#but these were the first meds i ever responded to

[s0fter-sin]

i’ve tried so many energy drinks in the last week and i did not expect monster to be the one that tastes best

[pucks-goals-penalties]

Delusional enough to think I could actually pull an nhl-er but not so delulu as to actually attempt it 🤪

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) - A Maze Runner Story

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 12,051 Warnings: death, bloody wounds, fighting, mental and physical torture, guns, suicidal thoughts and actions Spoilers: no spoilers because the books and films came out ages ago

After helping Newt recover from his ankle injury, Y/N and Newt formed an unbreakable bond that always had them looking out for each other. When they escaped the Maze, then navigated the Scorch, they always had each other’s back. It isn’t until Y/N is captured alongside Minho by WCKD and Newt contracts the Flare that he realises how he truly feels about Y/N.

Problem is, will he rescue her in time to tell her?

Note: I'm back in my dystopian future era thanks to the new Hunger Games film so of course I had to write for my original YA crush. This piece is based on the movie series mainly. Don't get mad at me, I love the books more, but I can appreciate the storylines that came out of the path they took with the films. And if there is one thing the TMR fandom can agree on, it is that the film cast was the best cast ever for the series. So enjoy - not sorry that it's horrendously long, Newt deserves it xx

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

Y/N recognised it was Minho was calling for help. Clint and Jeff ran out of the med hut to see what all the commotion was. It wasn’t long before they were hurrying back inside, carrying Newt of all people between them, Minho and Alby in tow.

‘Clear the table,’ Clint ordered, and Y/N quickly followed through, practically throwing off containers, bowls and medical instruments to get Newt on there as quick as possible. Once Newt was up, Y/N finally noticed the unnatural twist in his ankle and it almost sent Frypan’s sloppy sweet potato soup right back up. 

She was still pretty new to her job as a Medjack, being the greenie and all. She was the only girl in the Glade of the current twelve residents, so she was intimidated at first as to what role she could play in the place. Medjack seemed the most suitable, and she seemed to have a knack for it, having stitched up some eyebrows and cleaned up knee scrapes with ease and precision. 

But even though she’d seen blood, dealt with displaced bones and joints, she still got queasy doing her job. It didn’t help that Newt was hissing through clenched teeth from the intense pain, an occasional sob passing through.

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Minho said. ‘We split up for only five minutes. I thought we could cover more ground that way. And we’ve run that part of the Maze like a hundred times already. I thought we’d be fine…’

Clint held Newt down as Jeff and Y/N took a look at Newt’s ankle. Jeff only pressed gently with his fingers around the bone, but Newt’s responding howls confirmed the severity of the injury.

‘The bone is completely shattered,’ Jeff said grimly. ‘We’re going to need to reset his foot first though. Y/N?’

‘On it.’ She rushed to a shelf that held bandages, then to a cupboard with flat boards about shin length. She grabbed two of those before heading back to the table.

‘You’re going to have to hold him down,’ Y/N directed at Alby and Minho, gesturing to follow Clint’s efforts. Then she turned to Newt, whose face was slicked with tears and sweat as he continued to writhe in pain. ‘Newt. Newt, can you open your eyes for me? I need you to focus on me.’

To his credit, Newt opened his eyes and he didn’t look away from her. 

‘Good. Good, Newt,’ she said. ‘Now, we have to realign your foot. It’s going to hurt a lot. We’ll go on three, okay?’

In the short time Y/N had known Newt – which arguably was no time at all, as he ran every day and she was in the Medjack hut all day. They didn’t interact unless he or another runner got hurt, or at dinner if only to say hello. Even so, she had come to know he liked it plain and straight, no bullshit. So, despite his pain, he took two deep, calming breaths and gave her a nod to say he was ready for what they had to do.

Y/N nodded back, then looked to the others, who had their hands braced on all Newt’s limbs. ‘Ready?’ she asked, to which they nodded in reply. Y/N gently held Newt’s ankle, eliciting a quiet whimper from the boy. ‘Okay, on three. One, two…’ She cut herself off as she slammed her hands either side the ankle bone, causing a loud cracking sound as the ankle snapped back into place. 

Newt’s wail of pain must’ve been heard from across the whole Glade it was so loud. He writhed and pulled to sit up, but the boys held him down as Y/N and Jeff bandaged the two splints either side of Newt’s ankle. Jeff then dabbed a small dose of chloroform in a cloth and pressed it to Newt’s nose. Soon enough, the boy was unconscious, finally pain-free.

‘You guys go have dinner,’ Y/N said to Clint and Jeff a little while later as they were cleaning up the hut. Alby and Minho had left soon after Newt fell asleep, but it was almost dinner time now. ‘I’ll stay with Newt tonight.’

‘You sure?’ Clint asked. ‘We can do shifts if you’d prefer.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I insist. You guys rest up. I can do this. Consider this my final test to becoming a fully-fledged Medjack.’

Jeff chuckled. ‘You have much more to learn, Greenie, but suit yourself.’

‘We’ll bring you back some food, Y/N,’ Clint said as he and Jeff left the hut, leaving Y/N to idly clean up.

Newt woke up from a dull throbbing in his ankle, which turned into a harsh pain, causing him to sit up in alarm. 

‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ a voice gently said as equally gentle hands pushed him back down.

‘My ankle,’ he said, voice hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts…’

The face of the voice finally came into view: it was the Greenie. Y/N offered him a small smile as he finally recognised her. In one hand, she held a needle with clear serum. Her other she offered to his leg. ‘May I? It’ll help, I promise.’

He hesitated for a moment, but the intense pain in his ankle broke his composure as he eagerly nodded. The painkiller worked immediately, and Newt sighed with relief as the throbbing eased significantly.

’There,’ Y/N said, wiping the needle. ’That should help for a bit. Sadly, we don’t have much left for me to give you more than once a day, but I’m hoping you won’t need it beyond the end of the month.’

Confusion clouded Newt’s mind as he tried to process her words. ‘What… What happened?’ But he answered his own question as images of the Maze flashed through his mind, and he remembered it all. How he bid farewell to Minho. How he climbed as high as he could along the Maze walls. How easy it was to let go. 

Then the pain fully encompassed him, and then it was just a blur. How Minho found him. How Clint and Jeff laid him on the table he realised he was still on. How angry and embarrassed he felt having his friends see him broken and miserable. 

Newt managed to pull himself into a sitting position, propping a pillow behind him to cushion the hut wall. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked glumly, eyes unable to lift from his injury.

He couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. He was too tired, and, frankly, saw no point in keeping up appearances anymore. 

To her credit, Y/N seemed to pick up on his mood, saying, ‘It will heal to a point you’ll be able to walk again. But it won’t ever heal properly.’

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

’So I can’t be a Runner anymore?’ Y/N didn’t reply, finally drawing Newt’s attention away from the source of his pain and to her. 

Newt had only interacted with Y/N on a few occasions. Mainly at mealtimes or the odd occasion he passed her by on the way back from a run, only talking as much as greeting and farewelling one another. As the only girl so far, of course he found her intriguing, but he never had time nor a reason to get to know her.

And while he’d come to think of her as the quiet and gentle Medjack in comparison to Clint and Jeff, he didn’t see an ounce of pity on her face as she looked at him. Only quiet contemplation, as if there could be any other answer but no to his question.

‘I guess that’s up to you and Alby,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, I know what I should say is no. I’m sure Clint and Jeff will say no. But it’ll more so come down to if you want to go back in or not.’ Her eyes flickered to his ankle, sadness glazing her eyes briefly before returning to him. ‘But I think I can take a guess as to what your answer will be.’

Newt’s gut twisted with guilt and shame that she’d figured it out, and his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘So, you going to tell everyone?’ he asked, words thick  with hopelessness. ‘I mean, that’s your job, right? Diagnose me, then tell Alby, then the whole glade how pathetic I am?’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I think you give me too much credit. I’m not an actual doctor, you know,’ she said, coming to stand beside him. She inspected his ankle for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and it shocked him to see such intensity in her eyes. It was as if suddenly he was the most interesting person in the world.

‘I can say it was a running accident,’ she finally concluded. ‘You can tell your truth when you’re ready. It’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it right now. That includes me.’

He stared, stunned, as she packed up the last of her things by a spare medical cot at the other end of the hut. It wasn’t until she let out a loud yawn that Newt noticed it was dark outside. The silence of the Glade told him everyone else had gone to bed so it was late. Or early, he couldn’t really tell.

Y/N fluffed a sad excuse of a pillow and put it on the cot. ‘Now that I know you’re alive, are you going to be okay if I get a few minutes shut eye? I can stay up if you’d like.’

Now that the initial shock and embarrassment of the day’s events had subsided, Newt realised how exhausted he was still. ‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think I should rest a bit more anyway.’

Y/N nodded and swung her legs up to lie down fully. Newt went to slide himself and his pillow back down to do the same when Y/N spoke again.

‘And Newt?’ she said, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

She was silent for so long Newt thought she’d gone to sleep. But then she spoke. ‘For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic. For wanting it all to end, that is. I actually think what you did was really brave. You might be scared and maybe out of hope, but at least you did something about it. The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

Newt’s breath caught in his chest as it swelled with a mix of emotions. Brave? What he did was the act of a coward. Tears streamed silently down his face, both from a deep shame, but also a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Newt had lost all hope after a year of searching for a way out and finding nothing. But she didn’t know that, and neither will the next Greenie, or the Greenie after that. Even some of the boys already in the Glade didn’t know that. That’s why they waited every day for the runners – for him – to come back with news, with a shred of hope that they’d get out of there soon. 

Newt twisted himself so he could see Y/N, who was rolled away from him, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Even if he thought it would all be hopeless in the end, some truly believed they would get out of here.

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

~

Two years on and Newt and Y/N had managed to forge something akin to a friendship. 

Y/N had kept her word and said Newt had had a running accident, and he’d agreed with her for the sake of his worried friends. Y/N had also been right about his ankle; it healed to point where he could walk and do a decent jog with a limp. But he would never run again. 

He was transferred to work as a Track-Hoe in the gardens with Zart. But it wasn’t all bad. As more boys arrived – never any girls much to their confusion – Newt developed a knack for leading others, for diffusing hard situations, and for wrangling the boys into line. Because of that, he was promoted to Alby’s second-in-command, which gave him more meaningful work to do than just the gardens – stuff that might actually get him and the other Gladers out of the bloody Maze. 

It also meant he had more time to talk to Y/N. He would make sure to drop by once a day (and not just at mealtimes) to check in on her. For a time, he convinced himself he did that because it was his job as second-in-command to keep up group morale, and he would visit everyone in the Glade. Eventually, however, he realised it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Since that night, Y/N had come out of her shell more. Still a little shy and apprehensive at times, but she would openly joke and play along with the boys’ antics. She was more confident in her work as a Medjack too, not afraid to boss Clint and Jeff around if she needed something from them.

Newt’s visits became longer, as they talked about any and all things. Aside from Alby and Minho, Newt considered Y/N one of his closest friends. And she must’ve felt the same – or at least in a similar fashion – as she entertained his thoughts about life beyond the Maze, and the rants he would go on thanks to whichever stupid shank put the fertiliser in the wrong place.

It was a friendship built on mutual respect and genuine care for one another, something that helped Newt convince Y/N to come with him and the others when they finally decided to leave the Maze. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep dread and guilt as he waited behind Thomas, knowing that Grievers were right around the corner.

While the others caught up, Newt turned to Y/N – who’d been helping him through the Maze with his limp – and offered her a spare spear he’d been carrying.

Her eyes widened at his offering. ‘I can’t take that. I can’t fight.’

‘Well, you can’t just go in there without something to protect yourself,’ he said, this time forcibly handing the spear over. Y/N clutched the spear awkwardly, and Newt saw the uncertainty in her eyes, in her trembling hands.

Newt felt bad for making her hold such a violent weapon. All her hands had ever done were help people, save them at times. Now he was asking her to kill. It was for the greater good they both knew, but to kill, nonetheless.

Newt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘you stay with me the whole time, do you understand? I promise you won’t have to use that unless absolute necessary.’

Y/N bit her lip to stop it trembling too, but she nodded, steeling herself in preparation for the fight ahead. Newt reciprocated the action and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to face Thomas as he explained the plan.

They fought the Grievers, taking down a few while some of them took down Gladers. The Gladers were backed against the door that Teresa and Chuck were trying to open with a code. Minho shouted numbers at them as he, Newt, and the others fended off one last Griever.

Before he could finish, Minho was caught by a Griever, and Clint ran out to save him. But the Griever’s tail caught him, sending him over the edge of the walkway they fought on with one flick.

‘Clint!’

Before Newt could stop her, Y/N rushed out from behind him, spear drawn back and flying at the Griever in seconds. Not being a fighter to begin with, let alone a good one, the spear bounced off its metal leg without much effect. It did, however, alert the Griever to her presence, turning all its attention to her. Minho leapt to his feet, finally free, and ran back to the group. ‘Y/N!’ he cried as he ran. ‘Run!’

Y/N seemed to finally realise her situation, looking up at the Griever frozen with fear. The horrible creature raised its claw to end her, but Newt moved faster. 

He ran as fast as he could, limp be damned, past Y/N and threw his spear at the Griever’s head. It landed true, puncturing one of the creature’s bulbous eyes, drawing a painful screech from it. Newt didn’t wait to see what it would do next, as he grabbed one of Y/N’s arms and Minho grabbed the other and ran back to the group, practically throwing her behind the front line and against the door. 

Teresa finally got the door open and the Gladers tumbled in, Thomas throwing one last spear down the Griever’s throat as the doors closed. 

Lights flickered on to show they were in some empty room with a door on the wall behind them leading to a corridor.

Thomas looked at the group, taking heavy breaths. ‘Everyone okay?’

‘What’s left of us, that is,’ Winston said, his tone sad and regretful. 

As Newt eyed the group, he noted how many they’d lost, how little their group seemed all of a sudden. 

Minho stepped ahead with Thomas, pointing towards the door. ‘Well? It’s not going to open itself.’

As Minho and Thomas led the group to the exit, Newt turned to Y/N, whose eyes had a distant look glazed over them. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, bringing her attention to him. ‘I told you to stay behind me. You could’ve been killed.’

‘I-I know. I’m sorry,’ she stuttered out, tears teetering in her E/C eyes. ‘I just… Clint… It all happened so fast, and I was just kind of moving before I knew what I was doing.’ She looked down at her hands then, and Newt noticed a slight tremble to them. ‘I thought I could help, but I was too slow. And I put you guys in danger too. I’m just… I’m sorry.’

Newt’s guilt came back full force then. He placed a gentle hand over her trembling one, grasping her fingers to stop their shaking. When she looked up at him confused, he just said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into thinking you had to fight. You won’t ever hold a weapon like that again. I promise.’

Y/N opened her mouth to object no doubt, but Newt cut her off. ‘But you have to promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll let us protect you. You can help by keeping us alive, just like you always have. But you’ve got to listen to me, you got it?’

He used his authoritative voice this time, and it seemed to work as Y/N calmed down, her unshed tears now gone.

‘Okay,’ she said, quiet but strong. ‘I promise.’

Newt nodded. ‘Good that.’ He turned to see the others leaving through the door then turned back to Y/N. ’Do you think we’d be lucky enough not to face anything else beyond those doors.’

‘I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting this far.’ To her credit, Y/N managed a small smile as she looked up at him. ‘But why should our luck run out now?’

There it was again; the glimmer of hope Newt had felt from her since the night he injured his ankle. Newt couldn’t deny that they’d made it this far – by design or by luck, they’d made it. 

And who was he to deny that things might be on the look up for them now?

Together, Y/N and Newt followed the rest of the Gladers to meet their makers.

~

‘I never thought I’d say this… but I miss the Glade.’

The group around the fire grew silent at the implication Frypan’s words had, the memories they conjured up. Y/N couldn’t help but agree as she looked into the dark sky above her, peaking from behind the crumbling pillars they took refuge under. 

The sky was always so clear back in the Glade, she recalled silently. But, just like their current situation, the sky was now obscured. 

The people who rescued them from the Maze were actually WCKD – the people who’d put them in the Maze in the first place. The past twelve hours had seen herself, Newt, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Winston, and a boy named Aris find Teresa, break out of the facility, and enter the deadly Scorch. In their search for supplies, they’d been attacked by crazed, infected people, driving the group to hide where they were.

The Maze was dangerous, but it was familiar and the only home Y/N recalled ever having. Out in the Scorch, safety wasn’t guaranteed. 

She looked to Winston, who laid back, his shirt pulled up to expose the bloody bandage she’d wrapped his torso in. Y/N tried not to think about the infected scratch marks underneath, and more specifically what gave them to him. The Grievers were one thing, but the things that attacked them? They used to be people.

Not wanting to sit in her thoughts anymore, Y/N stood up, brushed off her pants, and grabbed knife from their pile of weapons they’d found in the abandoned mall. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ 

She didn’t wait to hear if anyone objected, already walking around the stone that covered them so she was on top. To her relief, the others let her go without argument, putting out the fire and quickly settling down to sleep.

After half an hour, Y/N decided to get up and patrol around the area, knife tightly gripped in her hand and her footsteps quiet despite the sand. 

There was so much of it,  the sand. The lady in white – Doctor Ava Paige – had said in her video that the whole world was just desert now. The thought made Y/N yearn for the Glade even more. For the grass, and the woods, and the bonfires they used to have, and the games they played. The boys – Clint, Jeff, Alby, Gally, Chuck. 

Y/N wasn’t a hateful person, but she clutched the knife tighter at the thought of all the loss they’d all suffered at the hands of WCKD. 

It’s why she didn’t hesitate to follow Newt when he’d found her in her room – for some reason, she hadn’t been allowed to stay with the other girls from the other mazes just yet. It’s why they were now braving the Scorch searching for people that Thomas didn’t know even existed. They wanted a better life out from under WCKD’s thumb.

The crunch of sand had her whirling around, awkwardly poising the knife as if to attack, but she relaxed at the familiar person standing there.

Newt raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there,’ he said, the quirk of a smile on his lips telling her he was just joking. ‘You could do some real damage if you’re not careful.’

Y/N blew out in relief, the knife dropping to her side again. ‘Thanks, but we both know that’s not the case, Newt.’

Newt shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he did. ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen you with a scalpel. Absolutely terrifyingly precise with that thing.’

Y/N chuckled softly, appreciative of the distraction. But her smile dropped as she looked out into the dark cityscape. The moon hid behind clouds so Y/N couldn’t make out anything. ‘Is it pathetic that I’m scared to see what the world has become?’ she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a soft mumble.

Newt stepped up beside her, his body radiating the last remnants of heat from the fire and it warmed her slightly. ’Someone once told me that I was brave for facing my fear,’ he said after some quiet contemplation. 

Y/N looked up at him confused, but he looked down at her with a knowing, smug smile. Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him. ‘I don’t recall saying that specifically. But if that’s how you saw it, who am I to tell you that wasn’t what I meant?’

Newt hummed in agreement looking back out at the dark expanse, contemplation scrunching his brows together. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too.’

That surprised Y/N. Newt, second-in-command, casual, leader Newt was scared? ‘You are?’

Newt nodded. ‘I’m scared that we’ve made a mistake. That Thomas is wrong and there aren’t any mountain people.’ He turned back to Y/N, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘I’m scared we’re going to lose more of us, and then what was our escape for? But… it’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it. Including myself.’ Finally, Newt’s smile returned, and it warmed that cold pit of despair Y/N had been falling into ever since they left the WCKD facility. ‘Or, at least, I think that’s what someone very wise once told me.’

Y/N stared at him, awestruck. Hopeful. Newt was hopeful again. And she didn’t want to read into it, but she thought the knowing smile he was giving her told her that she had something to do with it. The thought alone strengthened her resolve, and she looked down at the knife in her hands, less afraid of it all of a sudden.

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘What?’

’Teach me. How to fight,’ Y/N explained, eyes unwavering from his. 

Concern flashed across Newt’s face for a brief moment. ‘Y/N, I told you, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.’

‘If there is one thing I’ve come to know about WCKD is that it doesn’t actually matter what I want anymore. What any of us want,’ Y/N said, feeling the most certain she’s felt in a long time. ‘The one thing we have on WCKD is that we are defiant. We escaped, and are taking away the one thing they want most of all: a chance to find a cure. So, if we’re going to have any hopes of making it to the mountains alive, I’m going to have to know how to fight. So please – teach me.’

Newt contemplated her for a moment, and Y/N just prayed he wouldn’t say no. Or even worse, laugh. Instead of doing either, he took the knife from Y/N’s hand, his fingers brushing across her palm as he did. 

‘All right,’ he said, moving his feet apart to get into a fighting stance. ‘First of all, you’ve got to have a wide-ish stance, and stay light on your toes so you can control when you back away from your opponent.’ 

He demonstrated the movement by quickly shuffling away, always keeping his feet a certain distance apart and the knife gripped tight by his hip. ‘…and when you go into attack.’ He moved so fast Y/N didn’t see his footwork, her eyes locked on his as they bored into hers, knife poised at her neck as if he’d strike.

He stepped away and gave her the knife back. ‘You think you can do that?’

Y/N nodded and took the knife, and for the next hour Newt taught Y/N basic blocks and manoeuvres that he’d picked up from Thomas and Minho and just from basic instinct. Just like she’d been with her Medjack skills, Y/N was a quick study, performing move after move when Newt asked her to. 

She impressed herself. For a natural pacifist, she wielded the knife quite fluently.

They decided to finish the session on a quick sparring match. Newt took a swipe at Y/N, and she stepped back just like Newt had taught her. She then rushed in for an attack, to which Newt threw up his own knife in time to block. Y/N anticipated the pushback and twisted out of Newt’s way as he stumbled slightly forward. While he was disorientated, Y/N gripped his wrist that controlled his knife and pointed her own into his back. 

‘Looks like I win,’ she said, breathless but proud.

Y/N didn’t like the carefree scoff he gave her, followed by, ‘Are you sure?’

She doubted herself for a moment, loosening her grip enough for him to twist out of her reach, knock her knife away and bend to sweep her legs out from underneath her. Y/N landed hard, groaning at the pain in her butt as Newt looked down at her and laughed. 

‘I’m glad you find my pain amusing, Newt,’ she grumbled, rubbing her sore behind.

Newt laughed for a moment longer then calmed down. But his radiant smile remained on his face, brightening the darkness surrounding them. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said between remaining chuckles. To his credit, he held out his hand in an offer to help her up. ’But the surprise on your face was priceless.’

Y/N contemplated his hand for a moment, whether she should just push it away or take it. Instead, an idea came to mind, and she gripped his hand tightly then pulled him to the ground with her. He landed on his stomach beside her, getting a face full of sand.

Y/N let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth to stifle the relentless laughter that wished to burst from her. 

Newt spat and coughed out sand as he made to sit up. ‘Well,’ he started, spitting out more sand as he looked up at Y/N, ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’

That just made Y/N laugh even harder, using now both hands to quieten the giggles. Goodness, when was the last time she’d laughed this freely? When was the last time she’d felt such joy? After everything they’d been through, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten what was like to laugh.

When she’d calmed down, she looked down to see Newt propped up on his arms looking up at her with an odd expression on his face. Like he was in awe, maybe. Whatever it was, it made Y/N acknowledge how handsome Newt had become. His baby features had faded since she’d first met him, being replaced by a lean figure and a toned jawline from working in the gardens every day for two years. And with his big brown eyes, tousled blond hair and funny accent, Y/N wondered how he had changed so much without her realising it. How she hadn’t realised he’d grown up.

The intensity with which he looked at her brought a heated blush to her face, and so she turned away into the cool night breeze, willing the blush to cool down. Newt shuffled to sit up next to her. They didn’t speak for a minute, until Newt suddenly stood up. 

‘Well, um,’ he started, and for the first time since Y/N had known him, he sounded uncertain about what to say. ‘I better let you continue with your shift. At least you know how to defend yourself now.’

Y/N hastily stood up as well, making sure there was at least a step between them. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll be sure to practice.’

‘Good that.’ 

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Newt said he was leaving, he made no move to leave. Maybe he doesn’t want to, she thought, and the mere possibility of that being true warmed her heart.

But he took a step away, gave her a shy smile and a small wave farewell. ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

‘Goodnight Newt,’ she said, those two words hanging in the air long after he’d left.

As she finally woke Frypan up for his shift, she clung to the knife and went through all the manoeuvres Newt had taught her until she fell asleep. 

Newt was unable to sleep until Y/N woke Frypan up to take the next watch shift, and laid down to sleep herself. Newt opened his eyes to see Y/N laying across the pit they’d dug out for the fire. She faced him on her side, and Newt noticed with curiosity that she held the knife she’d practiced with close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and paired with her heavy breathing, Newt figured she was completely asleep. 

An odd sensation fluttered in his chest and stomach as Newt considered Y/N’s sleeping face. It was the same feeling that had fizzled in his chest when he’d looked up at her as she laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed as freely as she had. 

And he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked doing so – hiding her bright smile behind trembling hands, eyes narrowed but sparkling with joy. 

All because of him.

He rolled onto his back then, not wanting to give the thought anymore weight. There’s no point getting your hopes up, he reminded himself. But like a moth drawn to flame, Newt couldn’t help but tilt his head to gaze upon her peacefully sleeping. An ache carved itself deep in his heart. How had he not realised her growing up, changing? Being the only girl for a long time, of course he and the others found her pretty. But now that he looked at her – really looked at her, and wasn’t concerned with his life for just a split second – he realised just how beautiful she was. 

It was in her features, but also in her determination to be better for the group. It both hurt and impressed him when she asked for his help. He promised her she would never have to fight again, but things have changed drastically since the Maze.

It was in her ability to still find the joy in things, to still be able to laugh despite their situation.

It was how she believed in Thomas, in Aris, in the mountain people, even if she was scared. 

‘The rest of us can only wish to be as brave as you,’ he whispered into the night, a silent promise that he’d tell her that sometime. 

And with the fluttering in his chest finally easing into a calm warmth, he finally fell asleep.

~

Everything exploded with chaos as Y/N, Newt, Thomas, and Minho navigated their way through the Right Arm camp as guns fired and explosions went off. 

Teresa had betrayed them. Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was revealed in front of everyone, and she still couldn’t believe it as Minho pushed her head down, sheltering her from another explosion. Teresa truly believed WCKD could find a cure, but still at the expanse of Y/N and her friends’ pain. And just when Thomas was going to blow them all sky high, Jorge and Brenda had come in like a saving grace, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

‘This way!’ Thomas yelled over the din, beckoning them behind a weapons container.

However, Minho stopped suddenly and picked up a launcher. Keep going!’ Minho called over his shoulder as he shot at WCKD soldiers around him. ‘I’m right behind you!’

Thomas and Newt reached the container, but Y/N stopped and turned at the sound of a painful cry. ‘Minho!’ she cried as her friend fell, his body convulsing from a launcher shot. 

‘Y/N, no!’ Newt called after her, but she was already running back to Minho, grabbing at his jacket to drag him to safety. 

But Y/N was not strong like the boys, and certainly not strong enough to move Minho in any hurry. She looked up just in time to see a launcher fire at her, then her body felt like it was on fire. 

She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything as the electricity struck every nerve with a vicious bite. After what felt like an eternity of pain, she was granted a moment of peace as her vision went white, then in a flash was swamped by darkness.

Newt’s heart stopped when he saw Y/N shot. She convulsed as Minho had, then collapsed beside their friend unconscious. The second Y/N hit the ground, Newt found his voice again, feelings of anger and desperation clawing their way through every vein in him.

‘Y/N, no!’ His cry came out broken as he made to run to her, but a strong hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him back. 

‘No, boys,’ Vince shouted over the din, holding both Newt and Thomas back. 

‘Let me go!’ Newt protested, struggling against Vince, eyes darting between him and Y/N. ‘I need to help her! Y/N!’

But WCKD soldiers were already picking up Y/N and Minho’s unconscious bodies, dragging their feet through the red dirt and into a berg.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Vince said, and Newt thought he sounded genuine. But that didn’t stop icy terror gripping tight on his heart as the doors began to close on Y/N, Minho, and other immunes from the Right Arm.

Thomas called for Minho, and Newt called for Y/N, but neither could do anything to help their friends as they were flown away. Back in WCKD’s clutches once again.

When the sun rose, the remaining survivors came out of hiding and began scrounging up supplies. They were moving on, Vince claiming there was nothing they could do but keep going with who and what they had left.

Newt couldn’t accept that, and neither could Thomas apparently, as he claimed he was going after Minho, Y/N and the others. Without hesitation or any further explanation, Newt was the first to sign up and join him.

And so, they went on a quest to rescuing Minho, Y/N, and as many immunes as possible. The train hijack was a huge success with immune numbers, but no Minho and no Y/N. Even so, Newt refused to accept that he’d never see either of them again. Even when they almost got killed by cranks. Even when he, Thomas, Brenda, Frypan, and Jorge were almost blown up by turret guns.

Even when he found out he was infected with the Flare.

He could feel it, his mind slowly slipping away as the Flare ate away at his sanity. He was usually level-headed and rational – it’s part of the reason he became second-in-command in the first place. Guilt and shame ate away at him as he sat on the rooftop of their hideout in the outskirts of the Last City, explaining to Thomas why he just bit his head off about being in love with Teresa.

Not that I’m one to talk, he thought as he rolled down as his sleeve, silence wrapping around him and Thomas comfortably. Newt could feel Thomas didn’t know what to say, and Newt didn’t like long silences so he broke it.

‘The crazy thing, though is…’ Newt started, a soft but sad scoff escaping him, ‘I’m not scared of dying. I used to be, back in the Maze. Because it felt like my friends were dying for no reason, without purpose. But…’ Newt looked over his shoulder, past Thomas, and to the peaking spires of the Last City. To where Y/N was being held somewhere.

‘I have something to die for now,’ Newt said, eyes never wavering from the spires.

Thomas came to sit beside Newt, a sad realisation drawing his brows and lips down. ‘You’re not just talking about Minho, are you?’ he asked.

It was how gentle and matter-of-fact Thomas spoke that had Newt’s chest tightening with fear and an immense pressure he’d been scared, until now, to acknowledge. His throat threatened to close on him as he spoke, rendering his words tight and uncontrolled. ‘I failed to protect her, Tommy,’ he managed to get out. ‘I promised I’d always protect her, and I didn’t.’ 

It surprised Newt how simultaneously hard and easy it was to speak about his feelings, and now that he had started, the words just flowed. 

’She’s just always been there, so I never saw it coming,’ Newt continued, a melancholic smile adorning his lips as he recalls the day he met you, how you helped him with his ankle. How, since then, you’ve always been by his side, growing with him, changing with him, supporting him and everyone else around you. 

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

‘I never saw that I could have a future after the Maze, after all of this,’ Newt explained. ‘That I would want a future… with Y/N.’ And with that, his tears finally spilled over, the pressure in his chest bursting into sobs that wracked his whole body. Newt was vaguely aware that Thomas was now holding him, and so he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, around his brother.

‘I love her, Tommy,’ Newt whispered over Thomas’ shoulder, his words obscured somewhat by his tears and holding back sobs. ‘And I’m scared I’ll never be able to tell her before I go.’

‘Hey,’ Thomas said, pushing Newt to arm’s length. He kept one hand on Newt’s shoulder and used his other to grip Newt’s neck, forcing their eyes to lock. ‘We’re going to find her – and Minho, and the other immunes. We’re going to get you that serum that helps with the Flare – as much of it as possible – and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. No one is dying. You hear me?’

No one could replace Alby, but the way Thomas was taking control of the situation reminded Newt of his old friend. How kind yet stern he could be. How hopeful yet pragmatic he was. It was something familiar that Newt was thankful for. He quickly calmed down, wiped away his tears and nodded at Thomas.

‘Good that,’ Thomas said, a small proud smile gracing his lips at his use of Newt’s common phrase. 

Newt couldn’t help a chuckle as well. ‘Good that, indeed,’ he agreed, and followed Thomas back inside the hideout to finalise their plan to get into the WCKD facility.

…and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. 

There was a nagging voice in the back of Newt’s head that was telling him not to believe Thomas. That Newt was going to die, or worse, turn into a crank and hurt his loved ones. That voice had followed him from the Maze, to the Scorch, and now the Last City. It was the voice that had driven him over the edge of the Maze walls all those years ago. But not anymore.

Newt had to keep hope, just as Y/N had taught him. He just had to be brave.

~

Y/N sat in the corner of her white-walled cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she rested her head on top. She’d sat there for hours, perhaps days. Y/N lost track of time after her first month in WCKD’s facility. 

There were no windows, and the lights never dimmed. She pressed her eyes into her knees in the hopes of downing out the incessant white light. Her eyes ached with sleep deprivation, but she refused to sleep. The nightmares were much worse to deal with, and they always came whenever she closed her eyes.

Images of her friends dying in the Maze and the Scorch, of Grievers chasing her, of her friends turning into cranks and attacking her. Images fed to her by WCKD. 

She knew they weren’t real, but she could never wake herself up in time to escape them. So, she stayed awake, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to face her nightmares when the doctors and scientists come to test on her again.

Y/N shivered at the thought of seeing another needle, of seeing her blood drained from her while WCKD turned her mind against her. When will it be enough? She might’ve lost track of time, but Y/N knew she’d been in the facility for a while now. If they hadn’t found anything by now, something told Y/N that nothing she gave would ever be enough. That included her life.

She knew Thomas and Newt would be dumb enough to come after her and Minho – that’s just the kind of people they were. Her heart ached at the thought that their efforts would be in vain. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Minho since they arrived, having been separated from each other and the other immunes. Something about how they were the most promising subjects, she overheard from a scientist one time. Y/N didn’t know if Minho was alive, and if he was, what condition he was in. 

But Minho was strong, the strongest of all the Gladers in Y/N’s opinion. If he was being tortured like her, he would be able to hold on. Y/N highly doubted she would last much longer.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Y/N wasn’t sure if Newt knew she was actually awake that first night in the Scorch, but she’d heard him, his words so soft she thought she’d dreamt it at first. But it had been real; Newt thought she was brave.

She was too dehydrated to produce tears, but an ugly sob desperately tried to escape her aching chest. She bit her lips instead, hard enough to draw a little blood, and the sob died out, leaving her body quiet except for her mind.

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

Even so, Y/N refused to crumble to WCKD anymore. They’d taken everything from her. Her life, her memories, her loved ones, her friends. Even her hope – something she so naively believed no one could take from her. They would not take her dignity.

She raised her head at the sound of her cell door unlocking, blinking a few times as bright light flooded her vision once more. Two WCKD soldiers and two scientists stood by the door, and Y/N spied a gurney just behind them. 

One of the scientists – young male, maybe in his early twenties – stepped forward. ‘Time for more testing, Y/N,’ he said in a cold tone. But he had the sense to look sympathetic as his eyes roamed over Y/N as she stood up, showing how pale her S/C skin had become, how dark the circles beneath her eyes were, how the cargo pants and grey t-shirt hung off her in areas where she used to fill.

Y/N knew it was useless, but still she ran for the door, pushing past the scientists with ease despite her weakened state. However, she hit the soldiers like a brick wall, unable to fight against them as they restrained her arms and pressed her against the wall. The male scientist recovered quickly and injected her with a serum that made her drowsy enough that she wasn’t in control of her body. She was conscious as the soldiers strapped her to the gurney and the four of them wheeled her down corridor after corridor, and all she could do was watch fluorescent lights pass her by as she stared at the ceiling. 

Soon enough, she was in a familiar room: the test lab. 

‘It hasn’t been that long since we last tested her,’ the other scientist – a female, about the same age as her co-worker – said, her words laced with worry. ‘We put her under again, we risk losing her for good this time.’

‘I didn’t make the call,’ the male said as he continued to set up equipment around Y/N. ‘When Janson says he wants a cure, I don’t question him. Do you?’

The female didn’t answer, switching her focus to helping her co-worker. Y/N could slowly feel the serum wearing off – it was obviously only a light dose, the scientists knowing they’d put her under when they began testing. 

But just as they unstrapped her to move her to the nightmare simulator, the room shook, sending Y/N rolling to the ground as glass and steel broke around her. 

Sounds were muffled briefly and her vision blurred in and out of focus. She couldn’t hear what exactly the soldiers were shouting, but she saw them run out of the room alongside other soldiers. That just left her and the scientists. 

Y/N flexed her fingers, the serum completely wearing off. Before she could stand though, two hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Y/N,’ the male scientist said, pushing her towards the machine. ‘Just one more trip under…’

Fear electrified Y/N’s every nerve. No, not again. With a desperate cry, she shoved the male into the utensils table, sending him and the tools scattering across the ground. Before he could get up, Y/N straddled his upper body and slammed his arms into the ground.

‘Get off me!’ he yelled, struggling violently beneath Y/N. He managed to twist them both around until she was the one pinned to the ground. Y/N struggled but to no avail. She was significantly weaker than she was when she was first captured and he knew that.

‘You little brat,’ he spat in her face. ‘Ungrateful, selfish immunes. Your duty is to save us all! You–’

He was cut off when he suddenly went slack, falling unconscious on top of Y/N. She scrambled out from underneath him, then looked up from the floor to find the female scientist with a syringe in her hand. She looked between her unconscious co-worker then Y/N, a scared and disbelieving expression morphing her delicate features. 

‘Go,’ the scientist finally said, her voice shaky, but the resolve in her eyes told Y/N that she wouldn’t chase after her. The room – no, the whole building – shook again, and when Y/N looked out the window, she realised why.

The city outside was on fire. Buildings crumbled, and Y/n could hear the screams and cries of civilians through the broken windows. The scientist wouldn’t chase her because there was no point. 

This was the end.

‘Go!’ The scientist insisted, and Y/N didn’t think twice. She picked herself up, ignoring the cuts and scraps of glass it caused her, and ran out of the room.

She ran into the corridor, ignoring the cries of soldiers and other scientists who recognised her as a subject. She didn’t know where she was going, but this was the most freedom she’d had in forever.

Then a thought came to her – Minho. She had to find him, he surely had to be alive. She would run through every floor if she had to to find him. So she ran, looking into every test lab, every storage closest, every break room on the floor. 

‘Minho!’ she cried, uncaring at this point if someone heard her. She just wanted to find him. She didn’t want to die without a familiar face with her. ‘Minho, where are you?’

She rounded a corner, right into the chest of a WCKD soldier. He was caught by surprise, giving Y/N an opportunity to slam him into the wall. It was like her fear was giving her a boost of strength, as she kneed him in the groin, sending him to the ground. He dropped the pistol he was holding, and she quickly picked it up and smacked the butt over the back of his head. He fell to the floor in one last scuffle and laid unmoving as Y/N sucked in deep breaths.

‘Y/N?’

She whirled around at the familiar call of her name, only to find three other people had entered the corridor. Thomas, Minho, and Newt. Her eyes scanned over them all, heart aching with an intense relief it threatened to crush her chest. ‘Guys?’ Her voice was hoarse with disuse and exhaustion. She was surprised she even had a voice after all her screaming.

Newt stepped forward, a relieved smile gracing his lips. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, sounding on the verge of tears. ‘It’s us.’

Y/N’s first instinct was to run into his arms, the only place she’d felt since leaving the Maze. But she took a closer look at him. He was paler than when she last saw him, almost sickly with how dark the circles under his eyes were. Crank.

She pointed the pistol at her friends, causing them to raise their hands in shock. ‘Whoa, Y/N, it’s us!’ Thomas exclaimed.

‘No,’ she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘How do I know I’m not in that simulator again? How do I know this isn’t just another test, another trial?’

‘What are you talking about, Y/N?’ Newt asked, worry crinkling his brow. 

’She doesn’t trust her mind,’ Minho said, as if in explanation. ‘Boy, they really did a number on her…’

‘Shut up!’ Y/N unlocked the safety and pointed the gun at Minho. ‘You’re just trying to trick me. Make me think everything is all right. But it’s just a lie. You’re not here. You’re not here…’

Newt stepped into the firing line. ‘We are here, love. I promise, we’re really here.’

‘Newt…’ Thomas warned, but Newt remained, eyes locked on Y/N’s.

Y/N couldn’t look away from Newt. He sounded so genuine, so much more real than previous simulations. But WCKD couldn’t be trusted, and they were wearing soldier uniforms…

Her hands shook but her voice was strong. ‘Prove it,’ she said. ’Tell me something only the real Newt would know.’

Newt swallowed thickly. ‘Okay, um… You cut yourself when you tried out being a Slicer and had to have Clint and Jeff fix you up. That’s when you thought being a Medjack would be a good idea.’

‘WCKD was watching us the whole time. They would’ve seen that,’ she countered, using both hands to grip the gun. 

‘Okay, okay,’ Newt said, looking away a moment to think of something else. When he finally looked back at her, he was calm once more, eyes genuine and sincere. ‘How about how I jumped off the walls of the Maze in an attempt to kill myself?’

The world around the four of them seemed to freeze, as if the world wasn’t collapsing outside. To Y/N’s knowledge, Newt had never told anyone the truth of what happened that day. It was the shocked and tragic expressions on both Minho and Thomas’ faces respectively that had Y/N loosening her grip on the gun slightly.

Newt took a small step closer, eyes never straying from her. ‘I had lost all hope of getting out of that bloody maze. So I did the one thing I could do to control the situation. But I failed.’ He stepped closer again. ‘I was embarrassed, ashamed. I was just a coward. But you healed me and told me something I will never forget. I have held onto it like a lifeline through the Maze, through the Scorch, and all the time I was looking for you.’

He took one final step towards her, unfazed at how the gun pressed hard against his chest. Now that he was so close, Y/N saw just how sick he was. He looked like the early stage victims of the Flare they’d seen in the decrepit city they’d lost Brenda and Thomas in temporarily. And while Y/N refused to believe Newt – her beloved, sweet Newt – was infected, his eyes were the same as always. Open, honest, and truthful.

‘The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

It wasn’t the fact that he knew the exact words – again, WCKD had cameras everywhere in that Maze, they would’ve heard it. It was instead the emotion tied to the words. She felt them, felt the lifeline they’d created for him in his darkest moment. He wasn’t lying, and that meant he was real.

Finally, she allowed the sob to break free as she dropped the gun and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. He breathed out in relief, bringing her closer to his chest, face pressed into her H/C hair.

‘It’s really you,’ she whimpered, grasping tighter to the person she’s always been able to rely on. The person who has always protected her and brought out the best in her. Her closest friend, her safety net, her home. 

‘It is, love,’ he said into her hair, breathing her in deeply. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pulling away to look up at him then to the other two. ‘I can’t believe you came after us.’

‘I know right,’ Minho said, punching Thomas’ arm lightly. ‘Dumb shanks.’

‘You can berate us later,’ Thomas said, rubbing his arm. ‘Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before Lawrence brings down the whole city.’

Y/N went to ask what he meant but gripped onto Newt instead as the building shook again.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Newt said, grabbing Y/N’s hand with one hand, and holding a launcher in the other. Together, the four of them ran to escape WCKD once and for all.

~

‘Brenda!’

Y/N didn’t care about the rain of bullets and walls of fire around her as she ran for the berg. After hearing Teresa’s broadcast, she needed to get the cure back to Newt fast. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she has had to do. He wasn’t in great condition, but Thomas insisted that he’d take care of Newt. But the medicine Thomas had given Brenda all those months ago didn’t just buy her time, it had cured her completely. It could do the same for Newt.

If she could make it in time.

‘Brenda!’ Y/N cried as she spotted her friend. ‘The cure! I need the cure!’

Brenda understood, immediately retrieving one of the extra capsules Mary had made from Thomas’ blood before WCKD raided the camp. ‘Here,’ she said, passing over the injector. 

‘Thanks!’ Y/N said, already sprinting back into the war zone before anyone could stop her. 

She could feel it, the exhaustion, the strain she was putting her body under. Underfed and under trained, she was struggling. But she refused to stop. Newt had come all this way to find her, risked his life to get her out of WCKD’s clutches when he could’ve been administered the temporary cure and been safe on the berg already. No, Y/N refused to let him die without trying.

Minho, Brenda, Frypan, and Gally – Y/N was still shocked about that revelation, but that was for another time to discuss - followed around her, covering her with guns and other weapons as they ran through the war zone.

After an eternity of running, the group rounded a corner to find a sight that made Y/N feel like she was back in the nightmare simulator. Newt was leaning over Thomas with a knife aimed at his chest.

‘Newt, no!’ Y/N cried, running towards the two boys without thought. 

Newt faced her at the call of his name, and she froze as she saw his black eyes. Dark veins branched over his skin and black blood dribbled from his chin. He was a full-blown crank now. 

He raced at her, snarling as he swung the knife at her throat. She ducked just in time and rolled away as he slammed the knife down where her neck was. She quickly jumped to her feet, and despite her fatigue, muscle memory took over her legs, then her hands. That first night in the Scorch came to mind, how her and Newt sparred. The injector was her knife, and Newt her proper opponent.

‘Newt, it’s me,’ she said, slipping into her Medjack demeanour – calm and steady. ‘It’s Y/N. Please, snap out of it for a moment so I can help you.’

She thought he would run at her again, but his brows crinkled with concern and he looked at the knife in his shaky hands. He looked back at her, and the voice he spoke with broke her heart. It was a mixture of his sweet accent and a gargled croak where blood clogged his throat. 

‘Y/N…’ he started. ‘Run away… Before… Before I kill you.’

The scene reminded her of the time he came in with his injured ankle. How desperate he was to fade into nothing because he was scared and ashamed of what he’d done. But just like then, she refused to be scared of him. 

Y/N shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Newt,’ she said. ‘None of us will.’

Newt seemed to realise there were more people than just her and Thomas, turning around to see the others. The sight of them seemed to distress him, though, as he snarled angrily and charged at her. She shuffled back as he swung at her again and again, but as she stepped back again, she tripped on something. She fell onto her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could gather herself up, Newt was on her, straddling her similar to how he had Thomas pinned before. Newt raised the knife to bring down on her but was tackled by Thomas.

They rolled for a little, then scrambled to their feet as they fought once more. This was Y/N’s only chance. She pushed herself up and ran for the boys, injector at the ready. Newt was bringing the knife forward in a wide arc that would gut Thomas when Y/N threw herself in between them, slamming the injector into Newt’s arm.

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’ 

She wasn’t sure who called her name, because all she could focus on was Newt as some of the blackness in his eyes cleared and she saw some of his gorgeous brown eyes. She also felt her body finally giving up. As if it knew that this was the end. After all the torture and pain, she had stayed alive so long for one reason. To save Newt – the boy who had been there from the start. So much so she hadn’t realised until he wasn’t there how much he meant to her. How he’d wormed his way into her heart and consumed it without her even knowing. 

She gripped his hand that held the knife in her stomach, unfurled his fingers from the handle, and brought them to her chest where her heart was slowly slowing down. Her weak legs gave out, and she brought Newt down to his knees with her. She could’ve been imagining things, but she swore she saw recognition in his half-black eyes which made her smile as tears finally fell from her eyes.

‘It’s okay, Newt,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay because… I love you.’

Her vision blurred and she finally let go of Newt as the both of them collapsed to the ground. Her breaths were short and sharp as the pain made itself known. A rush of feet thumped around her, and she had the slightest awareness that someone was moving her, but she didn’t care. She was finally at peace as darkness, at last, consumed her.

~

Y/N woke to the sound of waves rolling over on sand. The first thing she saw was grey canvas, then rolled her head around to see she was lying on a cot in a small tent with tables and medical supplies similar to how her Medjack hut looked. But she wasn’t alone.

‘Oh my God.’ Brenda’s face came into focus as the girl crouched by Y/N’s cot, disbelief and relief morphing her gentle features. ‘You’re awake! You’re finally awake!’

‘Ow,’ Y/N clasped at her head at the sudden loudness. ‘Could you lower your voice please?’

‘Yes, right, sorry,’ Brenda said, but her lips split in a bright smile as she helped Y/N sit up. ‘I’m just so happy you’re okay.’

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked, all she remembered was being stabbed then falling unconscious. She pulled up her fresh linen shirt to see her wound bandaged. ‘I thought I was done for.’

‘So did all of us,’ Brenda admitted, her tone sombre as she pulled up a seat beside the cot. ‘We got you to the berg as quickly as possible and Vince got you stable, but you just weren’t waking up. It’s been a week.’

‘A week?’ Y/N made to get up but sat back down as her wound pulled in an unpleasant way.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’ Brenda asked stabilising Y/N back in her bed. ‘You’ve just come out of a coma induced by physical and mental torture. Not to mention you were stabbed.’

‘I’m fine. Trust me, I’m trained… somewhat,’ Y/N said, this time able to swing her legs over the side of her cot. Brenda didn’t try and stop her, but she did have to help Y/N when she stood. ‘Now, where is Newt?’ Brenda didn’t answer right away, and tears threatened to pool in Y/N’s eyes at what her silence could mean. ‘Brenda… Is he… Is he alive?’

Brenda, again, didn’t answer, and her face didn’t give anything away either. Instead, she just held back the flap of the tent and motioned for Y/N to exit. Y/N took cautious steps forward as she followed Brenda into a completely new place that had her staring in awe.

It was a bustling camp where sleeping quarters and other spaces were mapped out by canvas strung up on carved wood pillars and posts. Y/N spied a kitchen area where she swore she heard Frypan laughing with some others. 

There was a gathering area where a giant stone stood in front of the seats. There were names carved into it, like what they used to do in the Glade. Y/N tried to make out if a certain blonde’s name was on it. She caught familiar names like Alby and Chuck, Clint and Jeff. 

‘Y/N?’ 

She swung around to find Brenda smiling as she was joined by Thomas, Minho, and Jorge. The three of them ran at her, arms wide open to capture her in a hug.

‘You crazy shank, Minho said, laughter on his lips. ‘Look who finally decided to join the living again.’

‘And here I thought I was the lazy slinthead for sleeping for so long,’ Thomas said jokingly, pulling Y/N in for another hug. ’I’m so relieved.’

‘Welcome back, hermana,’ Jorge said, a warm smile gracing his lips as he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

‘Good to be back,’ Y/N replied, smiling at the three males. ‘What happened after I thought I’d died?’

Thomas went to reply, but Minho cut in. ‘We’ll explain later. Right now, I think you should go say hi to someone else.’

Confused, Y/N followed Minho’s gaze to Brenda, who stood atop a hill and was staring over the other side of it. Y/N quickly reached Brenda’s position and followed her gaze to a large garden that people were working on. But her breath caught at the sight of a familiar blond at the edge of the gardens talking and pointing in all directions to people.

‘Hey, Newt!’ Brenda called out, causing the blond to turn around and look up. At first, he saw Brenda, but his gaze soon fell on Y/N and his whole face changed into disbelief.

With the other gardeners forgotten, he started climbing up the hill, and Y/N couldn’t wait another moment so she started walking down the hill. 

They met in the middle, with Y/N standing at Newt’s height on the uphill. Neither said anything to begin with, both in disbelief and awe at who stood in front of them. Y/N looked over Newt, noting he still looked pale and somewhat sickly. But the dark veins were gone, as was the black blood and his black eyes. And the sun shone so brightly that his hair looked golden. It was as if he was never infected to begin with.

With a shaky hand, she reached out to rest her hand over his beating heart. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered, too scared to voice it too loudly in case this was also another nightmare. 

But he proved her doubts wrong as he rested his own hand on top of hers. ‘I am,’ he said, and the usual warmth of his voice truly convinced her he was real. 

His face pinched suddenly with concern and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N,’ he said, his hand tightening slightly over hers. ‘I hurt you. I almost…’

‘It’s okay,’ she interrupted, using her free hand to cradle is cheek and keep his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t. I am here, too. Looks like we both saved each other.’

To her relief Newt smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, something she hadn’t seen on him in a long time. He nuzzled into her hand briefly, before bringing it down with his free hand so he held her hands between them. 

‘Before I passed out,’ he started, ‘I remember you saying something.’

‘Oh.’ A blush heated upon her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. ‘Right. I did say something.’

She was trying to play it cool, but as soon as his deep brown eyes fixed on her, she knew he could see right through her. But he didn’t smile smugly, he didn’t tease. He actually looked scared as his jaw clenched, fighting to find the next words to speak. 

‘You said you love me,’ he finally said, words tight but hopeful. ‘Is that true?’

Y/N’s mouth dried up suddenly, constricted by all the things she wished to say but couldn’t say all at once. It’s not like she was scared, she just never thought she would live long enough to have a future, let alone one with love. One with Newt.

But she had – she had survived WCKD’s cruelty, she had survived the terrors of the old world, she had survived when so many of her friends hadn’t. And it was her duty to live her gift of a life to the fullest.

‘Yes,’ she finally said, and it was like breathing in fresh air after being underground for so long. ‘I love you, Newt. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do. I love you.’ 

There was a second of hesitation, but then Newt broke out into a wide smile, and Y/N swore she saw tears brim in his eyes. He suddenly reached one hand up to cradle her neck as he pulled Y/N in for a sweet kiss that simultaneously knocked the air out of her and breathed new life into her. He held her neck and hip, and she pressed her hands against his chest, satisfied to feel his heart thundering beneath her hands. The heart that almost never beat again, the heart that had saved her over and over again. 

The kiss was short but was no less breath-taking, and when they pulled apart neither could stop the smiles on their faces. 

‘I love you, too,’ Newt said. ‘If that wasn’t already obvious.’

Y/N threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She slung her arms around Newt’s neck, a cheeky grin dancing across her lips. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe we could try that again to make sure?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers again. Y/N sighed into the kiss, grasping the baby hairs at the base of his head. 

They pulled apart at the sound of their friends whooping and clapping atop the hill. Y/N felt her face erupt with embarrassed heat, to which Newt laughed as she ducked her head into his chest. 

‘All right, come on lovebirds!’ Minho called out. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’

As they walked down out of sight, Y/N went to follow but was stopped by a loose grip on her wrist.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she turned back to Newt.

‘I just…’ Newt turned to the gardens below, then to the water, then to the sunset that bathed the whole camp in beautiful hues of orange, pink and purple. When he finally turned back to Y/N, she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome with that pure sunshine smile and sparkle in his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘For teaching me how to be brave,’ he answered.

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. ‘You were always brave, Newt,’ she said. ‘It’s how I learned how to be brave in the first place.’

Newt squeezed her hand in return, then they walked hand in hand back up the hill and down to dinner to where their friend awaited them. 

Where the lives they never imagined they’d get a chance to live awaited them.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 6

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, messy lesbian relationships/situationships, loser!ellie makes an appearance for 0.5 seconds, brief and indirection mention of marijuana, mentions of death, brief mention of reader's genitals (implies that reader has a vagina, but if you headcanon reader as a trans girl w/a penis, just pretend it's a metaphorical vagina, i fully encourage it), sexual speech and content (not fully smut but there are drops of it), depictions of nudity, minors do not interact

word count: 4.6k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Abigail Anderson. Pre-med student. Rugby star. A brief hook-up from freshman year. 

And now approaching your frozen figure at a rather fast pace. 

As your shocked face emerges from behind the football you're still holding in your hands, Abby begins to register who it was that she’d almost killed via pigskin. 

“Oh, shit!” She murmurs your name as her jog comes to a stop at your feet. “I’m so sorry, my friend Jordan was being a dick. I meant to catch that.” 

You let out a nervous chuckle as your trembling fingers lift the football up to her. 

“Oh, it’s okay. My life definitely flashed before my eyes, but I’m alright otherwise.” You give her a smile. 

She returns it with a crooked one of her own, her fingers softly brushing against yours as she takes the football from you. 

“Well, you still look alive and pretty,” Abby says, tucking the ball underneath an arm. “And those were some impressive reflexes, I gotta say.” 

“Just practicing in case of a zombie apocalypse.” You joke, cheeks burning ever so slightly at her calling you pretty. “We can’t all be built like Themysciran Amazons the way you are.” 

“Themy-what?” Abby asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and chuckling. 

Your face erupts in flames in embarrassment from your geeky comic book reference. 

“Y-you know,” You stammer. “Like Wonder Woman. She’s from that island where it’s only women and they’re all these gorgeous, buff warriors who’ve renounced men.” 

Abby laugh. 

“Really? Well, thank you. You’re very cute for thinking I’m some hot warrior chick who’ll survive a zombie apocalypse.” 

Before you can respond, she continues. 

“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you around much.” 

“Hey, I’ve been around.” You lie. You really haven’t been. “Probably haven’t noticed being an aspiring doctor and all.” 

“Still remember that, huh?” She smiles. 

“Of course.” You say, returning her smile. 

Freshman Year, Fall

You met Abby Anderson at the beginning of your freshman year when she was a sophomore. 

Being in a new and independent environment, you did what many single freshmen do upon first arriving: scoured the dating apps. 

Fresh out of a messy high school relationship, you came to college a little raw and emotionally vulnerable. You jumped into a casual relationship with a girl named Adriana within the first month of arriving on campus. After a drunken night of you and your roommate Tara recklessly swiping through your profile on a dating app, you somehow and hesitantly found yourself with a girlfriend after just two dates. 

The best word you would use to describe Adriana was nice. She was a pleasant person: brought you out on cute dates, paid for your food, always held your hand. You spent the two weeks of dating her trying to convince yourself that you were as into her as she was into you. But the further you tried to force attraction for her, the less interested you became. Then she introduced you to her friend, Abby Anderson. 

Abby was the kind of person that closeted gay girls would develop their first gay crush on at their initial glance. She was bold and exuded a sense of confidence & charisma that most 20-somethings haven’t achieved yet. People knew who she was when she walked around campus, whether personally or through reputation. Abby made friends quickly and kept them easily, so it was no shock that you got along very well with her when Adriana first introduced you. 

You pretended at the time not to notice the way Abby looked you up and down when first laying eyes on you. It was a quick glance and she pulled it off well enough that nobody else but you had caught it. You were amused by the way that Abby had held out her hand to you upon meeting. None of Adriana’s other friends had offered a handshake, and you chuckled quietly as you introduced yourself to her. 

Is she for real? A little prim and proper, you’d thought. You’d later find out it was merely her excuse to initiate physical contact. 

You’d originally come over to Adriana’s dorm to meet her friends, but you’d spent most of the time talking with Abby. She was very charming, keeping you engaged in conversation as if she’d known you for months already. She would ask you questions about yourself, seeming to be genuinely interested in your responses. It was effortless to keep up a banter with her, and she had you laughing in a way Adriana hadn’t been able to elicit from you herself. You weren’t fawning over Abby the way newly-discovered gays constantly were, but you were intrigued. By the end of the hang-out, you’d already exchanged numbers and socials. 

When Adriana amicably broke up with you a week later, saying that she felt as if “your heart didn’t seem quite into this” and “she’d like to see you comfortable” and “we honestly seem like we would vibe better as friends” over a phone call, you’d felt a wave of relief followed by a pang of guilt. You could tell that Adriana really didn’t feel any ill will towards you, but it did feel indecent that all you got out of the relationship was a mended heart as a result of the rebound. That, and a very interested Abby Anderson. 

It didn’t take a week since your split from Adriana that Abby was flirtatiously commenting under your Instagram posts or sending you at least ten snaps on Snapchat daily or messaging you borderline thirst traps accompanied by texts that were asking for your “opinion on her gym progress.” It was a mere five days since the break-up that you were dolling yourself up a bit to go hang out with Abby in her dorm room, just the two of you. 

Most of your friends playfully teased you about the position you’d placed yourself in. Hooking up with a recent ex’s friend seemed messy, but they encouraged you to put yourself out there all the same. Never having actually gone all the way with Adriana, they all hyped you up to hook up with Abby. All but one. 

“You’re judging me!” You said, lightly smacking Ellie’s arm. 

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at you. 

“I literally didn’t say anything, dude.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” You returned her eye roll with your own before jumping off your bed to walk towards your closet. 

“Just sounds like a guilty conscience to me.” She shrugged, leaning back onto your headboard. 

You sighed and said, “Should I feel guilty, though?” 

Ellie shrugged again nonchalantly before saying, “Not gonna tell you how to feel.” 

“I just want to know your opinion!” 

“It’s your love life, dude. It’s up to you, not me.” 

“I know that! But what do you think I should do?” 

“Make your own decisions.” She chuckled once more. 

You groaned, turning away from her to continue rifling through your closet. 

“You’re so fucking useless.” You complained, fingers weaving between hangers as you tried to select an outfit to see Abby later that day. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Ellie replied, resting the palms of her hands on the back of her head as she watched you. 

Despite yourself, you giggled quietly. As you continued to browse through your wardrobe, you felt Ellie’s ocean green eyes trailing your every movement. You kept your back turned to her, hiding the flames tickling your cheeks.  

You hadn’t bothered the rest of your friends about this the way you did Ellie. They’d all given their blessing for you to sleep with Abby, but Ellie? Ellie was persistent in remaining mysteriously neutral. She refused to voice any kind of personal bias. She didn’t seem disinterested, but she also withheld offering up her genuine opinion on your Abby situation. And for some reason, this bothered you. Something about her unhelpfulness compelled you to pester her about it. You knew you didn’t need Ellie’s approval. So why did it feel like you did?  

Ellie watched as you picked out a short dark blue dress, spreading it out on your bed next to her. She listened to you question yourself out loud on whether you should wear fishnet stockings underneath it or just go bare. She felt the way your fingers lingered when brushing softly against hers after she handed you your silver hoop earrings laying next to her on your bedside table. She inhaled your signature lavender scent as you slowly caressed your arms and legs up and down while applying your favourite lotion.

It felt so strange, prettying yourself up for another girl while Ellie sat on your bed and watched. She and you were just friends. You’ve never been anything more than that. Why did it feel strange, then? 

Are we though? Just friends? 

The way you’d stare at the way her big, calloused hands moved when she’d be rolling a joint or etching in her journal. The way she observed the exact manner your lips moved every time you spoke or laughed. The way you always noticed when she’d trace that intricate arm tattoo of hers when she’d get lost in thought. The way she watched exactly how your smile would often meet your soft eyes. 

Is this just friendship?

Ellie observed as you sat at your desk and carefully began applying your makeup, scooting towards the foot of your bed to better marvel at your technique. She’d begun to learn the routine you had by heart, mesmerized by how carefully and naturally your hands moved in a creative dance. She blurted out a compliment about how you were an artist for the way you did your makeup. You attempted to brush it off, but she insisted. You’re the artist here, she’d said. 

After finishing applying a shade of dark red lipstick, you gave yourself one last satisfied look in your mirror. You got up and began to shake your hair out of the bun it was in, walking to the foot of your bed where both your dress and Ellie waited. You looked at your chosen attire for the night and were suddenly hit with a predicament. 

“Umm, Ellie?” 

“What’s up, man?” 

“D-do you think you could help me with something?” 

“Uh… sure?” 

Your fingers fiddled with the bottom of your t-shirt. Your face flushed for what felt like the millionth time today. 

“C-can you help me put my dress on?” 

Ellie looked like someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water right over her head. 

“What?” 

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you’d picked up from her. 

“I forgot how t-tight this dress is, and I might fuck up my makeup if I just pull it on myself. Can you help me g-get it on?” 

Ellie’s face remained unreadable as she looked you up and down. 

“Yeah, okay.” She said finally. 

“T-thanks.” You said, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. 

Normal friends do not get nervous when they ask their friends to help them get dressed. 

“Just…just one second.” You said, meekly holding a finger up before turning your back to her. 

As you profusely thanked past you for already putting on your desired underwear for tonight, you carefully peeled off your t-shirt and threw it to the side. Though you had your back to her, you could feel Ellie’s gaze land on the black lace bra you’d decided on earlier. When you shed your pajama shorts, her eyes then drifted onto the matching black lace panties that left very little to the imagination. 

She quickly averted her stare as you turned to face her, not fully meeting each other’s eyes. 

“Do you think you could—?” You gestured to your dress next to her on the bed. 

“Yeah.” She said, picking it up before approaching you. 

You watched her face as she lifted the dress above your head. Her tense fingers gripped the collar tightly as you raised your arms. You felt goosebumps form where her hands inadvertently brushed against your skin, lowering the dress onto your figure. As you fit your head and arms through, she pulled the dress all the way down to your thighs. You tugged your hair out from the collar and let it fall behind you when your eyes met hers. 

“Uhh,” She said awkwardly. “Your lipstick…” 

Your right hand flew up to your mouth. 

“Oh shit, did it smudge—?” 

“Yeah, a little, but it’s okay, I got it.” 

“Wh—“ 

Before you could react any further, Ellie licked her thumb and brought it to the edge of your bottom lip. It was as though your entire body was set on fire the exact second that you felt the wetness from her finger meet the corner of your mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed as she rubbed off the small streaks of smeared lipstick. You could have sworn she could hear how loud your heart was beating in the moment, feel the way it echoed through your entire body. You felt your mouth water as your eyes fell on her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. Someone could easily sneak into your room right now and rob you blind, the way you both remained completely encaptured in this moment. 

“There,” Ellie whispered. “Got it.” 

Her thumb slowly drifted from your lip to your cheek, her hand suddenly caressing your face. You were frozen in place, trying not to combust as every cell in your body danced fervently. Her ocean green irises kept darting back and forth between your eyes and your crimson lips. Both your mouths were parted, the unsaid at the tip of both your tongues, waiting for whoever was bravest to let the truth drip out. 

But instead, after what felt like twenty-five years, Ellie let her hand drop from your face back to her side. She swallowed and cleared her throat, breaking eye contact with you to stare at the floor. You blinked and gulped, quickly plummeting back to reality. 

“Th-thanks, El.” 

“No problem, bro.” 

“Bro.” Ugh. Okay, Ellie. 

You were far less clothed a minute ago, and yet somehow you now were feeling much more naked than ever before. 

“I-I think I left the shoes I want across the hall in Sidney’s room. Give me a sec?” 

“Yeah, man. Go ahead.” 

You nodded and retreated quickly out the door. As you shut it behind you, you leaned against it and clutched at your chest with both hands. 

Oh god, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck. What just happened? What the fuck. Fuck. 

Inside your room and unbeknownst to you, Ellie was leaning against her side of the door, quietly cursing to herself. 

“Did I really just fucking do that? What the fuck, oh my fucking god. God damn it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

You blinked. 

“Yes! Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” 

You adjusted yourself under the covers to turn more towards Abby. Your previously glassy eyes met her concerned ones. 

“Was it that bad?” She joked. 

“No, oh my god, Abby,” You giggled, covering your face with your hands. “I think you getting me to cum twice in less than a minute speaks for itself.” 

Abby smirked. 

“Only twice? Wanna add a couple more to that?” She said, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you better. 

“I think my pussy needs a sec before you make her see heaven again.” You replied. 

“Mmm,” was all Abby said in reply, drinking in your naked figure in her bed. 

The rest of the evening seemed surreal. Ellie had watched you finish getting ready, remaining mostly quiet for the rest of the time. She didn’t touch you again, almost as if she was afraid to. She’d walked you partway to Abby’s building before giving the excuse that she had some client she needed to meet. Her signature Converse stormed off without a second glance back at you. As you waved her off, you thought about how she didn’t have anything on her to sell, and you both knew it. 

Throughout the entire night with Abby, though you allowed yourself to unwind and have some fun for once, your thoughts still continued to dance back incessantly to your auburn-haired friend. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Abby asked. 

“Just taking a minute and being impressed by you.” 

Abby laughed. 

“So not that bad, huh?” She joked. “But really. What’s up?” 

You pursed your lips. You liked Abby, but she did not need to know all about this “friendship” of yours with Ellie. 

“Not gonna lie,” You said, quickly coming up with a lie. “I was feeling really guilty before coming here tonight. Just cause Adriana’s your friend and we just broke up.” 

It wasn’t completely far from the truth. You were feeling guilty about seeing Abby after Adriana. But she wasn’t the lesbian who you couldn’t get out of your head all night. 

“Mm, that does make sense.” Abby replied, understanding. “It’s true, though. What I said earlier. Adriana did say it was okay.” 

Sometime after you’d arrived at Abby’s dorm and before you’d both dropped the pretense of you coming over just to “hang out,” Abby disclosed that she’d asked for Adriana’s permission to fool around with you already. You were a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. You did come here tonight with specific intentions, but it did relieve you to know that Adriana meant it when she’d expressed no ill will towards you. And it kindled a warmth in you that Abby’d gone into this prepared and still with the respect of her friend. 

“No, I know,” You said, the crease between your eyebrows crinkling as you thought up a quick lie. “I just… I still like Adriana as a person and I didn’t want my wandering vagina to get in the way of your friendship with her.” 

Abby suddenly guffawed, her laugh so infectious and genuine that it made you giggle in response. 

“D-did you just say ‘wandering vagina,’ oh my g—” She chortled. “Never heard that before.” 

You shrugged, smiling at how easily amused Abby has been turning out to be. 

“You say the strangest shit, you know?” Abby said, still chuckling. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” You replied, to which Abby smiled. 

“But really though,” Abby continued. “You don’t have to worry about me and Adriana. We’re still cool; nothing’s changed in our friendship. You both told me you weren’t serious, and she’s also just someone who’s never been possessive or jealous as a person. We’re all adults here, so no need to feel guilty. I promise.” 

“Yeah, that…that does help.” You said, hoping that answer would suffice for Abby. 

Abby seemed like she wanted to press more but decided against it. Instead, she grabbed your hips all of a sudden and lifted you up to place you on top of her, making you straddle her waist. 

“Wh—Abby!” You said, startled. Your arms instinctively flew up to cover your bare breasts, the bed covers no longer shrouding your nakedness. 

Abby chuckled, reaching up to your wrists and pulling them away from your chest. 

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you have such a serious thinking face on?” She said. 

A bashful look crossed your face as you stuttered a quiet “no” in response. 

Abby smirked, dropping your wrists and placing her hands on your waist, tracing up and down your inner thighs with her thumbs. Your breath hitched and you gulped, feeling yourself instinctively grind against her. 

“Well, you are.” She said. “And you’re cute, acting all shy about being naked in front of me like I wasn’t just knuckles deep inside you ten minutes ago.” 

You bit your lip, partly from embarrassment and partly because Abby’s tracing of your thighs turned into squeezing. 

“Y-you w-weren’t… knuckles-deep…” You stammered. 

Abby chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why the hell are you correcting me on how far inside of you I was anatomically?” She asked, extremely amused. 

“I don’t know!” You said, flustered and rolling your eyes. 

Abby chuckled, wrapping a muscular arm around your waist to keep you steady as she sat up to be at eye-level with you. With her free hand, she firmly gripped your chin between her large fingers and forced your eyes to meet hers. 

“You’re very easy to fluster, you know.” She whispered. 

“I-I—” was all that you could get out before Abby’s lips found yours. The sentence you’d meant to continue instead turned into a quiet shriek of surprise then into a lustful sigh that melted into the kiss. 

Not ten seconds later, Abby pulled away slightly, a cocky look on her face. 

“Any more anatomical complaints, then?” She murmured. 

“Not at all, Dr. Anderson.” You chuckled breathlessly. 

You jolted as Abby laughed again all of a sudden, grabbing both your shoulders for support. 

“Was it… that funny?” You chuckled, a little confused. 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Abby said. “It’s just that—my dad was Dr. Anderson.” 

“Your dad?” 

“Yeah, he was a doctor.” She explained. “Before he passed, he used to be a surgeon back when my family and I lived in Utah.” 

Shit, her dad. Of course. 

Abby had mentioned her father to you several times already. You didn’t know much about him other than the fact that Abby completely adored the man and that he had died when she was only 16. 

“Right, makes sense.” You said, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

Abby’s father didn’t seem like an off-limits topic with her. In fact, you were in awe of how at peace she was with it. She seemed happy to talk about her dad, somehow able to acknowledge his passing and yet speak of him as if he was always present in a way. She didn’t make it uncomfortable to ask about him, and you often had the impression that she actually preferred it when others didn’t fuss over it. So you made sure not to. 

“So no to calling you Dr. Anderson, then?” You asked. 

“Well, actually,” Abby embraced your waist and pulled you closer to her body. “Kind of studying to be a doctor. Like him.” 

“Wait, really?” You replied, a bit of shock in your voice. “How did I not know that?” 

“Don’t really know, pretty girl,” She replied, smirking. “Got too distracted by my washboard abs to notice?” 

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” You scoffed, smiling and rolling your eyes. 

Abby chuckled before leaning into your neck to leave trails of kisses. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re also very cute when you have a little bit of an attitude?” She asked, lifting her head up slightly in between kisses. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” You sighed, pulling her further into you and trying not to grind too eagerly against her once again. “Maybe once or twice. But why don’t you remind me, Dr. Anderson?” 

You heard Abby suddenly moan in your ear, almost growling, before you were suddenly thrown on your back onto the bed. Any words that meant to roll off your tongue were replaced instead with cries of pleasure as your knees were pried apart with Abby’s strong hands, her mouth finding ways to answer your question without words. 

Present Day 

“So still planning on becoming a surgeon, then?” You ask. 

“Starting med school immediately after I graduate this year.” Abby replies. 

“Wow,” You say, impressed. “That’s really soon. Are you nervous about it?” 

“Hmm, not nervous, exactly,” Abby replies, thinking. “I grew up around doctor shit, so I have a tiny idea of what I’m facing. I’m choosing to stay positive about it all for now.” 

“Commendable,” You smile. “How the hell have you been surviving all your pre-med shit with sports and all?” 

“Hey,” She says, shrugging. “You said it yourself. I’m basically a superhero.” 

You chuckle. You’ve forgotten just how confident Abby is and how attractive it was to see it in action. 

“Right, of course. How could I forget?” 

“You know, maybe if I really was Wonder Woman, I could attend my next class and get a coffee with you right now. If you’re not busy, that is.” 

“That is not how Wonder Woman works, Abby.” You say, giggling. 

“Oh, whatever.” Abby laughs, rolling her eyes. “Forgot just how much of a nerd you were, pretty girl.” 

“Hey—” You start. 

“YO ABS, are you gonna throw that shit back or keep flirting with hot chicks?!” A voice behind Abby calls. 

Abby grunts in annoyance, turning around to face her friend Jordan who was several feet away from where you both were. 

“Stop throwing like a little bitch and we wouldn’t be having this problem, dumbass!” She calls back at him, to which he replies with a playful, “Oh, fuck off!”

You watch as Abby draws back, arms flexing as she throws the football in a quick, perfect spiral towards Jordan. He catches it, but not before it makes a loud thud against his chest. 

“OW, FUCK—" He shouts in pain. 

“Dumbass!” She hollers in response. 

You're both chuckling when she turns back to face you. 

“Need to go?” You ask. 

“Didn’t you hear? I’m busy flirting with hot chicks. Well, just one hot chick.” 

Your purse your lips, sheepish. 

“So,” She said. “Coffee?” 

“Abby, you just said you had a class to get to in a bit. Also,” You gesture to your mostly-empty coffee cup still next to you in the grass. “Beat you to the punch.” 

“Ah, fuck.” 

“Sorry,” You chuckle. “I’ve also got class in,” You checked your phone for the time. “Around five minutes or so.” 

“Wow, you really wanna avoid getting a coffee with me that bad, huh?” 

“Oh, absolutely. I premeditatedly mapped out my entire class schedule this semester just so I didn’t have to hang out with you right at this moment.” You joke. 

“I knew it.” 

You laugh. 

“Can I at least walk you to class, though?” Abby asks. 

“Sure,” You replies. “But what about your class?” 

“Got a bit of time; don’t worry about it.” 

You smile before you gather your things together quickly. You reach for your coffee cup but it disappears suddenly before your hand is even inches from it.  

“Abby!” You exclaim, jumping up onto your feet as you quickly pull your backpack on. 

“What?” She questions, walking backwards while still facing you to throw your coffee cup away in a nearby trash can. 

“I can’t throw away my own trash?” 

“Just being helpful.” She says, shrugging. 

“You can’t be both a superhero and some chivalrous lesbian knight.” 

“I can do whatever I want, pretty girl.” 

You feel your face getting hot once more. 

“So,” She starts. “Which way is your next class?” She begins walking in the wrong direction. 

“About twenty feet east of where you’re heading, silly.” 

“Oh, uhh…” Abby stops in her tracks, eyebrows furrowed in concentration while processing your directions. 

You laugh and roll your eyes, grabbing her arm and leading her towards the building your next class was in. 

“Straley Hall, right in front of you, dummy. Remind me never to travel across the country with you.” You say. 

“What kind of nerd actually says ‘east’ when giving directions!” She complains. 

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to say!” 

“Why are the cutest girls always the weirdest ones?” Abby says, shaking her head. 

You looked away from her, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. 

“How are you supposed to save people’s lives when you don’t even understand simple directions, Dr. Anderson?” 

She smirks at your comment and her lips form to reply with a retort of their own. 

Just a few feet down the brick college road, Ellie stands frozen on the spot. Her hands are balled up in fists and her jaw is clenched. Her ocean green eyes trail after your unknowing figure, fixating on the wide smile on your lips as you let out peals of genuine laughter and your fingers still gently caressing the bicep of golden girl and star athlete, Abigail Anderson.

author's notes:

HAHAHAHA "in case of a zombie apocalypse" get it, cause the game is set in a zomb—yeah y'all get it (sorry not really)

let's all take a brief sexy second together and imagine abby as amazon from themyscira... now let's all let out the collective horny sigh together.

thank you all for being so patient waiting for this one. life has been... yeah (if you've been keeping up with the personal stuff I've said on my blog the last week, that should add more context to what a shit my life has been recently). i've been having to push myself with writing lately cause i feel like i'm getting too into my head about it. but thank y'all so much for being supportive and all, thank you for not giving up on me!

not gonna lie, loves. i may have gotten extremely horny writing certain scenes in this and had to take multiple breaks because my mind was concocting too many distracting scenarios as a result (the ellie scene took me days to get through to write, i'm so dead serious, and the smut-adjacent abby scene almost turned into a full-fledged smut scene cause i'm such a fucking lesbian, oops, i genuinely had to restrain myself so i could write the story the way i actually have it planned out).

abby having no sense of direction at the end of the chapter is just a personal reference to me when i played tlou2 for the first time and when i was playing as abby at the very start when she's mad at owen for getting mel pregnant and trying to go after joel on her own, i got lost for like 10 minutes just going in circles in the fucking woods and snow like a moron. just wanted to be a little bit silly by creating no sense of direction!abby hehe

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @ximtiredx, @qtefolleunpez, @libr4sonsa

[halsteadlover]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

*Gifs and pic not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hi i saw your post 'exam buddies' and it gave me and idea of Jay gets grazed by a bullet or something and while he's getting checked out he is flirting with the doctor who he has had a crush on for a while and she does to so she denies him and says how unprofessional it would be but while she is talking he walks closer to her and starts undressing her while teasing her and saying "yes so unprofessional" of not that's fine love your work.

• Warnings: curse words, making out (hehe), mention of wounds, and I don’t know what else let me know if I missed any lol.

• Word count: 3604.

• A/N: when he gets stabbed just to see you 😍😍😍. Need me a man like Jay frfr. I hope you’ll like this one I really had fun writing it. Comment, reblog and leave a like if you want, it’d mean the world. Thank you so much for your support sending lots of love to all of you xx

“Halstead, third time in a month, that’s a record even for you.”

An amused expression appeared on your face as you entered the room of the patient you were supposed to see, who turned out to be no one other than Jay Halstead. He was lying on the bed, his back resting on the raised headboard and a bored expression on his face which however disappeared as soon as he saw you enter.

“Oh yeah I couldn't wait to see you, Dr. Sunshine,” he replied, letting his eyes wander unscrupulously along your uniform-covered figure, before returning them to your face and giving you a full on smile.

This was a nickname Jay had given you since the first moment you met and since then he had never stopped calling you that. In fact, since that day he had noticed how you always had a smile on your lips, constantly, how nothing seemed to disturb you. You always had a happy and serene expression on your face and this was one of the things that most attracted him from the beginning.

The two of you had met some time ago when Jay had arrived at Med's to question a suspect who he had injured during a chase and who you had taken into care.

He remembered how impressed he was with you when he first saw you, he couldn't deny you were a beautiful woman. But it was the marked humor with which you addressed him and your sharp but nice jokes that truly mesmerized him. While you two talked in front of that helpless patient who did nothing but bring his eyes between you and the detective, Jay found himself being attracted more and more to you, feeling the ever-increasing desire to get to know you better.

After that exchange in front of the patient, you left Jay talking to the suspect and walked out of the room, winking at him before closing the door behind you and leaving Jay standing there looking like an idiot.

Needless to say, as soon as he finished questioning the suspect, he immediately turned to his brother with the aim of asking for information about you. He didn't know why but he wanted to know everything he could about you. He had looked for you so he could have the opportunity to talk to you again but you were already with another patient.

From that day you had never left Jay's mind or his thoughts.

He found himself going to Med's every time for all sorts of reasons, most of which involved having to say something to his brother who couldn't help but make fun of the detective. You obviously weren't stupid and there was no shortage of your comments regarding the fact there was a very different reason behind those visits to which Jay responded with some mischievous joke that made you blush from head to toe.

However, there was no shortage of visits either due to some injuries Jay got due to his job but that didn't stop him from shamelessly flirting with you even if he was on a hospital bed.

He loved this relationship that had been created between you, the flirting, teasing each other, and every opportunity was perfect to see you but he wanted more. He struggled to admit it to himself but he had a huge crush on you and the fact he couldn't read you and know what you were thinking was driving him crazy. He was getting tired of looking at you from afar, of hiding behind the flirty jokes, he wanted you.

You giggled and looked at him for a moment as you quickly examined his body for injuries. Or at least that's what you convinced yourself of. You were pretty good at hiding your feelings because to say that damn detective gave you goosebumps and set every cell in your body on fire was an understatement.

You sanitized your hands and put on a pair of clean gloves before approaching him, his eyes never leaving yours and just the way he looked at you made you shiver from head to toe and your knees tremble.

Focus Y/n, he’s a patient now.

“What did you do this time?” You asked and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“You're no fun dammit, always straight to the point.”

“You know me Halstead,” you replied. “So?”.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a little cut while chasing a suspect, no big deal.”

Your gaze fell on his abdomen, at the level of his left side where you noticed a copious stain of blood. “Well let me be the judge since I’m the doctor. Lift your shirt up.”

His lips lifted into a mischievous grin and you rolled your eyes knowing where his mind had immediately gone. “If you want to undress me just say so Dr. Sunshine, there's no need for these excuses.”

He took off his shirt and you tried with every fiber of your being to try to maintain a composed and professional expression, trying not to look his abs and not to focus on the heat that was spreading through your body.

You swallowed the lump in your throat but you couldn't help but admire that Greek God laying in front of you. “You didn't need to take off your shirt Halstead.” You said in an amused tone before pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed.

“Well, you know I'm a self-centered bastard,” he retorted and you rolled your eyes again as you began to examine the wound. “Plus I love the way you’re struggling not to jump on me right now.”

You flicked your gaze into his eyes, not responding but maintaining eye contact as he looked at you as if he wanted to undress you right then and there. The heat spreading through your body intensified and rose to your cheeks and you struggled to say anything because, damn, he was just telling the truth.

“J-just, let me do my job Halstead,” you murmured and cursed yourself for the way you stuttered. You looked away and back to his wound and he chuckled, probably aware of the effect it had on you.

You examined his wound. It was a stab wound and luckily it wasn't very deep so it only required a bit of disinfection and a couple of stitches. You took what you needed and sat next to Jay again, who continued to watch and examine your movements with meticulous attention.

“I'll numb the area so I can stitch you,” you said in a firm, professional tone of voice but refusing to look at him. You couldn't do it, not when his eyes were enough to make you a babbling mess.

You tried to maintain all the concentration you possessed, failing miserably as Jay was laying there in front of you with his shirt off.

You couldn't help but let your gaze travel down his abdomen, along his hips, the V-line disappearing into his boxers you so much wanted to trace with your tongue, the line of his underwear that slightly protruded from his pants.

He was so fucking hot and you were about to be burned.

Your breathing quickened even though you tried to keep yourself composed but this didn't escape Jay, who didn't take his eyes off you for even a second.

He carefully scanned your profile and features, the way your eyelids and eyelashes fluttered, the way your cheeks were flushed and he knew it was because of him, the way you were trying to avoid him even if you were attracted to him like a magnet.

“You're so beautiful Y/n, you know that?” he murmured before he could stop himself.

You almost dropped the pliers you were holding, taken aback by his words. You giggled, keeping your expression as neutral as possible even though that short and simple phrase had thrown you into a whirlwind of overwhelming emotions and sensations.

“And you know I’m your doctor right?”.

“Mmh just for now,” he replied “As soon as you're done you won't be anymore.”

“You're actually one of my most loyal patients.” You gave him an amused look, a smirk on your lips as you continued to stitch his wound. “Like I said, you're breaking every record so no, you can't make those comments it's very unethical of you.”

There was nothing ethical about Jay's sinful thoughts about you, but he didn't let them out at the time.

He laughed, never taking his eyes off you. “Since we see each other so often we’re more than just doctor/patient now, I’d say I have every right to tell you’re beautiful.”

“Stop it.” You gave him a fake disappointed look even if you were internally giggling like a little girl. “Am I hurting you? You feel anything?” You also asked but the smug expression on his face and the smirk on his lips had given you the answer you needed.

He shook his head. “Come to a date with me.”

Your heart started beating wildly, more than it already was since the first moment you say Jay laying on that bed. “Is this a question or an order?”.

“You want to tell me no?”.

“Jay, I need to focus.”

“That's not a no though, so I have some hope.”

You laughed, at the tenacity and cheekiness he was showing and to mask the nervousness you were feeling, God, you didn't know how long you could last before giving in.

After about ten minutes you finished suturing his wound and placed gauze over it, recommending him to disinfect it and change the gauze at least twice a day even though he did nothing but flirt with you.

You stood up and removed your gloves before throwing them into the bin along with the dirty gauze you had used earlier and disinfected your hands.

You glanced at Jay, noticing he had sat up in bed, still wonderfully bare-chested. For the second time you found yourself running your eyes over his frame, his broad shoulders, his muscular arms and toned chest.

That man oozed sex from every pore of his body and you no longer knew what to do to resist him.

“Why are you this far? I don't bite, you know.” He said with a wicked smile on his lips, not even trying to mask the way he was eye-fucking you.

You rolled your eyes for the thousand time and crossed your arms over your chest, remaining firm in your position even if with difficulty. You felt as if there was some kind of force pushing you towards him and as the minutes passed you were less and less able to fight it.

“Don't you have to go back to work?”.

“Not until you give me an answer.”

“About what?”.

“About the date.”

“You didn’t ask me though.”

“Well will come to a date with me?”.

You tried to suppress a chuckle but didn't answer, keep losing yourself in those two emeralds that were his eyes.

You didn't have to hesitate like that, you didn't even have to think about it. You were a doctor, he was your patient and there was nothing more immoral.

But then why didn't you say no? Why were you actually thinking about that?

Jay stood up and walked over you noticing your silence, standing a step away from you.

Still shirtless.

God please have some mercy on me.

You raised your head slightly so you could look in his eyes given your height difference, the words dying in your throat every time you tried to say something.

It was undeniable there was an attraction between you two that in one way or another always pushed you towards each other. It was undeniable that man made you feel things you hadn't felt in a long time.

You didn't know what he had done to you, what kind of witchcraft he had practiced on you since there had never even been anything between you. Sure, you flirted with him too, he shamelessly hit on you and sometimes you didn't even know if he was serious or just because of the way your relationship had turned, but you couldn't get him out of your mind.

“You're thinking about it, aren't you? I know you want it,” he whispered, lifting a hand and stroking your hair, moving a strand behind your ear as his eyes continued to admire and analyze every little feature of your face.

You let your arms drop to your sides, dumbfounded as his fingers caressed your skin so lightly his touch seemed unnoticeable. But you felt it all, you felt his touch in every corner of your body.

Your breathing quickened as your eyes alternated between his and his mouth, without even being able to stop yourself.

“We can't,” you whispered back.

“Why not? We both want it, I know it and you know it too.” He wet his lips with his tongue. “And the way you're looking at me now, fuck… I'm fighting every fiber of my body not to throw you on this bed and have my way with you. You can't deny it Y/n, you can’t deny what's going on between us.”

Before you knew it, your hands were resting on his chest, his skin hot under your fingers and his breathing visibly quickening under your touch. “And who tells me it's not just the thrill of conquest? That once I say yes you won't just disappear?”.

His hands cupped your face, his lips so close to yours they kept brushing each other. “I’m planning to do so many things to you that a lifetime won't be enough Y/n, you're not just a conquest. I want you.”

His thumb traced the outline of your bottom lip and your breath hitched, almost making you pass out at his feet.

God Jay what are you doing to me?

“You really think every time I'm here it's to see Will? Don't get me wrong, I love my brother but do you seriously think I'm here almost every day just to see him? Do you seriously think I would randomly find myself at Molly's every night whenever you're there? Do you think I’d let myself get stabbed just to have another excuse to come here and see you?”.

You pulled away from him, hitting him in the chest in disbelief. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?! I hope you're kidding.”

“Do you see me laughing? I'm not fucking kidding. I could’ve easily overpower that piece of shit but you got into my head so much that at that moment I just thought I had the perfect excuse to see you and be close to you. That's how fucking insane you make me Y/n. Please just give me a chance, I want you so bad,” he spoke, not caring about how desperate he sounded.

Now that he had said it out loud he realized how crazy he really was. But did he care? Absolutely not. He just wanted you to accept to go to that date.

“And it's not just wanting to have sex with you. I mean, God yes, you turn me one so much I would fuck you on every floor and surface of this hospital… But I want everything, I want to know every single part of you, the good and the bad, I want you to be mine, I want you to know me and I want to be yours.”

You sighed in frustration, the temperature of the room rising a degree with each passing second. How were you supposed to push him away?

“Tell me you don't want me and I'm leaving right now and you'll never hear from me again. Tell me you don't feel like this thing between us is consuming you too... Tell me,” he continued, brushing his nose with yours.

“You're so unprofessional Jay,” you whispered, trying so hard to fight the urge to give in but, fuck, you didn't think it would be this hard.

“Yeah so unprofessional. Now answer me.”

You sighed. “Jay I…”

“God you're so stubborn Dr. Sunshine, you really want to torture me until the end? Have mercy on me at least now that I'm… Shit,” he stopped, holding his side where he had been stabbed and letting out a cry of pain.

“Jay! Hey, what's going on? Talk to me please.”

“Fuck it hurts.”

“Here, let me help you. Sit down so I can take another look at you. Everything will be fine.”

You helped him sit on the edge of the bed, worried and thinking of every possible scenario imaginable like an internal bleeding.

But when he instead surrounded your hips under your white coat and pulled you towards him, making you settle between his legs, you understood that asshole was just faking it.

“You piece of shit! You've got me worried sick!” You exclaimed, hitting his shoulder harder this time. You tried to pull away from him but his grip was too tight around your waist.

He laughed, a cocky look on his face that only made you want to punch him. “Look at you so worried about me. Just as I thought.”

“You thought about what? That you’re an asshole?”.

“Yes I am,” he replied amused, “But also that all this facade you want to put up, all this resistance is fake. That you want me as much as I want you, so why do you keep fighting it so much?”.

“Because it’s unprofessional, I'm a doctor and you're my patient. We can't.”

“Of course we can.” His hands tightened around your waist, moving up your hips, distracting you and making you forget what you even wanted to say. “Like I said. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”

You didn't answer, again.

You just looked at him and melted under his touch.

You didn't know what happened, it was like a switch had been turned on inside you.

All your rational thoughts and abilities left your mind as you grabbed his face and crashed your lips onto his.

You didn't want to resist anymore, especially since you weren’t strong enough. Let's be honest, it was a battle you already lost from the start.

You didn't want to live in fear of what might happen, hide behind the hypocrisy of 'unprofessionalism' because the truth was that you wanted that man more than anyone you had ever met in your life. The truth was, you couldn't look him in the eyes and tell him you didn't want him when just hearing his name made your heart beat wildly and your body lit up on fire.

Jay kissed you back, not even being able to explain how ardently and for how long he wanted that moment.

You parted your lips slightly and he immediately took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss which was becoming more and more passionate, borderline pornographic.

His hands rested on your stomach and moved up your abdomen, grazing your breasts before settling on your shoulders. He hesitated and you nodded during the kiss, giving him permission to take off your white coat which fell to the floor next to your feet.

His hands then trailed down back to your ass which he squeezed and groped without any shame as you threaded your fingers through his hair, sighing into his mouth at the sensation.

If at first there was a thread of doubt that left you perplexed, after finally feeling his lips against yours, their taste, you knew there would never be a return from that point. You were deeply and inexorably lost for Jay Halstead.

Your heart was pounding as your body continued to press against his, as if you were both trying to suck out each other's souls.

You bit his lower lip and a small moan escaped him which immediately made you press your legs to each other, your insides twist and goosebumps on your skin. He slapped your ass in response, a gesture that turned you on more than you would ever admit.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling him towards you.

“I'll take this as a yes?” He whispered the moment you both broke apart panting as you tried to catch your breath.

He slid his hands down your back, up your ass, your thighs, touching and caressing every inch of your body he could reach.

“What do you think?” You replied, one eyebrow raised.

“I can't even think right now to be honest, all the blood has rushed to my dick. It actually hurts a little, can you kiss it better?”.

“You’d really love it wouldn’t you?”.

“Oh you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you kissing me better, especially my dick. This mouth of yours is haunting me princess.”

You chuckled – not mentioning how bad you wanted to do it – and he smiled back, feeling lighter, happier.

“Is tomorrow night okay?”.

“Tomorrow night? Are you kidding me? You really think I can last until tomorrow especially after you kissed me like that? No, there’s no chance. I want to see you tonight.”

“Oh Halstead, remember that patience is the virtue of the strong,” You smirked at him, caressing his shoulders. “See you tomorrow night detective.”

You gave him one last sweet kiss on the lips and picked up your white coat from the floor, then straightening out your wrinkled uniform. You winked at him before exiting the room, leaving him sitting on the edge of that bed with an erection in his pants he knew he’d struggle to keep at bay for the next twenty-four hours.

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[sl-ut]

sweet dreams

ended up having a baby dream during my nap and thought it would be a v cute burb concept for my sweet cliches series

set in this universe!

abby noticed that something was wrong with her girlfriend almost immediately after she returned from her morning run. she had, of course, left quite early and had been very careful not to wake her cranky pants gf up, but started questioning what she might have done to piss her off already when they hadn't even truly spoken a word.

y/n was in the kitchen when she got back, mixing herself an iced coffee and barely even responding to abby as she came over to kiss her good morning. abby shrugged it off, thinking she was still too tired, but when she rejected her invite to join her in the shower????? that's when she knew something was up.

she spent fifteen minutes in the shower, taking the extra time under the piping hot water to think it over. she knew it wasn't about her leaving a mess before she left; abby was the neat freak in the relationship, so it was usually her getting annoyed by clutter, not the other way around. they'd been on good terms last night, they had even found time in both of their busy schedules that allowed them some spare time to get it on...was it not good? abby thought she'd seen the telltale signs- the whimpers, the heaving chest, the swelling nail marks on her back... she'd never seen y/n fake it before, so she wasn't sure what she wasn't picking up on. unless... what if she had only ever seen her fake it???

then abby goes into panic mode. she finishes her routine as quick as she can (under ten minutes, our low maintenance queen!) and rushes out to find her girl curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, not even glancing her at abby as she took up the space next to her.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours? and don't say nothing."

the girl frowned before she stubbornly responded, "nothing."

"did i do something wrong?"

"no."

"then what's the matter? i don't like to see you so down."

"it's stupid."

abby scooted closer, pulling her girl onto her lap, "i could never think that anything to do with you is stupid. please tell me."

"fine, but you have to promise you won't laugh."

abby rolled her pretty blue eyes, "on my own life, i promise i won't laugh."

the girl let out a deep sigh before she mumbled something under her breath.

"gonna need you to speak up for me there, baby."

"i had a dream that i was pregnant and then i had our baby, and we lived in a cute little house with a dog and we were so happy..." she sniffled, "and then i woke up and none of it was real."

abby was silent for a moment before a small smile and chuckle began to crack through her forced serious expression.

"abby!" y/n slapped her arm when she finally broke out in full laughter, "you promised!"

"i'm sorry baby," she held her tighter to her chest to keep her from moving away and began to rock her, "i'm sorry. that was just so cute, if i didn't laugh i was gonna cry."

"i miss our baby."

abby was in her last year of med school, and thanks to her big beautiful brain (and her trust fund), she was remotely debt free. the two had already discussed their plans to start looking for a house in a nice neighbourhood as soon as abby graduated and got a permanent placement somewhere, but the discussion of kids had sort of been sidelined up until now.

the blonde shook her head, "i can't wait to meet our baby. just give me a year, and then we'll start making that dream come true."

y/n beamed with happiness, curling into her girlfriend's beefy arms, "i can't wait to carry your baby."

"trust me," abby chuckled, "i can't wait to put a baby in you. i bet i'll get it to stick first try, but i'm all about consistency. i'm thinking five nights a week minimum."

both girls giggled at abby's joke, snuggling closer together in a peaceful silence before y/n finally spoke up once more.

"abs... you know you can't actually get me pregnant, right? i mean, you're in medical school for god's sake."

[vixialuvs]

in sickness and in health

୨୧ pairing - sim jaeyun x reader

୨୧ genre - fluff/comfort

୨୧ wc - 0.5k

୨୧ summary - your boyfriend is sick and needs you to take care of him .

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the sun has disappeared from the sky today, a dull, incessant pitter patter of rain on the roof of your cozy home. you were supposed to be relaxing in bed all day, doing lots of homework, occasionally texting your friends, until your phone began to ring persistently. you check the caller id only to see that it’s your lovely boyfriend, jake. you, of course, pick up the phone, with a small smile crossing your features. you hold the phone up to your ear as you speak.

“hello?” you say softly into the phone. “jake, baby?”

the only thing you hear on the other side of the call is a small whine of your name, from a very sick sounding jake. when he does eventually speak he sounds rough.

“y/n, sweetheart.. i don’t feel good. m’ sick. can you please come over? i wanna see my pretty girl..”

his voice is so strained and weak, it hurts your heart. you don’t even respond, just hanging up the phone and get ready as fast as you can to run over to the convenience store beside your house to grab him some medicine first, then make your way to where he lives.

when you get to his home, you let yourself in, taking the little key out of the glass labrador retriever he has on the porch railing, layla greeting you at the door.

even she seems worried for her loving owner, trailing right behind you as you make a beeline for his room.

when you get inside of it, you see how messy it is, but simply brush it aside as you pad over to his exhausted figure on the bed.

“baby?” he mumbles softly, opening one of his eyes to look at you.

his hand attempts to find yours, but he’s so weak he can barely lift it to interlock your fingers.

you coo softly at him, your eyes showing worry as you kiss his sweaty forehead.

“i’m here, jae. got you some medicine and snacks, okay? i also got some ingredients for soup.. just take the meds for now while i boil water.”

you smile at him ever so sweetly before helping him sit up so he can take his medicine.

after he takes it, you decide to tidy up his room for a bit while the soup you made simmers over the stove on low, and jake is unable to take his eyes off you the entire time. he’s so enamored by you, how graceful you are, how you carry yourself even when you’re doing a simple task such as cleaning his room.

eventually he gets upset you aren’t cuddling him and weakly grabs your wrist and starts to pout, giving you his signature puppy eyes.

“y/n.. i want you to cuddle with me, please?”

he whines out, his voice scratchy and nose stuffy, but he doesn’t let up until you finally give in and crawl in his bed beside him.

he gratefully wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into your neck.

“i love you baby, thank you for taking care of me. i adore my sweet girl..”

he whispers into your neck so endearingly, his hands rubbing at your thighs and hips as he gets as comfortable as possible, slowly falling into a deep slumber in your arms.

END !

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@vixialuvs ‘24 ! thank you so much for reading, reblogs and likes are appreciated !

[python333]

soft spot — python333

— — — —

synopsis you've been having a bad day, and ghost feels like being extra nice to you. plot twist you're an age regressor and him being so nice is NOT helping.

relationships platonic agere cg!ghost & gn little!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 6.7k.

warnings a victorious reference, age regressor reader, usage of c/n [call sign/code name], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

note please feel free to attack me as much as you want if this is inaccurate. i don't even care if it's not constructive criticism. i am begging for everyone's thoughts and opinions on this!! this is also the longest oneshot i think i've ever written!

“Having fun there?” 

You turn in your seat and find Ghost leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and one eye slightly wider than the other—an indication that his eyebrow is raised. 

“Not really,” You answer, setting down your gun. You’d been disassembling it, trying to take your mind off of the slowly growing headache that’s been building up for the past few hours. You don’t think it’s a migraine or anything, but it still bothers you greatly. 

“Yeah, no, I can tell,” Ghost chuckles, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking over to you. He eyes your gun for a moment, the magazine already removed as well as any live rounds left in the rifle ejected, and the bolt locked to the rear. You were only maybe a quarter of the way through your disassembly, even though you started around thirty minutes ago. 

For some reason, you woke up upset today. You were too tired, you felt awfully sluggish, and there was a throbbing pain clustered in the back of your eyebrows. So, in short—you were reasonably very upset. It showed visibly in the way your eyes twitched every so often, and in the way you felt the need to pinch the bridge of your nose to distract you from the pain that was still building up behind your brows. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, leaning on the table. 

“I have this headache that won’t go away,” You respond, sighing as you move your gaze from your gun to Ghost. You can barely see it, but from his eyes you can tell that his face scrunches up beneath his mask. He knows a thing or two about bad headaches, being someone who frequently gets migraines himself. 

“Have you taken any meds for it?” You shake your head ‘no’. Ghost holds up a single finger in a ‘one moment’ motion and rummages through the pockets on his tactical vest for a moment, before he pulls out a small bottle of ibuprofen no bigger than his palm. He hands it to you. 

“Here.” You blink at it for a moment. 

“Thanks,” You take the bottle gingerly and Ghost nods, watching you as you struggle with the child-proof lid for a second before getting it open. You shake out a small tablet, one the size of a low-dosage aspirin, and pop it into your mouth. You don’t have much of an issue dry-swallowing it, and it only takes one attempt before you successfully swallow the tablet.

“You’ve been feeling pretty bad this whole week, haven’t you?” Ghost frowns underneath his mask. 

You think for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess. I think it’s mostly just stress.” 

You know it’s not just stress. 

For a while now, you’ve used something called ‘age regression’ as a form of stress relief. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you do know that it was before you were recruited for the 141. And originally, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t regress while on base, and you kept that promise for maybe a month before you broke it. 

You think it was Ghost that was the trigger, actually. You can vividly remember the first time you regressed while on base; you had just finished talking to Ghost, and he called you something—you think he called you something similar to ‘kid’—that made a flip in your mind switch immediately. You can remember excusing yourself from the conversation quickly, leaving your lieutenant slightly confused but otherwise unbothered by the strange action. 

And, worst of all, you can remember being in your quarters and practically burrowing under your blankets. You were curled up into a fetal position, trying to fight the urge to suck on your thumb or at least chew on something, but ultimately lost the fight and succumbed to your urges. You spent maybe a few hours like that, wide awake when you just wanted to try and sleep it away, thinking about that interaction you had with Ghost over and over again. 

You’re not stupid. You know that Ghost has some sort of soft spot for you—albeit, you don’t know exactly how soft that soft spot is, but it’s definitely soft. Soft enough that he goes the tiniest bit easier on you compared to other recruits, soft enough that he spares you more time than he does for others, and the most obvious of all—he initiates most of your conversations. 

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not the scary super-soldier most people think of him as. Sure, maybe he is kind of scary, and maybe his mask does jumpscare you when you’re doing missions in particularly dark spaces sometimes, but other than that he’s not scary in the slightest. If anything, he’s awkward. Awkward enough that he’s almost never the first person to talk to someone—except for you, of course. You don’t know why he acts so differently around you, but you don’t complain about it. 

“That’s rough,” Ghost looks down at you with concerned, empathetic eyes, “Sorry you’re so stressed. Mind me askin’ why?” 

“I don’t, but I also don’t know why I’m so stressed,” You huff out, even though you know the answer completely. You stand up, “I think it’s just me being sleep deprived. I’ve been having the tiniest bit of trouble falling asleep lately.” 

“You should’ve told me earlier,” Ghost tuts, “I have melatonin.” 

You give him a confused look. “You do?” 

“‘Course I do.” 

You blink at him for a moment before sighing, “Could I have some then?” 

“What’s the magic word?” You give him an unimpressed look, ignoring the way the words make your stomach twist, and his eyes crinkle in a way that lets you know that he’s grinning under his mask. 

“Could I please have some melatonin?” 

“The magic word was lotion, but I’ll let it slide,” Ghost hums, “There’s some in my office. I’ll grab it for you later.” 

“M’kay,” You look over at the door, unintentionally zoning out as you do. Your vision goes unfocused as the throbbing pain behind your eyebrows grows and something else grows inside of you. 

Jesus. Why can’t you choose any other time to get the urge to slip into a younger mentality? Why does your headache have to make everything worse for you? Why does Ghost have to be so nice and helpful? 

“Hey,” Ghost frowns, tapping a finger on your shoulder to snap you out of whatever trance you’re in, “[c/n]?” 

Oh God. 

Your eyes—that you try desperately to keep neutral—meet Ghost’s, his eyes soft and his eyebrows dipped downwards in a confused manner. His eyes are searching, flitting over you, trying to find something. The way he looks at you makes you want to squirm, and you can’t help but just slightly shuffle in place. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, voice as concerned as his look. That should be the breaking point for you, but you remain as big as you can be, and nod affirmatively. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You try to assure him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel, “I think I’m just a little tired.” 

Ghost doesn’t look convinced. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, the act like a hammer putting another dent in the wall you had put up. The leather of his glove is warm even through the thick material of your shirt, and it feels like hot metal against your cold skin, the clothing covering your shoulder be damned. 

“You can tell me if you’re not okay,” He tells you—what is he doing? Does he know something I don’t?—while his thumb starts rubbing circles into your shoulder, “I feel like you’re more than a little tired.” 

You stay silent for a little bit. You don’t know how to explain yourself, the words seeming to liquify and leak right out of you, making you speechless. He seems to notice this, sighing and letting his hand slip down to your hand, holding it and giving it a quick squeeze. 

“I think,” He looks around for a moment before turning back to you, “that we should head to my office so that nobody can bother us, and then you can tell me all about how you’re feeling right now. Does that sound okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, not trusting yourself to talk with how heavy your tongue feels, and you let Ghost lead you back to his office. It’s only a hallway away, but that’s still enough time to overthink everything that could possibly happen. How does he know something’s wrong? What gave it away? Did I do something bad? What did I do? Wh—

The creak of his office door opening snaps you out of your thoughts, and Ghost steps aside to let you enter his office first. Hesitantly, you take a few steps inside, and you hear the door click shut behind you as Ghost walks in. He takes your hand again, making you look at him as he guides you to a chair. 

You sit in the chair that’s in front of his desk, and he quickly drags out the chair that’s behind it so that it’s right next to yours. He sits down. 

He’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Uh.” You’re not sure what to say. He’s looking at you so reassuringly, it’s hard to keep yourself sitting upright. 

“I know something’s wrong,” Ghost says, leaning forward the tiniest bit, “I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” 

He’s got to have at least some idea of what you’re experiencing, You think, trying to form some sort of explanation, He’s being so… weird? 

You swear there’s some other word you could use, but your vocabulary feels so limited, and you would mentally curse if you could because you know that now your explanation is gonna sound weird. You can’t use the words you want, you’re gonna be forced to use simple words, ones that can’t convey exactly how you feel. Words that—and it physically pained you to admit this—were childish. 

You can explain your situation. Just, now it would be more… blunt. And short. And also you’d feel like killing yourself afterwards. You won’t, obviously, but you can predict that you’ll come very close to doing so.

Okay, I have to say something because Ghost is looking more and more worried the longer I stay silent. 

“I feel…” You trail off for a moment, trying to get your thoughts in order for the next two seconds to actually say something that makes sense, before continuing in a far less confident tone, “… small.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Ew. Ew. Ew. What. Why? Why that word? It leaves a sour taste on your tongue and yet you can’t think of any other word that would better suit how you feel. Still. Ew. 

Your thoughts are a jumbled mess ranging from fleeting thoughts of disgust to thoughts lodged in the back of your mind begging you to go anywhere else just so that you can stop having to have this conversation. This conversation requires words bigger than you have access to, and a sort of control over yourself that you can’t grasp. You can feel your hands twitching, wanting something to hold onto, anything to keep you distracted from the overwhelming urge to just regress. 

Ghost blinks. He didn’t expect that answer. 

“Small?” He repeats in a questioning tone, eyebrows furrowed, “I mean, compared to me, I guess you’re kind of short—” 

“No, no, not like short small,” You try to clarify, feeling just slightly discouraged by Ghost’s confused words, “Like…” 

You struggle to find the words that properly describe how you feel, only finding words like small and little in your current vocabulary. Your findings are making you increasingly upset, and you can feel your face start to grow hot with frustration and embarrassment. 

Oh my God. 

“Like…?” Ghost nudges your knee with his, trying to encourage you to talk, “I’m not leaving until you tell me.” 

There’s still a level of care in his words, no matter how confused he seems, and that adds all the more struggle to your predicament. Not only do you not want to tell him, but you can’t describe how you feel in a way that’s acceptable for someone your age to describe anything. At least, not in a way that you deem acceptable for yourself to describe anything. 

You’re far too old to be describing yourself as small. 

“[c/n]?” Ghost nudges you again, and you blink at him. Your eyes are flickering all over his mask, going anywhere but his eyes, since eye contact with anyone would make everything significantly worse for you right now. 

“It’s just—” You try to take a deep breath but your breath hitches. Everything is starting to make you feel so frustrated, and you’re starting to think that you might just throw a tantrum if you can’t do at least one thing right. You try to find the words you want to use but your throat is disobediently closing on you. Your mind feels like straight mush, and the quickly softening look that Ghost is giving you isn’t helping you at all. 

To your horror, in your inexplicable inability to talk in the way you normally do, you let out a small whine. It sounds obnoxious to your ears, and worst of all, sounds like something a little kid would do. 

You put your head in your hands, the quickly reddening skin of your cheeks getting cooled by the cold of your palms as you try and hide your face from Ghost. You can picture how he looks right now—somehow more confused than earlier, possibly annoyed, weirded out—and all those mental images make you bite your tongue to prevent another noise. 

“What was that?” You don’t answer him. 

To your non-answer, Ghost sighs, and you think, This is it, this is where he kicks me out of his office, oh my God I’m gonna get dishonorably discharged and he’s gonna give me a really mean look on my way out—

“Look at me.” You shake your head negatively. 

“Why not?” He sounds so confused, it makes you want to cry. There’s still a level of worry in his voice, and it adds to the fog that builds up in your brain. 

You move your face just slightly up so that your eyes peek out from above your fingertips, your hands covering the rest of your face. Ghost reaches out both of his hands, and ever so gently removes your hands from your face, uncovering your red cheeks and your lips—the lower of which quivers, like you’re about to cry. He notices this quickly, and you can practically feel the level of his worry shoot up. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead just holding your hands in his for a moment, before he sets them down into your lap. He looks at you, concerned, and asks, “Is it hard to talk right now?” 

You nod. His gaze shifts to his computer, and then back to you. 

“I’m gonna go look a few things up really quick, okay? I’ll just be right over there,” He nods over to the space behind his computer, “and I’ll be right back here in a few seconds.” 

You reluctantly nod again, and Ghost gets up from his seat. He grabs the back of the chair and drags it back around behind his desk, sitting down in it and powering on his monitor. It turns on almost immediately, much to his relief, and he goes to his browser and searches up a few things. You can’t tell what he’s searching up, only hearing the clacking of keys and the occasional final click that indicates that he’s hit the enter button. 

He stays there for maybe a minute or two. It’s a long few minutes, and you can feel yourself slipping more and more the longer he stays at his computer. And the more you feel yourself slipping into that younger mindset, the more you start to crave Ghost’s attention. 

The way his eyes are glued to his computer starts to irritate you. You’re aware that he’s doing something important, he must be, because why would he be so intent on looking something up otherwise, but still—you manage to feel the tiniest bit jealous of the computer. You know you’re too far gone when you can’t find it within yourself to realize that you’re jealous of a computer. 

Your eyes linger on him and he must notice this because he looks up from the screen of his monitor and looks over at you. As if he can read your mind, he reassures you, “Just a few more seconds.” 

But you said you were gonna be back in a few seconds a few minutes ago. 

You don’t voice your thoughts. Instead, you nod, because God forbid you annoy Ghost with your need for attention now when he’s being so patient with you. He looks at you for another moment before going back to his computer and looking something else up, this time with a little more fervor. 

Another few seconds pass and, true to his word this time, Ghost stops and gets up from his chair. He walks over to you, and your eyes follow him intently. He kneels down in front of you.

He looks hesitant to say something to you. That’s a first. That adds to the exponentially growing blob of fear that lives inside your mind, one of the only things that’s still prominent in the fog that conquers your brain. 

“Are you…” You feel like you know what he’s gonna ask you. You’re bracing yourself for the question, and he looks like he’s bracing himself just to ask it. 

“How, uh,” He’s trying to find the right wording, and you’ve never been able to relate to him harder than you do in this moment, “How… do you feel right now? How old?” 

How old? You don’t really like that question. As much as you like that you’re now getting attention, you’re starting to remember how little you actually enjoy this type of attention. The question is pretty vague, but at the same time so specific, and you’re almost ashamed to know exactly what the answer is. Or, at least, you would feel ashamed if there was room in your mind to feel so. 

“You said you feel small, right? Not like short small, just small?” He sounds more unsure of himself now, and you don’t think you like seeing him so reluctant to say something, “I looked up what it means to feel like that. Took some time, but I got to some person’s… website, and the person who wrote it was talkin’ about feeling like that. Something about regression, feeling a little bit younger than usual?” 

He’s being so awkward about it, and while you typically find his awkwardness funny, now it’s anything but that. 

“Uhm,” Your voice comes out as a mumble and you see Ghost perk up at it. You don’t know what to say. For a moment, you’re silent again, before you get over your embarrassment for a quick two seconds and force yourself to say, “Four.” 

“Four?” Ghost asks, before quickly realizing, “Right. Four. You feel four?” 

You nod, and your hands instinctively start moving back up to cover your face. Ghost swiftly grabs them, keeping his grip gentle as he keeps them from reaching your face. 

“Hey, don’t try to hide again,” He says, tone softening as he holds your hands, “everything’s fine, okay? Do you— what, uh— do you need me to do anything? Do you want me to leave you alo—”

“No!” You quickly answer, a little surprised by your own volume, before you clear your throat and answer in a much more quiet voice, “Don’t leave me alone.” 

“Okay, okay,” Ghost’s thumbs rub across the back of your hands, a soothing gesture that makes you the tiniest bit more relaxed, “what do you need?” 

You sniffle, and you can see an immediate look of panic cross Ghost’s eyes. You don’t know how well he is with crying children, and don’t want to impose such a situation on him, but you also can’t stop the tears that begin to well up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” He borderline begs, “everything’s gonna be okay, okay? Please do not cry. Take a deep breath.” 

You try to take a deep breath, you really do, but your breath just hitches and gets caught in your throat. It only makes you more distressed, adding to the urge you have to just disappear. Ghost notices your failed deep breathing and lets go of one of your hands, before taking the other and holding it to his chest.

You can just barely feel his heartbeat, his thick tactical vest and gear in the way of it, but you can still feel it. Ghost takes a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before slowly exhaling. 

“You copy me, okay?” He tells you, his words an order but his tone suggesting otherwise. He takes another deep breath, this time hoping you’ll follow his lead, and you do. 

You try to breathe with him, your hand on his chest helping, but your breath keeps getting caught in your throat. Ghost notices this, but continues his breathing anyway, hoping you’ll catch on soon. You do, thankfully—after a few more attempted breaths, you finally manage one almost identical to Ghost’s. The next few after that go similarly, and that’s when Ghost decides you’re alright to take your hand off of his chest. 

“I need you to tell me what to do,” He says, keeping your hand in his hold, “or at least tell me how all of this works. I want to help you.”

 You really don’t want to tell him what you need right now, but you also don’t think you have a choice. 

Wordlessly, you stand up from your seat, balance just slightly off-center before you quickly get your footing right. Ghost watches you, not moving, before you tug on his hand to try and urge him to get up as well. He obliges, getting up. 

“What—” You interrupt him by taking another step forward and letting your head thump right into his chest, ignoring the itchy uncomfortable feeling of his vest against your face. You don’t bother to wrap your arms around him to at least try and form some sort of hug, preferring to just smush yourself into him and hope for the best. 

After a moment of stunned silence, he wraps his arms around you. 

“You mind if we move behind my desk so I can look up some more stuff on all of this?” He asks, voice quiet, “Unless you want to just tell me?” 

“Desk,” You simply mumble into his vest, making him nod. 

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to stop hugging me for a second,” Ghost warns you. You reluctantly step away, and Ghost smiles softly down at you, bringing his hands away from your back and instead holding one of yours. 

He leads you behind his desk, and lets go of your hand before sitting down in his chair. Pausing, he quickly realizes you have nowhere to sit, and thinks for a moment before getting back up. He drags his chair just slightly to the side and looks back at you. 

“Sit down,” He nods to the chair, “It’s only gonna be a minute or two, alright?” 

You nod, hesitantly moving to sit in the chair, not really liking how far away from Ghost it is. It's not that far, You try to rationalize, I’m gonna be fine. 

Ghost can see your hesitation and tries to work as quickly as he can, grateful that he didn’t turn his computer off earlier, typing away on his keyboard. You don’t care to see what he’s looking up, more focused on looking at the time on his monitor. 21:44. 21:45. The time ticks by and even though it’s only been a few seconds you already want Ghost’s attention again. His attention has actually turned into good attention, and that’s the type of attention you’ve been craving for the past week. 

The clock reads 21:47 once Ghost is done, and he powers his monitor off this time, the small whirring the device makes dying down to a low hum before going completely silent. He turns to you, and somehow can sense that you need more attention. 

“Am I not paying enough attention to you?” He teases you, making you conflicted on whether you should be annoyed by the teasing or happy you’re finally getting attention. As if he can read your mind, he chuckles, and kneels down to your level. 

“I’m gonna give you as much attention as you need, alright?” He promises, “I just need you to stay in this room.” 

— 

Ghost watches you nod non-verbally, and it only adds to his softening expression. 

He’s always had a soft spot for kids. He knows that you aren’t technically a kid, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still see you as one. You’re young for someone in the military, much less someone in this 141, and now that he’s found out that you’re an age regressor, that you’re a little—well, that doesn’t help how he sees you at all. 

He thinks that maybe the reason he has such a soft spot for kids is a few encounters he’s had with them in the past. He’s seen far too many in compromising positions while on missions; positions like being held hostage, being held as prisoner, or just generally being mistreated or even just living in bad conditions. 

He looks at you, and he just sees another one of those kids. 

He sees how you act around him. He’s not stupid. When he talks to you, you’re actually engaged in the conversation, compared to when anyone else tries to talk to you—maybe excluding Price, or Soap, or Gaz, heavy on that maybe—you’re more likely than not brushing them off every chance you get. You’re standoffish with everyone else, but with him, you’ll always accept any conversation he initiates. 

He can also see the way you look at him. It’s like you’re looking at your idol, or your savior, the way you look up at him. He can see that curious glint in your eyes when he tells you about a recent mission, or when he tells you anything, really. He can see when you try to mimic how he holds his weapons, and when you try to copy his techniques. 

He remembers catching you one day in the shooting range trying to mimic how he aims at the targets—looking through your scope with one eye closed, the other focused only on the dot centered on the scope, taking a deep breath in and out before shooting, and keeping the gun exactly like that even seconds after the shot’s been fired. 

In fact, the copying has gone from guns to melee weapons recently. Ghost swings only his forearm when he uses a knife, thumb resting on the very end of the knife’s handle, and entire arm stiff as he does. He does a slow windup when behind someone, a fast one on the off-chance that he’s in front, and buries the weapon to the hilt in whoever’s flesh he’s penetrated. He’s already seen you do the same on a recent mission. Not only that, but he caught you using a knife almost identical to his. 

And now, you’re still looking at him like that—except, different. Sort of like how a kid might look up to their parents. 

“What do you feel like doing, kiddo?” He asks, hoping the pet name isn’t too much. 

From the way your eyes light up, he suspects it isn't. 

“Mmm…” You hum, thinking for a moment, before requesting, “Coloring?” 

“Coloring, huh?” Ghost looks around for some blank paper and some sort of marker or pen thick enough to act as one, but can only find some highlighters. He turns to you, frowning, “Sorry, but I don’t think I have any paper, kid. Anything else you wanna do?”

You shake your head, and Ghost is just about ready to jump off of a bridge before you point to his arm and repeat, “Coloring.” 

He looks at his arm for a second, confused, before he remembers a conversation the two of you had a month or so ago. 

“If you ever wanna get tattoos, I know a guy in Brighton,” Ghost said, reclining his chair back so that he can lay down in it. You were sitting across from him in front of his desk, fiddling with one of his pens. 

“Good to know,” You hummed, “You have any tattoos?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at his admission, and he sat up for a second to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing his usual gear, only one of those standard issue army-green shirts. 

“Here,” He pointed to a large tattoo covering his whole arm like a sleeve, a few designs you could point out to yourself being a skull, a few Roman numerals, and some kind of scythe. 

“Very emo,” You commented, making Ghost snort, “I like it.” 

“I’m glad,” He rolled his sleeve back down. 

There’s a lot of blank space in the tattoo, despite it being a sleeve, and he can already tell that you mean you want to color in that space. He thinks about it for a moment, a fleeting thought of is that even safe? crossing his mind before he ultimately decides that he doesn’t care and would rather kill himself than see you disappointed because he denied your request, his own health be damned. 

“Alright,” He hums, grabbing a few highlighters from a mesh cup on his desk in the colors pink, yellow, and blue, “Go for it.” 

You give him a small smile and if he cared about if he’d get ink poisoning two seconds ago, he sure as hell doesn’t care now. You gingerly grab the highlighters from his hand, your grabbing not too secure and sort of clumsy but secure enough that the markers stay in your hand.

You hold them with both hands, and it makes Ghost realize how small your hands are—sure, you could hold the highlighters with one hand, but he’s glad you aren’t because now he can admire just how small you are as a whole. 

You set the yellow and blue down on his desk, making sure they don’t roll off for a moment before uncapping the pink and hesitantly holding out a hand for Ghost’s arm. He rolls up his sleeve and obediently holds out his arm for you, watching curiously as you press the cold tip of the highlighter to his skin. You’re starting by coloring in the skull a neon pink, much to his amusement, and you’re starting in the dead center of its forehead. 

You’re so much more quiet than you usually are when you’re little, and you’re so much more hesitant, it makes Ghost want to just wrap you in a blanket and keep you safe and in his sight forever. 

Your tongue slightly pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on coloring in Ghost’s tattoo, making him grin beneath his mask. The ink of the highlighter doesn’t stay within the black bounds of his tattoos at all, but he doesn’t care one bit, and he doesn’t think you care either. You finish up the skull quickly, and move onto the scythe that’s right next to it, this time capping the pink highlighter and grabbing the yellow. 

Ghost is pretty sure this is gonna stain his skin for a day or two, but he couldn’t care less.

He can’t help but notice how much more relaxed you look in your regressed state. More at peace, he should say. There’s no longer a hunch in your shoulders, your eyes aren’t twitching from your headache, and you’re not bouncing your leg like you usually do when you’re sitting down somewhere. It’s like any anxieties you had pre-regression had evaporated, like slipping into a younger mentality had taken away most of your worries, if not all of them. 

He also can’t help but wish he could see you like this more often. Not necessarily the regressed part, but the relaxed part. Well, maybe the regressed part too. You’re being such a sweetheart right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live through this experience. 

“You having fun there, darling?” Ghost asks, his grin evident in his voice. The corners of your lips quirk up at the pet name and you nod silently, and now Ghost is starting to think you’re actually trying to kill him. You’re being so uncharacteristically shy, and you’re being so quiet, and you’re just being so sweet. 

It seems you’ve moved onto the blue highlighter now, coloring in the last bit of his tattoo. He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash it off—or, at least, he wouldn’t if he had a choice. He knows that he has to shower sometime soon, but surely he can put that off for a bit, right?

Once you’re finished with your coloring, you cap the highlighter, and set it down next to the others you’ve discarded. You turn Ghost’s arm the tiniest bit towards him so that he can see your work better. 

“‘s it good?” You ask quietly, watching intently for Ghost’s reaction. He looks over your coloring job and hums approvingly. 

“It’s amazing, I love it,” He assures you, smiling down softly at you, “You did great.” 

You seem to preen at the praise, and you take your hand off of Ghost’s arm, moving to put in your lap. You’re keeping yourself very contained, Ghost notices, Why? 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears you yawn, and you quickly move to cover your mouth as you do. He’s reminded that it’s almost twenty-two hundred, and while that usually wouldn’t be an issue for him, it’s an issue for you. You originally came to the 141 as someone who had a sleep schedule almost as fucked up at Ghost’s, but soon developed a habit of going to sleep somewhat early considering the training you had in the morning. So, now you get tired anywhere from eighteen-hundred to twenty-one hundred. After that, your only goal is to find somewhere to sleep. 

“Sleepy?” You nod tiredly, making Ghost coo, Ghost, the man who quite literally haunts some people’s nightmares, coos at you, “Aw, of course you are, sweetheart. Pretty sure it’s way past your bedtime by now.” 

“Nuh uh,” You deny, making Ghost chuckle. 

“‘Nuh uh’?” He asks, amused, “What d’you mean ‘nuh uh’?” 

“No b’dtime,” You shortly elaborate. 

“Ohhh, okay,” Ghost feigns realization, “You think you’re too big for a bedtime, huh?” 

“Mhm. Way too big.”

“I dunno about ‘way’ too big,” Ghost hums, checking to see if the highlighter on his arm has dried before he pulls his sleeve back down. “You seem pretty little to me.” 

“No,” You whine, dragging out the ‘o’, “Not lil’.” 

“Hmm… you sure, kiddo?” Ghost asks, “So if I ask you if you need to go to bed, you’re gonna say ‘no’?” 

That makes you hesitate, and Ghost almost thinks he’s won, before your own pettiness wins and you nod affirmatively. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Alright, well, you’ve gotta sleep at some point,” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. 

You think this over for a second, and he watches as you look over him for a moment before looking down at his lap, then looking back up at him. He can already tell there’s some sort of plan forming in your mind.  Wordlessly, you get up, and Ghost does nothing to stop you as you decide to just plop yourself down into his lap. You straddle his thighs, moving until you’re sitting comfortably on him, and then let yourself slump forward so that your face is resting in the crook of his neck. It takes him a moment to process what just happened, before he laughs lightly and wraps both of his arms around you to keep you in place. 

“Oh, okay,” He grins, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you just wanna cuddle with me until you fall asleep? Is that what this is?” 

He feels you nod against his neck, and his grin grows as he rubs one hand against your back, trying to soothe you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract you from your attempts to sleep anymore, simply letting you stay slumped against him. Your breathing wasn’t too fast-paced to begin with, but as you relax even more in his arms, he can feel your breathing even out. 

You’re falling asleep fairly quickly, and the only complaint he has is that he didn’t get to spend nearly as much time as he wanted to with you while you were awake and regressed. 

Once he’s sure you’re barely awake, he murmurs, “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” 

— 

You don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the slight rustling of clothes, and then you feel yourself moving up. 

Your mind still feels foggy and you can tell you’re still somewhat in that younger mindset of yours, but now you’re significantly less bothered by it than you were before. You’re awake enough to be aware of what’s happening, always having been a light-sleeper, but not awake enough to know exactly what’s happening. You don’t dare open your eyes, and try to keep your breathing even—though that isn’t much of a challenge. 

That headache that had been building up earlier has fully disappeared, thank God, and you no longer feel the tension in your shoulder that you’d been unconsciously carrying. 

You can sort of feel someone’s arms snaked under your back, and you know that you’re being moved somewhere. Quickly, you remember that it’s Ghost carrying you, and that you had fallen asleep on him, much to your embarrassment. Or, at least, it would be much to your embarrassment if you had the mental capacity to feel embarrassed about that right now. But you feel so comfy and so safe that it really doesn’t matter to you right now. 

You can hear the clicking of Ghost’s boots against the concrete floors of the hallway, and he’s carrying you off somewhere; you imagine that somewhere to be your sleeping quarters. He’s walking pretty fast, not hurriedly but still at a somewhat fast pace. 

Soon, he reaches a stopping point where he has to awkwardly put one leg up to support your back on his thigh as he quickly reaches one arm out to turn the knob of the door to your sleeping quarters and pulls that arm right back to support your back again. He sighs as he puts his foot back down, kicking open the door and walking in. 

He’s quick to reach your bed, and he pauses as he considers what to do. You can practically hear him thinking, wondering how he’s gonna get you under the covers while he’s still carrying you, and for a second you think about showing him you’re awake so that things are easier for him before he sets you down on the bed. 

He pulls the covers up and stops when he reaches the part your body covers, and picks you back up, before dropping you right back off where the blankets have been pulled away. He pulls the covers back over you. 

After a few moments, you think he’s left the room, before you hear the rustling of fabric and feel him leaning down. He gently presses his lips to your forehead and pulls away after a second or two, before quietly mumbling, “Night, kiddo.”

He stays there for a moment before you hear his footsteps leave the room, and then the door clicking shut behind him as he leaves the room entirely. 

You’re quick to fall asleep after that.

[vintgedoll]

you left me at the train station. — simon riley, crush series.

crushing on younger! simon would include :

୨୧ ... your bedroom was his safe haven. sometimes, it was messy with pleated skirts, spilled nail polish, and empty soda cans covering the floor and sure, he hated it, but he felt guilty when it was clean - everything had its designated spot and simon felt like he didn't belong yet his own things found their way on your desk, in your closet, his sneakers even found home on the shoe rack by your bedroom door.

୨୧ ... new tights and a bare face when you didn't want to go home right after your part-time job, working at some shitty gas station ten minutes away from your brick townhouse. so, you would go and knock on the door and pray his dad wasn't home or that someone else would at least open the door. sat on the swings of your local park. when you feel confident enough, you told him things you had never told anyone. "even if you decide that you hate me one day in the future, never tell anyone this." you pleaded with him the first time. "why would i ever hate you?"

୨୧ ... staring at the ceilings when you held him in bed with his head on your chest, an act that left you with a quickened heart rate and colored face. if you were at his house, the ceiling would be stippled and cracked. his room wasn't unloved - far from it, actually. his family didn't have much and you quickly understood his room was loved and looked after, unlike the rest of his house.

୨୧ ... piggyback rides whenever you asked him to walk you home from parties you'd been out to. you were always tipsy and complaining, asking him to carry you. sliver eyeshadow and ripped fishnets under frayed black shorts, your cheek against his shoulder. you always asked him to run away with you, leave manchester - maybe even england - behind. "we could get an apartment, it'd be ours and we could decorate it however we wanted." he never paid much attention to your ramblings but the thought of spending the rest of your life with him was something you could only hope for, so why not ask when all your confidence was based on liquor?

୨୧ ... if he went to bed early or his father got to the phone before him and hung it up, you had to walk on your own, black jeans and beaded bracelets while trying to remember his address with your arms crossed. "twenty-five, twenty-six..." squinting at the house numbers while mumbling. when you found your way, you stood on the outdoor ac unit, knocking on his window. "can i come in?" it was asked before he could even open the window halfway, staring at him with a sluggish grin.

୨୧ ... bruises you run your fingers over and bloodied bandages you'd change for him. "your dad?" he never responded so you stopped asking. early mornings of sitting on the porch and helping him after getting the med kit from the family bathroom, the silence only being broken by your occasional sniffling from the cold. lilac and baby pink was your style and you treated him with the same softness as your color palette.

୨୧ ... using him as your human notepad whenever you were out with him. "palm." turned into a heads up, your glitter pen already piercing against his hand before he could even blink as wrote down numbers, addresses, even tab amounts you owed. "i'm preparing you for tattoos so you won't be a baby in the chair." you always joked.

୨୧ ... all it took was one bad day for an impulse to guide you to the train station. it was two a.m. and the last train to london left in five minutes. it all happened so fast and he barely processed any of it until you were buying the tickets, your left hand holding his right. the ceiling lights flickered and there was a blue hue coming from the train windows and open doors, purple graphic liner and lip gloss. "we shouldn't." you squeezed his hand. "of course we should." you scoffed, smiling. he let you drag him all the way to the train doors before he finally stopped. who would protect his mom? he was afraid of what his dad would do if he saw he was gone. you had gone back and forth, the overhead announcer telling the few remaining bystanders the train would leave in one minute. your throat tight, you set down your bag and let go of his hand. "i love you, okay? i love you a lot and i hate everyone but you, so just please come with me." but simon shook his head. you weren't gonna get off and he wasn't gonna get on, so you left him. standing on his sneakers, you went to kiss him, lips just barely touching and simon wished you did but neither of you closed the space. rather, you hugged him with a kiss on his cheek, lip tint and glossy material lingering. you grabbed your bag and without looking back, without a goodbye, you got on the train. you left him there in the cold, humid train station at two in the morning.

[fayesia]

Okay DONT JUGDE ME PLEASE but I have an idea for mike schmidt. Okay so basically she(y/n) gets these new meds for the two of them it was basically like had idk what it's called but sm that makes them horny af and yk what happens next and also they r just friends when this happens. U can fill in the details with whatever.

a/n: Ahh no trust me i’m not one to judge people ever about what they’re into and stuff like that, obviously it’s different when i’m asked to write about smtg i’m uncomfortable with or if it’s illegal, but nonetheless here it is, i apologise in advanced as i did rush to get it posted but ye enjoy!! 😭

warning: most of my replies to requests i get don’t include warnings but please keep in mind before reading that this will contain ⚠️drugs, taking of drugs, irresponsible drug use!!⚠️ other than that it’s just the usual smut stuff :)

“come on you’re not gonna pussy out on me now are you?” you jab at Mike knowing he was the one boasting about the drug being a placebo that wouldn’t work.

“of course i won’t since i know it doesn’t even work. whoever sold it to you just got a free 30 dollars.” he looks down at you kneeling in front of the living room table slicing the pill in two. You were told by the seller that it was a hormone enhancing pill that was basically just stronger weed, so you were being cautious about how much you both took.

“ok fine hurry up give it here” sitting down next to you, Mike grabs one half swallowing it down in one go, you do the same. After 15 minutes neither of you feel anything.

“see i told you, it’s a fucking scam”

“no no we must’ve not taken it right, come on one more chance pleaseeee” you whine looking at him with your hands clasped together.

“fine. only cause your my best friend” “mike..i’m your only friend but ok”

Taking out two more pills you grab a cup using the base to crush them into a fine powder, with your credit card you finely crush it and seperate the pile of white powder into two even lines. Meanwhile Mike neatly rolls up a dollar bill leaning forward to snort up one line, handing the note over, you sniff up the powder feeling a sharp sting in your nose leaning back against the couch to relax and let everything settle.

First there was nothing and suddenly so much was happening all at once. In two minutes you and Mike had gone from sitting beside each other dazed as ever to feeling heat all over your body. The sensation causing you both to remove layers of clothing to avoid any effects of what felt like heatstroke. “god what the fuck is happening y/n?” you hear Mike say as he removes his clothing leaving him in a pair of black boxers, “idk mikey everything’s so hot and suffocating” you respond back stripping down to just your bra and denim shorts.

You feel the heat rising especially at your core, the denim shorts getting increasingly more uncomfortable once you’ve soaked through your underwear. Raising your head you notice Mike sitting with a pillow on his lap, “Mike…is that what i think it is?” Before he can reply you’ve already removed the pillow, the sudden movement of his body attempting to hide his raging hard on shocks you as you fall on top of him. His arms support you pulling you on top of his lap as you straddle his thighs. Not even caring at this moment, you grind your pussy against his thigh the rough denim rubbing against your clit as more liquid gushes from your pussy. A dark spot forms on your shorts as Mikes hands grab your hips to push you down harder. He abruptly stops,unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down, he flips you over on the couch so your legs hang off the edge while your back lays on the seats. Kneeling down between your legs he spreads your thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft squishy flesh.

“fucking soaked aren’t you”

“please do something please”

“say it i wanna hear you”

“please touch my pussy”

His nose brushes across your clit through the thin material of your thong as his fingers rub you you’re getting increasingly wet. He quickly rips at the flimsy strings leaving you bare to him, your folds glisten with your wetness as you feel it dripping down. His fingers enter your mouth as you suck on them like you would a lollipop, tracing down past your hardened nipples and to your clit. The first few seconds after contact has you writhing around on the couch, things only getting more intense once you feel Mikes mouth on you. His tongue explores every crevice, caressing your delicate folds and spreading your juices all over. He spits on your clit watching it drip down before collecting it with his index and middle fingers, entering your tight hole and watching it stretch. you moan at the intrusion finally being filled by something, his two fingers feeling like three of your own. You’re so close to coming, his fingertips rubs harder and harder against the soft sensitive spot inside of you, until he removes them. your eyes shoot open widening even more once Mike flips you over onto your front holding both your hands above your head, you’re barely able to turn your head due to the position of your shoulders. The tip of his cock is pulsing and red as it rubs between your folds, poking at your sensitive clit.

The gentle movements lulling you into a further daze, however that’s quick to end once his dick starts easing into your pussy. It’s a tight fit and you weren’t sure about how much would fit but Mike just said “gonna stretch you til’ we fucking make it fit”, his words have you moaning into the couch, spit dribbling from the side of your mouth the more that he enters. His cock is about three quarters in and you’re sure you can’t take any more, that is until he starts pulling out and pushing back in.

Finally he’s all the way in and you’re pulsing around him, your channel trying to fit around the girth of him.

“ok i think it’s fine, you can move”

his thrust start picking up speed, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass bounce off the walls of the room, his heavy balls slap against your clit adding to the pleasure.

“fuck mikey harder please, i’m so close omg”

He picks up the pace going faster and deeper into you, his cock pushes hard against your g-spot spurring you closer to the edge.

“baby i’m gonna cum, fill you up nice and full, fuck you everyday you want that?”

“yesyes please i need you, cum for me baby”

He continues ploughing into you, hips stuttering as he tilts his head back releasing a low guttural groan, you can feel drops of liquid releasing every time he pulls outwards. Finally a stream of Mikes cum pools inside of you, his groans grow softer the more that spurts out, your pussy clamps down on him and more of your come is leaking down his length the droplets staining the couch. Mike rolls over off of you to lay on the couch beside your panting body. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, out of breathe and still coming down from the effects of the drugs you both took. After a few minutes you’re both still in your underwear, Mikes head resting on your lap while you stroke his hair, the two of you thinking about having a discussion on what this would change about your friendship but with the state of high you were both in that topic was for another time.

“well now that we’ve proven it works what do we do now?” Mike asks looking back up at you.

Reaching over to grab something off the table you simply smirk and wave a small clear packet containing two pills, identical to the ones just taken around and hour and a half ago.

~unedited~

[a-b-riddle]

Hello !!

I had a little ask/request and you can say no if it’s uncomfy <3

As the summer comes closer, so do swimsuits and it’s something I’ve been dreading. I have a particular scar on my thigh of the initial of a really shitty ex of mine. That being said, I’ve worked past a lot however swimming scares me simply because someone always asks.

How do you think 141 would comfort reader who is feeling a little anxious abt others seeing it? I know scars are perfectly normal, it just gets rough bc of the abuse it stemmed from.

I think Johnny, Kyle and John would all reassure reader. They would be the ones to tell you that you're beautiful as is. If anyone gave you a sideways glance, they would be the ones to handle it. Offer their shirts as a cover when you ask.

They will be the ones to comfort you the only way they now how.

But Simon...

I can see it now.

For most of the time you've known Simon he has either been in his mask or at least a balaclava. And working alongside the 141 as their medic, you were always in your own gear. With the exception of some stress relief spent in the med bay or a medical supply office.

Or in Captain's office...

Or in the barracks with a certain Lieutenant and two Sargeants.

It's not until John throws a cookout in the country, near a lake that you had ever been so... exposed. You had decided that you won't sit on the sidelines. The rest of them were getting in and you weren't about to be the odd man out.

But you find yourself unable to leave the room John had escorted you to change. When Simon had been sent to check on you having just arrived and being the only one not in the water, he had called through the door asking if you were all right. You responded with a wobbly, "just a minute."

When you didn't come out, Simon went in.

You were sitting on the bed. Your hand instantly shooting to conceal your scar. Somehow you thought being bent over or having your ankles near their ears, they haven't noticed it. But Simon had.

He always took in every inch of you he could.

So when he saw what you were hiding, his eyes softened. "Look at me, Love." You sucked in an unsteady breath.

A scars marring his face. One cutting through a sandy blonde eyebrow. Another on his lip and another running across the ridge of his strong nose. A small one on his cheek.

And he was gorgeous.

This beautiful mountain of a man coming over to kneel between your legs. His calloused hand moved yours aside to take a look at it, running over the scar with his thumb gently.

Without permission, you did the same. Taking each other in for what felt like the first time.

He lowers himself closer, closer until his lips are hovering over it, the source of insecurity, before kissing it so softly. In a sound barely above a whisper, you hear words that make your stomach flutter before his lips start traveling closer to your clothed core.

"Our pretty girl."

[imisscherryboy-blog]

running back 2 u

enemies to lovers — football player! ajax x sports med! gn reader

part 2 part 3

spotify playlist ★

story: you and ajax have known each other since elementary school. those years haven’t been always the best, as you both parted ways due to your differences in personality. that is, until one hot august night, where the stadium lights illuminate the turf, you find yourself running back to him again.

notes: enemies to lovers, modern au, gender neutral reader, childe is referred to as ajax, last name tartaglia, american football, all characters are 18+ as seniors, highschool setting, use of american education system, reader is in a sports medicine class (if you don’t know what that is it’s basically students that help out at school games, usually water girls/boys/people, assist with injuries) i wrote this with the pov of the reader being a POC but if you’re not just disregard when i say white and stuff lmao + part 1/?, title is an nct reference, debating eventual smut, kaveh and alhaitham are gay

side characters featured: kaveh, alhaitham (alhaitham x kaveh)

warnings: swearing, vivid depiction/description of injury

★ part 1 of an ongoing series ★

you hated ajax and ajax hated you. that much was safe to say. ever since that incident in 9th grade, you never talked to him, let alone acknowledged him. before that, you both had known each other since elementary school. everybody loved ajax, his teachers, his peers, and even you. he just had that personality that made everyone love him; but you knew him underneath that persona. you knew his flaws and he knew yours. he’d tell you things he’d never tell anyone, he trusted you. but, all good things come to an end. in the summer going into your first year at highschool, you found yourself never wanting to speak to him again. he ultimately became the person you two would make fun of together in prior years. a typical, white, football player. but damn was he a good running back. he used to be so charming, but now he was just a playboy that had a new girl in his bed every week. you hated him for it, you hated the person he became, but you mostly hated how he’d plague your mind like a disease.

the day of the game finally came. you and kaveh both wore your school’s varsity jackets and jeans. you guys trudged the god foresaken orange gatorade cooler out to the field for the junior varsity and freshman team. the jv game had just finished, and you began setting up for the varsity game.

“y/n, i can tell you’re scared about ajax.”

“wow kaveh, you’re sooo observant.” you said sarcastically as you both were now in the utility room, filling the water bottles for the players.

“listen, you probably won’t even have to talk to him. as much as he likes to talk behind your back, he’s scared of you. you literally know EVERYTHING about him, you could ruin his reputation in milliseconds.” kaveh had a point. you knew his deepest and darkest secrets, but he unfortunately knew yours as well. you screwed the last lid of the water bottle on tighter than usual as you responded.

“thanks kaveh, but promise me you’ll be the one giving him his water, not me.” kaveh laughed as you said this.

“i’d actually be more than happy too! he’s pretty fine anyways…”

“kaveh— please.” you sighed as kaveh only laughed louder. you walked out to the field, the sky a pretty hue of pink as the jv players left and students filed in the bleachers for the real game. you made your way to the bench, right next to the field and placed the water bottle trays down, as cheering filled the stadium, you both looked behind you.

“ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, our undefeated, five-time league winners, the varsity football team!” the announcer said as the cheers only got louder. the varsity boys ran onto the field, ajax leading the team. you rolled your eyes. you’d admit, he looked good in the navy blue and white jersey, adorning the number 11. ajax was the captain and star of the team, his stats practically outdid any other running back in the county. he ranked first for almost every category, he was a good running back, you’d give him that at least. but at that moment, a feeling came over you. you felt jealous. jealous of the new cheerleader girl he was seeing, jealous of his success, you irrevocably hated him.

“god alhaitham looks good.” kaveh said, very much distracted when they began to sing the national anthem.

“you’re shameless, kaveh.”

“well, the national anthem definitely did not include gay people so…”

the game began, and the annoying and repetitive chants from the cheerleaders almost got stuck in your head. they even had a special one for their glorious star boy tartaglia! you could give zero fucks about him and his stupid chant, but you couldn’t help but notice him staring you down as the rival team took a time out. he gulped his water, sweat dripping from his slicked-back hair, before returning back to the field. as promised, it was kaveh’s job to offer him water, not yours. when one team scored, the other followed suit, the game was neck and neck. watching ajax skillfully receive alhaitham’s (the quarterback) throws and run it was something you could watch all day. but you hated him, so you pretended to look busy every time the home team ran a point. it was halftime now, and you and kaveh hung around the bench. they were up by only two points, it was practically anyone’s game, but that’s what makes the epic highs and lows of highschool football, right?

“swear to god, ajax keeps looking at you.” kaveh whispered to you as you refilled the green water bottles. the boys went into the team room as you and kaveh stayed outside. ajax’s fan girls in the stands had finally calmed down. you just looked at him and looked away as you continued to fill up the water. “like, every time he scores a touch down, he’ll do his stupid little celebration and he’ll glance over here—and then i’d look at you, and of course—‘oh, she’s trying to look distracted and pretend to not care again!’.” kaveh rolled his eyes at you, looking at you for an answer. “you still care about him, don’t you?” this time, you didn’t look at him and just stared at the bottle.

“yeah, like i’d give two shits about the school fuck boy. it’s just, i can’t help but remember how he used to be, that’s all.” it was a blatant lie, and kaveh knew. but he decided to stop pressing where it hurts. and just like that, half time was over and the team looked spent, but they still had 30 minutes to clutch. the cheers started up again. another touchdown, and chants of his name were the only things heard in the stadium. you felt surrounded. you just wanted to go home.

finally, the seventh minute began. the scoreboard emitting a soft glow displayed both home and away teams tied. everyone on the bleachers were all sat for these final minutes. including you. you watched intently with kaveh and your sports med teacher on the bench as they hiked the ball.

“alhaitham, number 9 is going for a throw,” the commentator’s voice reverberated through the field. alhaitham spots ajax, right on the 30 yard line, centered on the field. alhaitham takes a couple steps back and throws, the ball spins with accuracy. the crowd and kaveh all cheer.

“a dot! per usual from quarter back alhaitham, how many yards can their star running back score for the team!” ajax grabbed the ball and went for a right hook, swiftly dodging the defenders. he only got faster and faster as the cheers grew louder. he hooked right, and made his way for that touch down line.

“ajax! ajax! ajax!” the crowd chanted as kaveh and your teacher were now standing. you watched him closely, all of a sudden remembering back to when the two of you competed in your middle school’s flag football tournament. he had signed you up without you knowing, and you both somehow cinched first place.

“oh my god—” kaveh’s gasp snapped you out of your thoughts, as you looked onto the field.

the bleachers were silent now. ajax laid on his side, clutching his knee. the ball was long forgotten now.

“it appears number 11 is down.” the commentator remarked. your heart sank to your ass. you knew that knee injuries could fuck up anyone’s career in seconds. especially a running back’s. before you knew it, you were standing, your teacher yelled something to kaveh as he began running toward him to see what happened, you stood frozen. the cries of his fan girls behind you were the only things you could hear, kaveh was trying to tell you something, but you kept looking at ajax’s writhing body and back to kaveh, and back to ajax, and now at the rival team, and back to kaveh.

“y/n! are you listening? this is serious!” kaveh’s voice was almost a yell.

“i-i’m sorry, what do you need me to do?” you blinked a couple times.

“get the ice pack!” he yelled as kaveh made his way to the scene, the rival team went back to their bench as they were in small groups, most likely talking about what happened. you grabbed the ice pack from the cooler and ran over. his eyes were screwed shut as he cursed loudly, your teacher asking where it hurt.

“ah fuck, my knee! motherfu—” ajax bit back his curses with the back of his hand. your teacher radioed for a golf cart, which made you confused because you’d think someone would be calling 911.

“shouldn’t we be calling an ambulance..?” alhaitham asked, kneeling next to kaveh and ajax’s head. kaveh visibly looked flustered.

“y-yeah. we should! as a matter of fact, why don’t i just call them right—” your teacher cut kaveh off as he interjected.

“it’s a torn acl, if we call an ambulance right now, all they’ll do is give him some ice and painkillers which we very much have. we’re not spending 6k for an ice pack. save that money for the surgery.” your teacher remarked.

“the what..?” ajax looked at him with wide eyes as a campus supervisor came with a golf cart, the crowd was at a stand still.

“kaveh, stay here and take over for me. y/n, come with me.” you knew ajax’s injury was nothing life threatening, but you couldn’t help but worry for his future. you nodded your head as you and your teacher got into the front seat of the golf cart, cursing kaveh in your head, wishing it was him to take your place. ajax’s teammates carefully laid him on the golf cart and he cursed at them to be more careful. you rolled your eyes.

“ajax, we’re gonna need you to talk to us, we can’t have you passing out.” your teacher drove the golf cart to the recovery room, making sure to drive slowly over any bumps.

“you want me to talk? well, a torn acl is gonna ruin my goddamn career—fuck!” the golf cart jerked forward a little, making him curse.

“it’s probably not completely torn, ajax. you’ll recover in no time.” your teacher said.

“you’ll probably be out for the season.” you added, you couldn’t help but add a little salt in the wound.

“you’ll be out for the fucking year if you don’t shut the fuck up.” ajax snapped back at you.

“you need some ice dipshit?” you turned around with the ice pack and tossed it onto his knee, making him yell out in pain.

“what the FUCK is wrong with you—” he yelped in pain again, you just rolled your eyes.

“y/n! cut it out! you too, ajax. we’re here.” the teacher took the key out of the golf cart and looked at you. “i need to call his parents and file a report for the insurance, i’m trusting you to patch any cuts and tape his knee for the time being. keep the ice on it—and please don’t assault him.” your teacher was already on their way as they headed towards the office. you didn’t even get a minute to protest.

“no fucking way they just left me with this loser.” ajax scoffed from the back seat of the golf cart.

“at least my knee still works.” you grabbed the key and unlocked the recovery room, it had a couple of medical beds and cabinets filled with all kinds of medical equipment. you turned the lights on as you heard ajax outside yell.

“now you’re just leaving me? jesus, i couldn’t have asked for someone better to help me.” you ignored him as that was not what you were doing. you went to the smaller room in the back to get a wheelchair to get him onto one of the beds. you walked back outside, ajax’s face turned from one of pain to an angered look the minute you stepped outside. you wheeled the wheel chair to him.

“get on.” you said with little to no remorse.

“yeah let me just fly onto the fucking wheel chair why not. can you help me?” ajax yelled as he tried to sit up straight on the back seat. you scoffed and somehow got him onto the wheel chair. you both were silent, but you knew when ajax went quiet, he was overthinking. you knew he was thinking about what he’d do with his injury. you decided to give him something else to think about.

“it’s not that bad ajax. you survived skateboarding into a brick wall, i’m sure you’ll be fine.” you brought up an old memory the both of you shared.

“everyone saw. even the fucking scouters—i’m done for.” your words seemed to fly past his head. almost like he forgot about you and his’ history. you helped him onto the medical bed and made him sit straight so you could tape his knee. you went into the back room to get more ice. from the main room, you heard him start talking again.

“when i ran into that brick wall, you were the only one there. i didn’t have scouters that could get me d1 scholarships.” he remarked. he did remember at least. you came back with a roll of medical tape and some ice.

“you need to roll you pants up past your knee.” you went for the straight forward route as anything else would’ve gotten too awkward.

“yeah no fucking way that’s happening, cut it off for all i care.” you figured getting the leg of the pants over his injury wouldn’t be the most best of things, so you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his pants just above his thigh. he hissed in pain even though you didn’t even touch it. he was always this dramatic, you thought to yourself. you unrolled the pieces of tape and got to work. if ajax was good at football, you were the best at sports medicine. you knew how to wrap an ankle like second nature—a big part of the reason why your teacher asked you to assist, not kaveh. he went quiet again, and you’d much rather have him yelling at you than overthinking the situation after all this.

“how’s teucer?” you asked as he hissed whenever you’d place a piece of tape on his knee.

“w-why do you care? can you be any more gentle?” you looked up at him and kept working. you weren’t any gentler, you just worked slower to make it look like you were. he fell for it easily.

“he’s fine. he just graduated elementary—ow, school.” he responded after a minute passed.

“that’s good.” you said in quieter-than-usual tone. you couldn’t deny it was still awkward between you two. you hadn’t had a conversation like this in practically years, and you never thought you would have to. “so what exactly happened out there? you trip or something?” you knew he didn’t trip. you also knew that ajax had a tendency to overestimate himself, overall causing him more harm than good.

“the turf must’ve been off.” he said looking away. ajax was well aware he let himself get cocky. it was the final minutes of the game and he wanted to end it off strong. in doing so, he got himself a torn acl. good going ajax.

“mhm..”

“what? don’t believe me?” before you could answer the question, your teacher walked in. the first thing ajax asked was if they won the game or not. his “half touchdown” didn’t count, leaving them still tied.

“we won. but it was still a close call.”

ajax looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. he was already upset with his injury, and a loss especially with their title as undefeated would be 10x worse. you tried to look normal, but in truth, you were a little happy for the team. after all, you had some sense of school pride.

“your mom is outside. i’ve talked to her already and explained the injury in length. please focus on resting, then let’s talk about your next games.” with that, your teacher left you both alone again.

“can you walk?” you asked.

“i’ll try.” he said wincing as he got up. you went to his side and put his arm around you. it was silent. you helped him to the parking lot, occasional swears were heard from him. you said his mom waiting outside of the car.

“oh sweetie!” ajax’s mom held him tightly.

“hi mom, i’m fine.” his words were muffled into her shoulder.

“oh goodness, let’s get you in the car!” she helped him into the passanger seat. they spoke to each other in russian, it sounded like he was getting scolded. it was none of your business anyway. after doing so, she came back out.

“y/n? i remember you!” she said, giving you a hug.

“hi mrs tartaglia.” ajax’s mom had a soft spot for you. she’d always pack you extra food, and would never fail to treat you like one of her own, it made you happy. due to the circumstances, you hadn’t seen her in what felt like years.

“how’ve you been? we’ve missed you!” her hand stayed on your shoulder, her voice was genuine. but who exactly did she mean by “we”?

“i’ve been alright, thanks for asking.”

“ajax still talks about you, you should come over some time! teucer and tonia miss you!”

huh?

did you hear that right?

maybe it she didn’t actually mean it like that, why would ajax still be talking about you?

ajax rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

“mom i’m hurting let’s go.” he half shouted.

“alright, alright. i’ll see you soon hopefully, y/n! thank you for looking after ajax!” she said with a warm smile as she got back in the car before you could say a word. you simply waved and smiled back at her. you glanced over for a second, seeing ajax on his phone. you didn’t understand. did ajax really stil talk about you? you’d have a lot to tell kaveh..

the two of them left the parking lot in their black tahoe suv. you just stood and watched. you cursed to yourself. you couldn’t understand why ajax’s words pulled at your heartstrings a little. you were confused. and things would only get more confusing from there.

[daichislover]

same time next week? (Law college au)

summary: feeling more anxious than ever, you find yourself seeking help from Luffy’s med student friend, someone you've never had the chance to meet before

warnings: fluff, swear words, slight mention of prescriptions, mentions of smoking weed/vaping/CBD, slight mention of drinking (be responsible y’all!), law keeps his place TIDYYY you can’t tell me otherwise, implied plug!law lol

word count: 1337

MDNI

You don’t want to do this.

You stand at this random person’s door, double-checking your phone to ensure you’re at the right apartment number that Luffy gave you. Nervousness tightens your chest. What's the worst that could happen? A simple 'no'? But then again, you've never met this man; anything could happen. Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to knock but are interrupted by a text.

From: Luffy 

“He’s not that bad, I swear! You’ll get along just fine.”

Easy for him to say, you think, shutting off your phone with a sigh. He could befriend a wall if he tried. After shutting off your phone, you turn to the door. As you finally go to knock, the door swings open abruptly, revealing a man in a penguin hat holding a trash bag. 

Not noticing your presence, the strange man collides into you. You stumble back as he falls, the bag ripping open, trash spilling all over. Groaning, he sits up, then realizes what - or who - he just ran into. “Oh shit… ARE YOU OKAY?” he exclaims, scrambling to his feet.

Stepping back from the spilled trash, you reply, “I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t move out of your way.” You then offered to help clean up, but he shakes his head at you and waves off your apology. “Why were you standing outside our door anyways? You lost or somethin’?”

Before you could respond, another figure steps out from the apartment - a tall, tattooed man in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Your eyes widen at the sight of him. This man is very, very attractive and catches you off-guard, fueling your anxiety. You start to blush.

He sighs at the scene before him. “You had one job,” he mutters to the first man, who can only laugh. After bickering back and forth about the mess in the hallway, the trash-covered man turns to you with a smile.

“Whatcha need, sweetheart? My name's Penguin” With a shaky smile, you introduce yourself and add, “I’m looking for a Trafalgar Law? My friend Luffy mentioned-" 

“That’s me. Call me Law.” The gorgeous man interrupts. His smirk doesn’t help your pounding heart as he invites you inside, telling his roommate to clean up the mess.

Walking into the apartment was like walking into a magazine. The place is unexpectedly pristine, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. “Woah…” You say to yourself while looking around. The living room is spacious, featuring a sleek black leather couch and a TV mounted above a fireplace. How can a couple of college kids afford this place?

Another guy emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “I know right? Law’s basically an interior designer. If becoming a doctor doesn’t work out, you’ll definitely see him on HGTV or whatever that home design channel is.” You laugh, feeling your nerves slightly disappear. Law dismisses the comment with a glare and leads you to his room. "Don't mind Shachi, he loves to be an ass."

You follow him down a hallway, and he opens a door on the left, ushering you inside his room. You murmur a soft "thank you" as you step inside, taking in the neatly arranged space. Aside from a desk cluttered with medical books and papers, everything is meticulously tidy. You slowly scan the room, absorbing the details, while he settles into a chair at his desk. As you admire a collection on his shelf, you notice something familiar.

“Is that the ‘Sora, Warrior of the Sea’ collection?” You look closer to double check, and smile when you realize that you’re right. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then clears his throat. “Yeah, been collecting them for a while. You read?” You mention how you and your brother, Sanji, grew up reading them together. He nods, not saying anything further.

After a few beats of silence, you realize that you forgot why you were there in the first place. Panicking, you start to stutter. “I- uh. Um..” He cocks his head at you, waiting to hear what you were trying to say. You feel yourself getting flustered again and widen your eyes. “Uh-”

“Luffy mentioned something about you needing my help? What can I do for you?” His expression was unreadable, yet he seemed to be listening intently.

You inhale deeply, gathering your thoughts before you start speaking. "Since starting college, my anxiety has worsened, and it’s hard to afford prescribed medication with my tight budget," you explain. "I mentioned exploring alternatives like weed to Luffy, and he suggested that I talk to you. Is there any way you can help me?" You stand there, gripping at your purse. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea; your nerves kick in again and you feel like running away from embarrassment.

Law nods and turns to his desk, pulling open a drawer to retrieve a vape pen, which he extends towards you. You take it, examining the unfamiliar device with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Seeing your puzzled expression, Law asks, "Have you ever smoked or vaped before?" You shake your head. "No, I only drink when I go out."

He hums thoughtfully and gestures for you to hand it back. "Let me show you how it works, then." He carefully demonstrates how to use the vape pen, explaining each step as he goes, before handing it back to you. "Ready to give it a try?" Despite your hesitation, you nod. Law's demeanor instills a sense of trust, but the nerves are still there—after all, this is your first time smoking.

“You’ll probably cough quite a bit on your first try, but don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I’ve got some water ready if you need it,” he reassures you. You nod, feeling your palms begin to sweat.

You bring the pen up to your mouth, and inhale. The feeling was weird and very foreign, but not so bad. Immediately after, you feel a horrible burning sensation in your lungs and throat and start coughing. 

God, how embarrassing. Law quickly grabs his glass of water and hands it to you and you drink it immediately, thankful for his preparedness. After a couple of minutes, and a refill of water later, you finally start to calm down. You look over at Law and see him smirking. “So, how was your first hit?” he asks.

“What do you think?” you retort, half-embarrassed, half-amused. He smiles, turning back to his desk. “See how the pen works for you from now on, then we can discuss other options. That’s yours to keep, no charge. Consider it a first-timer’s discount.” Smiling, you whisper a quick “thank you” and take another hit.

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

After a few hours filled with small talk, you find yourself surprisingly at ease with Law. As the evening unfolds, you not only learn more about him but also share aspects of yourself that you usually keep reserved during a first meeting. His company is surprisingly delightful, and you make a mental note to thank Luffy later.

Stretching your arms, you suddenly realize how late it has become. "Oh my god, I didn't realize the time—I have a paper due tomorrow!" you exclaim, hastily grabbing your purse as Law rises and stretches alongside you. Catching a glimpse of his tattooed abdomen, you feel a flush of warmth. Can he get any hotter? You quickly avert your gaze before he notices you staring.

He leads you to the door, passing his roommates who are deeply engrossed in a video game, oblivious to your departure. At the front door, you pause and turn to face him. Law doesn’t seem like the type of person who gives goodbye hugs, which is really more like your style, so you simply smile at him instead.

"Thanks again for everything," you say, gratitude coloring your voice. "When should I come back?" He returns your smile, his eyes slightly lighting up. "Same time next week?"

Your cheeks warm at his smile, and you find yourself nodding eagerly. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

a/n: idk why, but college law just seems like the type of guy to be a plug LOL hope y'all enjoy

'til next time!

[doudouneverte]

Worried Moms

a/n: hey it's my first request, i hope you'll like it. I loved to write it.

*not my GIFs*

WandaNat x adoptive!daughter!reader; Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff; Avengers x teen!f!reader

Request: And I do have something to request if you feel comfy doing it. Mom!Wanda and Mama!Nat with the reader as their daughter. Reader gets sick and tries to hide it and push through it but they end up fainting or something like that, cue to mama bears mothering her to health. (Idk if fainting can be considered a trigger but if it's for you, I'd gladly read the fic with whatever you have in mind.). [Request by @darkstar225]

Summary: You're sick but you have to hid it from your moms because you want to go in mission, unfortunatly for you and Sam everything don't go well.

Type: Fluff

Warning: maybe 'fucked up' use three time

word count: 1319

--------

You awoke with a headache; it was unusual for you to become ill since gaining your powers. You didn't know if it was a bad thing, but you had to hide it; the next week, you'll go on a mission, but first you have to get your moms' approval. They said they would think about it if you managed to survive your training session. Easy, no? The rest of the day, your state was getting worse, but because you successfully hid it from an ex-assassin and a witch who could read your mind (even if she didn't do it without your consent), you could handle it a little longer.

The next day, otherwise, at the time you woke up, you thought you could die; if it was a cold, it was the worst you ever had. But you didn't really have the time to think about it; you checked your clock: 9 a.m., which meant you had one hour before the start of your training session. You decided to take a hot shower; it was helpful for the next 40 minutes. Today you were paired with Sam to upgrade your hand-to-hand combat skill. At first it was like usual, but suddenly your breath hurt your lungs. You stopped and tried to process what was happening, but Sam punched you in the face. It wasn't a strong punch; he restrained himself, but due to your poor condition, you fell on the training ground with your eyes closed; you were knocked out. When your body hit the ground, everyone in the room froze. There was silence until Sam kneeled next to you and asked, "Y/n? Y/n, are you all right?"

Obviously not, but you didn't mind that he couldn't think clearly. To be honest, no one could; the Falcon picked you up from the floor and ran to the med bay, followed by all the rest of the team.

"You're fucked up, Sam." Bucky said,

"I didn't do anything; we were training, and I just tried to punch her. "Usually, she'd dodge and hit me back," he defended himself.

"But now she's knocked out, and the only person with her was you. FRIDAY, could you please call doctor Cho?" Steve asked the A.I.

"It's done, Mr. Roger," the IA confirmed, but the hero couldn't respond before FRIDAY spoke again. "Mrs. Romanoff and Mrs. Maximoff are back."

There; he was fucked up. On their way to the kitchen, the two redheads found Helene, who was in a hurry and bumped into the shorter woman. "Sorry Natasha, I didn’t look where I was walking,” she apologized, and the Russian nodded.

“It’s okay, don’t worry, but you seem in a hurry, so we will not restrain you more.” She said and stepped aside to let the doctor resume her course. Wanda just had the time to put the bags on the counter when FRIDAY spoke.

“Mrs. Maximoff, Mrs. Romanoff, the doctor needs you in the infirmary right now.” The two women exchange a confused look before heading to where they were called. In front of the room, the witch felt a wave of fear and sadness, and she started to worry. Of course, Nat noticed and grabbed her hand before they walked into the room.

Their eyes widened when they saw you in the bed; they rushed to you before any of them could say anything Sam explained what’s happened. “How couldn’t you notice she was not like usual?” the Russian yelled at him, and nobody found the courage to defend him.

Wanda approached you and cupped your cheek. "Don't worry, dragă (darling), she's fine," the Sokovian assured her, and Helen spoke up.

"Don’t worry, Natasha I just got the results from the test, and it seems she just has a cold.” The doctor reassured her, and the ex-assassin seemed to be more calm. “She just needs to rest for a week. I’ll give you some medicine in case she needs it after she wakes up.” Everyone except your mothers left you after your mothers nodded.

After two hours, you awoke. You were surrounded by two worried redheads. “Hey, you.” you said softly.

“Hey, you.” Wanda said, and Natasha gave you a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” the witch asked you.

“Like I collided with a bus, but he was moving. But I think I'm okay," you said, looking around and raising your brows. "Where am I?" you inquired.

“In the infirmary,” the Black Widow said this time, “we were really worried about you when Sam told us what’s happened.”

You sighed “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Since when?” Wanda asked, and her wife looked at her confused. “Since when have you been like this?” she added.

“Yesterday.” You admitted it shyly.

“Yesterday!?” the older woman loudly repeated, and you nodded. “Why did you hide it from us?” She inquired, a little concerned about her failure to notice it earlier.

You played with your fingers to try to erase your anxiety, “because you said you’d let me go with you if I finished the training session. And I wanted to make you proud of me, and show you I was ready. So, I forced myself to not let you know and not think about it when I was near Mama.” You paused a moment, saying, "I'm sorry if it makes you worry," and some tears found their way into the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Nat cupped your cheek and brushed your tears with her thumb. “It’s okay; we’re a little worried, but it’s okay; we’re not mad or anything. You don’t have to cry, malyshka (baby girl)” their eyes were wet too.

You were about to speak again when a red whip lifted you. The scarlet magic tickled you “We can’t stay here, and you have to rest.” The witch said, and you laughed, “What is so funny?” She gave you a falsely curious look.

“It-haha…it’s tickling me.” You barely said and before you could notice she lend you on your bed. ‘Thank you,” you said, and they gave you a kiss on both cheeks before heading to the door. “Where are you going?’ you asked.

“We must cook you something. We’ll not let you like that.” Wanda said before they left the room. In the kitchen, everybody was waiting for the two women to give an update.

“How is our little fireball?” Tony asked.

“Much better,” Wanda replied, “she just needs rest. We put her in her bed, and we’ll cook something, so she’ll eat before sleeping again.” She explained, and after that, Natasha hit Sam’s head.

“What was that for?” he asked, a little scared.

“You hit our baby girl.” the Russian replied; “you’re lucky Wanda didn’t throw you away earlier,” she added, and the atmosphere changed. “And for the mission, I think we will let you go. We will stay with Y/n. I’ll text Fury.” She explained, nobody found any reason to argue; they know how much they love you, so it's obvious they’ll never let you alone in this condition.

You spent the next week in your bedroom, surrounded by your moms’ love; you couldn’t leave your bed without one of them following and making sure you were okay. Sam was not allowed to approach you for a month. It was pretty funny, and after that, he spent two months making sure you forgave him, even if you assured him it was not his fault.

This little incident proved how much they loved you, and of course you were glad even if you already knew that. You adored them just as much as they do.The world knew how scary the Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch were, and Sam could approve. But the world didn’t know how lovely and careful they could be, between them, of course, but twice as much with you.

[dammn-dean]

I saw that your requests were open and YAY!!!! I am such a sucker for Ghost and an injured reader and would love to read anything you tossed our way <3

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this 🖤

Stitches

Pairing: Ghost (Simon Riley) x Female Reader

Words: 1800+

Warnings: Reader has a crush on Ghost, reader doesn't like getting stiches, medic!Reader, war inaccuracies, blood, probably out of character

“And you’re sure it’s okay?” You ask looking up at your Lieutenant. 

“It’s fine, Doc.” Was all he gave. 

You sigh as you finished wrapping gauze around the fresh stitching you did on Ghosts forearm. You reminded the team 100 times you were in no way a Doctor, so the nickname Doc didn’t make much sense, but you gave up arguing a long time ago. Accepting your role as “Doc” for the team. 

You were knelt in front of him, as he sat on some random bucket you had found. You were almost certain that it would crumble under his weight, but it was still holding strong. 

You gently ran your thumb over the seam of the bandage, it was already sealed but you always liked to give small reassuring touches after helping one of the boys. Especially with stitching. They all say that your stitches are the best, and don’t hurt but if you are being honest… there’s nothing more you hated than getting stitches. 

Your eyes lifting from the bandage to his deep amber eyes, as beautiful as ever. His eyes held yours, unblinking causing you to clear your throat and quickly stand. You were desperately hoping you didn’t look at him as pathetically as you felt. Yes… you were sweet on Ghost, and also yes it is getting harder to cover up. But you would never admit your silly little crush on your lieutenant out loud. 

You busied yourself packing your supplies back up. Feeling the warmth on your cheeks from the minimal interaction with Ghost. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. He shoved his sleeve back over the bandage before standing to head outside. 

It was day 3 of a week-long intel mission. You’ve run into a few hostile here and there, but luckily nothing major. This last little skirmish ended with the hostile dying almost immediately, but he left a mark on the lieutenant before death. A small knife had barely grazed Ghost during a small altercation. You had to practically bed for him to allow you to give him stitches. 

“We head out in 5!” Price orders for the doorway. 

You nod as you strap your med-pack into its spot. You toss the trash over into a corner of the room that you were currently using as a small stopping spot to recoup before heading back to the mission. You grab your rifle and sling it over your shoulder as you head outside to join the team. 

——————————————————

Well everything couldn’t have stayed going smooth you suppose. That’s how you find yourself bleeding from your thigh, GSW. It hurts like hell. You couldn’t take a moment to inspect it, even if you did it wouldn’t help the pain right now. You were trying your best to keep up and provide cover fire for the rest of the team. 

It was chaos, hostiles everywhere, most have been eliminated at this point. But there were more up ahead. Specifically where you needed to end up for intel. 

Comms were as clear and concise as ever, Soap and Ghost were to the direct left of you planning their attack. While Gaz and Price have already pushed forward, inside the buildings as they were clearing a path for the rest of you. 

You were trying your best to keep your whimpers to yourself. Reminding yourself that this is what happens when you decide to become a field medic for the SAS. 

Ghost called your name over the comms, not grabbing your attention the first time. Which caused him to panic. Eyes searching for you to his right, and once he sees you he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He called for you again, this time you heard him. 

“Yes LT? Sorry.” You held your voice as steady as you could manage. 

“Just making sure you’re alive,” he responded as deadpan as ever. 

You let out a small laugh, “Sorry to disappoint, but I am alive. For now.” 

He continued comms, gesturing the plan of attack for him and Soap. Commanding you where to shoot, and you can only do what is asked of you at this point. 

You are barely keeping up, but you are doing your best. Luckily the 141 are the best of the best, before too long all incoming hostiles are eliminated as you enter the room where the intel is supposed to be. 

Ghost and Soap beelined for a laptop, ghost typing away as Soap looks over the screen. Gaz was stationed outside, ensuring no unforeseen enemy soldiers showed up. Price was in a room, on the phone probably calling for exfil. 

You let the guys get to whatever it is they needed to do, you used their distraction as an away to inspect our injury. Slowly you backed into a wall to help lower yourself to the floor. Blood was everywhere making it hard to see the extent of the damage, you ripped the pant leg as much as you could to survey the wound. After gently feeling around you confirmed the bullet grazed the outside of your thigh. There was a chunk of flesh missing but it seemed to miss bones and any major arteries, great news. 

You tugged your rifle up and off of you, tossing it to the side. The noise causes Ghost to look in your direction. 

“Fuck,” Ghost grumbled your name. 

He slid the laptop that he was typing away at to Soap, quietly telling him to keep gathering the intel. Mission was almost complete. 

Ghost was by your side in seconds. “You didn’t think to tell us you were shot?” He huffed. 

“I’m managing,” you whispered with a small smile. Letting your head fall into the wall behind you. 

Ghost could see how much blood you have lost, from the fact most of the left pant leg was stained red from blood. ‘How long ago were you shot?’ he thinks to himself, upset that you didn’t say anything. Right now he just needed to stop the bleeding. He snagged the med-pack from your side, laid it on the ground and started rummaging through it. 

You let your eyes fall close, which of course worried Ghost.

“Stay with me, yeah?” He spoke gently, but firm. “This is going to sting… sorry,” he apologizes before cleaning the area as best as he could. He was just pouring the antiseptic through the hole in your pant leg, cleaning the wound while simultaneously removing some of the blood. 

You grit your teeth and before you know it he is done. Ghost did his best to be gentle while he checked the area. “Not too bad, yeah?” He questioned, pulling his eyes from your leg to your half opened eyes.

“Bullet grazed me pretty badly, but no major damage” you explained weakly. “Lots of blood loss.” 

“Looks like it,” Ghost affirmed. He tugged his gloves off, tossing them to the left of your injured leg before pouring antiseptic on his hands. 

That definitely caught your attention. “What are you doing??” You questioned as urgently as possible while being in your state. 

“You need stitches,” Ghost explained like it was obvious. 

“I think I will be okay,” you reassured him. “Just hand me some gauze and I’ll wrap it myself.” You went to reach for the med-pack. 

Ghost let out an exasperated sigh, stopping your outreached hand. Gently grasping it into his own. 

“Look at me love.” 

Eyes almost popping out of your head at the term of endearment. They landed on his, soft as you have seen them under the skull mask. 

“It’ll be alright, yeah?” He gave a curt nod. “I may not be as good as you giving stitches, and it may hurt a little… but I promise to be as gentle as I can. ‘Kay?” Ghost spoke softly to you, leaving you no choice but to believe him. 

You felt your throat tighten, but let out a small “Okay”. He let his thumb brush softly against your knuckles for probably a moment too long. Especially in your state, it felt like a lifetime. Your eyes closed at the gentle touch, causing him to think you were fading. 

“Eyes on me.” Your lieutenant demanded. 

You gently opened them to meet his yet again, small smile on your lips. 

Ghost pulled his hand from yours before reaching in your pack for scissors. Use them to gently cut a little bit more of your pan leg away.

You couldn’t even keep track of how many stitches you have given in your day, but it never made it any easier on you. There’s something about the sensation of getting stitches yourself that you can’t move past. 

You were shaking in anticipation, Ghost could see your fingers trembling from your lap. 

“Who would have thought, our Doctor doesn’t like getting stitches?” 

“Well I’m not a doctor… just a field medic Ghost,” you stated. “And yes... I hate getting stitches.” 

“Hasn’t even been two hours since you stitched up my arm, no problem.” He said rather matter of fact.

“Yes, I can give them no problem, I just hate getting them.” You felt the tips of your ears warm, feeling embarrassed. 

“It’s okay Doc,” he reassures you with a gentle hand on your bicep. “I should have protected you better, yeah?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at that. “What do you mean?” 

“What kind of lieutenant lets his medic get shot?” He questions, tilting his head. 

Your heart sped up at that. Hearing him call you HIS medic, touched you more than it should. 

“You are the best LT… accidents happen,” you reassured him. “Now hurry up and do this before I change my mind.”  You attempted to joke. 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied. You must be borderline delirious, because you swear you hear his voice lit up like he was smiling.

Ghost is anything but a liar, he did try his best to be gentle but it still hurt like hell. You hated every second of it. Finally breathing out an air of relief as he started to wrap bandaging around your thigh. 

“Did good love,” Ghost cooed. Once your thigh was wrapped up enough to his liking. He gently ran his thumb over the seam of the bandage, mimicking your motion from earlier. The only difference was his soft touch on your thigh felt a way more intimate than intended. 

The blood loss, soft touches and sweet voice Ghost was putting you in an odd headspace. 

“Thank you…” you whispered. His amber eyes holding yours, his thumb inching off the bandage until it just barely touched the sensitive skin of the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches and you swear you can see Ghost’s chest rise and fall a little heavier than usual. 

“Aye, Doc! Are you good to walk?” Soap asked as he closed the laptop. “Got what we needed, let’s go.” 

Ghost ripped his hand from you and stood immediately. His arm held out to you, to help you off the floor. 

“Let’s get you home, Doc.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and let me know if you have any ideas or requests.