes. You don’t look like you heard him. You hobble forward, stepping through Jin before approaching the wall for support.

They watch you struggle your way downstairs, back to your room, unaware that you just left them staring after you, like fools struck across the face, wondering what in the bloody hell just happened.

~~~

Three years prior…

“I said, I don’t want to go.”

I stomped through the small apartment from the bedroom to the kitchen, wrenching the fridge door open a little hard that the whole thing shook, threatening to topple the microwave on top of it down onto me. I peered into the insides of the fridge, trying to find something I can make for dinner, aware that Nick is standing right behind me. I can even picture his irritated face without having to look.

“C’mon, babe,” he pleaded through a heavy sigh. “It’s Halloween week and you won’t even get in the spirit of it. Everyone’s going!”

I took out the packet of turkey slices, a tomato and a bag of mixed salad and slammed the fridge door shut. I don’t bother to look at him, making my way to the kitchen table to start making my sad dinner. “Then you go. You know I don’t like haunted houses.”

Nick let out a groan, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re being fucking ridiculous right now. What am I going to tell them if you’re not there?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t know, Nick. Be creative. You didn’t seem to have any problems making up a story about the whole thing with Britney last month.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “I thought we’ve been over this. Just because you’re insecure about Britney-”

A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips. “Wow. You’re an asshole, you know that?”

He kicked the kitchen chair in and stormed back towards the bedroom. My hands shook from the anger but I finished making the sandwich and stood there munching on the first bite when Nick came back in, his face soft. He rounded the kitchen table and came to wrap his arms around my middle. He kissed my neck, nuzzling it. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole, I know. But can we just go out to the carnival? Please? You know I love Halloween. We don’t have to go into the haunted house if you don’t want to. Okay?”

Of course, an hour later, we’re at the stupid carnival. His friends greeted him enthusiastically but barely paid me any mind, glossing over me like I didn’t even exist with just a weak ‘hi’ and ‘hey’. This was also why I didn’t feel like coming; his friends are a group of pretentious douchebags who sat around talking about some self-help book that they swore saved their lives that I’ve never heard about. They’d rolled their eyes at me like I’m a child when there was only a five-year gap between Nick and I, and Nick never really seemed to see what the problem was.

The group made a beeline straight to the haunted house queue, lining up, talking excitedly among each other as they compared their experiences with other haunted houses or the same one but from different years. The consensus was that the one last year had flopped so bad that they were not expecting anything better this year. So why come, I wanted to ask but I bit my tongue and, again, reminded Nick that I won’t go in but I’ll wait for them out here when they are done.

“Don’t start,” Nick warned under his breath, squeezing my hand. “Seriously, I don’t know why you’re making a scene. It’s just a stupid haunted house. It’ll be fun.”

I pulled my hand away, anger surging. “No, I told you I wasn’t going and you said I don’t have to.”

Nick’s face was contorted now, anger and annoyance visible enough that his friends turned to look and asked what’s wrong. Nick just smiled apologetically. “Sorry, y/n here don't think the haunted house is fun. She wants to sit this one out.”

“That’s not what I said,” I retorted. “I just don’t like haunted houses and I’ll just wait for you guys out here.”

One of them, Rosie, sneered at me. “Oh, it’s alright if she doesn’t want to come.” She scooted closer to Nick, touching his elbow. “You can just stick with me, Nicky.”

Nick had the audacity to look smug before he pulled me in by the shoulders and held me close. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe inside, okay?”

I can recall that night perfectly even today. He did not, in fact, keep me safe. The moment we all stepped inside the main doors and plunged into darkness, I lost him. The group had run forward and his fingers slipped through mine. Imagine having to navigate a haunted house by yourself when one, you’re not keen on haunted houses and two, you’re scared of the dark.

I had been in tears, desperately calling out for him. I could hear their laughter somewhere up ahead but whenever I got to where I thought I heard it, they had gone. This was a moving carnival, one where they didn’t provide an emergency exit where people can leave the haunted house when they feel overwhelmed. I was more than overwhelmed, I was shaking, fumbling in the dark trying to make my way through the maze, swearing that when I saw Nick again I was going to give him a piece of my mind.

I had barreled through the exit when I finally reached it, tumbling out on my hands and knees, gasping for air, vision blurry with tears, chest tight. The first thing I noticed when my heartbeat finally decreased was the loud cackling of the friend group. When I looked up, the scrape on my palms singing, I saw Nick leaning on his knees, holding his stomach hollering.

“Oh my god, babe,” he spluttered through bouts of guffaws. “You should’ve seen the look on your face! It was hilarious!”

I had taken an Uber home, left him there with his friends without another word. He had stumbled in at half past three in the morning, drunk off his ass, smelling like the perfume I had smelled on Rosie. That night the fight was the worst; glasses shattering against walls, my throat rubbed raw from screaming, a hole through the bedroom door and a dent in the living room wall next to the TV. The neighbour had called the police and by the time they rang the doorbell, I had locked myself in the bathroom while Nick dealt with the authority.

I’ll never know what he said to convince them but they had left and a few minutes later he had banged on the bathroom door so loud I opened it out of fear.

Now...

I don’t know why, as I drag myself to my room and to my bed, this memory is resurfacing. The fear I had felt back in the wall somewhat reminded me of that haunted house and I guess the memory just unreels on its own, replaying the whole night instead of just a segment of it.

As I lay on my bed, my head heavy, all I want right now is for the boys to come home. I remember thinking, before I slipped into unconsciousness again, that I don’t want to be alone anymore especially in a house so big, a house with a haunted attic and secret passages.

a/n 2: lmk what you think about this chapter in the comments or ask :)

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undercoverbastard · 2 years

Text

Double Cherries (and 'Extra' Hoodies)

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+ OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45190867

“Welcome in! You know where to go,” Stiles grinned and threw a nod to the back room area with several tables shoved together. The Hale family simply smiled in response, some waved as they walked by, and filed into the larger of the two side spaces off the main floor.

He was sure his mom had specifically set up that area for the Hale family. He’d only ever seen them sit there and on several - very few - occasions, large groups assembled for some birthday, reunion, or other such events that could only be accommodated by using the larger space. If they were super busy for whatever reason, sometimes his mom would break up the tables to accommodate additional, smaller groups. But the main setup, with the three tables all shoved together in the center of the room, stuffed with chairs running down each side of the long, conjoined table, and several smaller 2-4 seaters off in each corner? Yea, that was for the Hales. No one could convince Stiles otherwise.

They came in at least twice a month, the whole group, and had dinner. It was almost a daily thing to see at least one of them - picking up an on-the-go meal, grabbing extra pastries from the display case, or stopping for a fix of his mom’s homemade apple cider. But all of them together? That happened like clockwork every other week.

“Ready to order or do you guys need a few extra minutes to pretend to look over the menu and still order the same thing anyways?” Stiles grinned as he sauntered up to the table. He pulled out one of the only open seats left at the very end and flipped it around, sitting down and bracing his elbow on the back of the chair as he leaned his chin against his open palm. Half the table rolled their eyes, the other gave small huffs of laughter. They were all used to Stiles’s particular brand of humor.

Starting with the person to his left - Elaine - Stiles jotted down each person's order. Despite his joke, the Hales did like to spice up their orders even with their frequent attendance. Most of them had a few dishes they regularly liked to cycle through, some were always trying new things (Laura was the reason for the Weekly Specials, Stiles was sure of it, after she complained one too many times about how boring all the restaurants in town were for his mother's liking), and some were oddly picky (Jenna, the youngest Hale of the bunch, sometimes liked pickles but never when she liked tomatoes - and she always wanted ketchup with her meal but if she got curly fries then she’d also ask for ranch or blue cheese, Stiles couldn’t tell what determined the preference but it was always a toss up).

Out of all the Hales, though, one of them was without a doubt predictable without fail.

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows, glaring at the younger boy as he walked away, but the small uptick at the corner of his mouth wasn’t lost on his family. Laura laughed behind her hand, Cora smirked, Mark gave a long-suffering sigh, the younger kids already lost interest, and all the adults gave a roll of their eyes (Peter mumbled something about “stupid teenagers” but was quickly shut up when his wife Lila elbowed him sharply, earning a giggle from their son Austin).

“Three.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, turning to see Claudia now standing just behind her chair and to the side, arms crossed and an amused look on her face as her eyes focused on Derek. She must have slipped in during everyone placing their orders, though how much of the interaction she saw Talia was unsure.

Humming to herself, Talia watched as Stiles finally made it to the kitchen, only part of his upper body visible through the open doorway as he leaned against the window to pin up his order and call out something to the cooks, a wide grin painted on his lips. He laughed with his whole body, leaning heavily against the window as he talked with whoever was in the kitchen, tapping at the ticket he just put up with a playful grin.

“Really? I saw six,” Talia smoothly responded, leaning further back into her chair. She cast a mischievous glance up toward Claudia, who gave her a smirk in response.

“Six?” Nick asked, looking between his wife and Claudia. “Three? What? Six and three what?”

“They’re betting on how long it’ll take those two to get a clue,” Lila offered, rolling her eyes at the other man. Her husband snorted beside her, earning him yet another jab to the ribs.

“Still! Three and six what? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?!” Nick cried. No one answered him, causing him to pout and wildly look between the two women (one of which was his wife) in his life who always seemed to be up to something or another.

It was silent for a beat, before Peter - who was still rubbing at his ribs, obviously overplaying the jab from his wife - piped up, “I vote four.”

“Four WHAT?!”

+.+.+

It didn’t go unnoticed that when Stiles brought their food out, Derek’s burger had more tomatoes than anyone else’s just how he liked, even though extra tomatoes were never mentioned.

It also didn’t escape their notice that Stiles stole the first fry from Derek's plate and only got a roll of the eyes, while Cora got a smack to the hand and a glare that could start WWIII when she only attempted to take a fry.

+.+.+

“That’s not what I ordered,” Dereked huffed, though Stiles would say it sounded more like a whine. The darker-haired boy pouted and shoved the glass back across the counter, leaning back on his barstool as if the drink personally offended him.

“It’s not,” Stiles easily agreed, “it’s better.” He pushed the glass back toward Derek with a single finger. Derek’s glare became poutier and Stiles's grin became more of a smirk.

Claudia watched from the other end of the counter, counting out the till. She’d have to recount - she lost track two minutes ago when Stiles first began teasing Derek while they waited for his milkshake to be finished.

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek. ”

“Please,” Derek said softly, a genuine frown now making its way onto his face. His shoulders slumped slightly, eyes darting to the side as he seemed to slowly lose his ability to keep up with Stiles’s usual banter. Claudia cocked her head, immediately noticing the change. She had the urge to ask what was wrong, a protectiveness she often forgot she had for the Hale children rearing its head inside her. But her own son seemed to beat her to it.

“Woah, hey, no of course. I’m sorry,” Stiles quickly corrected, pulling the glass back and moving to grab a second glass from the counter just behind him. He slid the second glass, filled to the brim with a thick, viscous pink liquid, in front of Derek slowly, his posture opening up slowly as he leaned against the opposite side of the counter and looked at Derek with a single raised eyebrow.

Neither said anything else for a minute, and Claudia was sure the interaction was over, but Stiles still had his head tilted ever so slightly, his body open and pointed towards Derek, an inquisitive expression aimed at the other. It was odd - seeing her son be so quiet. But he didn’t break, he remained steadfastly quiet, the only hint of conversation from him being the questioning look he directed at his friend.

Derek finally looked up and made eye contact after taking several slow, long sips of his shake (strawberry - as usual).

“I’m benched from the next game,” he said softly, almost so quietly Claudia didn’t hear. Stiles simply tilted his head more, chin dipping down as if to encourage Derek to keep going, but Stiles himself never spoke a word. “I’m two points away from failing math. Coach thought it would… encourage me to do better. But I just don’t get it, and basketball helps when I can’t focus and…”

Derek fell silent again, frowning as he fiddled with his straw, unable to meet Stiles’s eye.

Claudia watched, jaw dropped, as Stiles turned and walked away without a word. She felt her blood boil, ready to whack her own flesh and blood ten ways to Sunday with the nearest object and bundle Derek up in her arms and apologize for her stupid offspring, but just as quickly as the red rage filled her vision, Stiles was back.

Stiles plopped the previous milkshake on the counter across from Derek, but closer to himself, and placed a plate between them. It had two forks, what looked like a brownie that was cut to be the size of three regular brownies put together, and a large mound of whipped cream.

Taking one of the forks, Stiles cut a piece of brownie off and moved it toward his mouth before pausing. He locked eyes with Derek.

“I don’t work on Mondays, we should hang out. Go over homework together. I’m pretty good at math, might need some help with history though,” he said casually, popping the bite into his mouth, “I can barely remember one old white dude from the next.” Claudia raised an eyebrow. Her son had a 97% in history - she knew because his teacher called to discuss a recent essay regarding male circumcision and Claudia promptly ended the call once the teacher confirmed his grade in the class (he could write about the mating habits of mosquitos in history class for all she cared with those grades).

Derek gave a roll of his eyes and a half-smile. “I like history,” is all he said, before taking a bite of the brownie himself. Derek also knew Stiles's claim for needing help was far-fetched; he did, however, know Stiles didn't like history.

“I know.”

Claudia watched, a bit awed and with a dopey smile only a mother could pull off, as the two boys shared the brownie and sipped their milkshakes. Stiles began rambling about Scott’s newest girlfriend and also complaining about a weird sound the Jeep is making. Derek nodded along, mostly silent, communicating in some weird fashion with his eyebrows and various smirks.

Claudia gave up on the till and took the next two tables that came in, letting her son enjoy his moment in the bubble he’d created with Derek. She’d get onto him about socializing while on the clock and make him do the trash run later. For now, Derek seemed like the more important task.

+.+.+

Claudia paused between orders to watch as Derek walked out after throwing several bills on the counter (of which, she noted, could pay for his tab nearly three times over - even if Stiles charged him for the monstrosity of a brownie he brought out and therefore shouldn’t be charging Derek for anyways). And she was immediately thankful for her pause, as she got to witness Stiles pausing as he went to clear the dishes, only to stop when he saw Derek’s extra cherry from his shake carefully balanced on the top of his straw.

Stiles popped the red fruit into his mouth, stem sticking out, and smiled softly to himself as he went about clearing the counter and clearing out Derek’s order.

+.+.+

“Why you little-” Talia let out a low growl of frustration as she smacked her hand against the half-opened entryway door, watching as the two boys ran out and down the street before she could even get a good look at their faces. She had just come in with Laura and Derek to get a couple of Claudia’s pies for dinner that night. Grades had just come out the day before and she wanted to celebrate her children all having passing grades by getting their favorite desserts.

While waiting at the counter, Talia watched as two teenage boys smacked the large tray Stiles was carrying from the back out of his hands, causing food to fly all over the place and make a mess over the poor boy. Shouts and jeers were heard as they darted out, Talia hot on their tail to try and get names and faces but to no avail.

Turning around, Talia watched as Stiles knelt on the ground, head bowed, trying to clean up the spilled food. He was drenched in various drinks and covered in a mess of food. Laura and Derek were both crouched down trying to help clean up as well.

Before Talia could ask if Stiles knew who those boys were, she paused. Stiles’s hands were shaking, progressively getting worse, and he seemed half frozen to the spot aside from the tremors running up from his hands. Derek immediately dropped the stack of dishes he had been collecting and shuffled to sit right in front of Stiles on his knees, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, “breath. Come on, with me. In… One, two, three… out… good, again…”

Talia watched as her son gently coaxed Stiles into a familiar pattern, staving off what looked to be a panic attack. She watched silently as they went through the motions several times until Stiles’s hands shook less, only slight jumps of movement instead of literal tremors.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a spare shirt in my bag from practice.”

Derek easily pulled Stiles up from the ground and grabbed his discarded backpack at the same time. He wound an arm around the smaller boy’s body and steered him to the back, not even bothering to look at Laura or his mom as he did so. When she met her daughter’s eyes, Talia just got a shrug and Laura motioned for her to help with the scattered dishes. It wasn’t long until another server was coming out from the back with rags and a bucket, insisting they could get the rest.

By the time the pies came out, Derek and Stiles still hadn’t come back out. The waitress who cleaned up the mess gave them one of the pies for free and apologized profusely before Laura waved them off. They did however confirm that Claudia was out for the day but that they’d see about having her pull video footage from when the incident occurred, jotting down the time and making a note for when Claudia came back in the next day.

Laura had already headed out to the car, telling her mom she’d get it started and warmed up. Talia was just about to leave and wait Derek out in the car after five more minutes had passed, hand on the door, when the two boys came back.

Stiles was in clean clothes, face red and eyes puffy, and a bag clutched in his hand along with his keys. Derek had a grip on the back of his neck, not saying anything, but helping to keep the other grounded with the touch as they walked.

Before reaching the door, Stiles stopped, gave Derek a weak smile, and leaned in for a hug. They hugged one another tight and quick, then let go. Stiles turned immediately, head ducked low as he moved towards the kitchens. Talia vaguely heard something mumbled about ‘clock out’ and ‘Jeep’, so she assumed Stiles was clocking out and then heading out to his car that was parked out back.

Derek watched after the other until he couldn’t see him through the kitchen entryway anymore. Then, he simply turned back towards his mom and walked out the door Talia held open for him. Neither of them said anything, but she did give her son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and a soft smile. Derek simply nodded in response.

+.+.+

Talia wasn’t willing to comment on it, but she was sure she wasn’t the only one to notice Derek’s own change of clothes. The maroon hoodie he walked in wearing was missing, in its place was a plain t-shirt Talia was sure he wore earlier that week.

Conveniently, Talia also noticed that alongside a pair of BHHS branded basketball shorts, Stiles walked away in a maroon hoodie that looked to be a size too big, hanging from his frame like a blanket rather than a jacket. She stayed quiet about it. Just like she stayed quiet about the extra pie Derek had carried out to the car in one hand (peach cobbler - his favorite).

+.+.+

“What about Thursday? Nick’s making lasagna, Peter, Lila, and their kids will be out camping until the weekend, Cora and Eric will be doing a sleepaway for Adventure Scouts, and Laura is staying at a friend’s. It’ll just be Derek at the house and you know how he is,” Talia urged.

Claudia grinned widely, leaning against the counter. They hadn’t had a chance to have dinner together in ages, even with the whole family, but with just the four of them? Claudia was willing to bet it had been years (“Three months, Claude,” Talia corrected with a huff). Noah had Thursday and Friday off this week, a rare ‘proper’ weekend, and Claudia could escape the diner for the night.

“Stiles doesn’t work that night - we could bring him along or have Derek hang at our house for the night,” Claudia innocently offered. Talia scowled.

“That’s cheating!” she huffed. “But Stiles is welcome to come, of course.”

“Actually, maybe it’s not cheating,” Claudia suddenly said, eyes focused to the side of where the two of them sat, where the counter stood near the front of the diner. Talia scrunched her eyebrows before turning to focus where her friend was already looking. They were sat at an empty booth, not too far away but just far enough to the side that neither of the boys seemed to notice either of their mothers’ presences. Thank god, Talia thought.

“Oh come on! You always get the same thing,” Stiles whined, pouting at Derek. “At least try a different shake! I promise the peanut butter banana is awesome, Der, swear it.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek smirked at his friend and leaned further against the counter as if in a challenge. “I order the same thing because I always go to the same place,” he said airily, “take me somewhere different and I’ll change it up.”

Stiles paused, eyes narrowing slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, leaning onto his hands across from Derek and letting his eyes scan over the other boy slowly as if analyzing the person in front of him to ensure it was indeed Derek Hale.

“Somewhere different?” Stiles confirmed. Derek gave a soft hum, his lips tilting up at the sides slightly. “Somewhere different… for dinner?” Derek rolled his eyes but the smile finally cracked across his lips and he gave a slow nod.

Stiles, in turn, pursed his lips, obviously biting back on a grin of his own. “You tryin’ to get me to ask you on a date, Hale?” he finally asked, unable to bite back on the wide grin that finally took over his face.

“Depends,” Derek drawled, “you actually gonna ask?”

“You know, you could ask me yourself,” Stiles challenged. Derek gave a small bark of laughter.

“I could,” he agreed, “but you asking is more fun.”

“Yea?” Stiles laughed, then rolled his eyes. He leaned fully onto the counter, bracing himself on his elbows. Derek moved in to mirror his position, putting them just a few inches in front of one another. “Alright. Will you go on a date with me, Derek Hale?”

Derek cracked a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Stiles Stilinski.”

Talia and Claudia watched as their sons stood, staring at one another with too wide of grins, acting like stupidly lovestruck teenagers without a care in the world. They watched as they made plans about where to go, when to go, and argued over who would drive.

“So I guess it’s just us on Thursday, then,” Claudia mused, turning back to give her friend a half-smirk.

“Guess so,” Talia chuckled, then groaned almost immediately after. Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. “Peter won the bet,” she amended glumly.

“Really? It’s already been four months?” Claudia moaned, slumping in her chair. “That bastard’s going to be so smug…”

+.+.+

Years later, Derek would ask Stiles if he ever figured out why Derek insisted Stiles ask him out on their first date instead of the other way around. When Stiles had no answer, Derek would kneel down and tell him he wanted to be the one to ask the next big question.

Stiles would then roll his eyes as he retold the story at their wedding, causing everyone to aww and coo. And when Peter (once again) told everyone about how he predicted the union of the two from the start, everyone would laugh (except for Claudia and Talia).

#derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #derek hale fanfiction #sterek #sterek fics #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #archive of our own #ao3 fic #teen wolf fic #fic repost #alive hale family #alive claudia stilinski #claudia & talia friendship #i forgot i didnt upload this yet so this is a late repost from ao3!

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