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xcaptain-winterx · 1 year

Note

Requests are open you say? How about Steve Rogers having a huge crush on the new recruit (reader) and being very awkward in trying to pursue her

Be a man

Steve Rogers x reader

summary: above

warnings: fluff, awkwardness, shy Steve, cum

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Part 2

Main Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

Steven Grant Rogers also known as the hero Captain America. Fought against Hydra and their leader Red Skull, his brainwashed best friend, Ultron, his own team and even Thanos. You would think that Americas golden boy is unstoppable, that nothing can stop him.

You’re wrong.

See, Steve has years of experience in fighting due to the fact that he’s over a hundred years old and fought in World War Two. The only thing he doesn’t know about, or to be more specific, doesn’t have any experience with, is the opposite sex. Steve has never been on a date or had a real first kiss. Ok, yeah, he kissed Peggy and Natasha once, but that meant nothing. God, he’s still a virgin.

To sum it up, Steve is an awkward bean around women. He doesn’t always show it obviously, but ask him something not work related with a flirty smile, and he starts to sweats like a polar bear in the desert.

Steve always thought that he was going to be able to talk to ‘the girl’ once he saw her, that he will have no problem to communicate with her.

He thought wrong.

Steve is in the training room, punching the punching bag until it falls off again. He was supposed to be training with Sam, but he hasn’t shown up. So far, Sam always showed up or at least texted him if something came in between and he couldn’t make it. Steve stops hitting the punching bag and goes over to the bench where his phone is laying. He picks it up and swipes it open, seeing that he didn’t receive any text message from Sam.

It’s not normal for Sam to be late, so Steve decides that he’s going to look for Sam. He puts his phone in his pocket and walks out of the gym, in the direction of the living area.

As he walks down the hallway Bucky crosses his path, “Hey pal, have you seen Sam”, Steve asks.

“No, but I can imagine he’s talking to the new recruits, telling them something about teamwork makes the dream work, or some other shit”, Bucky says, mimicking Sam’s voice.

Steve’s brows furrow; what new recruits? Steve heard nothing about new recruits. “I don’t know anything about new recruits?”

“Transferred from a SHIELD base in Germany, I think. Sam will probably force us to introduce us to them”, Bucky says. Steve knows that it’s hard for Bucky to talk or communicate with new and many people at once, but he knows that he’s trying his best. Since he began going to therapy, his old self made more and more of an appearance, and Bucky feels a lot better in general even though it’s hard sometimes. He’s proud of Bucky. He’s trying his best.

“Better we do it now than later. Come on, Buck”, Steve says, patting his shoulder, and pulling him with him.

Bucky lets out a chuckle, “Ok”.

Both super soldiers walk towards the meeting rooms, thinking they might be there when Bucky suddenly stops walking. Steve looks at Bucky, silently questioning why he stopped. Bucky reads Steve’s facial expression before pointing towards the end of the hallway, “found him”.

Steve follows Buckys finger and sees Sam. Sam is not alone, he’s with a woman. A beautiful woman. A goddess.

Bucky sees Steve’s face heating up. “You good, pal?” he asks with a teasing voice. Steve doesn’t answer him, to lost in the woman’s beauty next to Sam. Bucky snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s face, trying to get him back to reality, but it doesn’t work.

Lost in thoughts, or to be more specific the woman, Steve doesn’t see how Sam noticed them too, and is calling them over.

“Steve!”

Steve comes back to reality when Sam calls him for the third time. Bucky laughs at Steve’s confused puppy stare, looking like he just woke up from a coma without any knowledge of what happened before. It gets worse as they see how Sam and the woman are now walking towards them. Bucky feels Steve panicking next to him. “Hey Steve, calm down, ok?” Bucky whispers to him.

“Mhm”, Steve answers, not being able to form any words. Sam and the Woman getting closer and closer to them.

“Remember, we just introduce ourselves” Bucky tries to calm him down, his own anxiety leaving and instead focusing on helping his friend, “You can do this. Just remember to think and talk at the same time, and don’t just stare at her”. If his friend wasn’t looking like a dead fish Bucky would’ve really enjoyed this moment. Him helping his friend talk to a woman like he did back in the 40s, but nothing about Steve’s current problem is funny. Well, maybe the fact that he for real looks like a dead fish.

“Ok” Steve says.

“Ok”

“You can do this, Steve”

“Ok”

And the woman gets closer and closer.

Steve begins to murmur what he wants to say, making Bucky look nervously at him.

The woman and Sam are now almost completely by them as Steve suddenly says, “I need to finish the mission report”, before sprinting the other direction.

“Hey, why did Steve-“ Sam can’t finish because Bucky is already sprinting after Steve, leaving him and the woman utterly confused. “BUCKY!”

Sam puts his hands on his hips, “normally they are not like this, ok? They probably just remembered to take their anti-aging cream”. He turns to you, “Super soldiers, you know”.

You smile as Sam claps your shoulders and says, “how about I show you the training room?”. You nod, letting him lead you to the training room.

Meanwhile, Steve is sprinting towards his room, looking like a gazelle who’s running away from a predator. Steve thought he could talk to her, but no.

Once he reaches his room, he locks the door, and then just stands there, staring at the locked door; what just happened? He begins to hyperventilate like how his pre serum self did when he had an asthma attack. The room feels like it’s shrinking. Steve feels small and scared. Just the sight of the woman made him with a snap of a finger feel like his weak 40s self before the serum. Back when no one liked him.

While Steve is having a panic attack, Bucky is running towards Steve’s room. Bucky started running after him some seconds after he sprinted away, and normally Bucky would’ve caught up to him, but Steve’s panic and the super soldier serum made it a bit difficult. Luckily, Bucky knows Steve like no one else and knows that he’s hiding in his room.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, knocking on the door. “You good, pal? Can I come in?”. He waits, but no answer comes, so he tries opening the door but it’s locked.

Bucky sighs, “Steve, let me in”.

On the other side, Steve is debating if he should let his best friend in. His debating goes too long for Bucky though because the next thing Steve hears is Bucky saying ‘Friday unlock the door’, and the door opens.

Bucky walks in, seeing a teared eyed Steve who’s breathing fast and heavy. Bucky strikes over to him and pulls him slowly down to the floor, sitting face to face with each other. He takes his hand and puts it on his heart, “Steve, hey. Focus on me. Focus on my heartbeat. You feel mine?” Bucky says, putting his other hand on Steve’s heart, feeling how his heart is still beating fast. “Steve, focus on my heartbeat”.

Steve looks at his friend and tries to focus on his heart. He closes his eyes, only trying to listen to Bucky’s heartbeat. “Yeah, I feel it”.

Bucky gives him a smile, “ok, good”.

They sit in silent for a few minutes, Steve’s heart beating now slower and his breaths coming out normally.

Bucky waits until Steve’s heartbeat is fully back to normal before asking “better?”.

Steve nods, “I didn’t think we would have had to use that method on me”, he says chuckling.

This calming method showed Bucky’s therapist, Steve. She told him that it would help Bucky calm down when he’s having a panic attack, and it did in fact help. The night after she explained it to him, Bucky woke up from a nightmare and started to panic. Steve’s room is right next to him, so he heard his friend’s panic. He tried the method that night and it worked perfectly. It took some while until Bucky calmed down, but it was way faster than without the method, and Bucky was able to fall asleep again after.

To other people, this method may look a bit weird, but it calms his best friend down, so who cares? It’s also no surprise that Steve is the only one allowed to do this method. Sam once tried it and Bucky punched him in his face when he put his hand on his chest. Sam left the room angrily and annoyed with a broken bloody nose. Bucky punched him with his metal arm. He thought Sam was in danger that second and in a state of danger he uses his metal arm. Bucky apologized to Sam though, and he truly felt bad and sorry. Sam instantly forgave him though, he knows it wasn’t his intention.

At least not in that situation.

Bucky even ‘baked’ Sam some brownies. Well, more like bought some Brownies and said he baked them. Sam knew he didn’t, but said nothing and just enjoyed eating some good, tasteless brownies with a smile on his face.

“Well, we didn’t think you would ever run away from a girl”.

Steve sighs, “Yeah. Back then, they would run away from me. Now it’s me running away”

“Why did you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. I got scared I guess?”.

When Steve looks at Bucky again, he comes to face with a blank stare. It kinda reminds him of Bucky’s winter soldier stare. If they weren’t having an emotional and serious conversation, Steve would’ve been actually concerned that something happened that made Bucky go into Winter Soldier mindset.

Bucky scares Steve when he suddenly jumps up, “You know what” he pulls Steve up, almost making him fall over “You will have that girl”.

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

“Or just someone”.

He doesn’t like the thought of Bucky helping him. Bucky was a true player back then, a gentleman, but a player.

“I help you talk to women. I can do that. I did that a hundred years ago” he stops when he realizes “fucking hell, that’s a long time ago”.

Steve scowls, “Language, Buck”.

“Sorry”.

“I get that you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate that” Steve takes a deep breath before continuing, “but I can’t”

“Why?” Bucky asks crossing his arms, standing like an angry parent.

“I just can’t, ok? Also, colleges are not allowed to be in a romantic relationship”.

“Then look for someone else. There’s this woman named Leah. She works at my favorite sushi place and I heard-“

“I don’t want someone else!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. “Ohhhh, so you want her. Ok, Steven. I see you”. He winks at Steve as he groans.

“I didn’t say that. I just-ugh, I like her, but-there’s not gonna be anything between us” he tries to give his best friend a reassuring smile, but knowingly fails. “You can ask Leah out”, Steve tries changing the topic.

“No, she’s not my type”.

Bucky knows that Steve won’t stop having a crush on the new recruit. It took Steve a hundred years to get over Peggy. He was still in love with her even after being unfrozen. Now imagine he’s thinking about the new recruit until he dies. Bucky doesn’t want that. God, he was honestly happy when Peggy passed. That woman was like a snake slithering her way into his friends heart only to poison it. He didn’t like her from the second she interrupted Steve and his conversation. Dumb Bitch.

He wants his friend to be happy. He wants to be an uncle. He hopes Steve will get himself together and talk to her.

“Ok. Whatever you say”, Bucky says, patting him on his shoulder. They continue talking, but this time about what movie they are going to watch for their ‘we need to learn about cinematic history’ movie night. While talking, Bucky’s mind continues to wander back to their original conversation, and about the fact that Steve doesn’t want some dating teaching from him. In all honesty, he’s slightly hurt by that.

He could still help him somehow, though.

It’s been a week now since he saw the new recruit and he’s been trying to avoid any situation that could lead to him seeing her. Steve knows it sounds silly, but he’s scared of her. Scared of seeing her. Scared of her seeing him. He hasn’t been training for a week. Steve knows the chances are high that she will be there. The only sort of trying he did this week was going for a run. Alone.

Sam noticed a change in Steve. Everybody did. Steve was never a huge extrovert and now he’s such an introvert. He doesn’t even eat with them anymore because she could be there, or just walk past them eating.

Today he needs to be brave, though. Bucky asked him to train together because he’s the only good match for him. Bucky told him that winning against Sam slowly starts to get boring, and that Steve needs to train again. Cardio is good, but Steve needs to do more.

After trying to convince Bucky that they can also train outside or anywhere else than the training room, he knew from Bucky’s reaction that it’s not gonna happen. So now he’s on his way to meet Bucky in the training room.

To say Steve is nervous is an understatement, he’s almost shitting his pants.

Bucky assured him they would have the room for themselves and Steve just hopes that that’s true.

Steve walks into the gym and surprisingly sees no one. No Bucky. Steve was already late because he was nervous, so it confuses him why Bucky isn’t here. He looks at the clock on the wall and sees that he’s sixteen minutes late, meaning Bucky is to late too.

“Maybe he’s still asleep”, Steve tells himself. Technically, he would be happy that Bucky is able to sleep, but it’s the first time since a week that he’s training and last time, Sam already didn’t come.

He is just about to go to Bucky’s room when he hears a soft voice.

“Well, it’s only seven in the morning”.

Steve turns around and freezes.

It’s the woman

Oh, no no no no no

“Every normal person would be asleep at this time”.

Steve is unable to speak, he’s just staring at her. Not even blinking, just staring.

She looks at him with a smile, waiting for an answer, or just something.

When Steve realizes that she’s waiting for an answer, he clears his throat. “Yeah, uhm-I uh, I mean he likes to sleep-uh- he can’t sleep that much and-uhm yeah. He normally only uhm-sleeps with me- Wait not like that-uh I mean, he just likes to sleep with me-no. He uhm, he sleeps better with-me-uhm because I’m a good sleep partner- no, I just-uhm. IM NOT GAY”.

Steve looks at her with wide eyes. He knows he just made a fool of himself, so he tries to save himself.

Tries.

“There’s obviously nothing wrong with liking-uhm men, but I’m not like that. Yeah, uhm I hate men- wait not hate men, I like them, but platonic like ha ha. I like woman. But I’m not a relationship-I uhm”, he doesn’t want to look like he is desperate for a relationship. She could think that he’s trying to ‘hit on her’. He believes that what it’s called, but you can never trust Tony. “I’m not into relationship- uhm, the romantic, uh, kind-just the other kind”

Now she looks at him with wide eyes. The only other non-relationship kind she can think of is the sexual one. She can’t believe that Captain Rogers, the golden boy, is such a man. The worst part is that Steve doesn’t understand what he just said and instead looks at her with a nervous smile. Poor boy thought it sounded more like normal relationship, platonic kind. It didn’t, though.

“You do you, I guess” she says, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. She didn’t think her first time meeting Captain America would be like this.

Steve sees that she’s not comfortable or at least confused by what he’s saying. Maybe she doesn’t like his answer.

So he continues to try to fix this conversation.

“I uhm I would like a relationship-with someone-uh I want to-“ he can’t say dancing, that sounds boring. He needs to come up with something that everyone does these days. Something that she would probably like “do Netflix and chill”.

Steve needs to get better at telling when he can trust Tony and when not.

“Oh, uhm” she doesn’t know what to say “that’s nice I guess”.

Right now, Steve would rather fight against HYDRA than talk to her. He can feel how he’s sweating. And if that already isn’t bad enough, he starts to really look at her. Oh boy.

She’s wearing tight black leggings with a matching black sport bra. She must’ve been already training for a while because he sees some drops of sweat on her chest area, running to her cleavage. Steve is directly looking at her cleavage, not taking his eyes off it.

He doesn’t notice that he’s looking at it, well, that he’s so obviously looking at it.

She puts her left hand on her right shoulder, acting like she’s massaging it, and not like she’s trying to cover her chest.

Steve’s eyes move to hers, and it only takes three seconds until realization hits him.

“Shit!” he screams, making her jump “oh, I’m sorry I didn’t want to scare you-I uhm, and I didn’t want to stare at your you know-chest. Not because they are not pretty, they are-NO Uhmmm, they uh. It’s just”.

Steve stops talking when the door opens and Bucky walks in with a smile on his face “Language, Steve. Good morning you two”. At least someone is having one.

“Morning”, she says, smiling at his best friend before walking away to lift some weight. Deep down they are both happy that Bucky saved them from the awkward situation, though, Steve is also sad because he wanted to talk to her, to have a chance, but he failed.

Bucky smiles after her, then turns to Steve. “Hey Steve, how are you?”

“You knew, didn’t you” Steve almost spats, his voice echoing throughout the training room. He turns around and sees how she is looking at them.

He quickly turns back around, facing Bucky, who just gives him an innocent smile. “What do you mean Steve?”. Bucky knows that Steve can’t say anything about that, due to the fact that she can hear everything they are saying.

Steve glares at him, grinding his teeth. “That you would be late”, he lies.

“Yeah”.

Steve wants to scream, but he can’t “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his veins showing.

“I texted you, Punk”, Bucky says as he walks over to get a punching bag.

Steve frowns; Bucky didn’t text him. He pulls out his phone.

Love❤️‍🔥- I’ll be a bit late

Send one minute ago

Steve cringes as he sees the name Tony and Sam saved Bucky on his phone. He would rather want Punk with that heart. Platonic style. He doesn’t know how to change it, though.

“Didn’t you see my message?” Bucky gives him a fake questioning expression. A teasing one.

“I must have missed it”, Steve says in a monotone voice “I mean it says you send it a minute ago. Bucky”.

“Oh, you know. The signal is quite bad here”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, Bucky. You would’ve thought that Tony would’ve already handled it”.

Bucky snickers “Yeah”.

“Yeah”.

Bucky walks with the bag over his shoulder towards a hook to hang the bag on. He turns to look at Steve, a grin on his face when his eyes move to look behind Steve.

“Hey, how about you help her, Steve~”, Bucky says loudly.

Steve follows his eyes and sees how the recruit is struggling with moving some weights out of her way, so she can put the bench there to do some bench presses.

She looks at them and gives them a shy smile. “That would be kinda nice”.

Steve looks back at Bucky, panic in his eyes. Bucky gives him a big smile that says ‘yes’.

It’s time, it’s time to shine, Steve. He can do that, he can easily lift that.

‘Ok, Steve. Pull your ass cheeks together and help her’ he thinks to himself as he walks towards her. He stops in front of her, getting lost in her eyes for a second. This time he snaps back quickly though and moves the weights away.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers”, she says, his back still towards her.

“Mhm” he can’t bring out a single word. Instead of turning back to her, he sorts the weights, so she doesn’t see him blushing. “You-You’re welcome”.

He hears her getting on the bench and takes that as his cue to leave.

“Hey, Steve!”

Please, don’t Bucky.

“You should help her. Stay behind her to make sure that her arms don’t give in”

Steve doesn’t turn around this time. He can hear how she doesn’t lift any weight, meaning she is looking at them.

“Yeah, I uhm would, but- mission reports. I need to finish the mission report”, Steve lies “important stuff you know. Not like helping her isn’t important, but yeah. Avenger stuff is important….”.

It’s that second that Bucky realizes that Steve is the worst person in admitting his crush he ever met. The best friend he is, he needs to help him. “Oh, I already did them for you”.

Great, now Steve’s lie is a lie. Thank you, Bucky.

“No, I don’t think you did”, he tries to save himself “They were on my desk this morning, unfinished”

Good job, Steve.

“I did them this morning. We were on the same mission, Steve. Only one of us needs to do them” Bucky says, punching the bag “I send you a message”.

“No, you didn’t-“ he looks at his phone to see a message from Bucky.

Love❤️‍🔥-already did the mission report.

Send a minute ago.

Bucky knows Steve like the back of his hand. He knew what excuses he would use to try to flee the scene. A laugh almost leaves his mouth as he sees the face Steve is making. God, he missed teasing him.

“I thought you were asleep”.

“No, I wanted to finish it. You’ve been quite stressed the past week, and I wanted to lift some weight of your shoulders”.

“Thanks, James”.

The tension between them is noticeable. So noticeable that the recruit is more uncomfortable than when she was alone with Steve.

She gets their attention when she walks past them to grab her water bottle. “Have fun training”

“You already leaving?” Steve asks disappointed, sad that she’s leaving.

“Yeah, I’ve already been training before you both came. Also, I need to find Sam. He promised to show me the rest of the compound. I only saw half of the facility so far and don’t want to get lost at some point”, she says. So far she didn’t get lost because the most important areas were already introduced to her, but it’s better to know the whole compound. “Bye” she waves them before opening the door and walking through it.

No one says anything until the door closes. Bucky is the first to break the silence, “wow”.

“I know you did that on purpose!”

“I was trying to make you talk to her” he grabs his shoulder “I just want to help you. She’s a beautiful woman-“

“Hey!”

“See” Bucky says, “you’re jealous when I just say that she’s pretty. You have a crush on that girl, Steve”.

Steve sighs in defeat. “Ok, maybe”.

“I KNEW IT” Bucky screams, jumping like a little kid on Christmas morning “FUCK YES, STEVE”

“Language”

He stops jumping and looks at him. “You will get that girl. I promise” Bucky looks like he’s about to cry “oh my god, you’re all grown up”.

Steve lets out a slight laugh. It’s almost ridiculous how happy Bucky is that there’s a girl that he kinda likes. It reminds him of how they talked about their futures when they were little. They talked about carriers and family, and how they will be called uncle Steve and uncle Bucky by their best friends kids.

“Are you crying?” he asks, seeing Bucky wipe his eye.

“Pfff, no”.

Oh, he’s definitely crying.

“Calm down, Bucky. Just because I like her doesn’t mean that she likes me”.

“Yeah, because you’re just an Avenger, the symbol of America, a super soldier, owner of America’s ass-“

“Ok, I get it”. Steve isn’t dumb, he knows that people know him, that he’s quite famous; god he sounds like Tony. All this doesn’t make him the most liked person in the world, though, and not everyone fall for him. Not just because he has blond hair and some women like dark hair, or he is to old schooled and doesn’t know every new show on Netflix, or women are not into him because they hate male genitals and prefer women’s….parts. The shield only shows what he shows the world and not the people he cares about. He doesn’t show his emotional side with all his flaws.

“You like her, right” Bucky asks, knowing the answer.

“Yes, of course, but-“

“Then you will go to her and tell her that”. Bucky claps his hands. “You will tell her how much you like her. You will take her dancing and to the movies. Understand?”

“Yes, Sargent” Steve smiles.

“I know she’s the one. You will propose to her at sunset and give me some nephews and nieces”. Steve laughs at Bucky’s hyper fixation about his crush. Both of them are acting like two teenage girls.

“A uncle to Steve Jr’s and….uhm…what’s her name again”

“……”

“………..”

“……………”

“………you don’t know her name?”

“no, not really”. Well, that’s awkward.

“Oh my god, Steve”, Bucky is regretting his decision to help his friend “how about we start with you introducing yourself?”

“Bucky, please don’t do anything stupid”, Steve pleads. He doesn’t want Bucky to give him to much pressure. The thought of Bucky trapping them in a closet scares him, or him basically throwing him against her.

Bucky just looks at him confused. “You will do something stupid. I’m here to prevent that from happening”.

“Promise?”

“Promise” Bucky says showing Steve his hands “I swear on Sam’s life”.

Steve smile slowly falls and Bucky corrects himself “ok, I swear on uhm, your life”.

“I guess that’s ok”

Since then Bucky’s been on the mission ‘get a sister-in-law’, with no luck though. He thought being a wingman would be easier, but it’s not. Definitely not. Or he has just a bad person that he needs to help.

So far Steve had like four times eye contact, spoke two sentences in two conversations. The one sentence only being two words.

The best try so far was when Steve was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, when she came and asked him if he could move a bit so she can get to the fridge, and Steve said ‘yes’. He said something, made eye contact, didn’t walk away and didn’t stutter. He didn’t even sweat! Steve did this on his own without him and for that he needs an applause.

And the worst try was when he was ‘forced’ to train with her.

“You can do this Steve”, Bucky whispers to Steve before giving him a pat on the shoulder and pushing him towards the mat.

Steve still hasn’t introduced himself yet, so Bucky thought it would be a good opportunity to see the skills of the new recruits and to train with them. Surprisingly, Steve is now sparring against his crush, the woman they still don’t know the name of.

Steve walks on the mat, giving a quick look over his shoulder to see Bucky giving him a thumbs up.

He takes a deep breath before saying, “Ok, come at me”.

To say he’s impressed is an understatement. He’s fascinated by her skills, by the way she moves with such grace. Instead of directly coming at him and trying to punch him, she moves around him. She does that the whole time, dodging every single move of him while he tries to land a hit on her, well, more like pinch her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Ever.

At some point Steve finally manages to get a hold of her, but she is quicker and kicks his one leg away and then uses his arms to lift her up and wrap her legs around his neck, bringing him down. Steve is now on the mat with her legs around his neck, her directly hovering over his face. Steve doesn’t know why, but he’s not complaining about this position.

He gets himself back together and uses his legs to his lower back of the mat and makes a roll, so now she’s on the mat, with him in between her legs.

Steve can be lucky that most of the recruits are already doing their own thing because this is not a professional normal work position. Sam, who just walked in, stopped next to Bucky when he sees the scene. He looks at Bucky and sees how he’s directly looking at where Steve’s face is.

“Stop doing your creepy eye thing”, Sam tells him, but Bucky simply ignores him. Sam is about to say something when he hears a loud slam, and sees her on top of Steve, straddling his hips “oh”.

This scene doesn’t last long though because Steve flips them around, now straddling her hips and pinning her arms above her head. She tries to move around under him, successfully. Her back towards and is about to use her knees to make him fall off. Steve thinks quicker though and flips them again. Her back against his chest and his back against the floor. He wraps his legs around each of her legs, making her unable to move them, while he wraps his arms around her neck, taking her in a headlock. She tries to wiggle away, but can’t.

She taps his arm, signaling him that he won. Steve lets her go, softly lifting her arm to help her up, and then getting up after her.

“Everything ok?” he asks, wanting to make sure that he didn’t hurt her in some kind. That would definitely make admitting his feelings harder.

“Yes”, she smiles at him, panting slightly, “thank you, Captain Rogers, for training with me”. The smile she gives him is a true, generous smile. Steve doesn’t see how Sam and Bucky are exchanging scared looks.

“Y-You don’t need to tank me”, Steve says. Now it’s the time to introduce himself; he can do it. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you can call me S-“

He gets pulled away by Bucky, forcefully getting pushed against his chest. Steve looks Bucky confused into his eyes as Bucky pulls him with him behind the corner, out of sight of her, with Sam walking next to them. All the way to behind the corner Bucky keeps Steve against him, while Sam blogs other from seeing Steve’s side.

“What are you doing? I was just about to introduce myself”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, something else was also about to introduce himself” and points to Steve’s crotch.

Steve looks down and sees what Sam is talking about.

For the first time, the golden boy is having a boner. A huge one. The serum really did make everything bigger.

“Oh, no no no no” Steve goes.

“Hey, it’s ok” Bucky tries calming him down “it’s uhm normal”

“Yeah, you know how many boners I had in my life”, Sam continues.

“See, even Sam thinks so. Did you ever notice how often I had when we were out with some girls, or just when I was thinking about one”, Bucky continues, Sam nodding his head the whole time. Both giving Steve a smirk. “You have them everywhere. In the shower, during work, in bed, I even had them when we had a sleepover”.

“Oh my god” Steve hates talking about that. He doesn’t know what’s worst, talking about women things or about men and their boners. “I had it in front of her, in front of everyone” he cries out.

Sam pats his shoulder. “No one saw it”

“You did!”.

“Because we watched both of you”, Sam assures him. “The others did their own thing, and she looked in your eyes, man. Not what’s below Captain America’s waist”

“Maybe she felt it though”, Bucky says.

“Bucky!”

“Your not helping, man”, Sam shrugs and looks down “ok, maybe she did because you know, it’s not small”

“See, Wilson! You agree”

Steve had never been this embarrassed in his entire life. He covers his erection with his hands, but it only makes it more obvious. He’s trying to cover his boner while his two best friends are talking about his penis size and how often they get a boner. He wants to dig himself a grave.

“Guys!” Steve whisper screams, getting their attention back. “I need to get rid of it”.

“Of your giant boner?”

“Yeas, Sam. What else is there to get rid of?” Steve says. Bucky slaps Sam on the back of his head, with no context at all. “What was that for, Bucky?”

He shrugs “I know you would like to do that, but are too nice to actually do it”. Steve just wanted to have a nice day where he maybe finally managed to speak to the woman of his dreams, but no, everything had to go like shit. “What do I do?”.

Sam and Bucky look at each other before letting out an obvious loud breath of air. They turn to Steve. “Well, you could try to calm down” Sam says, and Bucky continues “or you could, you know, help yourself out”.

“No!” Steve doesn’t even want to imagine helping himself out. The simple thought disgusts him and he feels an incredible feeling of shame.

Steve shakes his head at them. “Tell me something, that helps uhm, the problem”.

“Remember when your mom caught us looking through her drawers and spanked you”.

“….”

“Are you getting harder?” Sam asks, looking at his now slightly bigger boner.

“N-no” Steve pushes with all might on his boner to get it down “s-say something else”. He begs his friends for help.

Bucky looks hopeless “I don’t know what to say to get her off of your mind”. Steve wants to say something when Sam holds up his hands.

“Hold up, her off of your mind” he says looking at Steve, “so it wasn’t just because you got a bit close to her”. The smirk on his face is huge, a teasing one.

Steve groans out of frustration and pain.

“You know, I could see you together”, Sam goes, giving him a thump up.

“I know, but he’s too afraid to ask her. He couldn’t even introduce himself”.

“You didn’t introduce yourself to y/n?”

Steve looks at him and repeats her name softly. Y/n. Your name sound like an angel, a page out of the Bible that you worship and say as a pray. He would do that. Say your name like it’s a holy prayer. He wants to say your name again again and again. Whispering your name in your ear as you slowly share a kiss.

“Shit” Bucky says. He thought that Steve’s boner couldn’t get any bigger, but he was wrong. So wrong. It’s now almost twice as big as before. “Sam, why did you say that?!”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen! I just said her name. I didn’t think he would get hard because of a name”.

“Well, he did!”

They hear people coming into the training room. A lot by the sound of their talking. At least fifteen entered the room. Now you add them three, plus y/n and plus the seven recruits that were already in here. That makes twenty-six people. Two, Sam and Bucky, already saw Steve’s boner.

“Guys!” Steve screams “what do I do?!”, hiding more in the corner.

“Obviously getting her out of your head doesn’t work”.

“How about you stay in front of me while I walk out”.

Both shake their head “they would see you though and stare at you. Also, there are too many. You wouldn’t make it out unnoticed”.

“What if I wait until they leave”.

“Steve, they will eventually walk to this corner when they get more weights, and then see you”

Steve looks hopeless. “Bring me some pants that- I don’t know, doesn’t show my you know”.

“Steve…nothing can hide that boner”, Sam says “there is only one option”.

“What?”

“you could…help yourself out, Steve”

“No”

“Steve, please”

“No”

“Pal, listen-“

“No, Bucky. I can’t do that. I can’t just touch my…member…and..bring myself pleasure”, Steve hates talking about it. “How am I even suppose to do it?!”

“You take your dick in your hand and hold it tight, then you start to move your hand up and down. Personally, I would advise you to do it fast but-“

“I meant where!” he covers his ears trying to forget what Bucky just said. Though he learned something new. “I can’t just do it here, it would..spill”

Sam looks around until he sees something that could help “take this to collect your sperms”. He shows Steve an empty probably by someone forgotten water bottle.

“But-“ Steve knows that this is the only way and that he should accept it, but he doesn’t want to “fine”.

“I wait around the corner so no one walks over here, while Bucky makes sure you don’t get a heart attack” Sam says, winking before walking around the corner. Bucky gives Steve a slight smile before turning around. He doesn’t need to see his best friend Masturbate.

Surprisingly, Steve isn’t that loud. Sam only heard him once or twice a bit louder. One time he was screaming Bucky’s name because he turned around for a second.

Sam walks over to them when Bucky gives him a thump up. Steve is sitting on the floor, panting heavenly. Next to him, a completely full to the top water bottle. Or more like cum bottle.

“Congratulations on your first orgasm, Steve”

They are on their way out now, happy that Steve doesn’t have a big gun in his pants anymore.

“Hey, Sam”

Fuck

“Hey, Y/n” Sam smiles, while Steve panics. He’s drenched in sweat and is holding a bottle of his own cum.

You smile at Bucky and Steve too. You look at Steve and see how he looks like he’s in pain and completely drenched. “Are you ok, Captain Rogers?”.

Bucky and Sam quickly cover him up. “Oh yeah, he’s fine, he just-“

“Is hungry!”

“Uhm yeah and you know how you can get sick when you didn’t eat”

“Yeah ya get really sick”

You stare at them for a second, trying to process what they said. “Oh, maybe you should drink your shake then, Captain Rogers”, and point to his ‘shake’, and give him a smile.

“I-“

Bucky stops Steve. “Yeah no, he will just get something from the kitchen, you know?”.

“Bucky’s right, uhm I don’t think that would be such a smart idea to drink the shake. Hah ha” Steve says awkwardly.

Your smile falls. “Oh, yeah sure. I just thought that would help. We don’t want you passing out”.

Was his answer mean, is what Steve thinks. He doesn’t want you to think he just didn’t drink the ‘shake’ because you said that. Steves heart pains as he sees your reaction; you looked so sad. It obviously isn’t that big of a deal. Surely you forget about it later, but what if you don’t? You don’t forget that he didn’t want to drink the ‘shake’. What if you think you’re dumb for asking that? He thinks for a second, a long second, a second that will change everything.

“You’re right”, and opens the cap.

#chris evans #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america #steven grant rogers

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 4 days

Text

Some of @render-me-usless' Fav Fics!

If you want to make me a list let me know in IM. You can do whatever you want, fave fics, fav tropes or even check out the pending asks page and fill one of those.

Where to Search for Snow by suburbanmotel

(1/1 I 8,954 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles and his Gigantic Repressed Feelings accidentally affect the weather. A lot. Like. A lot.

“It’s snowing, Stiles,” says Derek.

Stiles looks up. He nods. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Derek looks at him. “It’s snowing, Stiles. In your bedroom.”

Stiles and the Seven Wolves by SylvieW

(1/1 I 10,421 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles is Snow White, Kate is the Evil Queen, and when Chris the Huntsman doesn't kill him, he runs off to live with seven werewolves.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 33,552 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 81,018 I Teen I Sterek)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature I Sterek)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse

(25/25 I 115,506 I Explicit I Sterek)

"I'm sorry, I believe there's something wrong with my hearing," Stiles said. "Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me."

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn't misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there's an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won't last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott's brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

Black and Blue by charlotteinlace

(50/50 I 209,549 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles knows what he should be doing, finding a good Dom and seeing a few dozen therapists. But that shit can wait, right now he's got a gang to infiltrate and a murderer to find. A murderer who killed his father.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #submission #mates

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thelovelylolly · 2 months

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Silver Screen Sweetheart

Summary : You were just his co-star, even if you both wanted to be more, and he thought he lost you to the wasteland. - Warnings : we got some angst, we got some yearning, we got reunions, all your favs, fem! reader (she/her pronouns used), mentions of drinking, canon-typical violence, not rlly proof read (let me know if i missed anything :)) - Word count : 1.17k - Notes : i know i havent posted an original fic in a while, but why not bring them back with cooper howard bc I LOVE COOPER HOWARD AND FALLOUT RAHHHHH this is basically the storyline of my fallout oc lol (also, divider by @saradika-graphics they're so good)

Cooper Howard wasn't supposed to live this long, especially after the bombs dropped. He was a man with a long history. He had fought in a war, became a movie star, got married and had a daughter, became the inspiration for the poster-boy of the company selling the end of the world, divorced is wife, lost his family, became deformed from the radiation. He could go on and on about his past.

However, there was one part he always skipped around.

His old co-star, you.

You walked into his life one sunny afternoon, and he didn't know it then, but it was the start of something he shouldn't want. You were his co-star and played the love interest in one of his movies. Your chemistry on-screen together was amazing, causing fans to want you to return and you quickly became a staple in Cooper Howard movies.

Then, the chemistry bled into real life.

You both knew it, but you both refused to acknowledge it. Cooper was married, and you were a rising star. He couldn't risk his wife and family, you couldn't risk ruining your budding career. So, you danced around each other. Your on-screen characters were the only time you two could lean into the feelings you had, but it was pretend. Acting.

Still, the two of you were close friends off set, so it wasn't uncommon for you two to be spotted together. He'd invite you over for dinner with his wife and daughter, you'd invite him to a party with other movie stars. Everything was simple, easy. It was good.

But all good things must come to an end.

Cooper didn't know where you were when the bombs dropped. He had seen you the night before. He came over to your house for drinks, something he started to do more often now that the divorce was settled and he saw his daughter every other week.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" You had asked.

"I'm picking up Janey, then we're going to a birthday party. Got hired to do some tricks and stuff for the birthday boy."

"Sounds more exciting than what I have on the agenda. My agent wants to talk to me about doing ads, like you and Vault-Tec."

"Want some advice?"

You nodded.

"Don't."

Maybe you had gotten to a vault, or maybe you weren't that lucky. The only thing that helped Cooper with the loss of you was one thought: you wouldn't see him as the deformed ghoul he became.

Cooper's bounty was allusive and turned a usual 2-day hunt in 5. He was getting tired and fed up, rudely asking anyone he came across for directions before shooting them and taking anything of value. One person gave him directions to a small home and said that the person living there had plenty of information and supplies.

Cooper thought 'what the hell' and set off, grabbing a few bottles of chems from the person's dead body.

He found the house pretty easily, having the only green grass and lush trees in the dusty desert around. He readied his pistol at his side as he started to approach the house. He took a few steps onto the property before stepping onto a trap and getting caught up in a net that was hung on the tree.

"Shit!" He hissed, trying to figure away out in the cramped area. He lost his grip on his pistol and he couldn't reach for his knife, leaving him helpless until someone could find him and cut him down.

A horse's neigh caused him to look up where the house was, only to see a person on a sleek, black horse riding towards him. They pulled the horse's reigns and stopped a few feet away from Cooper and got off, a shotgun in hand.

"If I get you down, you gonna shoot me?" The person asked, a feminine voice coming through a black bandana obscuring half of her face. The black hat sitting on top of her head obscured her hair and shaded her face from the beating sun.

"No promises," Cooper replied, grunting as he struggled against the rope net.

"Then I can just leave-"

"I just need some information, I heard you were the person to come to," Cooper quickly cut her off, "I'll leave after that."

He was good at lying. He was an actor after all, as soon as he got what he wanted, he'd raid this woman's home and leave.

The woman in front of him tilted her head to the side for a moment, then raised her shotgun and shot the rope holding Cooper up. He hit the ground with a thud, but quickly untangled himself from the rope. He pushed himself to his feet, but before he could reach for any of his weapons, a lasso was wrapped around him and pulled tight.

"What the hell-"

"Shut it," she said sharply, "I know what kind of a person you are. I know what you really want, many have tried and failed."

Cooper laughed dryly. "Really, sweetheart? You think a little rope would stop me?"

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes fixed on his face. He didn't know what she was looking for, the radiation took away most of his features.

"Cooper...?" The woman asked after a few moments, shocking him. He opened his mouth to answer, but any words he had were lost as she took off her hat and pulled the bandana down.

You. You were still alive, you still looked like how you did centuries ago. Of course you recognized him, only you could tell it was him after all the radiation and harsh conditions of the wasteland.

His said your name weakly, not believing that you were standing in front of him. He thought he lost you, he thought you were dead from the bombs or lived the rest of your life in a vault. "How are you here?" He asked.

"They froze me in my vault, woke up a few centuries later, and left," you answered, stepping closer but not letting go of the lasso. "I'm surprised you haven't gone feral."

He smiled, the same classic smile that had given you butterflies all those years ago. "I figured out how to survive up here, seems like you have, too."

You nodded, glancing over your shoulder at your home. You looked back at him and stepped closer, pulling the lasso off and hooking it onto the side of your belt. You looked up and met his gaze, noting how close you two were.

"Would you like to stay for a bit?" You asked.

Cooper thought back to his bounty, how long he'd spent chasing this guy and how much he was worth. But seeing you alive and well, not appalled by his appearance, was worth so much more than any stupid bounty.

He reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. "Sure would, darling."

You smiled and turned, grabbing your horse's reigns before leading Cooper towards your home.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 2 years

Text

Wild Horses

Part 3

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

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now back to the current.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you need any help?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Soap? How?”

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

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

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

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

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

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

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

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

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

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

"The fuck is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

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

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

Right. "What kind is it?”

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

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

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

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re downright hideous.”

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

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What time will you be back?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The fuck are those?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

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

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

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

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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lillybearrie · 5 months

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Hello I would like to remind everyone that the first (technically second if you wanna get really technical but who cares) thing we heard from fable was

"Release Me,

You are free of Enderian, now focus on purpose"

Directed at Icarus

"Now focus on your purpose"????? WHAT HAPPENED TO "HI" "HELLO" "HOW ARE YOU MY SON"

BECAUSE NEWSFLASH SIR THAT'S NOT HOW YOU TALK TO YOUR FUCKING CHILD

THEY AREN'T A FUCKING ROBOT TO TAKE AND CARRY OUT YOUR ORDERS THAT'S YOUR GODDAMN KID!

PEOPLE TREATED SEVEN WITH MORE FAMIARITY AND RESPECT

no offense to seven great guy rip man BUT STILL

Anyway on to actual analysis

After reading this note, several deductions can be made about our antagonist's character right off the bat, which in season 3 we see to be accurate assumptions

First of all the sending of the note "release me" constantly at the beginning of every reset presumably for the past several ones gives us a base line of a few things A) whoever wrote it is trapped B) they really want out C) whomever was to recive the note presumably can help with this D) this person is either very angry and resorting to formal wording as a form of passive aggression or they are simply a very formal person Had this not been the case they would have written "let me out" or "get me out" or even "help me"

Now for the post-corruption portion

"You are free of Enderian"

1) this person knows Enderian 2) This person knows at least of Icarus 3) They intentionally have been sending these to Icarus 4) despite being trapped they have some way to know what is going on 5) their particular view of Enderian is not favorable it's not overtly antagonistic however this is the one part of the not that can be read as at least partially sympathetic to Icarus

Finally "Now focus on your purpose"

1) they don't see Icarus as anything but a means to an end 2) tone wise it feels like both the chastisement of a child and an order to an unthinking being 3) "your purpose" seemingly refers to the prior statement of "release me" either implying that the writer believes Icarus is only here to get them out of wherever they are or that Icarus's sole purpose in life is to aid and assist them and 4) the use of "now" after the previous statement implies they view the corruption arc as simply something that was inhibiting the progression of them being let out

First off once again SIR THAT IS YOUR CHILD YOU MOTHERFUCKER-

In conclusion deductions that can be made from this note with the knowledge that i now hold are as follows: Fable wanted out of purgatory, they issued Icarus with the fulfillment of this task and saw the corruption arc as merely a speed bump on the road of getting his ass outta there. Fable is a pretentious douchebag. Like everyone else in his life Fable is constantly using his own son as a means to achieving his end goal.

Other notes:

Had Fable's motivations not been his underlying obsession with keeping what he believes is "his" even when it disrupts and disregards the rules of the universe and the sanctity of life he likely wouldn't have given 2 shits about Icarus.

If we view Fable's interactions with others through the lense of him thinking of those of the overworld as "his" his people his creations his world then it starts to become clearer that he only sees individuals as tools and for their potential usefulness to him. And if we want to take this view even further we could even say that he at least on some level viewed Alerion giving a place for his deceased mortals to restate something akin to how a child views their sibling stealing a toy from their room, which then implies that the war of the gods is just a big temper tantrum where Fable hurt his brother then his other siblings stepped in and went "hey woah man not cool you can hit Al dude he is literally just playing the game" to which Fable's response was to hurt them as well and now he's just got out of timeout and basically started blaming his parents for everything wrong in his life which is so silly goofy of him until you remember that these were people he was upset about his brother "stealing" from him and it becomes less silly goofy.

"But Lilly!" I hear you say because you've totally read this far, mhm definitely "If he doesn't actually care about the dead people, then why does he act nice? Why is his charisma stat so high?" Well to that I say is it easier to keep someone in one spot when you make them believe this is where they wanna be or when they know the whole truth?

#someone take my Tumblr privileges #why is this so fucking long #and how have i not made this post before??#once again #thank you for coming to my ted talk #fable when i get you fable #i have hated this man since before we knew for sure that he sent that note because deep down i knew and i wasn't gonna let that slide #Icarus deserves better #so much better #also apologies for how discombobulated this might be i had like 4 separate trains of thought while writing this #so idk how coherent it is #fable smp

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ladykailitha · 6 months

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Batshit Soulmates Part 8

Second chapter of the day. In which I resolve the original cliffhanger and leave you with another.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|Pt 2|Pt 3|Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|

****

Steve was not a fan of the plan. Of any of their plans, really. But he went along with it anyway. What choice did he have? It wasn’t as though he just pick up his ball and go home. Not when they needed him.

He was forced to watch Eddie armed with a small bag of tools break into an RV. Once Eddie was in, Steve set about helping everyone else in. Erica first, Lucas, Dustin, Nancy, and finally Robin. Then hauled himself in.

Immediately he sought out Eddie.

He leaned on the seat as he watched his soulmate pull out a pair of pliers.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to start this thing?” Steve asked, unsure.

Eddie yanked out some wires from under the steering column. "While all the other dads were teaching their kids to fish or to play ball...my old man was teaching me how to hotwire.” He stripped the wires. “Now I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder and soon grand theft auto so...uh, yeah really living up to that Munson name."

Robin came up to them and gently leaned on Steve’s shoulder, careful of the road rash.

“Eddie,” she softly, but clearly concerned. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you driving.”

Eddie grinned. “Oh, I’m just getting her started. Stevie’s got her, don’cha, big boy?” He leaned forward so close that Steve was sure he was going to kiss him.

Steve’s lips pursed without meaning to, but Eddie was already pulling away.

Just then then the RV roared to life and the owners of said RV started banging on the door, screaming.

Eddie and Steve looked at them and then each other.

They swapped places, Steve immediately slamming on the gas pedal. And away they went.

****

They made a short stop at Steve’s car to get his wallet so that he could pay for all the shit they were going to need, but in no time at all, they had arrived at The War Zone.

Steve gave Erica, Robin, and Nancy a list of things to get. Max, Lucas, Eddie, and Dustin would watch the RV.

Nancy went straight to the guns, which surprised no one. She had been able to wear some of Max’s clothes, but Robin and Steve made for the combat gear first. They removed all the tags and got dressed, Steve grabbing two pairs of boots but not stopping to put either pair on. They were in a hurry and there were too many laces.

He came up behind Robin and started putting in more gas cans into her cart.

She looked up to see Vickie standing there, talking to her boyfriend and she just stopped.

Steve followed her line of vision. “I’m sorry, Robs.”

Robin closed her eyes and looked away. But Steve saw that Vickie looked over at Robin and then back at her boyfriend. They were too far away, but it looked like whatever Vickie had seen had made her hiss something at her boyfriend. He turned away just their argument got heated.

He had a world to save.

Nancy came up and touched his elbow. “We’ve got to hurry,” she hissed. “Carver’s here and he’s loading up on arsenal too.”

Steve’s body began to quake at the thought of him getting Eddie. He nodded and grabbed everyone. He paid with his father’s credit card and dashed out of the store as if Venca himself was on his heels. Or more like, as if Jason Carver was on his heels. Because he was.

Still barefoot, he hopped into the driver’s seat and told everyone to hold on. He gunned it and drove to a secluded spot where they could prepare for the final show down.

Erica threw the second pair of boots at Eddie and he put them on.

“Those tennis shoes are going to fall apart if you look at them funny,” she explained when he looked up at her in shock.

Inside the bag she had thrown at him was a tactical vest and bullet belt. He loved Steve’s feral children with all his heart. They clearly looked after their own.

Steve sat down with Robin making Molotov cocktails, having found a few bottles of alcohol in the RV.

He looked out at his ragtag army and a shudder went through him. Nancy and Max were sawing off the barrel of Nancy’s shot gun. Eddie and Dustin had finished making their nail shields and were rough housing in the field. The Sinclair siblings were making spears out of long sticks and hunting knives.

“We shouldn’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Robin looked up at him and then out at their friends. “I know.”

“I’m sorry about Vickie,” he murmured. “I guess I was wrong about her.”

Robin shook her head. “I can’t think about that right now. I have to focus on this.”

Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry about Eddie,” she muttered. “Finding your soulmate like that and not knowing if you two are going to live to make use of it...”

He let out a long sigh. “I know. But at the same time, I’m happy he’s here. He’s been so helpful. A lot of this wouldn’t have been possible without him. And I’m grateful.”

She pursed her lips and looked back out at Eddie, who was desperate to keep the kids’ spirits up.

“Yeah,” she said. “You found yourself a good one.”

****

They got to the Gate and Steve tumbled in first, doing a back flip to land deftly on his feet.

Nancy, Robin, Dustin, and Eddie who were watching from below were surprised at the move.

Robin scoffed. “What does he want us to do, clap?”

Steve winced and went in search of the mattress. When he came back into view Eddie started clapping.

Robin and Nancy glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry, “but what he did was cool and should be rewarded for it.”

Steve looked back up at them and gave them a thumbs up. Nancy went first, then Dustin and Robin. Eddie coming in last.

Steve helped him to his feet and they were close. Chest to chest almost. Their breathes mingled and their eyes locked on each other’s.

Dustin pushed between them and broke the moment.

Eddie was sure in that moment, Steve was going to kill the kid.

They walked outside of the trailer and Steve looked like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be heroes,” Steve begged. “If things go south, I want you to run. You two are just the–”

“Decoys,” Eddie said with a smirk. “We know. Look at us, do either of us look like heroes?”

Steve nodded and then turned and walked away.

Eddie called out, “Steve!”

Steve looked back, eyes full of hope.

“Make him pay.” He couldn’t make himself say the three words he had been wanting to say since learned the real Steve Harrington.

Steve nodded again, but Eddie could see the light leave his eyes.

Dustin hit him and hissed, “Kiss him!”

Oh.

Then Eddie was running. He spun Steve back around and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve melted in his arms and Eddie knew it was the right thing to do.

They said their real goodbyes and Dustin and Eddie watched as the three of them went to go take on Vecna.

****

Between him and Dustin they were able to get the trailer shored up as best as they could against the onslaught of demobats. The trailer looked less like home and more like a fortress, but it couldn’t be helped. It needed to protect them.

Eddie walked into his bedroom, carefully skirting the vines that taken over his home. And there completely untouched by the vines was his Warlock.

“She looks like she was born to play in another dimension,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the strings.

He pulled her off the wall and swung her over his shoulder. He turned to Dustin, “You ready for the most metal concert in the world?”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Hell yeah!”

They made their way to the roof and Dustin plugged Eddie into the sound system they had rigged up.

Eddie pulled off his pick necklace and gave it a kiss. “This concert is for you, Chrissy!”

Then he laid into his guitar, starting the opening chords of “Master of Puppets”.

The bats that had been tearing toward Steve and the girls suddenly stopped and turned toward Dustin and Eddie instead.

The bats couldn’t attack while the song was playing it was messing with their echolocation.

Dustin crossed his fingers hoped that seven minutes was long enough to defeat Vecna, because that was all the time Steve and them were going to get.

The song was over and they dove back into the trailer. Then the demobats descended on them, clawing and screeching and fighting their way into the trailer. Dustin made it up the rope ladder, but Eddie could see them struggling their way into the trailer.

He yelled at Dustin to get a hold of Steve and booked it.

Steve had told him to run, he just hadn’t been clear where to run to. So Eddie ran toward Steve. Toward the person that knew him best next to his Uncle. Not because they were soulmates. But because Steve cared.

Suddenly they were fighting side by side. As equals this time, instead of Eddie saving Steve, they worked as a team.

But there were too many bats.

They were going to die.

Eddie held his shield above his head and hoped that he could protect them long enough for Nancy and Robin to kill Vecna.

There were the sounds of demobats hitting the ground, some of them hit the shield, but most of them rained down around them.

Eddie opened his eyes and looked out over the barren wasteland that was Lover’s Lake in the top world.

Littered around them were the dead bodies of hundreds and hundreds of demobats.

Eddie stood up and walked over to one to kick it with his foot.

Steve came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Are they dead?”

Eddie shrugged. “It appears like it.”

“What the hell happened?” Steve asked.

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “Eddie!”

The two older boys turned as one.

“It’s Max!” he cried. “She’s been hurt!”

****

I couldn't find a way to put in the story itself, but the reason Vickie was with Dan in the first place is that he lied about being her soulmate. He has a treble clef on his back near where her trumpet is on her shoulder blade. And when he comes back for college for spring break she learns that he's been cheating on her with his real soulmate. That's what they're fighting about here because she realizes who her real soulmate is.

Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

@messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch

@littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13

@samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian @lololol-1234 @y4r3luv

@disrespectedgoatman @king-zacharyy @chameleonhair @tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

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writersblog20 · 2 years

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I got you, baby girl

Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: After a traumatic event, Pedro came in to make sure you felt safe again. You’re his baby girl after all.

Warnings: rage from the reader, hints to a bad household but no clear mention. A horrible father and stepmother, intimidation, (life) threats, mention of no safety, mention of the system failing the reader, ptsd, trauma, dissociating, edibles, dad jokes with Pedro, Reader calls Pedro old man (no offense, it’s part of an ongoing joke war in the story), Pedro being some sort of father figure vibes, wholesome relationship with Pedro, age-gap.

Words: 3,9K

A/N: So eh…. Something traumatic happened yesterday and this is what it’s based on the only thing different is that Pedro is in this. But yeah, I just really want and need him to comfort me because I’m seriously going through hell right now and yes I’m using the line from joel from the last episode from TLOU

I got you, baby girl

You went to school and had a pretty good day. You felt alright and had a little bit more energy. You texted Pedro, like you guys always do. He was your co-star and you could say you had a pretty wholesome relationship. Kind of like Bella and Pedro have. You were great friends with Bella as well when Pedro introduced the two of you. Anyway, Pedro lived near you so the two of you spent time with each other as much as you could. He really was your comfort space and you loved him so much.

You walked into your classroom and it was going to be a long day but that was fine. You had an assignment and that would be: make a after movie from the event which would take up the whole day and evening but like I said, you were ready and gladly took the job.

The day went by fast and you went outside after the lessons to get some fresh air but that was when you saw her. The wife of your father. The one who did horrible things to you as a child. She did that besides your father. She was just as guilty. You immediately got on edge and went to fight or flight mode and yours was fight. And boy, did you want to fight her. The rage you felt was out of this world and you would happily sent her ten feet underground. It wasn’t that she would ignore you… Oh no… she was way worse, just like your dad and test you. She would always smirk at you and watch you. That made it always ten times worse because you wanted to bash her head in. First do all this shit to you as a child, getting away with it because the system failed you and then would always smirk at you when she would see you. It was like the biggest slap in the face because it told you everything you needed to know. “Yeah I did that and yes I got away with it. what are you going to do about it?” kind off smirk.

You walked back inside, completely in shock and that was when you realized that the event you needed to film, was why she was here. “Fuck….” You thought in utter shock as your body started to tremble, your eyes getting watery and your breathing became rapid. You texted Pedro about the situation and he knew a couple of things about your father. Just some snipped, important snippets nonetheless.

You texted Pedro but you knew he was in a meeting and probably wouldn’t respond right now. One of your teammates who walked outside with you, advised you to go to one of your teachers, preferably mentor. So you did.

You knocked on the door and walked in, sitting in front of your mentor as you spilled what was going on. You wished to never tell anyone here but you had no choice right now. You told the most important things but still wanted to do the assignment. You told her that you were scared that she might contact your father and that he would wait outside for you. He was a dangerous man and unpredictable. You never expected this to happen. You closed this chapter a long time ago and thought you might never see them again because you haven’t seen them for at least 2 years so you thought they moved or something but apparently not and now he knew what school you went to…

Your mentor gave you advise for what you could do if you felt uncomfortable or something would happen, where you could go and to who. You were deadest on doing this assignment. You wanted to because you never want them to take something else from you away, even if it would be this dumb project. It was the principle for you. There were moments where you teared up a couple of times but pushed those emotions away as much as you could, only to notice that it was getting harder with the second.

When you were done with the conversation, you and your teammates gathered the gear and started to get ready, only to be interrupted by your mentor and one of your other teachers, asking you to come with them. So you did. You felt a heaviness in the air, how could it not but you tried to stay as professional as you could because that was how you kept your emotions under control. Like you wanted to say, you know what, it’s not that big of a deal, forget about it.

But you knew. You knew this was a big deal and not something to take lightly, even though you really wanted to take this lightly so you could dissociate from it. Yeah, not a good copings mechanism. You sat down and the air got thicker and thicker with the second, almost making it unbearable to breath. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

Maybe you took it so lightly because you were already dissociating. You weren’t thinking clearly anymore and was very much led by your emotions, which is understandable. You teacher started speaking up. “Y/N, I’m really sorry to tell you this but I think it’s better for you to go home… We can’t guarantee your safety here. We know you’re strong and you want to do this assignment but there will be more to come so you don’t have to worry about that. But I think it’s the best to go home. Not only for your physical safety but also for your mental safety and to avoid conflict. I’m very sorry…”

She spoke softly but you felt your heart break in to a million pieces. You understand where they are coming from but the point is, that it’s even necessary and how fucking unfair it is. They did things to YOU and now YOU HAD to go home. Why did the system fail you? Why do you have to leave and not them. Why do you have to fight for your mental health because of things THEY did to you. Why can they live without any consequence? IT’S THEIR FUCKING FAULT AND NOW YOU HAD TO LEAVE. That was it. You felt so much injustice and it broke you down. You started crying and couldn’t stop.

They looked with sympathy at you and you hated it. You hated this conversation, you hated the people who did this and you hated this look. It was always the look. That’s why you didn’t want to tell people. You know they mean well and of course you would feel like shit even if they wouldn’t give you that look. It was just the unfairness. They took something from you, once again. Your mentor softly rubbed your knee. You even had to go through the fucking backdoor. You felt your phone buzz and look who it was. Pedro. Or in your phone: Pedge. You picked up, needed to hear him. That was the only thing you wanted right now. You needed Pedro.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Extreme worry laced in his voice. You started to tear up as you looked up at your teachers. “Could you maybe pick me up?” The cracks in your voice with the tremble was undeniable. “Are you still at school?” you hummed and let out a soft sob. “I’m on my way, stay there sweetheart.” You hang up and the teachers stayed with you until you got a text from Pedro, telling you where he was parked.

Your mentor walked with you with two security guards. The fact that this was necessary was heartbreaking. Pedro immediately got out of his car when he saw you. His face plagued by worry, anxiety and wanted to comfort you, keep you safe and protected. He picked up his pace, his eyes never leaving his face and you felt yourself crumble down with each step Pedro got closer to you.

Tears slipping on your cheeks when Pedro got to you and pulled you in the biggest and tightest hug. The people from school took a step back, giving you some space. You started to sob uncontrollably and your whole body was shaking. Pedro got out of the hug and placed his large hands on your cheeks. “Hey, look at me. it’s me. It’s okay, it’s okay baby girl.I got you. I got you baby girl.” He told you when he pulled you in a hug again. “I got you, you’re safe now. I got you.” You’ve never heard his voice this soft before. He was so gentle and you were so fragile at the moment.

“Let’s get you home baby girl.” He whispered, making you nod while you hid your face in his neck, smelling his cologne which made you feel a bit safer and calmed you down. Pedro took your backpack with your laptop and gear in it from you and hang it on his shoulder. His other arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to the side of his body. He said some things to your teacher, which you didn’t hear. You were very much dissociating right now. Pedro softly led you to his car, never taking his eyes off you.

He knew you were in for a ride now. Yeah you were safe now and stuff but the after effect, was what was going to be tough. You were extremely triggered in your ptsd. Pedro helped you in the car and slightly leaned over you to put the seatbelt on while you stared in front of you with, at the moment, no emotions behind your eyes. very much like a doll right now but that is dissociation huh.

Pedro was driving to his house, yet keeping a close eye on your while you silently cried. Just tears running down at this point. When you arrived at Pedro’s house, he helped you get out of the car and led you in the house, his arm still around you.

He placed your backpack on the table when you sat down on the couch, still having trouble processing this. Pedro sat down next to you and pulled you into side. One arm behind you and the other around you, caressing your head as he softly pulled your head towards his chest. You broke down at that point, just completely and franticly crying your eyes out while Pedro softly rocking you back and fort while he shushed you and whispered comforting words in your ear.

After 45 minutes, Pedro finally managed to calm you down. Your breathing started to slow down again and the crying started to get less and less. You felt exhausted. Mentally and physically. “There you go. There you go sweetheart. You’re doing so well princesa.” He cooed you. Your eyes were puffy and completely red at this point. “Let’s get you some tea. You need to hydrate.” He told you and only let go of you when you got out of the hug. Your back and sides started to hurt because it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world so you got out of the hug. Pedro reluctantly let go of you, awaiting your next move.

Pedro cupped your cheeks and softly, gently wiped away the last remaining tears from your cheeks while giving you a soft, loving and gentle smile. You softly smiled back but you both knew it wasn’t a real one. He softly planted a kiss on your forehead and pulled you into another hug. His hand behind your neck, softly placing your head against his chest as he let out a soft sigh as he started to relax himself now, knowing that your safe. He was extremely worried and stressed about you but now that he had you in his arms, that fear became a little less.

Pedro got out of the hug and reached out his hand for you to take. You walked hand in hand towards the kitchen where he started to make some tea. “Let’s go upstairs and get you into something comfortable and wash your face right now baby girl.” Every time he called you baby girl, you felt more and more safer and calmer.

While the tea was waiting to boil, you both walked upstairs. You’ve been here many times when you would accidently fall asleep on his couch and he would bring you upstairs to lie you down in his bed while he slept on a couch in his room. When you would wake up in the middle of the night and find him there, you woke him up to just get in the bed with you. Nothing behind it, just sleep. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he could never do that.

Anyways, you’ve been here many times by now. Pedro got some of his comforting clothes out of his closet and gave you a hoodie and joggings with some warm socks. You walked in the bathroom and looked in the mirror, only to see yourself completely broken in the mirror. It looked like you’ve been through hell. Well, you kind of did since all the flashbacks from years prior came back obviously.

You got changed and washed your face before walking back. Pedro was patiently waiting for you as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands. He quicky looked up at you when you exited the bathroom. He stood up, worry still visible on his face while he awaited your reaction. You walked towards him and placed your arms around him for a hug. You felt his arms around you and gently tighten around you as he lingered his lips on the top of your head.

“How about, we get some tea, get high, watch a stupid movie and order your favorite take- out, with the dessert obviously and you stay here for tonight and take a day off tomorrow hmh? You need your rest baby.” You nodded softly, only to tear up again. “That sounds really nice, I’d like that.” You could just cry about anything at this point. “Then we’ll do that. And don’t you worry about a thing okay? That’s my job.” You softly chuckled but you knew what he meant. He meant that he would take care of whatever would come your way.

You walked downstairs and looked outside, only to see a snowstorm going on right now. Pedro lit the fireplace as you sat silently on the couch. Pedro went to the kitchen to get some tea for you and to put your plushy heating pad in the microwave. You started to stare in front of you again until Pedro came back into his Livingroom. He placed the tea on the table and gave the plushy to you with a soft smile. He got a blanket from the corner of the couch and placed it around your shoulders and sat next to you.

You always had the corner of the couch at Pedro’s house and so now and then you shared it with him. Or well, he just sat next to you in the corner and you were perfectly fine with that. So this time was for obvious reasons no different. You were waiting for him to get comfortable before you did because you wanted to cuddle. Pedro held his arm out for you and you laid against his side, your head resting just above his heart with your arm around him. “You got the edibles by the way?” you asked when you remembered but already heard Pedro chuckle above you and gave you the candy.

You both took it and he got the tv remote searching for funny videos. You guys were easy since you both had the same humor so when you would find something, you shared it with him and the other way around. You both easily sent a lot of tiktoks to each other. It was your love language and Pedro figured that out pretty quick.

You rested against Pedro again and he softly cradled your head and chuckled softly at the videos being played on his tv, making you chuckle softly as well which Pedro noticed and dramatically gasped. “Are YOU laughing at this?” Sarcasm and a playful tone lingering on his words. “Are you??” you chuckled a bit more when he poked your side before chuckling himself as you squealed.

After a while the edibles started to kick in and you finally reached your relaxing point. You were at this point rolled up in the blanket. “Let’s order some food” Pedro remarked and laughed a little when he saw you. “My little sad burrito.” He told you with sympathy yet playfully. You giggled slightly and Pedro held his phone in front of you so you could choose what to eat. You chose on sushi and Pedro ordered a whole bunch of stuff and obviously, desserts.

The two of you were more slouched down into the couch and Pedro more to your side at this point, cuddling up together. You both almost fell asleep until the doorbell rang. Pedro jumped up. “Fuck, I forgot.” He mumbled more to himself while he struggled to get up, making you chuckle slightly.

Pedro got back inside with three full bags full of food. The smell hit your nose and your tummy started growling, making Pedro chuckle softly. You got out of your cocoon and helped him placing the food on the small table in front of the couch. When everything was set, you both sat down on the carpet on the floor. “Thank you Pedge.. for everything.” You told him and Pedro stopped eating for a sec and looked at you. “Baby girl, it’s no problem at all, you know that right? I’m here for you, you don’t have to do it alone anymore.” He told you and softly placed his hand on the back of your head and softly pulled your head towards him so he could kiss the top of your head. You smiled softly and Pedro knew that this too, was a part of your love language.

After dinner and some desserts, you were completely content. You and Pedro cleaned the table and placed the left overs in the fridge before plopping back down on the couch. At this point the edibles reached a point where you both would laugh at everything. Or at least, you both had that effect on each other and it almost started a war from who can make the other laugh the most. So that happened on set and interviews, red carpets etc.

Pedro got your plushy again and placed it in his microwave and gave it back to you when it was warm enough. You started watching some compilation of tiktok videos on his tv and both couldn’t stop laughing. Laughing even harder at the next video so at a point you both were in tears from laughing so much. You wiped away your tears and looked at Pedro who laid stretched out on the couch, his head against your shoulder as he tried to stop laughing but failing miserably and making you laugh because of him.

It was dark outside, the whole street covered by the snow, only for more to come as the storm picked up. For some reason you always felt comforted and safe when it snowed. It made you feel like you were in a tiny snow globe where nothing could hurt you so imagine how safe, comforted and protected you felt now.

All of a sudden you just felt like giving Pedro a hug so you did. You wrapped your arms around Pedro and held him tightly. Pedro was taken back by surprise and was scared for a moment that you felt bad again. It took him a moment to respond but when he did, he quickly placed his arms around you and held you tightly while his lips rested on your head. “You okay baby girl?” he asked gentle, making you nod. “Yeah… because of you. Thank you. I know I said it before but I mean it. thank you.” He knew what you meant. You loved him and this was your way of saying so. “You’re more than welcome. You’re my baby girl, don’t forget that.” His voice still soft and kissed the top of your head multiple times.

When you got out of the hug, but still kept physical contact by laying on his chest again. At this point you both laid down completely. “Not to ruin this moment, but my back is killing me.” you chuckled at the way he said it. “Yeah, yeah you laugh about that. Come knocking at my door when you get my age, then we’ll talk” He said playfully. “Want to watch a movie in bed old man?” you chuckled, playfully teasing him as a dramatic gasp left his lips. “Did you just called me an old man? I’m offended!” You got up from the couch and reached out your hand to help him off the couch. “my fault. I meant middle aged man.” You chuckled. This was always a part of your joking routine.

Pedro took your hand and groaned dramatically when he got up from the couch, making you laugh. “You go freshen up first, I’ll warm up your plushy.” He told you. You quickly kissed him on his cheek as a thanks and made your way upstairs. When you were done, and got a pajama from Pedro’s closet, knowing he won’t mind and laid down in bed, scrolling a bit through your phone. You heard Pedro walking up the stairs and into the room. He handed you your plushy and you held it against your abdomen and thanked him before he disappeared into the bathroom which didn’t take him long.

He crawled in next to you and handed you the tv remote to look for a movie. You chose out your comfort movie and cuddled up in Pedro’s arms. Pedro knew you were exhausted and would fall asleep in no time, which he wasn’t wrong about. You were desperately fighting to stay awake, nodding off and then quickly opening your eyes again. Pedro saw you fight and he softly chuckled. “It’s okay baby girl. Get some sleep, you’re safe now. I’ll be right here and won’t go anywhere.” You mumbled a bit at the cooing before closing your eyes and feeling the safety in Pedro’s arms. You were glad you had Pedro who looked out for you and would cross the world for you if he had to. There was no doubt about that and he would make sure that you won’t forget that.

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal comfort

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