#She made the men look bad by comparison | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkuselesssomebody · 3 months

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𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖'𝕤 - dark!raider!joel miller x reader

complete masterlist

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader wants a valentine's gift, but Joel's not exactly her boyfriend

a/n || i'm so shocked i haven't written dark!joel before?? i love him, your honor. also, for the raider!joel concept, though overall popular for fanfic, i was personally super inspired by @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark. they both have fantastic raider!joel content, please check them out!!

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider, please heed them, this may be triggering content!

➵ technically ooc to joel in the show, but his dark past is hinted at so yeah

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ !! reader is held captive and is experiencing stockholm syndrome. other women to which the same this is occurring are mentioned !!

➵ dubcon sex

➵ unprotected sex

➵ manhandling

➵ controlling dynamics

➵ slight degradation

“you have to do something for her.”

joel wonders how, as his younger brother, tommy always seemed to be nagging him, instead of the other way around. his face pinches in a scowl.

"the fuck i look like? cupid?" he growls back at his brother, rifle sagging on one of his shoulders, forcing him to readjust. tommy rolls his eyes.

"ya even have john and michael doin' somethin' special for their girls." he reminds joel how the other men in the group, with their own souvenirs, at least showed their consideration of the humanity of these girls on valentine's.

"she probably don't even know." joel grumbles, and tommy snorts.

"oh, she knows what valentine's is. the other girls told her. said she'd have liked some clothes."

"the fuck she need clothes for, ya sayin' i can't dress my girl?" joel, ever defensive, hates being talked down to by his little brother.

he hates more the fact that she seems to tell tommy so much more about herself than she does joel.

"y'can dress her, joel." tommy sighs. "but it won't hurt if she wears somethin' other than yer crusty flannels once in a while."

joel rolls his eyes, but he, luckily, doesn't have to entertain the rest of the conversation. a deer rustles the branches of a tree in the distance. joel's a better shot than his brother, always has been. but he's also less agile. as he's about to shoot, his foot crunches on a stick.

the shot still hits the deer's back, but it's a far cry from the headshot he was aiming for. he swears under his breath, but him and tommy are both already stalking the wounded prey, the same glow of determination and predation in their eyes.

they were still family, after all.

she used to never be able to sit still. pre-apocalypse, that meant she was always either fiddling with something, reading a book, or talking but... in the past few years, it meant a lot more silent stimulation. it was okay, she got by counting petals of flowers to herself or tracing the veins of leaves with her fingers to keep her mind occupied.

but the one thing she'd never given up was company. she'd had family, or friends, in every walk of this horrible turn of events, until 6 months ago.

when she was snatched away from her cruel life by an even crueler man. stripping her of autonomy and privacy were mild in comparison to her loss of company. the only other people in the house leered or jeered in her presence.

she was usually locked away from them anyways. in a tall tower she couldn't even use her hair to escape from; kept captive for the satisfaction and pleasure of a bad, bad man.

that's what made her head spin, though. because he wasn't always. yes, he was always sullen, and scowling, rough around the edges and calloused in his touch. but he wasn't always bad.

he'd fixed the bathtub of the house they were squatting in so she could revel in warmth if he wasn't around.

he risked his life for a new pack of cards and even a few books so she could keep her occupied.

and he would sometimes press gentle kisses to her forehead when he slept beside her, unbeknownst to himself, and without realizing the effect he had on her.

when the other men had started getting antsy about her being the only girl around (with her obvious off-limits status), joel relented and let them bring back their own. it was to avoid mutiny and maintain control, sure, but... it gave her company, too. and that was important to her.

the women would confide in her. first, of their fears and then, of their growing affections for their own men. it made her happy, vindicated.

she wasn't alone in her stockholm syndrome.

she's looking at the flowers that michael got for jessica. it's almost comical, with that kinda man and their kinda relationship. but jess liked it - really liked it - and that's all that mattered. john had promised anna something too, which she was talking about as the front door opened.

a dead deer was carried in by the miller brothers, and then some of the other men helped bring it out back to the shed, where they'd scavenge enough to feed the group for the week. as she always does, she approaches and stands in front of joel, greeting him in a low voice. he regards her with a once over, nodding, before his head tilts incrementally up, signalling to his bedroom.

she nods shyly, retreating to the room on the upper floor as joel delegates some tasks, before coming up to join her. she's looking out the window - barred, 'for her protection'- and he finally speaks up.

"what did ya do?" he asks gruffly, referring to the events in his absence.

"played some cards." she smiles softly as she faces him, "talked to anna and jessica." that makes him grimace a little, and she's confused.

"what about?" she shrugs.

"stuff. john and michael are gettin' them things, i guess?" she says it unsurely, "they say it's for 'valentines'?" she says the word curiously, as if wondering if it was something the 4 had made up, or if it was a real celebration. his grimace worsens: he hates when tommy's right. feigning innocence, he continues,

"what's that, then?" she looks at the floor shyly.

"like... a celebration? of... relationships, partners, that sorta thing." it's vague, but it's all she knows.

"huh." joel doesn't continue it further, and he goes silent, as he looks around the room to change out of his dirty clothes.

she sits on the bed, watching him move around, and with every passing moment of silence, her worry grows. did she say something wrong? was he mad? what happened?

when he finally goes to join her, he manhandles her to face away from him. that only makes her more upset, and she feels the prickle of tears in her eyes, as she lays down, and he joins her a moment later.

laying behind her as she feels a tear roll down her cheek, he doesn't realize how upset he's made her: he'd only asked her to turn around so he could fall asleep with the scent of her hair.

she wakes up after he's already left.

she sighs, rubbing her eyes, that always ended up a little inflamed after she cried. there's a little wetness on her pillow, and she flips it so joel doesn't see.

tommy's downstairs, having saved a fruit for her breakfast. she takes it gratefully, cutting it up and fiddling with the bite-sized pieces.

there's something on her mind - tommy, he notices these things. he wished his brother would, too.

"he's getting supplies." he assures her, knowing what was agitating her. she snaps out of it.

"hmm?" she pops a piece in her mouth, sweetness exploding on her tastebuds as she bites into it, "oh. right, yeah." she realizes what he's saying, "didn't he just get some?" tommy shrugs.

"he likes to go out to the abandoned mall - it clears his head." that makes her squirm.

"is he mad?" she mumbles, and tommy pats her shoulder.

"at you? never."

it wasn't exactly true, she thought. he's gotten mad before: if she talks too much to the others, when she doesn't listen to him, or when she finds herself in danger.

tommy knows joel's not mad in those moments. he's just terrified of what could possibly happen to his girl.

after finishing her fruit, she curls up under the blanket upstairs, wanting some time to herself. humming a melody - she thinks it's one that the guys will sing in an off-key fashion when they get particularly drunk - she tries to occupy herself by counting each of the little plaster bumps in the ceiling, and then all the small flowers on the dingy wallpaper of the room.

she gets to 78 when the door swings open. jolting awake, she makes eye contact with joel, who's looking down at her form under the covers.

"somethin' happen?" his voice is less gruff than usual, and she shakes her head.

"nope. just waiting." she gives him a weak, shaky smile. he doesn't return, but he doesn't click his tongue in annoyance, either. it's a win in her books.

he's got a backpack, and it looks pretty full. she wants to ask what's inside, but she knows he'll tell her if he wants to. he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. she scoots over so he has space.

"let me see you." he instructs, and she sits up, crawling out of the covers. sure enough, she's wearing one of his flannels for warmth, and had slipped into a pair of his boxers instead of her otherwise nonexistent pajama shorts. he's silent for a long moment, before he brings his fingers to examine the material. goddamn, was it old, frayed almost everywhere, and the chest pocket had a hole. he sighs, finally speaking, "comfy?"

she blinks, confused, "huh?"

"'re ya comf'rtable?" he repeats, voice gruffer. she lets out a nervous exhale. was it a trick?

"ye-yes. yeah, i'm comfy." she assure, and he hums.

"heard ya want somethin' new." he finally looks her in the eyes, something he doesn't do all that often. she shuts her eyes, cheeks heating in embarrassment and worry. dammit, tommy, she thinks, knowing the younger man had told joel about her offhand comment on clothes.

"it's fine, i'm happy with this." she splutters out quickly, hoping she won't upset him. he sees right though it though.

"yeah, yeah." he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand, as he gets up. her heart clenches, wondering if he was really angry, when he reaches for the backpack, throwing it at her.

it's not an aggressive throw, and lands on the mattress beside her.

"open it." he instructs, and she swallows thickly, unsure what to expect. the zipper is a little worn, but she eases it open... only to find not only clean but colorful clothes inside. she looks up at him in confusion.

"what...?" and for the first time in a while, there's just a hint of a smirk curling at his lips.

"go try 'em on." he encourages. giddily, she beams as she gets up, taking the bag of clothes into the cropped bedroom. he slumps back on the bed, trying to will away his fatigue. it'd been a hassle to collect all the clothes - more so, to find clean one he thought she'd like - so he leans back, waiting for her to return.

she lays out the clothes on the cramped sink counter space, starting with a simple pair of slightly flared jeans, pairing it with a light blue cropped cardigan. she goes out to show him, an obvious pep in her step.

he looks up as she enters, eyes trailing up and down her body, including the way the outfit fits her curves, and the slight glimpse of midriff.

"don't you look pretty?" he drawls, and, though it almost sounds sarcastic with his hard features, a light smile plays on her lips. she tries on 4 other outfits she could make out of the 10 articles of clothing he got her, and he seems to like each one even better. sure, he'd taken the initiative to ensure all of them were a little revealing - he deserved an eyeful for his hard work, after all - but she seemed genuinely happy, and the bright smile on her face almost rivals the cleavage that she shows off in some of the outfits.

when she shows him the final outfit, he pats the space on the bed next to him, and she obliges, sitting beside him.

"happy?" he finally murmurs, pulling her closer by the hem of her pants, and she nods excitedly.

"very." she assures, softening, "thank you." she doesn't need to clarify her sincerity, as it pours out in her tone. he caresses her cheek with his calloused thumb.

"good girl. you make sure to tell the girls." she almost laughs, knowing she'd show off the gift in the same way jess and anna have been with theirs. he wanted it to be known that fucking michael and john couldn't treat a better than he could, "got one more thing f'r you." he pulls her so she's standing, procuring two more pieces of small fabric from his pockets.

she inspects them, eyes widening a little when she realizes it's lingerie. he glances back at him, and he has a brazen and unashamed glint in his eyes. she's about to make a joke that this one seems more a gift for him than for her, but refrains, obliging with a small nod of her head, and taking it to the bathroom.

she strips out of her clothes, pulling up the lace fabric. the panties are practically a thong, shaping her ass nicely, while the bra enhances and perfects the curve of her tits, a small, red bow in between the cups, matching the bow on the hem of her panties.

she looks hot, and damn, is his taste good.

going back outside, a noise escapes his throat - like a guttural growl. he signals her to turn, and she does, giving her an ample view of her ass. he grabs her by the hips as she does, and she squeaks, as he pushes her down on the bed.

"oh!" she gasps, trying to sit up, but he's on top of her in a moment, mouthing at her neck roguishly, a sloppy trail left in his wake.

her skin erupts in goosebumps, but she knows better than to touch him when he gets like this - his need for dominance forbidding it. her hands grip the covers to ground herself, as his lips trail downwards, cheekily biting the bow of her bra, and taking a nip of her skin along with it. she moans, jolting, and he slaps her thigh - but gently. he's not meaning to hurt her - and trust her, she can tell when he is.

"stay still." he hisses, finally parting from her torso to marvel at her, "good lord, gonna fuck you in all this, sweetheart." he mumbles, more to himself than anything else, as his hands cup her breasts framed in the bra, squeezing softly so as to not damage the material.

usually, he'd revel in pushing her down to choke on his cock, and, when he was feeling more generous, he'd go down on her like a ravenous man.

but he was a simple man, who had been generous enough tonight. and he wasn't putting her in a position where he can't see her in the whole get-up, so the blowjob was out too.

fuck it, he thinks, reaching for the belt of his pants, i need her.

she gets up to help him undo his pants, but he forces her back into laying down, "wanna see you." he grumbles, finally undoing his pants. already hard, he palms his cock, eyes rolling back, "fuck."

he lowers again to shift the slit of the panties to the side, exposing her arousal, swiping his fingers through her mess, making her bite her lip. he wipes it gently on her cheek - a wholesome act, with a backdrop of degradation and depravity. he presses a soft hiss to the bow on her panties, making her shiver, before rising to his full length.

"you want it?" he grunts, as he strokes his cock, adjusting so it's lined up. she whimpers, as he's prolonging both of their suffering just to highlight her need for him. pathetically, she nods, and he laughs - barking and cold. "i can't hear you."

"yes!" she gasps out, unable to hold back anymore. he smirks in satisfaction, shifting his hips forward to bottom out in one stroke.

she cries out, eyes rolling back and head lolling onto the mattress, trying desperately to adjust to the stretch. he doesn't have that same decency, animalistically beginning to move his hips.

a squeal gets caught in her throat, and she cave to her instincts, gripping the wrist of the hand he's holding her waist with, squeezing as an indication of not her pain, but her pleasure.

thankfully, the adjustment was quick, and her surprised squeaks morph into pleasured moans, as he grunts on top of her, eyes raking the way that her tits try to bounce in the confinement of the bra. unusually, he's not annoyed by her touch, and it only makes him move more aggressively, as he can tell what makes her pleasure increase - as she'll squeeze his wrist harder.

"who's making ya feel this good?" he growls, "who takes care f'ya, sweetheart?" she chokes, garbled, broken moans escaping her.

"y-you!" she manages to gasp out, "o-only you, no one else, you - you take care of - of - oh, fuck!" she squeaks, feeling the pressure of her orgasm, "gonna - can i please - please-?!" she begs nonsensically, but he understands her - of course he does. she's his girl, after all.

"cum, sweetheart." he assures through gritted teeth, "who's making you cum?"

"y-you-" she cuts herself off with a cry as she cums, body stilling and legs trembling, as he continues to thrust and she rides out the orgasm.

he follows right after her, the squeeze of her cunt around sending his body into overdrive. collapsing on the bed beside her, the two remain silent for a minute to catch their breath.

finally, he clears his throat, getting up, and pulling her up, too. "go, clean up." he instructs, voice less gruff and softer, asking her to do something for her own good as opposed to his, "then change. don't think i can do another round right now." he knows that if he sees her in the outfit for longer, he'd get hard again.

with a woozy head, she does as he says. when she changes, though, she decides against the clothes that he bought her. she loves them, of course, but their either too coarse or flashy for night-time wear.

besides, they don't provide the precise comfort of stability that the flannel and boxers she puts on again does. though she tells herself she's not sure why joel's clothes seem more comforting than the new clothes, she's lying.

she feels more comfy in them because they smell and feel like him.

he's already knocked out when she exits, sleeping on his side, having evidently left the perfect amount of space for her to curl into his side, pulling his arm over to cradle her.

she knew he would always take care of her.

#joel miller #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #valentines 2024

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adamstnheights · 1 year

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Stitches - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You’re the newest recruit to 141 and still trying to figure out your intimidating, mysterious lieutenant. Being assigned as his partner on the field for the first time on a sniper mission, you’re unsure exactly how to act around him, especially when he has such an… effect on you. But when you both get caught in the crossfire, you’re forced to take cover with him and mend his wounds, much to his (begrudging) appreciation.

An alternative take on the Recon by Fire mission in MWII. Also based loosely around the Simon Riley ASMR video by Jim ASMR on YouTube because it was just so cute :)

Reader’s callsign is Zero (iykyk)

Content: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Sniper Reader, Reader used to want to be a medic, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, Gunshot Wounds, Ghost being super soft, You taking care of Ghost, Ghost taking care of you, Gentle touches, Needles, Bandages, Stitches, Developing feelings, Ghost trusting you, Flirting, Fluff, Ghost is a cat person (REAL)

Word Count: 7.4k

“Ghost and Zero, you’ll station up at the top of the hill and see if you can take any of the cartel guards out from a distance,” Price ordered over comms. “When the path is clear, Gaz and I will move into the hatchery and clear them out, looking for any evidence of the missiles. Laswell will be out on the water on overwatch. If we need her, she can get to shore and join us in the hatchery.”

Usually, you would be standing in the debriefing room to hear your instructions for a mission, but because of the short notice and urgency, you were listening to Price’s voice over comms in the back of one of the task force’s vans. While Price continued to speak, you slowly let your gaze move over to where Ghost was sitting across from you in the back of the van, only for your whole body to seize up when you realized that he was already staring at you. And of course, you couldn’t tell what the hell he was thinking—basically his whole expression was covered by his mask. It frustrated you to no end. It felt like he always had the upper hand, not allowing the enemy or opposition to get a read on his face, which was understandable, but you wanted to know. You wanted to be able to know what he was thinking. In comparison, it made you feel extremely vulnerable. Maybe you’d look into getting your own mask.

Being the rookie made you feel extremely out of place. It didn’t matter you had five years of being a sniper under your belt; you’ve only been with them for six months, so to the rest of Task Force 141, you were still the newbie. Talk about your skill had been passed around by word of mouth, and soon Captain John Price had approached your former unit and proposed a deal to you that was too good to pass up. So a few months and a location change later, you were the newest addition to 141, thus securing your label as “the rookie.” There wasn’t really anything you could do about it.

Luckily, the guys in the unit welcomed you with open arms, although the kindness did come along with a fair share of humorous and flirtatious remarks. Soap and Gaz basically took you under their wing immediately, taking pride in teaching you new things and showing you the ropes of 141. They urged you to join in on their game nights and when they would go out to the bar after a hard day of training or a rough mission. You felt at ease around the other men, too, for the most part.

Ghost was another story. From the first time you met him, you were intimidated. He had a towering, large figure that could speak for itself, but also his voice was deep and gruff, especially when he was barking out orders. You weren’t scared of him, per se, but you were cautious. From the interactions you’ve had with him and the way you’ve observed him on missions, you definitely wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. He was mysterious—the mask and skull cover showed that the most, but on top of that, you noticed the way he expertly dodged any prying questions that Soap would ask him over comms during a mission. When you and the rest of the crew got drunk and began spewing out stories from your former lives, you noticed how Ghost would simply sit back and listen, observe, but not provide any stories of his own. You were sure he had his reasons for being closed off, but you couldn’t help but wish that he were… more approachable. Especially now that you were on your first mission with just him by your side, you felt like you knew him the least out of the other members of 141.

The van slowly and quietly came to a stop towards the top of the hill. Ghost opened the back doors and jumped out onto the ground and you followed, rifle in hand.

“Zero, on me,” Ghost said, nodding his head his way.

The fog along the coastline was thick—good for the enemies not spotting you, but not as good for you spotting the enemies. You stationed yourself about forty yards away from the edge of the uppermost hill, where the grass was thick and high. The outline of the hatchery could be seen far, far in the distance, right along the edge of the land. From where you and Ghost were crouching, you could see below where a dirt path winded slowly down the hills. It would take some time and patience to fully push forward and make it safe enough for Price and Gaz to breach the buildings down below. But you were ready; more importantly, you were counting on this mission to prove your worthiness to Ghost. It was kind of pathetic. You knew you were a damn good sniper out on the battlefield, and yet, ever since Ghost’s intense, unreadable gaze landed on you, you’d felt determined to do whatever it took to get his approval. It didn’t help that the way he looked at you kind of really made your heart race, in the most confusing way, and the periodic sarcastic jokes he would make over comms made him more endearing.

Still, you didn’t want to push your luck. The last thing you wanted was for this mission to bring you back to square one in terms of your reputation on the team. In front of you, Ghost crouched even lower to the ground, pointing his rifle outward and looking through the scope. You fell back slightly behind him, also crouching in the grass. After a few moments of silence, you furrowed your brow at him, unsure whether he was going to say something or if he was just trying to act like you weren’t even there. Maybe he was annoyed by you, annoyed that out of everyone else on 141, he was stuck with the rookie.

Finally, he nodded his head forwards, motioning you to follow him. Both of you crawled through the grass until you reached closer to the edge of the hill. You both got down, fully lying on the dirt. Through the fog, you could now make out the wire fences around the hatchery, where cartel were guarding the entrances and walking along the dirt paths surrounding it.

“I can see about ten of ’em, all ’round the entrance fence,” Ghost finally broke the silence.

“We need to take our time,” you said, “They’ll spread out, into groups of two or three. Then we can take them out.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he replied, “Let me know who to take out.” Normally, he would be argumentative to a new recruit taking the initiative, but there was something about you that fascinated him. He didn’t mind hearing your voice walking through the plan and telling him what to do. Price had told him about your skill; he knew that you knew what you were doing.

You readjusted your rifle just so, looking through the scope.

“On top of the building, two snipers,” you announced, “Do you see my laser on your thermal?”

You could hear Ghost repositioning his rifle a couple feet away from you in the grass. “Affirmative.”

“Go.”

You pulled the trigger, hitting the sniper on the right. Mere seconds afterwards, you heard Ghost’s rifle go off and through the scope you could see the second sniper’s body fall over.

“Got ’im,” he said. “On the right side of the fence, near the blue shipping container, there’s two.”

“I’m on him,” you said, lining up your shot next to his.

Ghost shot first this time, you followed him. The two men by the shipping container dropped to the ground. You continued scanning the area.

“Three more, below, closer to us, walking by that white van,” you flexed your hand and regripped the trigger.

“I’ll get the stray,” Ghost said.

“Copy that.”

You lined up your shot to the guy furthest to the right, watching as Ghost’s laser appeared over the man next to him. Again, seconds after you shot, Ghost followed, taking out the other. He quickly readjusted his hold on the rifle to focus in on the third one of the group. As you watched through the scope, the third man immediately went onto high alert, pointing his gun around him. Ghost wasn’t worried though as he lined up his shot. Poor bloke; unlike the first two men, this one would spend his last living seconds in panic mode.

Unfortunately, in the few seconds in between, the third man shouted and seemingly alerted someone else. Immediately after Ghost shot him down, two more men came running into view, shooting upwards towards the two of you. With a few uncoordinated shots, you and Ghost took them down quickly, but the not-so-subtle gunfire from your direction gave away your position. Before you could even think about moving, a bullet sped right past your view and into Ghost’s arm.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Ghost grunted, sucking in his breath in pain. “Where the fuck—?”

You were frantically scanning the area for where the shot could have come from when another bullet came speeding towards you, and you felt a sharp pain searing through your own arm. Furrowing your brow, you struggled to look even harder through the scope. “Shit—!” You winced.

“Got ’im,” Ghost announced, pulling the trigger, “To your left, on top of that small shed. There was another one.”

“Fuck.” You noticed two more men emerging from behind the shed. Both of you quickly took them down. “We– We need to push forward, we don’t have the best view from here. I can’t tell if we cleared the whole area.”

“Copy that.”

You began to crawl forward, the pressure of leaning on your right arm not helping the gash there. Before you could crawl even a foot you felt an unfamiliar touch on your forearm. Ghost had placed his gloved hand there, and you turned to look at him.

“You okay?” He asked lowly. You nodded your head, too shocked to speak.

You and Ghost quickly moved forward, onto an area of grass a bit lower down the hill than where you were before. You could see a bit closer now, and from the new angle, you could make out the rest of the area below. There were a handful more men on guard around the building, and you gripped your rifle hard in an attempt to distract your body from the pain. You monitored Ghost’s laser and helped him take out the men accordingly. Barely any more gunfire was exchanged.

“Price, Gaz—we cleared the outside surroundings of the buildings. You should be good to go in now,” he directed over comms.

“Copy. Good work, you two,” Price replied.

You met Ghost’s eyes from between the blades of grass and you could tell that he was intentionally not letting Price know that you two got hit. You could have spoken up yourself but you had successfully eliminated everyone and neither bullet seemed to have hit anything critical. Giving the lieutenant a knowing nod, you scanned the area and noticed a stream of water by a small stone building. It wasn’t really a building, more like a small hut. Ghost saw where you were looking and nodded his head towards it, giving you the go ahead.

Crouching slightly, you both quickly snuck towards the stone shack. Ghost positioned himself to cover the rickety wooden door, which you kicked in, instantly holding your rifle up to clear the inside. He followed you close behind, checking all corners of the worn-over room. Everything inside was covered in moss or other overgrown plants.

“Clear.” Ghost stated, lowering his gun. You were already sliding down against the stone wall towards the corner of the room, grasping the side of your arm. Ghost rushed to your side, sitting next to you. “Here,” he went to look at your arm, but you expertly reached for him first.

“Show me yours first,” you whispered, “Mine’s just a graze. Yours is worse.”

“Are you defying your superior?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yours is worse,” you repeated, shaking your head, “The bullet lodged in there. I need to take a look.” You were staring at his left bicep, where the layers of jacket and shirts were ripped into by the bullet. The hole in Ghost’s skin was large, bleeding profusely.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbled, “I’m more worried about you, Zero.”

Your eyebrow raised and you tilted your head up to look at him. Behind the mask, you could see his eyes clearly. They were hazel, and for probably one of the first times since you’ve known him, they looked soft and genuine. Up close, you could see little spots where the black paint smudged and his skin was peeking through. His eyelashes were blonde, slightly covered by some black face paint, but definitely blonde. Suddenly, you were trying to picture Ghost’s blonde hair under the mask and balaclava. You weren’t as intimidated by him anymore as you were intrigued—deep down, you wished you could see more of him.

From what you’ve observed of him (plus things Soap and Gaz have said), you knew he wasn’t really as big and scary as he seemed to be. He cracked jokes over comms during missions. During downtime on base he’d join the rest of the group playing cards or drinking, still wearing his balaclava obviously, but without the skull cover and only minimal black eye black on, so you could see more of his face clearly. You would never admit it to the rest of the guys, certainly not Soap, but you found Ghost to be quite handsome. (You could just hear Soap teasing you: You don’t even know what he looks like! He could be ugly!) Between his deep voice, towering figure, and the way his hands worked around his rifle (you have stared too many times to admit), he was… hot. What more could you say? It felt like a silly high school crush; he was your superior and you barely knew anything about him. But… you wished you could learn more. You would, if he’d let you. You would.

And now, with his face only inches away from yours, his eyes looking at you intently, you felt determined to take care of him. You wanted to see that softer side of him, and you also wanted an excuse to dote on him. Already, he was acting a bit more flustered than usual with you trying to defy him. You wondered how long you’d be able to keep it up for.

“I’m not taking that for an answer,” you insisted. “Yours is worse, so we’re taking care of you first.”

Ghost raised his eyebrows, his mouth partly open in shock of your defiance, but his lips spread into a smirk, amused by your determined edge. He was intrigued by you, so he’d let you win this argument. He didn’t say anything more as you inched closer to him. He sat with his entire back against the wall, facing forward. You turned your body towards him, sitting cross-legged as you placed a hand on his arm where the bullet wound was.

“I… think you’re going to have to take this off. The jacket, at least. Sorry, Lieutenant,” you said.

“You can call me Ghost, you know,” he said as he leaned forward to unclip his tactical vest and shuck the jacket off.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, “I was just trying to be polite, I guess.”

“Don’t need to be polite with me,” he smirked.

“Okay… Ghost,” you smiled. You took off your own tactical vest and rummaged through the back pockets, pulling out your first aid kit. You opened the kit and took out the tweezers. “Sorry if this hurts.”

“S’alright, not the worst thing I’ve endured. And I haven’t had the privilege of such an… assertive patching up,” Ghost could feel himself blushing behind the mask. He was glad you couldn’t see.

First, you inspected the bullet. It had implanted inside his arm, making it impossible for any kind of extraction, especially under conditions like these. With only minimal shattering, the pieces embedded into the muscle, there were no critical places hit or at risk. Your main goal was to stop the bleeding so you could stitch the wound closed.

“It seems like… most of your muscle absorbed the bullet. No bone damage or critical areas hit, so… all I’m gonna do is stitch you up,” you explained. You held back a giggle, pushing away the urge to squeeze his arm; you weren’t entirely sure if he’d like that very much (you were almost positive he’d kill you). “When we get back to base, the nurses at the infirmary can keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected or anything, and if not, then it’ll just heal over.”

“Aw, no trophy for me to take home?” Ghost asked.

“You still get to take it home,” you replied, taking your two fingers and tapping his arm above the wound, “just in here. Hey, now it’ll always be with you.” He shuddered at your touch.

You began cleaning around and in the wound, earning a sharp hiss from Ghost’s mouth as you wiped the area off with a small rag and some water from your hydration bladder. You poured some water slowly onto the wound, trying to flush out any dirt or debris, before placing some gauze over it and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. While your one hand was pushing against his arm, you reached your other hand back into the first aid kit, fishing around for your stitching tools. You took out a needle with thread, along with a needle driver. You placed the needle driver on your leg for the time being.

You dug into one of your pockets, brandishing a small square alcohol wipe package, which you promptly ripped open with your teeth so you wouldn’t have to set the needle down. Ghost practically had to hold back from choking on his own breath, the way you were so focused and determined was certainly making him feel some unfamiliar type of way. He had barely gotten a chance to hesitate or argue against you patching him up, he was too mesmerized in watching you and you were already grabbing a hold of his arm again, sending a tingle down his spine as you cleaned his wound.

Then, with one hand, you pierced the skin on one side of the open wound with the needle, then the other side. Your other hand held the needle driver, which you used to grip onto the end of the needle, pulling the thread through the newly made holes. With an even amount of thread left on either side of the wound, you wrapped the thread from the left side around the needle driver twice, then grabbed the other end of the thread with the driver. You pulled from both ends gently, making a first throw of the stitch. You did it again, looping the one side of the thread around the driver, grasping the other end, and pulling it tightly to make the knot. Ghost watched, almost in awe, at your expert handiwork. You made it look so easy.

“I... wanted to be a nurse, or a medic, or whatever, you know,” you rambled as you moved up the wound a few centimeters, piercing the skin to start another stitch, “I made it through undergrad and then… shit just didn’t really work out. But hey, I found out I was a pretty good sniper. So I’m good for somethin’, at least.”

Simon felt his whole body heating up from the way both of your hands were making contact with his upper arm. One hand was gently pressing down on his bicep around the wound while your other had the needle held in between your fingers. The gash you were closing up on him was large; it was certainly going to leave Ghost with a jagged scar. But for once, he felt at ease.

In all his years in the military, the marks and scars that have riddled his body only brought him more shame and discomfort. Sure, there were a few scars that were his “go-to” to talk about when the other guys began showing off about past endeavors (This one here, knife fight. I grabbed the bloke from behind and stabbed’im in the neck, but not before he got one in my side). Other than that, most of the bullet holes and jagged lines where his skin couldn’t fully heal only reminded him of the horrors and the pain. Now, though, the thought of having a scar on his arm from a wound that you took care of, he couldn’t be more elated. A mark on his body, stitched together carefully and gracefully by you. A secret moment—a memory—that only the two of you shared, forever imprinted into his arm; a scar that no one else would know the backstory to, unless he decided to tell it (he wouldn’t—he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else).

Okay, so maybe some sort of feelings were blossoming in the cold, cold heart of Simon Riley. You didn’t have much of an idea about it, and honestly, neither did Ghost himself. Soap had teased him multiple times about a supposed “crush” that Ghost didn’t fully realize he had. But the sergeant certainly had. Soap teased him about how he always insisted he didn’t want to play cards with the rest of the team, only to grab a seat next to you and strategize how to beat everyone else. Was it an excuse to sit real close to you and exchange whispers and laughter? Soap would never get an answer because Ghost would tell him to fuck off, but he already knew the answer anyways.

Ghost’s heart was racing, suddenly and somehow nervous in your presence.

“Why do they call you Zero?” He asked abruptly, a random question spilling from his lips. He just wanted to keep hearing you talk to him.

“Isn’t that like, impolite to ask?” You smirked.

He laughed—a genuine, full out laugh. Your eyes brightened. “I’m only curious,” he said softly. “Jus’ tryin’ to make conversation.”

“Well, why do they call you Ghost?” You shot back playfully.

“Now that’s classified, love.” His eyes immediately widened as the endearing term slipped from his lips. He hoped you didn’t catch it; meanwhile, you were going to think about it for the rest of the week. You grinned to yourself, and he looked down at his hands and focused on how your needle pierced his skin—a certain amount of discomfort, but something that felt good knowing that you were right there next to him. He didn’t want to get into his callsign; however, he was willing to give you something else. “My name—my real name, I mean… It’s Simon.”

You stared at him, wide eyed. You almost couldn’t believe that he told you, you hadn’t expected him to want you to know something like that. “Simon,” you repeated, watching as he nodded his head. “That’s a nice name. Simon. So… am I allowed to call you Simon now?”

Ghost looked past you at the wall for a brief moment, thinking. “Not on the field,” he stated, “But… when we’re back on base… sure. Yeah. Call me Simon.”

You shivered at his deep voice. Simon, Simon, Simon. You wanted to say it again and again. And he wanted to hear you say it. He would like his name a thousand times better if it was coming from your mouth.

“Simon—”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Ghost,” you giggled.

Three stitches down. You kept working, quickly and efficiently. Ghost kept watching you, wondering why Price hadn’t brought you onto the team as a medic. Not that your sniping abilities weren’t needed and greatly appreciated, but Ghost selfishly thought about how from now on, if he got so much as a small scrape, he’d go to you for help. Soon enough, you were finishing the last throw on the fourth stitch. You moved onto the next one, lacing the thread through the needle to start again.

“Don’t know how to use half the shit in the first aid kit,” now it was Ghost’s turn to ramble, “Usually just slap a bandage on ’n hope for the best. I mean, I’m not stupid, I don’t leave my shit untouched to get infected or anything. I just… don’t really follow up on any of my doctor’s appointments. But I’ve made it alright so far.”

“You should let yourself be taken care of more often,” you said softly. Your face grew hot when you realized the way that could have sounded and you added, “When you get hurt like this. You don’t have to always put on a brave face and grit through the pain. You need to take care of yourself.”

Ghost scoffed almost instinctively, but his heart swelled at your concern for him. He admired you for being so caring, not just to him, but to everyone on the team. Despite not always showing it, he cared deeply about all of the other guys on 141, he would die for any of them. He didn’t have a family, but 141 was the closest he had to one. The way his team interacted with each other was important to him, and watching how you melded with everyone else over the past couple of months, he felt happy, content. Your kindness only intrigued him more; he wished that he could be the only recipient of your sweet words and attention.

“Well, I– I don’t usually trust anyone to patch me up,” he attempted at some sort of compliment. Your eyebrow raised and you looked up at him.

“Hmm. So… you trust me then?” You asked cautiously. You heard stories about how Ghost hardly trusted anyone, and your heart began to beat faster at the implication that you had somehow made it on the list of those he did.

“You could say that,” he said. He cursed himself in his mind for not knowing how to properly talk to you, how to make you feel cared about the way you made everyone else feel cared about.

“And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” A smirk spread across your face.

“Fuck’s sake, just take the compliment, will ya?” Ghost practically grumbled, sounding like an annoyed child.

You let out a soft laugh. Ghost put the sound of your laugh into the back of his mind, for safekeeping. “That’s your way of giving me a compliment, huh?” You teased.

“M’not very good at it, am I?” He sighed into a small laugh.

“Just a bit rusty,” you tilted your head up at him, your faces somehow closer than you had remembered, “But you can get better with practice.”

“Practice, hm?”

“Uh-huh. You can feel free to practice your compliments and pick up lines on me anytime.” You were too shy to make eye contact with him after that; you began to focus extremely on his wound.

Ghost’s right eyebrow raised slightly, unable to properly register whether you were genuinely insinuating that you would enjoy it if he flirted with you. As if he even knew how to. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed that he had no idea what to say. He thought about Johnny, and how his downright stupid pick up lines he used on people at the bar usually actually worked. There was no way Johnny would let him hear the end of it if he approached him for help with flirting, but Ghost wondered who else he would want to confide in when they returned to base.

“Almost finished,” you announced, finishing another suture. The skin was carefully pulled back together, only needing one or two more stitches. “I am fairly confident that this will heal very quickly and very nicely. Well, granted that you go back to the infirmary and get yourself followed up on.” You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Do I have to go to the infirmary when we get back?” He complained. You laughed at the way he practically whined.

You looped the thread again with the needle driver and began the last suture. In a matter of moments, you’d knotted the thread three times over and secured the suture flat to the skin. You moved your head closer to inspect your work, nodding and looking up at him.

“Well, I’m done stitching you up. And yes, you do, because you need to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected,” you said, half sternly. Soap told you probably hundreds of stories about Ghost refusing to get proper medical help after returning from a mission, and your fleeting former life as an almost-nurse made you feel very strongly on the topic. “Please, after all I did to stitch you together, won’t you make sure that it heals alright?”

His heart swelled. As much as he tried to push down feelings like this, he knew that he’d do anything for you. And you asked so nicely. However, he had a negotiation in mind.

“Well… What if I get checked up on by you? When we get back to base? You know, instead of going to the infirmary?” He raised his eyebrow and watched the gears turn in your mind. He prayed that his message would come across properly: I’d rather see you. I trust you more.

“Don’t go getting too attached to your medic, now,” you fake tsk-ed at him, but you were smiling, too. Ghost laughed. Too late for that.

“You can give me a once over when we get back. Vouch for me so I don’t have to go deal with the other doctors,” he pushed.

“You’re very difficult, Ghost,” you tutted. “But… I’d rather be the one to make sure you’re alright. That way I can ensure you’re following the proper recovery routine.” You reached into your kit again and got out a bandage roll. You reached out for his arm again, beginning to wrap the bandage gauze around his arm.

“And what kind of recovery routine would you want me to follow?”

You clicked your tongue, thinking. “You have to let me eat dinner with you in your room. And then after, I can check your wound,” you decided. Luckily, the words coming out of your mouth were far from Go on a date with me, but it was certainly the closest you’d get. Ghost hardly ever ate dinner in the common area with the rest of the task force, you assumed mostly because eating would involve him having to pull his mask up. Remembering this fact, you quickly added, “I won’t even look at you while you eat. I just… thought maybe you’d like some company.”

He stopped himself from blurting out something inappropriate, a dumb teasing line about you just trying to make up an excuse to get into his bedroom. His usual confidence to say whatever dumb, crass joke he wanted disappeared with you so close to him. He was more nervous than anything to scare you away, to say something that would make you not want to be around him.

“I’d accept that,” he finally said. “And… you wouldn’t need to do that.” He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. “You’re allowed to take a look at me while I’m eating.” He smirked as he saw your cheeks grow red.

“I— I mean, I didn’t mean I wanted to like, stare at you while you’re—” you tripped over your words, stopping to take a breath and collect your thoughts. Slowly, you opened your mouth again, “Well, I mean, I am curious… I guess…”

Ghost was smiling proudly under his mask, finding it incredibly endearing the way you admitted your curiosity. He always stuck to his secrecy behind the mask for the most part; he was sure that the other guys had seen his jawline and mouth from the times he ate or drank around them, but they never made too big of a deal (besides Soap, who would use the mask as a prime source for his teasing). More often than not, on base, he’d retreat to his room to eat simply to avoid any annoyances around lifting the mask up and back down over and over. But now, really thinking about it, he realized he wouldn’t mind at all if you saw him eating. Maybe, just maybe, he would enjoy your company for dinner on a daily basis. He wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet, but in the back of his mind, he already knew.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ghost said, “I’d rather be able to look at you and talk to you while we eat.”

“So you’re taking my offer,” you beamed.

“That I am. Now let me look at you.”

The lacerations along your own arm were stinging and bleeding, but somehow the high of the lieutenant caring about you overrode that pain. Still, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to have Ghost dote on you, although you had a feeling he wouldn’t be as gentle as you were with him. Either way, you let him help you take your jacket off and you shuddered at the few moments his bare hand brushed against you. He placed his hands on either side of you, on your shoulders, turning you more towards him, closer to him. He looked at your arm.

“Look, we have matching wounds,” he said, raising his own arm up next to yours. You let out a small laugh, not expecting him to say something like that. It was sweet.

“We both have something to remember this day by.”

“You want to remember this?” He asked, as if he weren’t going to think about the way you gently stitched him up and took care of him for the rest of his life.

“Of course,” you replied, “We completed our mission, quite well, I might add, and I think we make a good team. Plus, you told me your name. So of course I want to remember this.”

Ghost blinked at you, trying to decipher any evidence of disingenuousness in your face, only to be met with the exact opposite. Your expression was soft and genuine. Your eyes shimmered for him. Ghost wasn’t used to hearing such nice, kind things towards himself, and you could tell he wasn’t used to it by the way he remained silent, not even coming up with a dry joke to change the subject. You wondered how many times you would have to compliment him before you could really get through to him.

“You’re staring, Zero,” Ghost’s deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Can’t help that you’re nice to look at.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to ignore the way his cheeks were flushing again. His hands were slightly shaky as he took your arm, closer to him this time. He shifted his whole body so he was completely facing you, ready to patch you up.

You had only been grazed by the bullet, but it still hurt like hell. Your whole right arm was burning up with a searing pain, not the worst you’ve ever felt, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. The skin on your arm wasn’t torn open the same way Ghost’s was, with the bullet embedding inside, but it was like the edge of the bullet tried to scoop into your skin like a shovel into dirt. It didn’t go through or below the skin, but it was deep enough that blood was trickling down your arm. You were so focused on taking care of Ghost that you had barely noticed it.

“Fuckin’ hell, Zero,” Ghost said, his eyes widening in concern from seeing your wound more clearly. “You’re lucky the bullet didn’t lodge in ya.”

He reached next to him and grabbed a wad of gauze, dampening it with some water and placing it over you. His large hand placed pressure on you to stop the bleeding. You tried not to think about his hand pushing against you in a different context. His hands were warm on you and you couldn’t help but shiver. You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps along your arm.

After a few minutes of applying pressure to your wound, Ghost lifted up the gauze, inspecting you.

“Looks like the blood mostly stopped,” he told you, putting the wad of gauze next to him on the ground. He took out his own alcohol wipes, holding them up first as if to warn you This might hurt. He held your arm with one hand and wiped the wound with the other. The alcohol stung but it didn’t matter. Ghost was taking care of you. “Hold still.”

As he sanitized your wound, Ghost would wince whenever he heard you suck in a breath or make a small, pained sound from the alcohol. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to be gentle with you like you were with him. Sure, maybe he wasn’t very good at all that, but he’d like to try, for you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he ran the alcohol wipe over the scrapes a few times, sanitizing the area and wiping away the blood.

“Don’t have any antiseptic,” he mumbled.

“Wait, I do,” you speak up, taking out a small tube of antiseptic ointment from your kit. Handing it to him, he put some on his pointer and middle fingers, gently making contact with your skin. He patted the ointment into the wound and the skin around it, his expression deeply focused to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. He wiped the excess on a small square of gauze and looked at you, as if waiting for approval. You blinked at him, smiling sweetly, and he turned away, always nervous when you smile at him, to reach for the bandage roll.

“I, uh, used to have a dog. German Shepherd. He got his back paw caught in a chain fence once and I had to bandage his leg and everythin’... Guess that’s the closest I ever got to bein’ a medic,” Ghost chuckled softly, unraveling the bandage and holding the end of it in place over your arm, using his other hand to begin wrapping it around you.

“A dog, hm?” Now that piqued your interest. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a dog person.”

He shook his head. “Not really. More of a cat person, actually.”

“You’re joking,” you gasped. You tried to imagine Ghost with a cat cuddled up on his lap or chest.

“Cats get a bad rep,” he said. “I like that they’re independent and do their own thing most of the time. But they’re still sweet, they’ll still rub against you when you pet them and curl up next to you on the couch. They’re more stand-offish and brooding than dogs, I guess. But what’s so bad about that?”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you whispered. Ghost locked eyes with you, and you could tell that his eyebrows were raised. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. You continued, “But don’t worry. I really like cats, too. Misunderstood creatures. And cute.” You smiled at him, hoping to God he understood that you were trying to flirt with him. It was hard to tell, but you assumed by the way he chuckled softly and moved even closer to you to continue patching you up that he got it.

He placed his hand on your arm and ripped the bandage, placing the rest of the roll back into his kit. He repositioned the ending of the bandage so that it stuck on top of itself, keeping the wrapping in place without any need for medical tape. When his hands left your arm, you had to hold yourself back from frowning, already missing the skin-to-skin contact.

“Well, I think tha’ll do ya good, a’least until we get back, yeah?” Ghost said, leaning back from you a bit. Still, you noticed that the way you were sitting, your legs were still touching.

“Thank you,” you placed your hand over the bandage, moving and flexing your arm to see how it felt.

Ghost got up from the ground and began putting his jacket and tactical vest back on. He walked a few steps across the room where he had leaned his rifle up against a dusty table. Rummaging through his vest for some ammo, he began reloading his gun and humming ever so softly to himself. You watched him, your cheeks tingling with warmth. As much as you wanted to get back to base, you also didn’t want to leave this moment. You doubted that anyone else had the privilege to see him like this. In Ghost’s world, watching him reloading his gun was probably the most domestic thing you would ever be able to watch him do. When he finished, he turned and looked at you, completely catching you staring. You saw slight motion under the mask—he had to be smiling. The thought made your heart race. But you cleared your throat and scrambled to your feet, turning around to pick up your jacket and tactical vest off of the ground. You zipped up your jacket, half turned away from Ghost, but feeling his eyes on you.

“Zero.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine. You turned around and met his gaze. Those hazel eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Glad you’re safe.”

Your heart raced. Ghost’s heart softened.

———

The flight back to the base landed in the early hours of the morning. The sun had barely started to rise, the sky a deep pinkish red as you and the rest of 141 walked back into the building. Gaz and Price had successfully breached the hatchery, clearing it out and finding evidence of tunnels underneath the lighthouse on the island. Laswell would talk to Shepherd and figure out a game plan, but at least for one night, you would be able to relax.

As soon as everyone reached back to the barracks, everyone scattered into their rooms to clean up, unpack, and get some shut eye. Despite it being early in the morning, everyone on 141 hadn’t slept for at least 24 hours. You took a quick shower and changed into something warm and comfy, falling asleep in your bed without any tossing and turning. You awoke later in the afternoon, around four o’clock, stomach grumbling. Your face lit up, remembering your arrangement with Ghost—Simon.

You put some shoes on and freshened yourself up in the mirror, suddenly feeling nervous and yet you were so excited. Walking into the common area, you opened one of the fridges and took out a pasta dish you had made the other day. You split the leftovers in half, putting it into two bowls and microwaving them. Humming to yourself, you realized that you were actually getting the thing you’d been wanting ever since you met him: true, one-on-one time with the brooding lieutenant. Since yesterday, your feelings towards him had only blossomed further, and from the way he had looked at you and leaned close to you, you had a little bit of hope that maybe he could feel the same. You felt like a giddy highschooler as you took the bowls out of the microwave and quickly grabbed some utensils from one of the drawers. When you spun around, you almost crashed into Price who was entering the kitchen area with Gaz.

“Oh, sorry, Captain! Didn’t see you there,” you apologized but swiftly moved past them, barely paying either of them any mind.

“Where’s she going in such a hurry?” Gaz asked, raising his eyebrow as you continued down the hall. Price gave him the same puzzled look back.

“Hey, Zero!” Price called. You spun around. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m just bringing some dinner to Simon’s room!” you lifted up your hands with the two bowls of food to show them. Price and Gaz nodded slowly, and you were clearly in a hurry because you hardly waited for either of them to reply before you turned back around.

You turned the corner at the end of the hall out of their view. Both men were still staring at where you were standing seconds before.

“I didn’t know he let people into his room,” Price said, grinning ear to ear.

Gaz stood frozen in place, “I… Did she just call him Simon?”

Price choked out in laughter.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #simon riley fic #mwii #my stuff

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plutonianeris · 3 months

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𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖘𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖏𝖚𝖈𝖙 𝖆𝖘𝖈

This is how medusa conjuct ascendant has manifested for me. I am not a professional astrologer, just sharing my personal experiences I believe correlate with this placement.

🐍 In regards to appearances, I have always had very long, dark wavy hair. Growing up, a lot of times my hair was touched without my consent and I remember distinctly someone pulling my hair hard as fuck in school and it was a group of girls (didnt know which one it was). I also remember boys trying to “flirt” with me by tugging my hair.

🐍As I got older and started taking care of my hair even more, that is one the first things I always get compliments on by strangers, acquaintances or coworkers.

🐍In some other posts I see people mention a “piercing gaze.” As a kid, when I was angry I use to look at people like I wanted to shoot lasers out of my eyes. My mother would hate when I would look at her like that, she told me I looked like a monster when I gave her the death stare during arguments.

🐍On the flip side of that however, I do also get compliments on my eyes. My eyes are big and very dark as well just like my hair. One time in high school, one of my teachers told me I had “bedroom eyes” in front of the whole class. I realized it was kinda inappropriate when I googled what that was after. One of my friends said I have “siren eyes.”

🐍I have never felt fully comfortable around the opposite sex. I was always very very wary of men. In high school was when it was at its peak. The guys were pretty gross. One time a guy in my grade (who I barely knew) pulled me into a hug and literally bit my fucking shoulder. I had shoved him away and looked towards my teacher but he didnt do anything, just looked away.

🐍I can definitely see men in my life or in my surroundings who were not being inappropriate to me being indifferent to watching bad/ uncomfortable things happen to me. Either they didn’t care or didn’t find me someone worthy as defending or both.

🐍When I did defend myself I was villanized quickly over it. In high school, a guy behind me slapped my butt and when I turned around and slapped him in the face I got in trouble/ detention for it.

🐍I was often talked about in a very sexual manner (despite never dating or being “promiscuous” for a lack of better word). Comments were made about my body and sexuality.

🐍Then when I went to college I felt like I putting myself out there more but realized I wasn’t fully being vulnerable. I liked to flirt with guys but I wanted them to have to practically BEG for my attention. And then when they gave it to me I would shut them down. I use to do that a lot. One time a guy was so angry at me he called me a snake. I’m an adult now, and have grown and don’t do any kind of thing like that anymore. But at the time, I believe I was seeking a kind of power/control over other people because I personally felt powerless or unworthy.

🐍I am also not personally fond of snakes as pets or wanting to hold them. But I use to always want a medusa tattoo in college and had a bracelet with Medusa and another with Artemis on it that I wore everyday (and it was all before I even knew about astrology or the fact that I have this placement).

🐍I have generally had good relationships with women. But I do think for sure growing up I tried to make the women around me (whether family, teachers or friends) like me as much as possible. It felt devastating being rejected by them.

🐍When the women in my life would hurt me, whether by accident or on purpose I would make excuses for them until it would blow up in my face. (It reminds me of how Medusa use to worship Athena and was shocked and destroyed at the betrayal).

🐍There have been times where other women would look at me as if I was in competition with them (when in reality I didn’t give a fuck). But they would make petty comparisons. One time I had a “friend” who asked in front of a group of guys, “who is prettier? me or her?”

🐍I use to HATE when people stared at me, mostly when it was men. I would look back at people and be like what the fuck are you looking at? or say something along those lines. It made me so furious when men would catcall me too or eye me up and down.

🐍I would definitely say that growing up I had a bad temper. I was very resentful and impulsive and I was angry with the things that had happened to me and my body. Sometimes I just wanted to disappear. I was not easily given the benefit of the doubt. I was quick to get blamed. Not easily listened to.

🐍Overall, I can see having this placement as being very heavy as kid or a teen. I was so young and I was just worried about being a kid and getting to know myself but I got sexualized so much. I think I did grow up too fast in certain aspects. I do not miss my childhood nor do I remember it with nostalgia.

🐍I love being an adult. I love making my own choices. I love not having to ask for permission. I love feeling confident in my femininity(I feel like this year is when I just started to fully explore it out of love). It was a painful journey but more often than not I feel brave, and safe and comfortable in my body now more than ever. I don’t self sabotage anymore or go out of my way to shut people out. But it took a very long time.

#astrology #astrology observations #medusa asteroid #medusa conjuct ascendant #personal astrology observation #astro observations #medusa astrology #medusa in the 1st house

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jerryterry · 1 year

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There was one inevitable downside (/upside for Tumblr Drama fans?) to all of these poll tournaments coming to Tumblr, and that's "fandom polls being run by people with a massive bias/opinion that they can't help from plastering all over the posts". Like, there's this one New Vegas poll currently running where the OP has a seething hatred for Cass, among others - badmouthing characters in their poll posts, getting into ranting arguments about it. It's inconsequential and funny, and situations like this are a dime a dozen on this site, but seeing this made me want to take a look at this one a lil closer. Because it brushes into something small I've always found interesting about New Vegas: the rumor of homosexuality in the Legion, as well as a wider factor about the writing of companions in general (Under a read-more for length).

OP literally says "If you tell her you're a gay man, she calls you a nazi", so lets take a look at the line they cite for this:

There's multiple points where characters joke about the Legion having similar prominent homosexuality to the actual Romans (which was notable enough that there's straight-up a "Homosexuality in ancient Rome" Wikipedia page). For example:

- Veronica

- Major Knight

What's interesting is that the one character who talks about his direct experience with this subject, Jimmy (a former Legion slave), actually says something that contradicts that last quote:

This opens up the likely possibility that it's NCR propaganda - a homophobic lie to emasculate the enemy. Even if maybe it IS something common in the Legion, it's something frowned upon and is at best a rampant open secret. Either case makes Major Knight's quote provably false.

Regardless, it's a wide non-Legion belief that homosexuality is common and accepted in the Legion. If the source of that rumor IS cooked-up homophobic propaganda, it's interesting that it hasn't worked on the only characters who talk about it. All three of those quotes not only have no ill will toward the idea (Cass immediately states it's not an issue AND notes how common it is behind closed doors), but two of them are mentioned in a context of longing: Veronica's quote is immediately followed by her being angry that only men are allowed to be gay, wishing the same for lesbians. Major Knight's quote is in the context of him having to hide his homosexuality at work -- which sadly makes it clear that the propaganda was likely more effective in general than on the one straight character who mentions it.

I'd say it's funny that OP has a hatred of Cass for being homophobic despite being one of the few characters in-game who makes an explicit statement of not having a problem with homosexuality (I for one would've loved to see Boone - the biggest NCR bootlicker around - make his stance clear on the matter). But admittedly it IS tactless and clumsy to make a backhanded comparison of gayness to the Legion (that statement's obvious expository purpose aside). They also read "there's a lot more of that in the Mojave" to mean "ew, it's not this bad where I come from!", but Major Knight makes it clear that where she comes from is actually MORE supportive. As well as another comment she makes about having slept with women while drunk, which OP construes as likening homosexuality to a drunken mistake.

Like, relax. Yes, "I have no problem with it" isn't the most heartfelt statement of support. But the most Cass' words betray about her is ignorance. I think it's clear she's well-meaning but ignorant, and for the most part intentionally written that way. Most of the companions have intentional personality flaws - Cass is crass, tactless, and stubborn. Arcade is an idealist to a fault (in the game's opinion). Boone is blinded by loyalty to a flawed system despite enacting the worst parts of it. Veronica talks like every line was written by Joss Whedon. The others' flaws are a little more external, but ALL of the companions are intended to be flawed and have pros and cons (while not entirely equal), and all are still intended to be well-meaning people despite this.

It reflects a realism in the nuance of human beings. In general, the writing often tends to rely on this "no black or white, ALWAYS nuance" approach to an almost frustrating degree - like I WISH you could get a better ending for the Followers in a "did everything right" Yes Man ending, even though I know the phrase "did everything right" itself goes against the core philosophy of NV. The poll thing was intended as more of a jumping-off point to talk about some stuff in New Vegas I find interesting rather than a response to that post, but honestly - I know Tumblr has a bit of a problem with seeing nuance, but have a little faith in the writers, will you?

Oh. They... think the game itself pushes the idea that "all fascists are gay"??? How can you be a fan of this game yet have such a low opinion of its writing? Such a lack of critical understanding? This person says "According to my academically trained eye..." and then goes on a series of reaches that critically misunderstand the text in a really unfavorable way, just because they were (understandably) offended by a clumsy offhand statement a character makes and immediately clarifies. And they chose to run a poll despite their open hatred for some of the characters involved (they also seem to hate Boone, for obviously more understandable reasons). Interesting choice.

What's funnier is that OP's open disdain for this character makes it more likely for Cass to win the poll on account of spite votes. Cass would've absolutely been buried by Arcade and Veronica in any other scenario.

Anyway, here's a YouTube comment I found while grabbing these quotes that I found funny:

[Transcripts of screenshotted quotes are available in the alt text]

#fallout new vegas

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scintillyyy · 1 month

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okay. so the thing with fridging--the thing with fridging! is that i feel like it's become shorthand for any woman's death or perhaps any character's death that was used to further another character's story and that's. a bit off what the *idea* was when gail simone first made her her women in refrigerators website/list. which, is still available and free to peruse at your own leisure here.

so when gail simone created the women in refrigerators website/idea, it was not actually meant to condemn any of the deaths or disabilities or awful things that had *happened* to those women. it's purpose, first and foremost, was a question:

(from the front page of gail simone's website, linked above)

i'll put the rest under a cut for length

all women in refrigerators was, at its heart, was gail noticing that female characters she loved often met rather awful ends at a rather high frequency. & the point of women in refrigerators was not that these awful things shouldn't have happened to these characters, even gail was aware that it a medium like comic book people were going to have terrible things happen to them for the drama of the story, see:

--it was a question on whether 1) other people thoght she was looking too much into it & seeing something that wasn't there (she originally posted the list on a comic book sites and the response she got was, i guess rather...vitriolic at the very idea she would raise questions about whether women were treated worse than in comic books) and 2) whether other people agreed there was even a problem to begin with. it was a conversation, not a shaming, not a callout. gail's letter she sent to the creators are there. their responses discussing the issue & whether they thought there was one was all there! women in refrigerators was not meant to be condemning of those stories that had a women die for the sake of a man, it was a basic starting question much like a bechdel test is just a basic starting question--not meant to be some gotcha, just the starting point of a much greater conversation.

and not every creator agreed with her premise! there were absolutely arguments about how bad things also happen to male characters. characters like jason todd and uncle ben *in particular* were used to defend the fact that women in refrigerators wasn't some big conspiracy against women in comics, that the bad things that happened to them were just conceits of the genre. others agreed with gail that there was a problem there (ie/women tended to be more affected by these things than me) that they should probably try to do better about in the future. other creators agreed, but then went to go on to justify why their female character in particular needed to go in the fridge. mark millar, who would later go on to write kick-ass said, and i quote: "granted, the female stuff has more of a sexual violence theme and this is something people should probably watch out for, but rape is a rare thing in comics and is seldom done in an exploitative way." ron marz himself responds to alex's death!

because fridging isn't about one death. it's about a trend of awful things happening to women, often far more awful and gratuitous than happens to men, at a far more frequent rate. but fridging also doesn't mean that every individual death or disability is a problem or than individual deaths and disability shouldn't happen. the problem is the sum of the parts, not that this one character was used one time specifically to give pain to another character.

which is why the fridging conversation generally doesn't and can't cover a lot of protagonist male characters--because of the ways their deaths are usually handled with grace, autonomy, guarantee of long term grieving, and a dignity that women characters aren't afforded. it's why, though, you can use the fridging problem as a baseline model for how characters of color and infants often are treated in comparison & why those of far more apt comparisons--because they're often used in similar, concerningly frequent ways to affect protagonist characters with no consideration to the thought there may be a larger problem at hand there. (consider war games: an event designed specifically to cut down what was considered excessive bloat of the batfamily designed to kill off steph & gavin king. why, when the decision to kill them off was made was steph even given consideration of a heroic swan song arc where she was given the reward of robin as a consolation prize for her upcoming death & an entire heroic redemption arc from making a mistake -> fighting to rectify that mistake and learning the true meaning of her heroism while gavin king is not given any consideration in his own death--he was a pawn in a plan he was unaware of, there only to get his throat slit & his identity used for evil)

#anyways actually reading the women in refrigerators site should be a prelude #to talking about fridging i feel

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diaboliklove · 3 months

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i cannot believe its 2024 and there’s people that think cordelia did nothing wrong 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i apologize for the rant but

i read the original ‘argument’ and well

personally, i think its kinda insulting to the triplets as characters to just diminish everything they experienced as children and say that cordelia was a good mother. to say that “cordelia never had sex with laito and never had sex in front of kanato!” and that it was just blood drinking is like … insane to me.

like. just use your brain. i really don’t wanna go into a long rant about this, but im prettttty sure laito wouldn’t be attempting to ruin all people that still have their purity by forcing them into sexual intimacy and having such a bad perspective of love if he was just asked by cordelia to drink his blood. like seriously, in MB laito even uses the word “love” to get sex with some of the maids, since thats his understanding of love. and who would’ve taught him that? maybe the person he continuously has conversations about love with in his flashbacks. like his mom.

and im prettttty sure kanato wouldn’t be so traumatized by just seeing his mom drink blood in front of him. kanato even learned how to pleasure girls BY what he witnessed crim cordelia. please correct me if im wrong, but im pretty sure kanato said in dc that cordelia even made him sing until his voice cords bled. kanato was neglected, ignored even when cordelia was doing something intimate with another — which made him the character he is. bratty, angry, always needing to fight for attention. even in cordelias death, kanato took her ashes and stuffed them into teddy so that he finally could have ALL the attention and all of her that he never could have. even eating them when he felt alone.

im not going to touch on ayato since i think his abuse is the most known, and my point about this is just more on the sexual abuse anyways.

theres no denying ALL of them were abused in their own ways.

my point is, if you say laito never engaged sexually with cordelia and kanato never witnessed cordelia having sex with other men, their character development would literally make no sense. flashbacks appear for a reason in DL, and its to give an explanation on how they developed into the diabolical characters we know and love. if cordelia was such a good mother she would not be shown so often in the triplets routes. i mean, look at shu’s. beatrix hardly makes an appearance in his in comparison to the other brothers, since his explanation on his character development comes from what happened with edgar more than his mothers authoritarian parenting.

i also think people get confused of the difference of liking a well written character and completely justifying what they’ve done. cordelia has gone through her own share of trauma, so it makes sense how she came to be the mother we know, which is an abusive one. but its not an excuse, its just an explanation for her actions. i love her as she’s a great antagonist, but just because i do doesn’t mean i love what she’s done. you can do both.

#toffee speaks #and rants #diabolik lovers #diabolik brothers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #cordelia sakamaki

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socialistexan · 1 year

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Y'know, I've seen this argument a few times, but I really want to get my thoughts out there on this.

I just got a youtube short from a podcast by two lesbians, and in the clip one of the women says "Dylan Mulvaney is the Al Jolson of 2023," and like tbh I just kinda saw red.

If you really want to make that comparison, say trans people are the blackface of 2023 (which is just a bad comparion and insulting to both black people and trans people), you could at least know there literally is a such thing that has sometimes been called "female impersonators," it's drag queens, not trans women.

And here's the thing, I love drag. But, I used to not like drag or drag queens because I thought they made things harder for trans people, and "make a mockery" of women, being (mostly) cis men seemingly putting on a costume.

But that's not true, it just simply isn't the case, especially when you look at the history of our community and how foundational drag was to the LGBTQ community. And it's just fun expression and artistry. The "impersonation" is not trivializing or mockery, it's just apart of the art form, which is further emphasized by bio queens.

And that's where the comparison of drag queens to blackface falls apart. Drag is celebratory while blackface is meant to ridicule, attack, and mock and make black people the butt of the joke.

On the other part of the comparison (ie what she actually said), trans people aren't putting on a show. I'm not performing some female character in some places and then go home and take it off like a mask and kick my feet up on the coffee table as my deadname. This isn't some costume I put on for fun, this is who I am. This isn't some bit I do for a laugh.

I am not making a mockery of women by simply existing as a woman. And neither is Dylan or any other woman that exists on this planet that doesn't fit your standards of what it means to be a woman.

You seeing us as a mockery is a you problem, not a me problem. Your disgust is a you problem, not a me problem. You hatred is a you problem, so don't make it mine.

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 23 days

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Various Storms and Saints- Prologue

"You still haven't told me if he's cute or not."

Scully sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck. Nobody could make her regret bringing up a subject as quickly as her sister when she put her mind to it. "No, Missy, I haven't," she allowed. "Because it's irrelevant. Mulder's good looks aren't the reason I miss working with him."

"So you admit it? He is cute?"

"Missy. Can we please have a serious conversation, for once?"

"Fine, fine," Melissa acquiesced, though her tone made it clear this point would be revisited in the future. "Tell me why you miss working with him, then."

"Well... part of it is the cases we tackled together," Scully said. "The autopsies I'm stuck doing now that the X-Files are shut down seem so boring in comparison to murderous clones and mind-controlling worms in the Arctic."

Melissa whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little bit of a come down. What's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said the cases are part of the reason. So what's the other part?"

Scully closed her eyes. How to define this most indefinable of relationships, especially to Melissa, who so often seemed to think every person in her life fit into a neat box? "I miss the way he spoke to me," she said finally. "He never talked down to me, not even when he was standing so close I practically had to break my neck to meet his eyes. He made me feel like the things I have to say are important... that they carried real weight with him, even when he didn't agree with me." She chuckled ruefully. "Which was most of the time. He's always shown me a respect that I don't get that often, being surrounded by men in positions of authority who all love to hear themselves talk."

"That does sound like it would be tough to leave behind," agreed Melissa. "Couldn't you... I dunno, lobby to be his partner on whatever assignment he's on now, though? Then at least you'd still be working together even if it wasn't in the X-Files."

"He's working with someone else," said Scully darkly. "At least he was on his most recent case. I don't know if they're officially partners or not."

"And you don't like whoever it is," said Melissa knowingly. "I can hear it in your voice." "I don't really know anything about him," Scully admitted. "But... there's something strange about him, you know? He just makes me nervous." There had been something about Alex Krycek's fresh-faced innocence that had seemed less than genuine, even if Scully couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Bad vibes, huh?"

"Maybe." Scully sighed. "For all I know, it's just my jealousy getting in the way because I want to be the one out there with Mulder."

"See, I knew you liked him," crowed Melissa, and Scully groaned, exasperated.

"Melissa. It's not like that."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Melissa huffed. "Hang on a sec, okay?" The phone was muffled, as though Melissa had put her hand over the receiver. Someone's voice asked a garbled question, Melissa gave an equally garbled response, and a moment later, she was back. "Hey Danes, I gotta go, okay?"

"Wait, Melissa, what's your--"

"There's a meditation session I'm supposed to lead and they're waiting for me. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"But Melissa, where are--" There was a click, and the line went dead.

Scully dropped her bedroom extension back into its cradle on the nightstand and sank back onto her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the cardigan she'd pulled on over her work clothes when she'd walked into her apartment. She'd come home from work for lunch, having finished her morning teaching session a little early, and had been available purely by chance when Melissa called for the first time in two months. Phone conversations with her older sister, while always welcome, tended to be exhausting these days. She hadn't seen Melissa in years, not since the day after her graduation from medical school. Melissa hadn't made it to the event itself, but she'd shown up at the party her parents had thrown her afterwards. Melissa hadn't understood her sister's disappointment, and Maggie Scully, as she so often did, had defended her elder daughter to her younger.

"You know big ceremonies aren't really your sister's thing, Dana," she'd said, patting Scully's shoulder consolingly. "She barely sat through her own high school graduation. Just be thankful she's here for the celebration, all right?"

Sitting through a graduation ceremony was boring, to be sure, but that hadn't stopped Scully from doing it for all three of her siblings when they'd finished high school, plus for Bill and Charlie when they'd finished college. In her opinion, it had nothing to do with how exciting or boring the ceremony itself was, and everything to do with showing up for the people she loved when their hard work and accomplishments were recognized.

Showing up. That was something Melissa had traditionally had difficulty with, when it came down to it.

They hadn't even had a working phone number for Melissa last Christmas when Ahab had passed. Scully, tasked with handling everything while her mother waded through her initial shock and grief, had called every friend of Melissa's she could think of, trying to locate her sister, and had failed. She'd been reduced to sending a letter to Melissa's last known address in hopes it might get correctly forwarded. But it never got to her, as was evidenced three months later when Melissa had called home, chatted with Maggie cheerfully about her recent travels, and then had asked to speak to her father and had been completely lost when her mother had burst into tears.

"Free-spirited" had always been how the family had described Melissa. But deep down, in her darkest and most shameful thoughts, the word Scully sometimes landed on was "selfish."

Scully's cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She half-expected it to be Mulder, begging her to do another autopsy he couldn't trust with anyone else, but it was Roy Seekamp, a fellow FBI pathologist whose office in the Hoover building was next to Scully's.

"Where are you?" asked Roy. "One of the AD's came looking for you but your office is locked. Skinner, I think his name was?"

"I came home for lunch. What's going on?"

"Something big is going down in Virginia," said Roy. "Some hostage situation with an escaped mental patient."

Scully frowned, confused. "Why would they need me for that?" she asked.

"I don't think they actually need you or anything," said Roy. "The AD was just looking for you to let you know your old partner is there on the scene."

Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder is there?" She got off the bed and raced out of her bedroom, tearing off the cardigan and snatching up her bag. "What's he doing there? He's not a hostage negotiator!"

"No idea," said Roy. "I think AD Skinner just wanted you to hear it from him. You coming back to the office?"

"Yes," Scully said, pulling on her shoes. "Be there soon." She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her bag, then looked down and realized she was still clutching her cardigan. She folded it in half and draped it over the back of her couch on her way out the door.

It stayed there, untouched, for over a month.

#my fic #x-files fanfic #Various Storms and Saints #Some of y'all are gonna HATE this #angst alert #Mulder/other resolving into MSR #JUST TRUST ME I WOULD NEVER STEER YOU WRONG

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year

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Hey how are you hope you ok

I got a request for Tommy Shelby if that ok

So basically you and Tommy are dating and one day in a meeting you was having theses really bad stomach pains and you thought nothing of at than when u got home and I got worse and than u went to Tommy crying in pain still and he said you might be in labour ( u don’t know u pregnant) than he calls polly and then u gived birth to you boy or girl up to you and then next day every one was Shock and yh hope that make sense u don’t have to do it x

Dear Anon,

Thank you for waiting! I changed things up a bit and I apologize for any mistakes as I'm editing on mobile at work. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: childbirth, mentions of Hugh stress and poor eating habits. Peaky related themes and magic.

Dating Thomas was a life changing decision in more ways than you had originally realsied. Your whole life plan had been derailed by the constant ups and downs.

Every new accomplishment and high was met with an even more dangerous low. You were along for the ride while managing your position at the book shop you owned. Long days and fun nights occupied these past few months so much that you realised that your period was late.

Very late.

You thought about it for a while and realised it was probably what used to happen when you were a teenager. High times of stress would stop it altogether. You had no other symptoms that women had told you about. No weird cravings, or morning sickness. Just lots of drama and stres.

You pushed the thought from your mind as you went about your usual routines.

________6 months later____

You had come to the realisation that you must be barren. A fact that was difficult to come to terms with, however Tommy had said he wasnt interested in children any way.

Looking at your self in the mirror you noticed a bit of weight on you and made a mental note to try and correct it by skiping meals for a while. Nothing big to worry about in comparison to another rival family causing chaos. You’d only just gotten sorted from being held captive a week ago.

You already had so much on your shoulders at the book shop, orders were piling up and you were spending more and more late nights and early mornings. Tommy’s men escorting you and staying by the door while you worked.

The multiple attempts on your life did nothing but add to the list of reasons you couldnt sleep at night. You were slowly falling apart.

Cramps set in about mid day and you finally gave up. You called Tom letting him know you couldnt make it to lunch and went right to bed. Taking a much needed nap you woke up to even worse sets of pain.

You grabbed your hot water bottle and tried to curl up on the couch with a book. Struggling through the sets of pain you began to wonder if something else was wrong. Wasn’t there an organ that could explode in your stomach?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

____________________________________________________

Sitting across the table from the old woman, Polly thought back through time. Her eyes were dark and she had told her lots of things about her life that night. Gave her the curse of knowledge, knowing all too well that the girl was too weak to fight fate. And Polly had tried, every step of the way to fight it.

It didnt surprise her that she was once again stuck at that wooden table. That the woman reflected on something said ages ago.

A child.

Polly’s heart sunk when she thought about the two children that were permanently out of her reach. A child? At this age. Not likely.

The dream took a turn and woman shouted at her.

“Go to her now before its too late.” And image of your face came into her mind and suddenly she was awake. The womans cold scream still echoing in her mind.

Getting her clothes pulled on she quickly called Thomas.

“Need to get to her place now” She said trying to pull on her boot at the same time.

“Pol - why? What’s wrong?” The sound of panic in his voice made her reconsider your place within the family.

“Just go, I’m on my way now.” She hung up the phone not wanting to waist anytime. On the drive over she thought about you and what this ment.

There was no way of making sense of the situation. All the things she was told never made sense as a girl and wouldnt likely start to make sense now. She sighed defeated. She liked you well enough. Smart, kept Thomas in line, a bit soft hearted but she could see that changing the more you saw of the world.

She parked and ran up the steps of your building. Opening the door she ould hear your soft cries as he tried to comfort you.

“Pol what’s wrong with her.”

“It’s a child.” Polly said moving into the kitchen seeing what supplies they were working with.

“Fuck off.” You said a tone of disbelif. Coming back into the room she watched your face cycle through the many stages of panic.

“Accept it so we can get on with it.” Polly said to the both of them.

“How?”

“Part of the prophecy. Flashbacks got me up in the middle of the night.” She watched as Tommy fell under the weight of her words.

“Alright, love.” He kissed the top of your head. “It’s not going to make sense. So just let it happen.” You looked at up him your fear fading in the warmth of his gaze.

“I dont think I can do it.” You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes.

“It’s already happened. Pol saw it. That means you certainly can. Just have to make it from here to there.”

After that you followed instructions, Polly was professional but couldnt help but feel a fondness growing for you. This was also a side of Tom she hadn’t seen since he was a small boy. He did everything without thought, never letting you out of his grip.

“Tough girl.” He kissed your temple. “You can do it, gotta push again”

Like many times before. Polly pulled a small little babe from their mother on the living room floor of a dingy flat in Birmingham.

You collapsed against Tom and Polly went to work ensuring the child was alright. Smallest little girl she’d ever seen. Born too soon, quiet as a mouse as she looked up at her great aunt. Her heart was strong, and Polly knew just by holding her that this child, was significant in something bigger than all of them put together.

She handed the girl off to her parents. Leaning back against the sofa sitting next to Thomas. He handed her a cigarette from his breast pocket.

Taking a long drag, she realized she should give them space to enjoy the moment. Her bones had no interest in moving as the night, and previous months took a toll on her.

“She predicted this? Why didn't you say something?” Tom whispered stoking the cheek of his first child.

Polly almost snapped at him, before registering his tone of voice. She’d never seen him this vulnerable.

“She told me a lot of things, I was small at the time. None of you were born yet. It’s not specific stuff-”

“Thank you.” You said with tears in your eyes. “I -I Don't know what to say.”

“You shouldn't say, anything love. You're family now”

_________________________________________________

You were the most exhausted you’d ever been, but a family meeting was unavoidable. That night was the last night you spent in your apartment. He’d carried you to the car the next morning to take you to his place.

You watched him move around the massive kitchen. He got you a cushion before letting you sit at the head of the table. A cup of strange tea was placed in front of you as the family started to pile in.

Ruby slept in your arm and you tried to relax as the family came close. You were friendly and warm with everyone but this was the first time they were seeing you as a permanent fixture in the family.

“That must have been so scary love. Your body hid it so well” Emse came up to you putting her arm around you in a makeshift hug. “Look at her. So small. Pretty like her mum.” She sat close to you and you knew that it was because of her natural distaste for family meetings. Her posture told you if anyone got smart she’d chew them out.

Arthur and John started to congratulate Tommy loudly and your stomach turned when they set on you. She was so small you didn't feel comfortable passing her around yet. What if that offended people?

“Look at that! Next Shelby made a grand entrance like her da” Arthur kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling. “Good job, love.”

“Thanks,” You said softly.

“God I hope she’s just like you Tom. Finally some payback.” John came over and lowered his voice once seeing her. “Fuck she’s so small. You can call us any time if you need anything. Got a truckload of baby clothes for ya.”

“Really though, love. Call any time.” Esme said and you hoped more than anything you would get closer to her.

The meeting started and Tommy made a grand speech. It didn't take long before Polly was rushing you back up to lie down in bed. When you woke up there was a ring on your wedding finger and a note on the bedside table.

Gone to London for business. Be back tomorrow.

You went back to the massive set of diamonds on your finger. It was talked about but you hadn't had the chance to think about it yet.

There was a soft knock at the door and Esme poked her head in.

“Staying while he’s away, do you need anything, love.” Without knowing what to do you just stuck your hand out at her.

She looked at the ring.

“When!” She whispered.

“Just woke up and it was there.” You whispered back in disbelief.

“Such a Thomas thing to do.” She laughed and sat on the bed next to you. You both talked for hours and you were grateful she let you doze off and nap.

You and Ruby fit right in.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #childbirth #ruby shelby #shelby family imagine #shelby family

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nyxlaufeyson · 6 months

Text

Slut!

Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Fluff + Angst

Wordcount: 7,082

Song: Slut (Taylor's Version) [From the Vault] by Taylor Swift Listen Here

TW: There is a lot of insecurity kinda going on with the reader, and also some alcohol usage that probably isn't healthy but it's not that bad.

Synopsis: You see Loki at a pool party and can't get him out of your head. More meetings happen. Insecurity happens. And then, finally, confessions happen!

A/N: Okay so I don't know why there are way too many parties in this fic but idc because it works out for what I was going for. Enjoy this, and sorry for not being as active life really is crazy and it's abt to be tech week. My theatre people, you get me.

Also, the reader turned out to be more fem this time, sorry, it just worked out that way. Not too many mentions of gender though.

Flamingo pink, Sunrise Boulevard

The first time you saw him in-person was at a pool party you and your dad had been invited to. You were the child of a prominent businessman who had several connections with other rich businessmen. Which, given the nature of these men, meant that you had to attend a lot of parties.

It wasn’t the type of party you were used to attending, because it usually consisted of a bunch of people drinking, crappy music, and people dancing right up on each other. This party was toned back, with the guest list significantly reduced. This was due to the fact that the party was a celebration for a business deal between your father and the billionaire Tony Stark.

Since it was a more private affair, you felt like there was a lot more attention on you. The Avengers were there, which still put you to awe, even if you had seen them at several parties. This time, however, some of them actually came up to talk to you.

You froze up as The Black Widow approached you, unsure of what to do or say. “Cute swimsuit.”

She just complimented you. The Black Widow just complimented you. How were you supposed to process that?!

“Uhm- thank you!” You said, looking down at your flamingo-pink swimsuit. It was flattering on you, but it made you feel exposed. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to get a new swimsuit before the party, and it was the only one that still fit you. “Do you really think so?”

She nodded, sitting down in a lounge next to you. “Of course.” She offered you a drink, and her smile felt refreshing.

You took the drink, thanking her. You made introductions, and began to talk.

“What’s it like being an Avenger?” You asked, and then immediately felt repulsed that you would ask her a question she probably had to answer hundreds of times. “Sorry-I’m sure everyone asks you that-”

She waved her free hand. “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay to be curious.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “Honestly? It’s hard sometimes, with everyone always on your back. Everyone expects you to be perfect.”

I nodded. “I get the feeling. Not that I have that level of pressure, of course, but I still feel like I’m supposed to be perfect all the time. This one time, when I was eight, I stole a chocolate egg. I knew it was wrong, and my dad caught me and made me return it, but the media was on me for weeks. ‘Eight-year-old criminal executes heist despite being rich.’ I don’t get it. I was eight, and made a mistake. Shit happens, you know?”

She agreed with you, and you continued conversing. You got to learn some interesting things about her, and she learned some things about you. You were sure that yours were boring in comparison, but she didn’t make you feel inferior.

As you were talking, more people arrived and the sun began to set. You turned towards it, gasping. “Holy shit, look at that!” The sky was a beautiful mix of oranges, pinks, and purples. It definitely was one of the best sunsets you had seen.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha said, “There’s a reason they call this Sunrise Boulevard. There’s an excellent view for a sunrise or a sunset.”

Clink, clink, being this young is art

You smiled, admiring the sky before the sun would inevitably disappear. Natasha raised her glass towards yours, and you clinked them together. “To sunrises,” she said, “and new friends.”

New friends. You couldn’t help but grin a little wider.

Aquamarine, moonlit swimmin' pool

Suddenly a man with a microphone-Tony Stark-amped up the music and yelled, “Alright ladies and gentlemen, let's get this party started!”

With that, several people whooped and hollered, and a man with long blonde hair hopped up and ran into the now-moonlit swimming pool. “CANNONBALL!” He screamed before jumping in, and making a splash that couldn’t have been made by a human. When he came up from the jump, you recognized him as Thor.

Natasha chuckled, and then stood up. She held her hand out to you, and she helped you up. “Have you gotten the chance to meet the others yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve met Stark briefly, but it was more of a formal, business introduction.”

She smiled at you, dragging you in the direction of a small cluster of people. “Well then, let’s introduce you.”

Your eyes went wide, and you tried to pull back. “Uh, I’m actually going to go use the bathroom. I’ll be back!” You said, turning to leave. It was one thing when someone cooler than you comes up to you and makes introductions, but going up to them and introducing yourself? That was something you couldn’t do.

Unfortunately, Natasha caught your bluff, and pulled you back towards her. “I can see right through you. Don’t worry, it will be fine, they’re not going to judge you.”

“But you guys are the Avengers. You’re literally superheroes! I look like a loser next to all of you.” You didn’t know where all of this was coming from, but you felt comfortable enough in Natasha’s presence to voice your feelings.

She sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, it is all in your head. Don’t let the anxiety get to you.” She managed to steer you back towards the group. “Plus, you have me here to introduce you.”

Although your anxiety was still there, you let her pull you up and introduce you to several of her teammates. You recognized several of them from clips you had seen of them on TV, and you were most certainly overwhelmed when they started to shake your hand.

You had been introduced to a number of the Avengers, when a wet Thor walked up to the group, not noticing you at first. “Has anyone seen my brother?”

Tony shook his head. “He’s probably moping inside the lounge and plotting ways to kill us all, or whatever he does in his spare time.”

Thor nodded, picking up some grapes from a nearby table, and when he came back, he spotted you. He stretched out a hand, and you shook it. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Thor Odinson.”

You introduced yourself to him, and you talked for a short while until you sensed the air tense around you. The faces of your new acquaintances had gotten stiff, except for a few people who seemed not to care. Still, even they shifted their gaze behind you.

What if all I need is you?

You spun around, confused, and saw a gorgeous black-haired man make his way outside. You vaguely recognized him, but you couldn’t pinpoint where from. He was wearing swim trunks and a tight shirt that left little to the imagination.

Natasha mistook your staring silence for fear, and started to assure you. “Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you here. He’s got limited magic, and has supposedly ‘changed.’ If anything were to go wrong, we are all here to protect you as well.”

You nodded, not registering her words as the man met your gaze. He had the most hypnotizing green eyes, and after you realized that you were blatantly staring, you turned away. “Uh-yeah, yeah.”

Got love-struck, went straight to my head

You chastised yourself for being so starstruck from the simple sight of a man. Sure, he was beautiful, but you hadn’t even had a conversation with him.

It took you a few seconds to sort out your mind and absorb the words that Natasha had said to you. It clicked in your brain who the man was. It was Loki, Thor’s brother, the man who attacked New York.

Of course, this all came to you as you had taken a gulp of champagne to recalibrate. So, you did the most flattering thing you could think of, and choked on your drink.

You managed to pass it off as your drink going down the wrong way, excusing yourself to go get some water. This might have been the most eventful party you had attended thus far.

~~~~~

Got lovesick all over my bed

The next day, you sat in your bed, questioning your entire life. After you had gotten back to the party, Loki had been gone. You didn’t know where he had gone, and you didn’t know why you were disappointed.

Despite the fact that you hadn’t talked to him, or seen him for more than a few minutes, you couldn’t get his green eyes out of your head. Whenever you closed your eyes, you saw them, and whenever you saw them, you felt giddy.

Love to think you’ll never forget

You wondered what he had thought of you, that moment when you had locked eyes. Did he think you were pretty? Or did you disgust him? You rolled your eyes, pressing your head into your pillow. You could lie to yourself, but you knew that he most likely forgot all about you.

You didn’t understand your feelings. You had never felt this way with anyone before, not even your ex. You groaned as your mind brought him up. A few months ago, you had broken up with your ex-boyfriend after a two-year relationship.

Memories of you and your ex flashed through your mind, and now you missed the green eyes that you had recently tried to get out of your mind.

Handprints in wet cement

There was this one time you and your ex had come across a pavement that had just been filled with wet cement. You instantly had remembered a cute couple's photo you had seen, and made him put his hand next to yours in the wet cement.

If you could go back, you wouldn’t have done that. Now you had to face the fact that your handprint was out there somewhere next to his until the pavement got redone.

You got up and made your way through the house, grabbing your bag and headphones. Whenever something was plaguing your thoughts, you would venture outside and listen to music.

This time, after taking the subway, you found yourself in the heart of New York City. Your dad was always too busy with work to know or care when you went out, so you enjoyed taking advantage of that.

Even though most people would see this as freedom, you never truly felt free. Sure, you could go wherever and buy whatever you wanted, but you felt restricted when it came to doing things. Anything you did would be questioned by everyone if it got public-and the media was everywhere.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

You coughed as a particularly potent wave of cigarette smoke hit you. There were several times when you would go home with your clothes smelling of smoke just from being out in the city.

When the sun began to set, you made your way back to the subway. You boarded and found a seat next to a man with a vibrant green shirt. The exact shade of green of Loki’s eyes.

This, along with the music and strolling you had done through the city, took your mind off of your ex and back to the mysterious man who you had seemingly become obsessed with.

Why he was plaguing your thoughts, you didn’t quite know. Especially when you hadn’t even talked to him.

Lovelorn and nobody knows

You wanted to talk to someone about it, but you didn’t have anyone you could trust with this sort of information. You had friends, sure, but you didn’t want to have to explain this feeling to them. You didn’t think that they would understand. And that was before mentioning that the man in question had tried to take over the world.

Love thorns all over this rose

On one hand, it was nice to feel like a giddy teenager again. Love-not that you would call this that-had a way of making you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. But on the other hand, you were completely perplexed and confused as you tried to understand your feelings.

It was all stupid, really. You hated that you kept thinking about this man despite not having a conversation. It was unsettling how you couldn’t control your own thoughts and feelings.

You wrote it off as you missing the feeling of being in a relationship. That, and Loki was hot. So it was fair enough that you felt attracted to him, no matter how weird and silly it might be.

I'll pay the price, you won't

~~~~~

Another month, another party. However, you couldn’t help but find yourself more excited than you would have been before the pool party on Sunrise Boulevard. For starters, you had more acquaintances at the party. Friends, even. Natasha had kept in touch with you via text, and you even went out for coffee a week or so ago.

There was another reason too, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You ignored it. The weird flutter in your stomach that happened when you thought about running into Loki at the party was nothing short of a childish reaction to seeing a pretty boy.

But if I’m all dressed up

You were wearing a long-sleeved black dress that stopped a little above your knees. It was beautiful, filled with rhinestones. You paired it with some jewelry and a matching clutch.

They might as well be lookin' at us

It was a little more flashy than you would usually wear to one of these parties, but you couldn’t help it. Someone caught your eye, and now you wanted to catch theirs.

And if they call me a slut

You were slightly worried, since the dress’ front was a little lower than the cut you typically wore. Now, a normal person in a normal life might get away with nobody noticing. Unfortunately, that would most likely not be the case.

Would the press notice? Probably. Would they spin articles speculating why you were being ‘sluttish’? Likely.

You know it might be worth it for once

But maybe they wouldn’t. And even if they did, who cared? They did it all the time. If wearing this dress would heighten the possibility of catching a certain someone’s eye, you would take your chances.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Your dad called from downstairs. You made your way down the stairs, grabbing a light coat just in case you got cold. He smiled when he saw you. “You look pretty.”

You returned his smile. “Thanks, Dad.” You made your way out the doors and into the car that would lead you to the heart of New York City, and towards the Avengers Tower.

When you arrived, you had to make your way up an elevator and through a lot of security before getting to the place where the party was being held. As soon as you got in, your dad was off to go talk to some of his business friends, leaving you on your own.

You sighed and walked over to the bar, ordering a drink. The great thing about Stark’s parties was that he provided an entire bar so people could order their own drinks.

The barista handed you your drink, and you thanked them. The taste was exactly what you wanted.

A hand on your shoulder startled you, so you whipped around to see who was touching you. To your surprise, and relief, it was Natasha. “Natasha! You startled me.”

“We need to work on your spacial awareness then, hun.” She ordered a drink and took a seat next to me. “How’s life been since I last saw you?”

You took another sip of your drink, considering her question. “It’s been fine, rather uneventful. Which is a good thing, it means that there isn’t anything incredibly bad happening.” You paused, pondering whether or not to tell her more. You decided to very briefly graze a more emotional response. “However, I've been struggling with some feelings that I don’t quite understand.”

She looked at you, intrigued. She was about to say something, probably to prod for more information, when Thor and Steve walked up. They seemed to remember you, saying their greetings.

“We’re going to play a round of poker, you want in?” Steve asked Natasha, who nodded, taking a final swig of her drink before finishing it. Steve then looked towards you. “How about you?”

Captain America had just asked you if you wanted to play poker with him and the Avengers. Normal day, normal day indeed.

You took a sip of liquid courage. “Sure. I’m going to get another drink, I’ll meet you guys over there.”

They nodded and walked off towards a table where people were gathering to play. Your eyes scanned over who was there. Other than Thor, Natasha, and Steve, you recognized several faces that you had met that day at the pool party, including him .

And if I'm gonna be drunk

You turned back towards the bar, ordering another drink, this time something stronger. If you were going to make it through this game, you were going to need a lot more alcohol.

I might as well be drunk in love

But hey, maybe being slightly drunk would help you make a move.

You found yourself a seat in between Natasha and Wanda, right across from Thor. And Loki. Bruce shuffled and dished out the cards, as he preferred to be the person outside of all the action.

You began to introduce yourself to those who you hadn’t met, including Loki. He scrunched his eyebrows when you introduced yourself, but he promptly shook it off and responded. “Loki,” he said, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Well, it was a start. You flashed him a smile and took up your cards that Bruce had passed you. You were no expert at Poker, but you knew how to play and were decent.

The game went on, and you could quickly tell who had good poker faces and who didn’t. Natasha, for example, gave no indication as to what her cards were. As would be expected for a spy. On the other hand, Sam was easier to read because he smiled too damn much whenever he got a good card.

But Loki? You couldn’t quite tell. He wasn’t entirely blank as Natasha, but gave subtle indications to his cards. Something told you that he did this on purpose, though, and wasn’t actually giving hints towards the truth.

Apparently he noticed you staring at him, and he caught your eye. You blushed, immediately looking back down at your cards. Way to go, me, you thought, wanting the floor to come and swallow you up.

After that, the rounds passed by rather quickly, since you were so focused on what Loki might have thought when he caught you staring. Eventually everyone called it quits on the game, Natasha won, and instead circled over to a sitting area. People were beginning to clear out from the party, since it was getting late. Your dad was chatting away with some of his friends, so you took up an empty spot next to Loki.

You had drunk several more drinks, so your common sense wasn’t really working for you. Loki gave you a weird look when you sat down, but you ignored it.

Thor called your name, so you turned your head towards his. “I believe I heard you mention that you like to read, no?”

Your eyes widened in delight, nodding. “Yes! I do. In fact, just earlier today I purchased a few more novels from a bookstore.”

Thor smiled. “Loki enjoys reading as well. He always seems to have his nose in a book.” Loki glared daggers at him, and was about to say something, when you interrupted.

“Oh, really!?” You turned towards Loki, the topic of conversation overriding your nerves. “What is your favorite book?”

Loki faltered, closing his mouth. He pondered the question for a moment before answering. “That’s a difficult question,” he said, “but I suppose if I had to choose I would go with Hamlet. What about you?”

Your smile widened. “Hamlet, an interesting choice indeed. I can totally see you as a Shakespeare guy, though.” Dear god, did I just say that? “And I can’t actually choose a favorite book, there’s just too many, where to start? Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, my childhood favorites, or more classical books like A Study in Scarlet or Pride and Prejudice? ”

You began to ramble on and on about some of your best reads, and you didn’t realize until it was too late that he probably didn’t want to hear about literally everything you’ve read. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No, please, go on, I don’t mind at all. I understand being passionate about reading.” Loki said, causing you to blush.

The two of you continued your conversation, while Thor smiled into his drink across from the two of you.

That night was a success. You made it out of the party with not only having had a conversation with Loki, but also with his number. You had never been so proud of yourself for being a nerd.

~~~~~

Fast forward a few months, and you and him had practically become best friends. You hung out all the time, and texted each other whenever you couldn’t be together. You had never been this happy in your life.

Unfortunately, that was all you were, friends. There was flirting, sure, from both ends, but neither of you took the step to initiate something. You were sure there was something there, but you were afraid it was one-sided. So you made peace with just being his friend, as it was enough for the time being.

On one particularly bad day, there had been a nasty article written about you. The press had caught on to your friendship with the god of mischief, and they were ecstatic that they could spin some atrocious stories on it. You were called a slut, a whore, all for being seen with someone of the opposite sex. They used photos of the two of you holding hands, even though it had only been a friendly gesture.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for who you were with. The press wasn’t exactly fond of Loki, given his reputation.

Send the code, he's waitin' there

You shot Loki a text reading ‘Fairytale.’ It was the code word for whenever one of you was feeling stressed or overwhelmed, and you needed the other to come and help you escape from whatever situation you were in.

Making your way towards the Avengers tower, you couldn’t help but let a few tears escape. You tried never to let the media get to you, but the article hurt. It wasn’t just the fact that they were spinning nasty rumors and words about you, it was the fact that you wanted some of them to be true. Not the ones calling you names, but you wish that there was, in fact, something going on between you and Loki.

When you got to the tower, you made your way to the elevator. Security didn’t stop you, since they already knew who you were. You had been to visit frequently enough to where they knew you by name and greeted you. They probably could even tell that something was off, since you only briefly greeted them. On most days, you would stop and ask some of them how their day had been going. But, you didn’t have time for that today.

Once you reached the floor of the Avenger’s common areas, also where Loki’s room was, Loki was standing there, waiting for you.

The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

As soon as you saw him, everything somehow became a little bit better. You rushed into his arms, and he hugged you.

Everyone wants him, that was my crime

Some of the stories had only talked shit about you, and not Loki. Forums online called you names, while praising Loki. You weren’t ignorant to the fact that despite everything he had done, Loki still had loads of fans that would defend him and get jealous of anyone who actually got close to him. That was how fangirls and fanboys worked. Also, people were just misogynists and loved to put the blame on women.

The wrong place at the right time

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be here. Maybe some of the articles were right, you were in the wrong place by being here in Loki’s arms. But damn the articles, because you felt safe here.

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in

He brought you through the halls and into his room, where you both sat down on his bed. “What happened?” He asked.

Had he really not seen the articles? You opened your mouth to talk, but your emotions got the best of you and you started to break down.

Loki pulled you into his lap, resting your head under his chin. “Hey, hey, shhh.” He coaxed, petting your hair with his hand. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

See? How was there not something there? Were you going crazy?

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

He continued to coax you, and eventually you fell asleep in his arms.

~~~~~

The next morning, you woke up with arms around your waist. This wasn’t new, you had slept-in the literal sense-with Loki on several occasions whenever one of you needed emotional support. It did hurt that it was always as friends, but it was better than nothing, and you would take what you could get.

Loki rustled beside you, and you turned to face him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, and you instinctively reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes opened at your touch, and your face went red.

“Sorry, I-” He hushed you, smiling at how your face was heating up because he caught you.

“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing to apologize for.” He took your hand, and finished tucking his hair behind his ear with your hand .

You cleared your throat, slipping out of bed. You noted that he had magicked you into some pajamas sometime after you had fallen asleep.

He slowly sat up, his hair falling loose once more. “I’m going to get into the shower.” He said, and you nodded.

“I’ll go out and see if anyone’s making breakfast I can steal.” You said, and he chuckled.

The Avengers were used to your presence at this point, and you were friends with them. You were even invited to their movie nights and poker nights, events that were exclusive to just the team and occasionally their friends, such as you.

They were relatively surprised that you and Loki had become such good friends, but nobody really said anything about it. You got a few warnings to be careful, but for the most part, they trusted your judgment.

Thor was especially happy that Loki had made such a good friend. He would always tell you how much he appreciated you being there for Loki. He must not have quite understood just how much Loki was there for you as well.

Scents of eggs and bacon wafted into your nose, and you grinned when you found Clint in the kitchen. He saw you, smiling. “Hey there, Brownies.” He said, offering you some breakfast.

Clint, along with some of the other members of the team, had begun to call you ‘Brownies’ after you got into a stash of edibles that some of them kept for whenever they were particularly stressed. Of course, you had thought that they were normal brownies and ate several of them. You had ended up throwing up multiple times that night.

You scarfed down the food, and Natasha walked in and sat next to you. When Clint left to go for a morning walk, she turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “So?”

You looked at her, confused. You had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. “So what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you and Loki finally confess to each other?” She said, without batting an eye.

You choked on your orange juice. “What?!” You hadn’t told a single soul about your crush on Loki, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out. Honestly, it didn’t surprise you that she knew about it, but it did surprise you that she would ask you so passively like it was idle talk.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She took a bite of her food before continuing. “Literally everyone knows that you and Loki are pining for each other. It’s blatantly obvious, Sestryonka. Maybe you two won’t admit it to yourselves, but ask anyone else in the tower.”

At that moment, Sam walked in to grab a few pieces of bacon. “Hey Sam?” You started, and he looked towards you. “Do you think that Loki likes me?”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Aren’t you two dating?” Once again, you choked on your orange juice. “I’ll take that as a no. But yeah, he likes you.”

“Did he tell you this?” You inquired. How were other people so sure?

Sam shook his head. “No, but it’s obvious.” He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Gotta go meet with an old friend, see you around.”

Natasha gave you an I-told-you-so look, and you just sat there, stunned. “I think I need to go home. I forgot that I told my dad I would go with him to some business meeting.” You lied, and Natasha most definitely saw through it, but she didn’t say anything. “Tell Loki whenever he gets out of the shower.”

She nodded, and you left to go back to your house.

Got love-struck, went straight to my head (Straight to my head)

Could Natasha and Sam be right? Could Loki really recuperate your feelings? It wasn’t entirely impossible, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

All the times that you thought he had been playfully flirting with you, what if it had been real? The moments flashed through your mind, and suddenly the line that separated you and Loki as friends became a little more blurry.

Got lovesick all over my bed (Over my bed)

When you made it home and to your room, you fell into your bed, emotions overflowing. You didn’t know what to do.

Love to think you’ll never forget

You had to just be a friend to Loki. He would live thousands of years after you died, your life could never compare to his. He would move on with his life, and forget about you. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

We’ll pay the price, I guess

~~~~~

It had been a solid month of you ignoring Loki. Your thoughts had spurred you into insecurity, and you figured that it was best that you disconnected yourself from Loki. He would be fine, he would move on, but you wanted to spare yourself the hurt for when that did happen.

Turns out, ignoring him wasn’t easy. First of all, he called you daily and messaged you several times a day for the first week. You couldn’t keep yourself from reading the messages.

Lokes ♥️: Natasha told me you had to go to some event. Have fun 🙃 Lokes ♥️: Are you okay? You didn’t respond to my last message. Lokes ♥️: If you need anything, please let me know. Lokes ♥️: You’re worrying me. Lokes ♥️: Darling, have I done something wrong? I know you're online, you sent Thor a funny dog video, he just showed it to me and said you sent it. Please tell me if I’ve done something that displeases you.

You were surprised you were able to make it a month without breaking your resolve and writing him back. You didn’t want him to feel that he did anything wrong, but you couldn’t risk your heart being shattered any further.

Unfortunately, your dad was making you go to another party. And, lucky you, it was at the Avengers tower. Just how many parties did Tony Stark have to host?

You walked into the party, confident that you had enough willpower to keep away from Loki and make it through the party unscathed.

Knowing you would need some alcohol, you made your way to the bar. Natasha was there shortly after. “We haven’t seen you around in a while.”

You hadn’t visited the tower since your decision to ghost Loki. While you normally would hang out with the others, you knew you couldn’t risk the chance of bumping into Loki.

“Yeah, I’ve been… busy.” You knew Natasha wasn’t stupid enough to buy your lie.

She took a sip of her drink. “Well, we’ve missed you. And for the record, I think you’ve been going about this the wrong way. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Loki right now, but it doesn’t seem that Loki wants this. He’s not been the same since you stopped talking to him, he’s always moping around even more than usual.”

Your heart squeezed. “Still? It’s been a month. Surely he’s got some other friend, girlfriend even-”

Natasha cut you off with a laugh. “You are blissfully ignorant, aren’t you, Mishka?” You were about to excuse yourself to use the bathroom, because you needed to get out of here. “He has literally come to me every day asking if you have texted me. Hell, I didn’t ever think that I would feel bad for the little bastard, but seeing him like that nearly did.”

You locked eyes with Loki, who was across the room. As soon as you did that, you could feel your walls of built resolve crumbling down just with the look in his eyes.

You could hear Natasha still talking next to you, but it was drowned out. You quickly made your way opposite from him, trying to find an exit before you broke down.

A hand pulled you around to face him . The one you had been avoiding. Your breath caught. He looked tired and sad, with eye bags under his eyes. Had you being away from him done this?

But if I'm all dressed up (If I’m all dressed up)

The dress you were wearing was the same black dress from the night you had finally introduced yourself to him. In fact, you weren’t far off from where you had talked about your favorite books.

Loki breathed your name, and looked at you like you were a fleeting memory about to disappear.

They might as well be lookin' at us (Lookin' at us)

Suddenly, you couldn’t care if the entire world was watching as you glanced down to his lips. You took a step towards him. “Loki.”

“Where have you been?” He sounded heartbroken. “I’ve called you, texted you, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve laid up at night-”

You silenced him by pulling down the collar of his shirt and kissing him. Was it the most logical thing to do? No. But maybe it would answer some of his questions.

“I’m sorry.” You said when you finally pulled away. You waited for him to say something, anything, but he pulled you in for another kiss. Maybe that was better than words.

And if they call me a slut (If they call me a slut)

Consequences be damned, you were going to enjoy this kiss while it lasted. You could deal with the press later.

You know it might be worth it for once (Worth it for once)

You knew that it would be worth it anyways, since Loki’s lips against yours felt like pure nirvana. It was the best feeling you had ever experienced in your life.

Eventually, you both needed to breathe, so you pulled apart. After catching your breath, you gestured to the bar. “Let’s get a drink.”

And if I'm gonna be drunk

You had a lot to explain, and you were going to need a shot or two to get it all out. You already felt less nervous than you did originally, considering the kiss.

I might as well be drunk in love

After taking a shot, you turned to him. “Loki Laufeyson, from the day that I met you, I’ve felt this inexplicable feeling. I didn’t know what it was at first, but I knew that I needed to get to know you better.” You took a deep breath. “And once I realized what it was, I got scared. When the possibility of something happening got too real, I got insecure. That’s why I didn’t contact you. I thought it would be better for both of us.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. He reached out to catch it with his finger. “Oh, love.”

He kissed you, this time in comfort. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

Slow clapping filled your ears as you leaned your forehead against Loki’s. You whipped around to find Natasha with a smirk on her face. It wasn’t just Natasha, it seemed that the majority of the Avengers were now staring at you. Nobody looked shocked.

Thor wore a huge shit-eating grin and walked up to Loki, clapping him on the back. “See, Brother, I told you it would all work out!”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “No thanks to you and your advice.”

You tilted your head, confused. “Advice?” You turned to Thor. “Thor, what is he talking about?”

Thor’s smile didn’t falter. “Well, my lady, my brother here inquired for advice on how to woo maidens. Since I am well-rounded on the subject, I gave him my best advice.”

Loki’s usually pale face had now turned red, and you could feel your cheeks getting hot as well. “Did he really?” You said, teasing Loki.

“I was desperate. Next time, however, I will most definitely be more straightforward.” He kissed you on the forehead. “We wouldn’t want you running off again, now, would we?”

~~~~~

Half asleep, takin’ your time

Loki pulled you closer to him in a half-asleep state. You squinted at the alarm clock, reading the time. It was 10 in the morning. Last night, you had told your dad that you were going to spend the night with Natasha.

“Loki.” You whispered, shaking him gently awake. He groaned, tightening his hold on you. “Loki, we should get up.”

In the tangerine, neon light, this is luxury

The sun cast a tangerine-colored neon light into the room, and it highlighted his features beautifully. You couldn’t think of anywhere else in the world you wanted to be other than right here in his arms. It was a pure luxury that you would cherish forever.

“Can’t we just stay here?” He whined, and you were tempted to agree and fall back asleep against his chest. But you knew that you had things that needed to get done that day.

You traced lines across his chest, slowly. “Nope, we gotta get up. Come on.” You pulled the blankets off of him, and he grumbled but sat up.

He looked like he was about to complain some more, but he stopped himself when he saw you. “You’re beautiful.” He breathed, like he was seeing something magical.

“Yeah, okay, silvertongue.” You got out of bed, and scavenged through his closet to find some of his clothes to steal.

He came up behind you, kissing your neck. “I mean it, darling.” You blushed. How were you ever going to get used to this?

You're not sayin' you're in love with me

He hummed on your shoulder, hugging you. Neither of you had blatantly stated your undying love for each other, but it was heavily implied. Every action either of you took was filled with passionate love for the other.

But you're going to

And it was okay if you didn’t acknowledge your love quite yet. Taking things slow never hurt anyone. It was okay. It would happen. Eventually. Right?

You wanted to say it, to say those words: ‘I love you,’ but you were too afraid that you would be taking things too fast and scare Loki off.

Half awake, takin' your chances

“Darling?” He said, and you tilted your head up as you grabbed one of his sweatshirts. “I love you.”

Had he been reading your mind? You froze, unsure of what to say or do. He seemed to have only been half-awake, but when he said those words, he fully woke up.

“I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t think-” You shut him up with a kiss.

You smiled into the kiss. “I love you too, you big idiot.” He relaxed at this and helped you put his sweatshirt on.

It's a big mistake, I said, "It might blow up in your pretty face"

“Although, loving me might blow up in your pretty face.” You said, rustling your hands in his raven locks.

He leaned into you. “If I’m with you, nothing else matters.” He grabbed some clothes for himself. “And I’m flattered you think my face is pretty.”

I'm not saying, "Do it anyway" (Do it anyway)

You knew then and there that he wouldn’t care about the fallback from a relationship with you, no matter how bad it might be. Loki’s never been one for caring about his public opinion, anyway.

“Are you sure?” You tried, still slightly insecure about the entire thing. “Won’t you get bored?”

But you're going to

He laughed. “Darling, with you, I could never get bored. You’ve shown me so many things about this world that I never would have thought possible. You’ve helped me through my emotions, and didn’t run away when it was ugly. You didn't go away when I attempted to shut you out.”

He pulled you into his embrace. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed all balled up into one soul that I finally have found. I wouldn’t be able to get bored of you even if I tried.”

You felt hot tears stream down your cheeks. Never had fate been this good to you, and you finally felt like you belonged somewhere without a doubt. You belonged here, in Loki’s arms.

And if they call me a (Slut) You know it might be worth it for once And if I'm gonna be (Drunk) I might as well be drunk in love

Tag List (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream @iceeericeee @fandxmslxt69

Hope you enjoyed! Comments and notes are always appreciated. I hope I didn't add to many scene changes/focus too much on the reader, it just kind of turned out that way.

#loki #loki fanfic #marvel #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki oneshot #loki friggason #loki angst #loki x reader #loki x you #loki/reader

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