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sergeantbarnessdoll · 29 days

Note

ok… 1940s Bucky Barnes (who is currently in the army) meets the pinup girl he has on the wall in his bunk(aka the reader)and he immediately tries to get with her but so do all the other soldiers and he gets all sulky about it but little does he know she really likes him

(you can include smit if you want but I don’t mind; all your fics are fantastic anyway ☺️✌️)

Make Me Yours » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: 40s Bucky Barnes x Pinup Girl!Reader

Summary: When bucky meets his favorite pinup girl, he tries to get with her and he notices other soldiers trying to get with her too which he doesn’t like at all, but little does he know that she likes him.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and Smut (18+), language, alcohol, flirting, little bit of jealousy, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky’s jaw dropped when he seen you, his favorite pinup girl, when him and Steve walked in the bar. Steve was telling Bucky something, but Bucky wasn’t listening. All he was doing was staring at you.

“Bucky, are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Steve asks.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He just continued to stare at you. Steve followed Bucky’s gaze to you.

“Isn’t she the pinup girl on the poster you have in your bunk?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers. “I’m going to go talk to her. Wish me luck.” He says, walking away.

Steve sat down at a table and decided to watch. Bucky walked up to the bar counter and ordered a beer before talking to you. He couldn’t help but admire your beauty. You felt his gaze on you and looked at him.

“You know, it’s rude to stare.” You jokingly say, taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m not staring. I’m simply admiring your beauty.” He says, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You introduced yourself, holding out your hand.

“Sergeant James Barnes. Everyone calls me Bucky.” He introduces himself, shaking your hand.

“Sergeant, huh?” You say, admiring the way he looks in his Army uniform.

“Would you like to hangout with me and my friend?” He asks curiously.

“I would love that.” You say with a smile.

You two ordered more drinks before going over to the table where Steve is.

“Steve, this is Y/N.” Bucky tells him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Steve shakes your hand. “Captain Steve Rogers.” He introduces himself.

“You’re a Captain and Bucky’s a Sergeant. It looks like the three of us are going to get along just fine.” You say, looking at Bucky.

Bucky grins as he took a sip of his beer. He pulled your chair closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You spent the whole night talking to Bucky and Steve.

“I wish I could stay longer, but I have things to do tomorrow.” You say, standing up.

“I’ll walk you home.” Bucky says, standing up.

“What a gentleman.” You complimented. “Most of the soldiers I met just want me for one thing.” You say.

“I’m not like most soldiers, doll.” He says.

You said goodbye to Steve and left the bar with Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“What’re you doing, Sarge?” You asked.

“Just protecting you, doll face.” Bucky says, smiling down at you.

As you two were walking, you two started a conversation. Before you two knew it, you were on your doorstep.

“Thank you for walking me home, Sergeant.” You say with a smile.

“Anytime, babydoll.” Bucky says, smiling.

Before you knew it, Bucky’s lips were on yours. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back.

“That was one hell of a kiss, Sarge.” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“That’s just a little preview for what’s to come, doll.” He says in a flirty tone.

Over the next few weeks, you and Bucky got to know each other more and gotten closer. His flirty nature and pickup lines are growing on you. Bucky is just having fun with it.

Bucky walked in the bar, smiling when he seen you. His smile slowly faded away when he seen you talking to a soldier who isn’t him at a table on the other side of the bar. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. He tried to not let it show when he walked over to you.

“Bucky!” You say with a smile.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky says, smiling as you two hugged.

Bucky sat down in the chair next to you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Are you and Barnes a thing?” The soldier asks.

You opened your mouth to answer him, but Bucky beat you to it.

“Not yet, but we will be.” Bucky says, answering for you.

The soldier scoffed and downed the rest of his drink before standing up.

“When you’re done with him, you know where to find me.” The soldier says with a wink before leaving.

Bucky watched as the soldier walked out of the bar. He wanted nothing more than to beat his ass for talking to you.

“Are you ok, Bucky?” You asked with concern in your voice.

“I’m fine.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

You didn’t think much of it so you didn’t press on about it. Bucky’s jealousy never left. He felt jealousy bubbling up inside of him anytime a soldier was talking to you. Later that week, you noticed Bucky’s mood was different from when you first met him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you were going to find out one way or another.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” You say, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

Bucky sighs and took a sip of his beer before saying anything.

“I don’t like you talking to other soldiers.” He says.

You could hear the jealousy in his voice.

“I don’t want them. I want you.” You tell him.

“What?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“I like you, Bucky. I have for a while.” You admitted.

You leaned in and kissed his lips. He immediately kissed you back.

“How about you take me to your bunk and I’ll prove it to you.” You say seductively.

Bucky didn’t have to think twice about that. He downed the rest of his drink and put some money on the bar counter before grabbing your hand and left the bar. The second you two got to his bunk. He pinned you against the closed door, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips. His hands found the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head, dropping it on the floor. He practically moan at what you were wearing under your dress. It’s the same outfit as the one you wore in the picture on his wall. He felt his cock get hard.

“Fuck…” Bucky is speechless. “You look sexier in this in person.” He says, continuing to admire the way your body looks in it.

“You should see me without it.” You say seductively.

Bucky watched as you reached your arms behind your back to unclasp your bra and dropped it on the floor. You took your panties off and stepped out of them. Bucky’s eyes were clouded with lust. His cock became uncomfortably hard in his pants. He led you to his bed and laid you down on it. You sat up on your elbows as you watched him undress. He spread your legs and got in between them. He kissed down your body, stopping at your pussy. He looked up at you, waiting for permission which you gave him. Bucky’s tongue licked in between your wet folds, moaning at your taste. His tongue circled your clit before he latched his lips on it and started sucking on it. He began eating you out like his life depends on it.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, tilting your head back.

One of your hands found its way to his head, running your fingers through his hair before tugging on it while your other hand was clutching the sheet beneath you. His tongue moved up and down in between your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His tongue went back to your clit, licking it in a flicking motion. A moan fell from your lips when Bucky unexpectedly slid one of his fingers in your pussy, moving it in and out of you at a slow pace.

“You’re so good at this!” You moaned.

You looked down, watching as Bucky ate you out. His eyes flickered up at you, making eye contact with you. He slid another finger inside of you and increased his movements. Your arms gave out and you laid on your back and laid your head on the pillow. Bucky’s free hand snaked up your body, stopping at your breasts. His thumb rubbed over your nipple before pinching it, making you gasp and send a new sensation through your body. Bucky repeated his actions on your other breast, earning the same reaction from you. You arched your back, pressing your breasts more into his hand. Bucky gave both of your breasts a squeeze. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

Your moans were like music to Bucky’s ears. His movements got faster, helping your orgasm build up. Your lower stomach tightened, feeling your orgasm coming closer and closer.

“I’m so close!” You moaned more in a whimper.

Bucky didn’t let up on his movements with his tongue and fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came. Bucky’s movements came to a slow stop and he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and sat up.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans as he licked your release off of his fingers.

He leaned down and kissed you hungrily. Your hands roamed his body. One of your hands went down to his hard cock. You wrapped your hand around it and began pumping it in your hand. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, using his precum as a lubricant. Bucky moaned against your lips. He looked down at his cock in your hand. Both of you watched as you guided his cock to your pussy, rubbing in between your folds and covering it in your slick. His hand replaced yours, lining his cock at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock inside of you, inch by inch. Your jaw dropped, moaning when you felt every vein of his cock rubbing along your walls.

“Holy shit…” You gasped. “You’re big!” You moaned, feeling his cock stretch your pussy.

Bucky spread your legs wider, looking down at where the two of you are connected, watching as his cock filled your pussy. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before thrusting. You nodded, letting him know that he can start thrusting. He pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his tip inside of you and thrusted back inside of you.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

Bucky leaned over you and placed his arms on either side of his head, caging you between his strong arms. You were mesmerized by his Army dog tags swinging every time he thrusted into you. You couldn’t help but grab the chain and yank on them to kiss him sloppily. You two moaned against each other’s lips. Bucky moaned his lips down to your neck, his teeth nipping on your skin hard enough for a hickey. You couldn’t help but give him a hickey too.

“You look so gorgeous right now.” Bucky says huskily.

Your hands roamed his body, reaching around to his back. You felt his muscles flexing with every thrust. Your nails dug in his skin, making him hiss at the feeling.

“You know…” He breathes. “I’ve been dreaming of this.” He admits.

“Oh yea?” You say, tilting your head back against the pillow.

Bucky took the opportunity to kiss along the column of your throat. One of his hands roamed your body, stopping on your thigh. He lifted your leg and placed it on his hip. That created a new angle for his cock to go deeper. A loud moan left your lips when his cock hit your sweet spot.

“Oh fuck yes!” You moaned. “Right there!” You tell him.

“Did I find your sweet spot, babydoll?” He asks, smirking.

“Yes!” You gasped. “Please don’t stop!” You say.

“I fucking won’t.” He practically growls.

His thrusts sped up. His other hand found its way down to your clit and began rubbing it in circles. Your pussy squeezed around his cock at the feeling.

“I’m never letting you go after this.” He says panting.

“Then don’t.” You say. “Make me yours, Sarge.” You moaned in his ear.

Bucky nearly came on the spot when you said that. It’s like a flip switched inside of him. His thrust sped up more if it’s even possible. His cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, along with his fingers rubbing your clit faster to help you build up your second orgasm.

“I’m close again!” You whimpered, digging your nails more in his back.

“Cum for me, doll face.” Bucky says huskily.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy for a moment, but he quickly regained rhythm.

“Fuck…” He pants. “Can I cum inside of you, babydoll?” He asks.

“Yes!” You say more in a moan.

Your name left his lips as he came inside of you, painting your walls. His thrusts came to a slow stop. He pulled out and laid down next to you. He covered the two of you up with a blanket and pulled you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around you.

“You’re definitely coming home with me after the war.” Bucky says after a few minutes.

“I’m completely fine with that.” You say with a smile, your fingers playing with his dog tags.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

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4ttack-ur-heart · 1 year

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Levi HC’s- Both Being Short

(Levi x gn!reader)

Warnings: None

——————

It would be on the most random days where you needed something from the top shelf and couldn’t reach it.

“Dammit.” Your fingertips just brushing the bottom of the shelf.

Levi would just happen to walk in and watch in amusement at your attempt to reach the item. You’d be standing on your tippy toes with your arm stretching uncomfortably.

“The hell are you doing?” The Captain would ask with his arms crossed.

“I can’t reach the fucking crackers.” You gritted in a desperate effort to reach the snack.

“Crackers? What are you, a child?” His voice held a slight tease to it.

“I’m hungry and Sasha finished everything else.”

Levi would only sigh and stand next to you before kneeling down. “Get on my shoulders.”

To say you were taken aback. “W-what?”

“Just do it.” He ordered.

You hesitated for a moment before you swung a leg over his head and straddled his shoulders. His arms wrapped around your legs tightly as his hands gripped your shins.

He tried to hide his small smirk when you gasped and gripped his shirt in between your fists as your feet left the floor. Levi stood up carefully and turned towards the shelves.

A slight blush coated your cheeks when you felt his fingers trace at just above your knee.

“Now get your damn crackers.”

Glancing up at the shelf, you smiled when the beautiful crackers were directly in front of you. Gripping the wrapper, you carefully tossed it onto the counter and patted Levi’s head gently. “Okay, I’m good.”

Only he didn’t move.

“Levi-”

“Grab the tea leaves while you’re up there.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face as you grabbed the silver canister that held Levi’s precious tea leaves.

“Got them.”

Levi would then turn around so you both were now facing the other away from the shelves and he slowly lowered himself. Your body was now sat on the counter instead of the floor and you watched as Levi stood up to face you.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Very much. Thank you.” You smiled lightly as you grabbed them from behind you.

His hand were then placed on either side of you on the edge of the counter, his arms and body caging you in. You paused as he leaned in and stared at you with his grey eyes.

“Oi-” Levi’s voice cut through your thoughts. “My tea leaves.”

“O-oh, right!” You grabbed the canister that was settled in your lap and held it out to him.

As he took the canister from you, you both couldn’t help the heat in your face when his fingers brushed against yours.

“Just, u-uh let me know when you need help again.” Levi said before returning his gaze to the floor and leaving.

As you sat on the counter and happily munched on your crackers, you couldn’t get that thought out of your mind…

Did the Captain just stutter?

———————

Heyyy it’s been a while since I’ve written shi sooo lets start off my third tumblr account with a cute Levi head canon :)

I’ll start writing more as I get a feel for it again but feel free to ask anything or send in requests <3

#levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #aot fluff #aot x reader #aot imagines #levi x gn!reader #levi x gender neutral reader

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under-the-dirt · 6 months

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Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Price x Reader one-shot. In the story, the reader was involved with Price but ended up pregnant, resigning and cutting off contact due to the fear of jeopardizing Price's job or their relationship. After some time, Price spots her and her baby outside and approaches her.

Angst to fluff would be nice and the baby’s name could be Evangeline, I find that name adorable 🥹

hihihi anon!!! this idea is so sweeeeeeeettt!! sorry it took so long to write i’ve been busy and very very tired </3

pairing: john price x afab!reader

tags: pregnancy/mention of babies, a little angst, implied sex, pov change, under 13 dni :3

Price was devastated when he heard you were leaving. He knew, no strings attached, it was simply giving and getting, helping each other with their needs, but he couldn’t help but fall in love with you. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you moaned and whined, the way you clenched around him so nicely…

Next thing he knows, you’re leaving. He’d noticed something had been a little.. off about you, you’d been emotional, more quick to outbursts or tears, but he just assumed it was your period, as your cramps were pretty bad.

He didn’t think it’d come to this, to you leaving him. Leaving all of them. He watched you hug Soap and Gaz goodbye, he watched you shake Simon’s hand, and he watched you nod in his direction. He also watched the way your eyes changed when you looked at him. Your pupils grew, your eyes displaying all the love you had for him, but written on your face was purely guilt and shame.

As the time went on, he didn’t think he’d see you again. Ever. He found himself trapped in his work, rarely leaving his office to get food and water or go to sleep. He knew he looked like shit. It was obvious, with his beard growing out, the dark bags beneath his eyes and his hollowed cheeks. He looked like a ghost, frankly. So, the boys decided to get him out. They wanted to take him out for a day in the town, where he wasn’t allowed to work or do anything but have fun. So here he was, waiting for a coffee at a little cafe when he watched you walk in holding a baby. You were pregnant? As he stared, he noticed the baby girl looked so much like him. Her deep blue eyes, a fluffy head of brown hair, just a little carbon copy of him.

You took your baby out to grab a coffee and maybe get her a little treat. You were so focused on your task and your babbling little girl, you didn’t notice the large group of very built men. As you walked to the other side of the counter to wait for your coffee and the muffin you ordered for you and your baby, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned with a smile, expecting a compliment, but as you looked up you were met with the father of your baby. Captain John Price.

“C-captain?” You stuttered, confused and surprised. He looked terrible, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, out of instinct you reached your hand up and touched his cheek gently.

“Can we speak outside, love?” He asks, and god he sounds horrible too. You nod, walking out with him. He leads you into the alley and leans against the wall, hand over his face. “Is it..” He begins.

“Yes,” You answer quickly. rocking your baby gently.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble, if anyone found out what we were doing.”

“I wouldn’ ‘ave cared, bunny. You know this.”

“It’s- it’s whatever..” You say softly, rocking your baby gently, looking at her instead of price.

“What’s ‘er name?”

“Evangeline.” You answer, rubbing her head gently as she whined and babbled.

“Can.. Can I.. Hold ‘er?” He asks nervously, biting his bottom lip as he looks down at you and your baby- no, his baby, in your arms. He watches you slowly place his baby in his arms, adjusting his arms to support her tiny body and little head properly. He’d always been a man of little emotion, but all the tears he’d drowned in whiskey decided to come up now. You didn’t even quite realize he was crying until you heard him sniffle, looking up and seeing tears streaming down his face as his lips shook. He gently rubs Evangeline’s cheek with his thumb, feeling her soft, perfect skin beneath his rough, calloused finger.

“You’re a natural,” You whisper, placing your hand on his arm. He nods, letting out a small sob and squeezing his eyes shut.

This great, strong man, one who’d seen the horrors of war, death, blood and gore, the man who’d forgotten how to flinch even with a gun at his head, was sobbing over his baby. The one he never even knew existed until now. He was filled with regret and guilt. He couldn’t be there to support you while you were pregnant, to help you take care of the baby, to support you whenever life got too much, to make sure you could afford anything you needed, it hurt. He was supposed to be there for you, but he’d been too much of a pussy to ever try.

So here he stands, holding his baby girl for the first time, sobbing as he admires her. His baby. His little girl. His.

omg i’m so sorry this took forever nonnie!!! i procrastinated way too much!!! i’ve just been super busy with a lot of things, mostly stress and sleeping. life’s been difficult!!! i’ve been falling asleep far earlier than i normally do and i’ve been unable to do most things i enjoy!!! but i really hope you like this!!! <3333 also, when i imagined price crying i imagined my dad. my dad doesn’t really do crying and stuff, like most dads, and the last time i saw him cry was because he was shown so much love by people he never thought even cared about him. it was so sweet, and so that’s what imagined when price cried <3

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normspellsman · 6 months

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what sports i think the metkayina trio + spider would play modern au headcanons!

second part to what sports i think the sully children play!

slowly but surely trying to get thru this writer block & hiatus 🤞🏽

ao’nung

swimming and/or water polo

— he probably just naturally has a build built for water sports so he excels in it & is super cocky about it too (#blessedgenes)

— was defeated not given the choice on which sport he’d play when he was younger. both of his parents probably did either sport so they’d want him to also do it as well. or they at least wanted him to do one

— i don’t see him being the team captain but he’d def be co-captain or an alternate. he loves the sport don’t get him wrong but not to the extent where he’d be team captain. he already has enough pressure to perform well & doesn’t need that kind of title placed on him

— def see him being a butterflyer or a backstroker. like he much rather do those strokes in a swim meet than the other two

— is 100% the type of kid to have “eat my bubbles!” sharpied onto his arm or lower back during meets. probably begged his mom to write it on there too 😭

— also has to have the order of his races written on his arm so he doesn’t forget the order & where he’s supposed to go

— sees no point in wearing a swim cap

— always challenged himself by trying to score a point higher from his last game in water polo or get a better time in whatever stroke for swimming. he’d make sure to ask his parents to like reward him or something so he’d have the drive to do it. but even then, he’s still able to do it without the prize

— wears sandals everywhere. period. no arguments.a

— has such a bad swim trunk tan line. he really tries to get it even in the summer or during swimming season by wearing speedos lol

tsireya

volleyball (indoor, sand, + grass)

— girl is graceful asf on the court

— position would probably be setter or outside i feel like. she might not have the height for it but def has the hops. like a secret weapon of sorts. you’d never expect it

— is 100% the team captain

— she is so supportive of her team & always makes sure that one of her teammates is not stuck in their head or blaming themselves for a bad play

— i can see her number either being 1 or some random ass number, like 49 or 27

— always has the best hair-dos on the court. she seriously goes all out

— def the designated braider of the team so she has to make sure her girls are looking fresh asf on the court too 🫶🏼

— very humble about her accomplishments & wins. she very much believes that an individual does not win a game, a team does so all of that congratulations should be projected to the team rather than on an individual level

— probably has this pregame ritual where she gets there super early to get used to the size of the gym/court. peppers by herself & gets into the zone 100%

— does volleyball literally all year around. so she’ll do school & club for indoor, sand in the summer, & grass for fun. it’s her whole life tbh

— ronal is 100% the team mom. no questions asked

swimming

— i can also see her doing swim, but like only for a club during the summer when she doesn’t have anything for volleyball

— her & ao’nung are the best sibling duo in this sport 100%. they’re always paired up for a medley relays

— she likes free style more than the other strokes so that’s her main event during meets usually

— isn’t as passionate about it as her parents or brother. would much rather do & play volleyball than swim

— is also the kid to have “eat my bubbles!” written somewhere on there body lol

rotxo

soccer

— i can def see him playing soccer & being like a striker or a forward

— is def the one that annoys the coach to no end & ends up causing the team to run laps bc of it. sometimes it’s totally not intentional. it just happens lol

— team clown 100%

— he doesn’t really score a lot of goals but he does assist his teammates in their scoring. has the most assists on his team (idk if that’s a thing in soccer)

— has the most weirdest celebrations ever whenever he does manage to score

— been playing since he could walk fr

— jersey number is probably something like 14 or a random even number. bro likes even numbers for some reason

— is a really versatile player & if need be, can play goalie or be a defender if a player is out sick or injured

— def plays for his school & local town club

baseball

— can def see rotxo playing this as well

— most definitely a catcher (idk why but i just see it)

— probably only got into it to work on his soccer skills somehow or to work on his eye & hand coordination since he’s quite good with his feet & eyes

— only plays for his school since soccer usually takes up most of his free time

— lowkey has a wicked curveball

— he likes the catcher uniform bc it looks like he’s an autobot from transformers lol

— surprisingly somehow became captain & doesn’t know what to do with that title most times

— really good at determining calls for the pitcher & suggesting what they should throw next

spider

hockey

— no one would expect someone like spider to play this sport so everyone’s shocked when he says what sport he plays

— probably a defenseman & has the most penalties on his team lol

— ^ will literally fight everyone on the ice if need be. he plays dirty & truly doesn’t give a single fuck

— not a team captain but probably one of the alternatives. he’s more on the silent side regarding his “captaincy” but has the ability to talk his teammates up when they aren’t playing very well. bro has a way with words fr

— a lot of people think he’s a playboy hockey player but that’s FAR from the truth. he barely has enough confidence to talk to a girl on & off the ice. poor boy just shuts down

— since he’s like 6’0+, his build is really intimidating & he uses it to his advantage. def slams others into the boards as hard as he can when they’re down however many points. like, just imagine a 6’0+ dude like spider skating down the ice at literal lightning speed to slam you into the boards. i’d be shitting my pants fr

— started playing at the age of like 4 or 5 probably

— he loves skating so much that he goes to the rink or puts on rollerblades & just skates around to calm down or let out some steam. it’s really his outlet

— his number is most definitely 69 or 96. some funny shit like that

— will also defend his teammates with his life on the ice if someone were to fuck with them. that’s his family. he’d do anything for them

— ^ especially their goalie. bro is only gentle with their goalie & if anyone fucks with them, you best expect his gloves to be thrown & knuckles bloody from how hard he punched. ride or die fr

— nicknames probably consist of spider (obvi), kilometer (for miles lol), socks (for socorro), ironfist (for how much he gets into fights), & oreo/orro (for socorro)

— has the talent & ability to potentially go to college for hockey. he puts so much time & effort into his skills & the sport & it def shows through how he plays

#normspellsman #normspellsman talks!#avatar #avatar imagine #avatar x reader #atwow imagines #avatar: the way of water #modern au #modern au headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #ao’nung headcanon #tsireya headcanons #spider headcanons #rotxo headcanons #ao’nung #spider socorro #tsireya #rotxo

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thefloorisbalaclava · 2 years

Text

Eyes Without A Face - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Words: 6,533

Warnings: 18+ - enemies to lovers (kinda sorta), some angst, canon typical violence, weapons, cursing. SMUT - oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, slightly rough.

Summary: You swear Ghost doesn't like you, but you couldn't be farther from the truth.

A/N: I haven't written Ghost since 2015 so please be kind! I hope y'all enjoy!

[part II]

[masterlist]

Ghost.

The callsign alone was mysterious—a mysterious name for a mysterious man. And while most people found him a mystery because of the obvious thing, you found him a quandary for other reasons.

He was a protector, that was for sure, but he was also a lone wolf, speaking only a few words at a time, and those were mainly to Johnny.

He seemed to always be deep in thought about what you couldn’t fathom. When he looked at you with those eyes that were sometimes so dark, they were nearly black, it unnerved you, but he didn’t necessarily scare you. Other times he looked at you, there was a lightness, a softness, in his eyes, both in color and emotion. It would disappear in a blink, and it was back to business, mainly him barking orders at you and telling you to focus.

You hadn’t discovered his name was Simon until you were at the base for over a month.

Simon.

You wondered if he looked like a Simon under that balaclava? What was hidden under there? Or, perhaps, he was hiding from the world for his protection.

You were so lost in thought that you rounded a corner and slammed right into what felt like a wall.

“Oof!” you stumbled back, then fell flat on your ass. Anger flashed in the eyes of said ‘wall’ but softened when he noticed it was you.

That’s sweet…I guess.

“You all right, lo--.” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “You should always check your corners.” He held a big, gloved hand out to help you up, pulling you to your feet with ease.

“Yes, sir,” you said in a little voice. He scoffed and walked around you without another word. You made a face behind his back and continued to your destination.

“There she is! Fucking finally,” Soap roared, and you cringed as you made your way across the mess.

“Do you have to do that, Johnny?” you asked as you sat quickly. Soap slid you a tray. “Oo!” He had saved you a chili bowl before everyone snatched it up. You looked back up at him, and he was eyeing you strangely.

“What?” you snapped.

“Nothin’, you just look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

You nearly dropped your spoon at his words. Was that on purpose or…

“I’m just hungry.” You shoveled some chili into your mouth, so you had an excuse not to speak.

“Speaking of ghosts, have you seen ours?” he asked.

“Mmhm.” You nodded, mouth still full. You wanted to say you quite literally ran into him, but you didn’t.

“Well…where?” Soap wondered, exasperated.

“Barracks,” you mumbled. “Looked like he was going back to his quarters.”

“Oh.” Johnny shook his head.

“What?” You stared at him.

“Just a bit worried about him is all.” He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “Enough of that. How’re you, numpty?” That had become his nickname for you since you flash-banged yourself and him.

“Oi, numpty! You’re supposed to hit them, not us!”

“I’m…alive,” you said with a shrug.

“Missing home?”

“Kinda.”

“You’re not still sad over that prick dumping you, are ya?” he asked.

“No,” you scoffed. Yes, you were. “And he didn’t dump me. We…agreed to go separate ways.”

“Whatever you say, lass.” A sly smile appeared on his face. “Maybe you and Simon should get together.”

You spat the water back into your cup and coughed. “Excuse me. Why?”

“You’re both so…mysterious,” he said.

“You’re a dick. There’s nothing mysterious about me,” you told him.

“Hey!”

“You’re a dick, Captain. Better?” You threw a napkin at him.

“I’m also available,” he offered. He chuckled, then looked behind you. “Speak of the devil….”

You turned to look and immediately turned back around. Ghost was making his way over. You hated how you were so nervous around him. Well, at least he had missed you shoveling chili into your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d ever come down,” Soap said to Ghost.

“Had to shower,” he said curtly. “May I?” It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. He gestured to the chair, and you nodded.

“Uhh yeah. All yours.”

As he sat, you got a whiff of whatever soap he used. It smelled good. He smelled good.

“You all right?” he asked you.

“Hm?” You tried your best to look into his eyes, but it was impossible.

“From our little collision earlier. You all right?”

“Oh! Yeah! I’m fine,” you chirped awkwardly.

“Collision?” Soap wondered aloud.

“Um…” you sighed.

“Ran into me upstairs,” Ghost told Soap, and he burst into laughter.

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, then gave him the finger. “Just for that, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” Soap said.

“Whatever. I am tired, in any case. Goodnight, guys.” You think you heard Ghost say something, but you could be wrong. You didn’t look back as you walked away, so you missed how Ghost’s eyes followed you.

“Why not just tell her, Simon?” Soap asked his friend as they sparred.

“Negative,” he droned. “And…”

“Hey, numpty!” Soap yelled over to her, and Ghost’s eyes widened slightly. When he looked, he immediately wished he hadn’t. He was so used to seeing her in her usual field clothes that he felt like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. She was in a t-shirt and form-fitting compression pants.

“Come and practice your shooting with Lt,” Soap said, “I’m off for a run.” Before either of them could say anything, he was gone.

“You don’t have to,” he said in a gentle rasp.

“...I could always use more practice, sir.” She looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“You sure?”

“Promise not to go easy on me, sir,” she teased.

“Wasn’t plannin’ to,” he quipped, and she looked down shyly. “So…I have a question.” He began as he lined up his sight.

“Okay. Ask, sir.”

“Why…” He squeezed off a round, hitting the target perfectly.

“Why what?” she huffed. She aimed, fired, and was just a bit off-center.

“Why do you call me Sir and not Ghost or Lt like everyone?” he asked.

“Because,” she started aggressively, angry at herself for that shot.

“Because?”

“To be honest, I don’t know, sir.” She held her breath and shot again—closer this time.

“Would you prefer I call you one of those names, sir?”

“I would, yeah.” He stood to his full height and watched as she aimed. “Nah, that’s all wrong. Here.” Suddenly, he was behind her moving her arms. His voice was directly in her ear the next time he spoke.

“Hold it there. Breathe in,” he said in a low tone. She inhaled deeply. “Now.” She pulled the trigger, hitting the target square in the head.

“Good lass,” he said, and she turned her head to look at him. He moved away quickly, settling back into his usual gruff self.

“So…Ghost…since I’m able to call you that, does it mean we’re friends now?” she asked playfully.

He was quiet for a time, then shook his head. “I’m your superior and…I always make it a rule not to make friends. Makes things easier when we lose someone out there.”

“Oh, I see.” Her smile faded.

“We’re comrades in arms, not friends,” he said.

“Okay, I get it!” she snapped. She put the rifle away and then nodded at Ghost. “Have a good day, sir.”

“We’re comrades in arms, not friends….”

It kept echoing in your head, distracting you at all the wrong times.

“Numpty, come in!” Soap shouted over the comms.

“Wha…what? Sorry.”

“Where’s your head, lass?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Building two. Lt needs you to clear it with him.”

“Oh. Oscar Mike. Out.” You moved carefully, light on your feet the way you were taught. You took the left side of the door as Ghost took a right.

“…not friends…” It echoed in your mind just as the door was breached. A bullet grazed you, and you hissed as you aimed at the asshole and killed him with a clean headshot.

“Tango down,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Nice one,” Ghost said, but you ignored him and made your way into the building. “You all right?” he asked, noticing how you winced and the blood soaking your sleeve.

“I’m fine,” you said plainly. “Room clear. Heading up.” You were moving too quickly. You knew you were, but your mind was in a fog, replaying what Ghost said to you before.

Not friends.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the red dot aimed at you. In a split second, your thoughts and your breath were knocked away by a weight of sheer force tackling you to the floor. You groaned and looked up at the culprit.

Ghost. And, though you could only see his eyes, you knew he was pissed.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” he shouted, not letting you up. “I don’t know where you are, but it ain’t here!”

“Get off of me…sir.” You pushed against him, but he was far too heavy.

“I just saved your fucking life,” he said before shoving you down and then standing. “Get up. Get yourself together.”

You sat up, and he offered you his hand, but you ignored it.

“You need patching up?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

You shook your head. “No, sir.” You were glad it was dark—he wouldn’t be able to see the tears swimming in your eyes.

“Everything okay over there?” Soap asked over the comms.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Fine.” You walked back downstairs with Ghost following close behind.

“I think we should head back to HQ. Regroup, debrief, and call it a night,” Ghost suggested.

“Whatever you think is right, sir.” You waited for him to take the lead. You were feeling a bit worse for wear.

Ghost eyed her as she walked in defeated silence beside him. Maybe he was too hard on her, but she could have been killed, which would have been on his conscience forever.

She proved why he could never call her a friend… or anything more.

He turned to her again with two words hanging on his lips—words he rarely uttered. His mouth opened, but he hesitated.

Forget it.

“You get that look as soon as we get back, yeah?” He was worried about the wound on her arm.

“Sir,” she said with a nod.

“Okay, you know what, stop,” he said, but she didn’t. “I said stop, soldier!” She froze but didn’t turn to look at him, so he moved in front of her. She blinked up at him with tired and sad eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Nothing, sir. Just doing as I’m told.” She entered the underground headquarters, and he watched before following.

“Sir,” he said bitterly, “I told you to call me—”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, sir. You’re my superior, remember? Not my friend.” She walked away from him then, greeting Soap happily.

“Patch me up?” she asked him, and he nodded. Soap gave him a glance over her shoulder, and Ghost could only shake his head.

“You wanna tell me what fuckin’ happened, Simon?” Soap asked.

“Nothing happened.” He was pacing, making it painfully apparent that something had happened. “She nearly got herself killed out there!” he snapped.

“You’re angry at her for that?”

“Yeah, I’m bloody pissed. How could she let herself get so distracted?” He finally stopped pacing.

“With all due respect, that is the dumbest question ever, Lt.” Soap stood before him. “Use your fucking brain, man.” After a moment of silence, Soap patted him on the shoulder.

“She’s in the infirmary,” he said, then walked away.

Ghost almost stopped him. What the fuck was he supposed to say to her?

You had curled up on the cot, facing the wall. At least here, you could cry peacefully. Heavy footsteps approached, and you felt as though you knew those footfalls. Then they stopped, so you closed your eyes.

“Soldier,” came a rough voice. Your eyes flew open, and you wanted to sink into the uncomfortable cushion. “I know you’re awake,” he rasped.

You sniffled quietly and quickly wiped any evidence of tears away before turning to him. The cot squeaked as you did.

“Sir?”

Ghost stood there awkwardly, looking taller than usual since you were lying down.

“Wanted to check on you. See if you need anything,” he said.

“No thanks.” You turned away again. Suddenly, the cot dipped dangerously as he sat down. Your body leaned towards him, and you tried your best to leave room.

“I’m not leaving til you tell me what’s going on,” he said, and you knew he was stubborn enough to sit there all night.

“Sir, I—”

“Ghost or Lt…okay?”

“Lt…there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m tired.” You shrugged, finally rolling onto your back to look at him. Most of the eye black had worn off, and his blond eyelashes were even more visible.

“I was a bit harsh back there, and I wanted to…hm…I wanted to say that wasn’t right of me…” he trailed off.

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘sorry’ or ‘apologize,’” you teased.

“I’m trying my best ‘ere,” he snarled, his accent growing stronger.

“If you’re going to get angry, go. I’m too tired to argue, sir.” You tried rolling towards the wall again, but strong arms grabbed you and pinned you down by your shoulders.

“I’ll go after I tell you why I’m so angry. You could’ve gotten yourself killed, soldier! You weren’t focused, and that red dot…it…it was aimed right at your head. I couldn’t let…” he stammered, then shook his head, letting go of you.

“Well, at least you would have been able to get over it quickly since we’re not friends,” you bit out.

He glared at you. “Is that what’s bothering you? You got some growing up to do, love.”

You both froze at the sound of the pet name, but he didn’t try to correct himself.

“Fine. I’ll grow up,” you said.

It was quiet, and the cot squeaked as he stood and stormed away.

“God fuckin’ dammit!” he roared, throwing whatever he could get his hands across the room. Soap ducked, just missing being knocked in the head by something.

“I was gonna ask if everything was okay, but I think I know the answer,” he joked.

“Fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost sighed and sat on his cot. “What the fuck is wrong with me, mate?”

“I can think of a few things….” Soap began jokingly, but Ghost looked at him, and he got serious again.

“I…I don’t know how to talk to her. I get all…stupid. She makes me feel so many things. Dunno if I wanna scream at her or kiss her half the time.” Ghost didn’t do feelings. At least he didn’t think he did.

“So, what you’re telling me is you’re in love with her,” Soap said.

“I…what? No! I didn’t say that” Ghost scoffed.

“Don’t have to say it, lad.” Soap slapped him on the shoulder and walked over to his cot.

“I think I hurt her feelings, Johnny.” His voice was softer now.

“What did you do?”

“She said something about being friends, and I turned her down. Told her I don’t do the friend thing, just in case…I lose someone out there. Today, I almost did.” He sighed loudly.

“Yeah, and look how well you’re taking it even though she’s not your friend,” Soap said sarcastically.

Ghost only shrugged and then sighed before pushing up his mask just enough to scratch at the shadow of a beard that had grown.

“Love,” he scoffed.

“Yeah. I think you love her,” Soap quipped.

“I don’t do love,” Ghost told him.

“Aw, come on. That can’t be true.” Soap looked at his friend, and when he wouldn’t make eye contact, he became serious. “Simon…really?”

“I just don’t know how to do feelings?” He looked over at Soap. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You know damn well how to do feelings, mate. You just don’t understand what you’re feeling. I’m telling you, you love her.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m her superior. I can’t be in love with her.” He shook his head.

“That’s all up to you, mate. I’m going to sleep.”

Ghost was left alone with his thoughts and a sleepless night.

But he decided what he was going to do.

You woke up before anyone else, not that you actually slept. Your mind replayed the conversation you had with Ghost. He was impossible.

You snuck above ground to watch the sunrise, sitting down and hugging yourself against the cold.

“Good morning, soldier,” a familiar voice said, and you jumped to attention.

“Good morning, sir.”

“At ease,” Ghost said, and you sat back down. He stood above you awkwardly. “I need to tell you something.

Your heart beat faster, and your palms were sweaty. “Okay.”

“I…I’m reassigning you,” he said without emotion.

You looked up at him and then stood. “What?”

“I need you back at home base with the FBI.” He couldn’t look at the confusion and pain on your face, so he pretended to fix his tac vest.

“I want to be out here. I want to be in action. You know that, sir. You can’t do this to me,” you cried.

“I can. It’s an order,” he snapped. “You have a few hours to get ready.” Then he was walking away before you could say anything else.

“You what?” Soap asked, turning to Simon with a look of shock.

“I took her off the assignment,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Are you fucking mad? Where is she?”

Ghost checked his watch. “Probably waiting for her plane out of here.”

“You send her away all because you’re afraid of your feelings. You’re going to regret this, mate.” Soap stormed past him, making sure to bump him with his shoulder.

“Numpty!”

You turned to the voice and forced yourself to smile. “Hey,” you said quietly.

“Leaving, eh?” he asked, although he knew.

“Yeah. Ghost reassigned me,” you said sadly.

“Yeah, I know.” Soap stood beside you quietly. “There’s a reason he’s doing this. I can’t tell you what it is because that’s for him to do, but know it’s for a reason.”

“Yeah. It’s because he hates me,” you said. “I don’t think he’s ever really liked me.”

“Lass…I…forget it.” He hugged you. “I’ll see you back home, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You hugged him back, holding back tears. “See ya.”

Ghost was stepping off a helo on American soil a few weeks later. They had to play a waiting game now, which he hated the most.

It also meant that he was bound to see her at some point. That scared him more than anything. He wasn’t afraid of being wounded or dying, but he feared this woman—a woman who had made him feel things he didn’t think were possible.

Never mind that.

Honestly, he couldn’t wait to shower with hot water that didn’t run out before he was done.

He walked back to his quarters and hid from the world as he usually did when he wasn’t on a mission. He quickly stripped off his clothing, throwing them into a pile on the floor. The last thing to come off was his mask and balaclava, and then he felt genuinely naked.

He walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. He always tried his best not to look in the mirror, but he couldn’t help himself.

He looked tired. The black circles under his eyes couldn’t be blamed on the eye black he always wore. He couldn’t count how many hours of sleep he had lost…

…over her.

He tried to tell himself it was because his adrenaline was pumping over taking someone down, but he was lying to himself.

He ran a hand through his messy hair that the balaclava had matted down.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he whispered before walking over to the shower and turning it on. Hot.

He stepped in, hissing against the heat but eventually getting used to it. He deserved the pain, didn’t he?

The water going down the drain was brown and black. He watched it spin and spin until it disappeared. Then he put his head under the stream of water and closed his eyes, putting his hands against the wall in front of him for balance. His dog tags swung freely, clinking together quietly.

He thought of her saying his name. Not sir. His given name. Simon. How lovely it would sound coming from her lips. The only name she would call him now is asshole, most likely.

But he liked seeing the feisty side of her. He knew she could stand her ground no matter how nervous she was around him.

“You love her.” Soap’s words rang in his ears. He reached down and turned the knob for the hot water off, letting the shower get ice cold as he stood under it without moving.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. All the showers in the world couldn’t wash the thoughts of him away.

You stood against the wall of the shower and closed your eyes.

“God, I wish I didn’t miss him,” you whispered to the water.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on your door.

“Open up, ya numpty!”

“Soap!” you squealed, turning the shower off quickly and hopping out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and ran to the door.

“Johnny boy!” you shouted when you swung the door open.

He hugged you. “Told you I’d see you soon.” He pulled back. “You’re all wet.”

“I know that.” You rolled your eyes. “Are…all of you back?” you asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason. Just wondering. It’ll be nice seeing everyone’s face again,” you said.

“Even the faces you can’t see?” he asked.

“Don’t.” You shook your head.

“Both of you are the most stubborn bastards ever,” he said, exasperated. “You two just need to sit down and talk.”

“He sent me away, John. I doubt he wants to talk to me.”

“You two better figure something out, or I’ll make it happen myself.”

You looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“Dunno, but I don’t think you should risk finding out.”

“You can be the absolute worst sometimes, you know that?”

Ghost paced his room, thinking hard about what to say to her. How she was convinced to come to him was beyond even the most inquisitive minds.

There was a soft knock at his door, and it made his heart pound. He pulled his balaclava down over his face and walked to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

“Um…good evening, sir,” she said hesitantly.

“Evenin’. Please.” He gestured into his room, and she walked in. “Well, I guess we should talk.”

“Yes, we should.”

You looked around his room, and it was exactly what you expected—clean and orderly with almost perfect precision.

You felt as though you were in some forbidden place.

“You can sit if you like,” he said gruffly.

“Sir.” You sat in the chair at his small desk.

He cleared his throat and sat across from you on his bed. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Johnny wants us to talk. Not sure about what,” he lied.

“I don’t know, but I have a question.” You waited for him to look at you. “Why did you send me home?”

He sighed loudly and rubbed his thighs. “I’m…not sure if I have a reason.”

“I think I’d be less angry if you did have a reason, sir.” The volume of your voice began to rise.

He seemed to be hesitant to say something.

“Oh, for the love of—”

“You’re a bloody distraction!” he shouted, and you jumped.

“Excuse me? A distraction?”

“Aye, a distraction. You…you just…”

“Well, you are ridiculously mean to me, sir. I know you don’t like me very much, but you could at least pretend to want to work with me when we’re out in the shit. I don’t like being treated like a child, getting sent away like I’m being put on time out!”

You were breathing heavily, and your vision was blurry, tears swimming in your eyes.

“You’re wrong about me not liking you,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

“It’s…quite the opposite,” he blurted.

“I just wish you’d—wait, what?” You couldn’t have heard him right.

“I like you, all right? I think I like you too much,” he admitted.

“You show me you ‘like’ me by sending me as far away from you as possible?”

“You nearly died right in front of me! You were distracted because of me, and I was distracted because…I almost lost you,” he said. His voice was softer somehow.

“I don’t understand, Ghost.” You stood and paced, shaking your head. “You like me? Then why…”

“I don’t know how to deal with how I feel about you. I’m not even sure I’ve been in-” He stopped himself, and you froze in place.

“Ghost…” you whispered.

“Look at me.” He shrunk in defeat, making himself look smaller. “I’m one tough motherfucker, but I don’t even know how to handle…feelings.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. He couldn’t be saying what you thought he was. You sat beside him—something you would never have attempted if you were in your right mind.

“Sir…”

“Ghost,” he corrected, “Or Lt.”

“Ghost. I’m not sure what to say.” You looked into his eyes, and the intensity burned hotter than hell. His eyes had gone almost black, making his blond eyelashes look even brighter.

“You don’t have to say anything. What I feel isn’t right. It ain’t proper.” He blinked slowly.

“Ghost, can you say it? Say what you mean without so many words.” Any other time his words were curt and straight to the point. He chose now to talk in circles.

“I like you. I think I more than like you. Is that better?” he asked.

You nodded. “Okay. I like you too, Ghost.”

“You do?” He sounded surprised. “Even after what I did to you?”

“Well, I do kinda wanna punch you in the face for that, but now that I know…I’m not as angry.”

He sighed in relief, chuckling awkwardly. “So…”

“You ever take that thing off?” you asked suddenly.

“Negative. Well…at particular times, yes. If I’m alone when eating, then I will take it off. When I sleep and when I shower,” he told you, and you looked down at your fingers.

“Can I…Can I touch it…touch you?” you asked nervously.

“Um…yeah. All right.” He looked into your eyes as you slowly reached out, letting only your fingertips touch the material first. You dragged your finger around the opening for his eyes, over his nose, down to his jaw.

“Is that okay?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

You cupped his face, and he swallowed hard. “Look at me, Ghost.” His eyes slowly met yours again.

“You want me to take it off?” he wondered.

“No. I’d never ask that of you.” You dropped your hands.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I was a fucking idiot,” he admitted.

“I think I called you that a few times,” you teased, and you saw a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I deserve it.”

“When’s the last time you kissed someone?” you asked confidently. His eyes widened slightly.

“Kissed? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Not exactly at the top of my list of things to do.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

If you could read his mind, you would know that he wanted to do so much more than that.

“I think I do, yeah.”

“Kiss me then,” you said, moving closer to him. You had no idea where this confidence was coming from, but you were going to hold onto it for as long as possible.

“Think of it as one way to apologize to me,” you told him. You watched eagerly as he slid the balaclava up, revealing his stubbled jaw and full lips.

“Come ‘ere.” He pulled you even closer and then captured your lips with his. For someone who didn’t think of kissing much, he sure knew how to. You moaned quietly against his lips.

“This is so wrong,” he murmured into the kiss.

“Shut up.” You kissed him harder, making him grunt in surprise.

“Who’re you tellin’ to shut up, soldier?” He kissed you before you could answer, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t know when or how you ended up on your back, but you didn’t care. You were caged in by him, a pleasant weight keeping you here on earth.

“So, you said that…kissing you was one way I could apologize to you. You got another?” he asked, looking down at your lips.

“If you think a kiss is wrong, then I doubt you want to know.” You lifted your head to try and kiss him, but he pulled away.

“Tell me. That’s an order, miss.”

“You could…touch me,” you said quietly.

“Touch you? Where?”

You took his big hand and put it on your face before moving it down, his fingers ghosting over your lips. Without thinking, you opened your mouth and let two of his fingers slip in.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

You kept them there for a while before moving his hand down to your covered breasts and holding it there.

“You want me to touch you here?” he asked. You nodded. “You’re gonna have to use words, love.”

“Yes. I want you to touch me there.” You arched into his hand, but then he moved it.

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt. “May I?”

“Yeah.” You sat up and let him pull your shirt off. He stared at you as though he hadn’t seen a woman in her bra before.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I just want to remember everything,” he told you, carefully reaching around you and unclasping your bra. You let it slip off and nearly covered yourself, but seeing how he looked at you made you feel bold.

“Sir?” you called, and he shut his eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he said in a strained voice. He quickly adjusted the front of his pants, and you smirked.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He opened his eyes and squinted at your smirk.

“No, I’m not,” you laughed, but just for a moment because he was kissing you again in a flash. You were flat on your back, and though you wanted to feel his lips on yours forever, he moved away to kiss down to your neck. It was like he knew exactly where to kiss because he had you making sounds you hadn’t made in God knows how long.

“You’re going to leave a mark, sir,” you teased.

“That’s the fuckin’ point, ain’t it, love?” He bit down on your neck lightly, and you whimpered. At this point, he could leave a mark wherever he wanted, and you would thank him for it.

His lips trailed down between your breasts, then kissed over to one.

“Eyes on me, soldier,” he commanded. As soon as your eyes met his, he dragged his tongue along your nipple and then wrapped his lips around it.

“God!” you cried, then quickly put a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. Don’t stop.” You put your hand on the back of his head, imagining how his hair would feel between your fingers. He moved to the other breasts and showed it the same appreciation.

“Fucking perfect, aren’t you?” His big hands pushed your breasts together, then let them go.

“Aren’t you gonna take anything off?” you wondered. “And I don’t mean the balaclava.”

You were nearly salivating, thinking about how he looked under his clothes. He was broad and beautiful, so you knew you were in for a treat.

“Are you shy?” you asked as he hesitated.

“No. I have…scars,” he said.

“Of course you do, but do you think I care? I just wanna see you.” You sat up. “Want me to look away while you undress?” you offered.

“No, I want you to help me,” he said. He stood off the bed, and you sat on your knees to reach him.

“You sure?” you asked, your hands wavering.

“Yeah.” He watched as your hands moved slowly to the hem of his shirt.

“Arms up, soldier,” you said playfully. He lifted his arms, and you slowly pulled the shirt up and off.

“You’re perfect,” you told him. “I knew you’d be.” You kissed the scar on his collarbone, and he sighed. You climbed off the bed and kissed him gently before moving lower, kissing every scar you came across.

Then you were on your knees.

“What are you doing to me?” he groaned, staring down at you eagerly. You looked into his eyes as you loosened his belt, then went for the button and zipper on his pants.

Boxer briefs. You knew it. The pants fell from his waist, and now he was just as naked as you. From what you could see through the boxer briefs, he was a perfect size.

“You stayin’ down there?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Want me to?” You palmed him gently, and he hissed. Your mouth watered at the thought of being full of him. You pulled on the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulled down. There he was in all his glory.

You kissed his hipbones and thighs, teasing him a little.

“Are you teasing me?” he asked, gently grabbing you by the chin.

“I don’t know.” You trailed little kisses up and down his shaft, and he groaned loudly.

“It’s been a while, love. Go easy on me, will ya?”

“I’ll think about it.” You opened your mouth and slipped it around him slowly.

“Blood fucking ‘ell,” he grunted, his hand moving to the back of your head. “If this is how your mouth feels, then I can only imagine what inside of you feels like.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, and you bobbed your head faster on him.

“We could get in so much trouble for this,” he breathed. “But I don’t even fucking care right now.”

You pulled off him. “Me neither.”

He reached down, grabbed his cock, then traced your lips with the head.

“Shit. Get up here.”

You stood quickly, only for him to toss you onto the bed. He was quick to get your pants and panties off and even quicker to get his head between your legs.

“Ohhh fuck yes!” you cried as he dipped his tongue into you, then swirled it around your clit. “You know what you’re doing.”

“My mouth ain’t just for barking orders,” he said before diving back in, slurping at you like he was dying of thirst. You squirmed, but he put a hand on your stomach to keep you still.

You saw stars already, grinding yourself against his tongue.

“Go on, love, fuck my tongue. Use it.”

“Ghost…” you whimpered as you held his head in place and rubbed yourself all over his tongue. His eyes stayed on you. It was so intense. Too intense. You cried out and tried to push him away as you came, but he latched onto your clit and sucked and licked at it until you couldn’t take anymore. He kissed your pussy repeatedly and then finally came up for air.

Once he was level with you again, he crushed his lips against yours, making sure you could taste yourself.

“Inside me,” you breathed between kisses.

“Hm?” he grunted, teasing you.

“I need you inside me.”

“What if I’m not gentle?” he asked.

“Who said anything about being gentle?”

He made a noise akin to a growl and then sat up on his knees. He grabbed you and turned you over carefully, so you were on your stomach.

“You ready for me?” he asked, and you looked back at him.

“Yes, sir.” You watched as he licked his hand and then stroked himself a few times before straddling the backs of your thighs and pushing into you slowly.

The stretch was so good that you swore you were going to cry.

“Yesssssssss,” you hissed.

“Taking me so well,” he told you just as he bottomed out. He pressed against you and laced his fingers with yours before pulling out and slamming back in. Once he saw that you could handle him, he picked up his pace.

He let go of your hands and caged you in with his arms as he pounded you into the mattress. You cried out and moaned with every thrust, pushing against him, so the sound of slapping skin was even louder.

“You’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” he groaned. “Not gonna last long,” he warned.

“Don’t care. Fuck me!”

“I got a better idea.” He pulled out of you and sat before pulling you onto his lap. “How about you fuck me?”

“Yes, sir.” You reached back and held his cock up as you slid yourself back onto him. You held onto his knees and bounced on him.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, then slapped your ass. “Feels like you don’t wanna let me go.”

“Maybe I don’t,” you whined, bouncing on him harder.

He pulled you back against him so that your back was against his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

“Fine with me,” he said before thrusting up into you like his life depended on it. He turned your head with his free hand so that you were looking over your shoulder and kissed you hard. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, but it didn’t matter.

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathed in your ear. “Where? Hm?”

“Inside. Cum inside of me, Simon.”

“Ah fuck!” He gritted his teeth and fucked up into you. Before long, his thrusts faltered, stopping altogether as he pushed deep into you and filled you. It felt like he would never stop, and even when he did, he kept thrusting and swirling his hips weakly.

He rested his head against your back and caught his breath.

“I want to stay inside you forever,” he said breathlessly.

You both eventually peeled yourselves away from one another and showered together. Now you were lying in his bed, tracing his scars.

“You think we should tell Johnny?” he asked.

“No way! We wouldn’t hear the end of it then. Let’s leave him in the dark. Pretend to be mad at each other for a little longer,” you suggested.

“I like the way you think,” he said.

You looked up at him—he still hadn’t pulled down his balaclava. You wondered if he even noticed.

You kissed along his jaw, the stubble pricking your lips slightly.

“Is it wrong that I want you to stay tonight?” he asked.

“No. I’ll stay if you want,” you told him.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Maybe letting you stay was his way of making up for the time he sent you away.

Whatever it was, you savored it. It felt natural to be in his arms, almost like you were always meant to be there.

[part II]

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2

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reds-skull · 7 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PART 1]

Don't ask me why I wrote chapter two literally a day after the first, it's a mix of the nice comments I got and the fact I'm enjoying myself more than I expected, haha.

Ghost crashes into his desk chair, throwing two folders on the table. One was the Sergeant’s report, which he had to go through and approve before forwarding to Price, and the other…

The other was Soap’s personal file. He technically didn’t have clearance for it anymore, but Price left it on his desk next to the report, and Ghost figured he won’t notice if it disappeared for a couple hours.

Besides… he was supposed to read it before the mission. He just didn’t care in the past.

Ghost opens the file, and immediately gets greeted by a picture of Soap. He’s younger and seemed to be holding back a smile for the photo.

John “Soap” MacTavish. Somehow, Ghost can’t see how this fiery Sergeant shares a name with the captain.

The rest of the file is pretty standard. Born in Scotland (In a town Ghost never heard of), age 27, enlisted at 16. It gets more interesting when he reaches the Revenant section.

Or, whatever he can see from it. His Reaping, his first death, is completely blacked out. His powers list the explosion immunity and creation, but another line is censored. Ghost feels cheated of information - the amount of red tape around Soap would be concerning, if it didn’t make him that more intrigued.

He flips through his previous missions fairly quickly, not expecting much of it to be uncensored. Lad was SAS before dying, the reports are practically a solid block of black ink.

Ghost continues to the medical reports, fully intending to skip those as well, and he keeps flipping, and flipping, and flipping…

An icy hand grabs at his throat. Frowning, he slowly flips back.

The frozen feeling persists when he starts reading. 4 years ago, mission in Austria. Exposure to thermite explosion, 3 fingers missing and loss of motor function to his left leg. 11 months ago, C4 accident, right ear, eye, and majority of throat missing. 2 years ago, grenade explosion, massive damage to liver and stomach.

Combing through all records, Ghost took a moment to realize no medical procedure was noted. Which means Soap didn’t receive any.

He shut the folder.

Something different from the freezing horror he initially felt started rising within him. It was rage.

The personal folder gets thrown aside, and Ghost focuses on the mission report. Right. Perhaps this will shed more light on what Soap is capable of, because honestly right now he can’t bare thinking about how much damage the Sergeant suffered through any longer.

The report is well-written, as any soldier of Soap’s rank would be. Ghost enjoys seeing just how competent Soap was, clearing rooms at neck breaking speed. What catches his eyes is the reason the explosion at the warehouse happened.

He never did get an answer to that…

As it turns out, Soap did get spotted. But according to the report, it wasn’t a hostile that activated the explosive. No, Soap himself did that. The reason given is “estimated risk to Bravo 0-7”.

…Soap thought he was in danger?

Ghost racks his brain trying to understand why. Did he think Ghost didn’t clear the third floor yet? Did he think… they were going to alert backup?

And he decides to… blow himself up.

He hastily signs the document and grabs both folders. So much information, missing, blacked out, red tape stopping him from understanding. Ghost has long learned that he won’t, can’t understand everything, orders from higher up not to be questioned. But it has never bothered him more.

Never left this feeling of missing out.

When Ghost reaches Price’s office, the light is on and a lingering smell of cigars wafts even through the closed door. Shit. He’ll have to explain how the amount of folders he took suddenly multiplied.

“Weird how that happens, doesn't it Ghost?” Price shouts from beyond the door.

Bloody hell his stupid mind reading powers can be a real pain in the-

“You better not finish that thought Lieutenant!”

Sighing, Ghost finally opens the door. “I thought you’re on break, Captain”, he places the folders on his desk.

Price glares at the two folders before he looks back at him, eyebrow raised, “clearly”.

Ghost glares back. Not like he has anything to say to his defence.

Price breaks the tension with a little huff, “You know you could’ve just asked for the file, right? I could tell the Sergeant left an impression on you.” he laughs.

Not needing the Captain to mock him further, he bites back “report’s signed, permission to be dismissed?”

Price smirks and dismisses him. Ghost doesn’t miss the thought that leaked from him, “told you, you two would get along.”

He walks away before Price could read his own.

Smoking becomes less intimidating after you die once. Honestly, if it comes to the point he dies from lung cancer, he’ll be happy.

He’ll take that little comfort either way. Watching the smoke dissipate to the night sky, a handful of stars shining through. Little droplets of rain drizzle on the tin roof above him. It’s almost peaceful.

Almost. If only he couldn’t hear Gaz complaining from the floor above him.

“Look, he’s doing it again.” the recruit next to him makes a questioning sound, “Ghost, he’s bloody brooding. I swear, he’s been like this even since that mission with the revenant, what’s his name…”

The recruit mumbles something, “right! MacTavish. I’ll pay a good amount to know what happened with him… you think-”

Ghost slams a fist at the tin roof, “I can fuckin’ hear ya Garrick!”.

“Good! Tell me what happened there!”

He throws the cigarette and stomps it. Can’t get a moment of silence around here…

Gaz still tries to interrogate him while Ghost walks back to his room. He would talk to him when he feels like it, kindly suggest to never bring up that mission again.

Ghost doesn’t need more things to remind him of the Sergeant.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever was as bad as these rookies. Watching one trip on thin air, taking down 3 others poor sods trying to complete a run, he rather believe he wasn’t.

He approaches the 4 idiots, who are now literally shaking while craning their neck to look at their lieutenant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!”.

The rookies finally pull their heads out of their arse and scramble up. While they try to get back on track, he shouts, “five more laps for you four! Get a move on!”.

The ones that finished the training murmur behind him something that sounds like a long list of expletives, maybe about wishing his mother got an abortion or the likes.

Ghost couldn’t care less. But, for the sake of discipline, he throws a scowl at the group, shutting them instantly.

It’s on days like these, where Gaz is away on mission, and Price buried under mountains of paperwork, that Ghost’s thoughts wander back to that mission six months ago. To a certain Scottish Sergeant, to daft jokes and a weird shared understanding. Fingers flickering with flames, blue eyes shining with them.

Useless thoughts. All they do is leave a bitter trail behind them.

On days like these, he can’t help but crave bitterness.

The recruits finally finish their run, and Ghost dismisses them before they can cause more trouble, effectively declaring it “not his problem”. He should be more grateful of Garrick, he’s much better at handling the FNGs.

As he makes his way to the showers, one Private stops him. He looks familiar, but Ghost doesn’t bother learning any of their names.

“Captain Price orders you to his office.” the Private almost sneers at him. Ghost nods and walks away.

Once, a long time ago, he might’ve put the Private in his place, perhaps when he cared more. Now he knows better. His powers speak loud and clear. If he wished, he could wipe the entire base off the face of this godforsaken earth. It might be because of this fact, most soldiers abhor him.

They can’t help hating what they don’t understand.

Three well practiced knocks and a “come in!”, Ghost stands in front of the Captain. Price looks surprisingly chipper for the amount of files on his desk. That makes one of them.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Captain?”

Price flashes a warm smile (one he would call fatherly if the connotation didn’t want to make him want to puke) “I’m considering adding a new member to the 141”.

His first reaction is ‘fuck no’, and Price’s face sours at that. But Ghost is willing to entertain the Captain, so he asks, “you got any candidates?”.

Price motions to the dozen or so files on his desk, “take a look”.

Ghost raises an eyebrow before sitting down and taking one at random. Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… “Breathing underwater? Really.” Ghost shuts the folder and glances at Price, “I’ll take him when we go on a bust against ultranationalists from Atlantis”.

“Not everyone is as deadly as you, Simon” Price sighs, “go on, check the others.”

Several files later Ghost is left wondering how many practically useless revenants are out there. He’s sure just thinking this is considered some sort of blasphemy among Reapers, but as he wasn’t struck down by an eldritch being yet, it’s safe to say he’s free to continue looking down at them.

He knows deep down it’s not their powers that bother him. Hell, Garrick’s Gravity manipulation isn’t that lethal, but the Sergeant knows how to effectively use it to his advantage.

Ghost simply can’t see himself working with any of them. He understands they’re in desperate need for more taskforce members, no matter how strong its three revenants are, but if they’re about to add a forth, he better be useful.

Scouring the table, Ghost realizes he went through all folders already. Price picks up on that.

“None of them up to your standard?”

Ghost crosses his arms, “not in the slightest”.

He spots a personal file on a cabinet on Price’s left, “what’s with that one?” he nods towards it.

Price turns his head, “ah, he’s currently on a long term assignment. Higher ups aren’t gonna let that one transfer so easily.”

Ghost’s interest was piqued, and he leaned to grab it. Price didn’t stop him, but he had a weird glint in his eyes. Ghost gets the feeling this outcome wasn’t unplanned.

He opens the folder and a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back. He looks up at Price.

The captain tilts his head, “well? In terms of strength, no one gets close to MacTavish. I’d dare say you and him could be evenly matched-”

“I’ll take him.”

Price falters, “what?”

“I’ll accept a new member if it was Soap.” Ghost states, leaving no room for argument. A bubbling feeling of excitement washes through him, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The mountains of questions Soap left behind him come back to the forefront of his mind.

And he feels… hopeful.

Price shakes the surprise off his features, and he looks tiredly at the file, “...I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll do my best to get him.” He takes out a well deserved cigar, “I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you Captain”, the words don’t encapsulate just how grateful Ghost is.

“Now scram, I have about 50 calls to make.” Price waves his hand and picks up the phone. Ghost makes his exit before the Captain changes his mind.

Garrick returns from his assignment the following morning. The reason Ghost knows that is he watches the door to mess being slammed open while he tries to drink his morning tea.

“GHOST!” Gaz shouts, swiveling his head side to side, searching for him. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could actually go invisible like some rumors suggest.

But alas, he finds him quickly enough, and rushes to his table, uncaring of the several heads following his actions.

“Garrick” Ghost greets him, “how was the missio-”.

“We’re getting a new 141 member?!” Gaz cut him off, the excitement in his voice palpable, and he visibly starts floating a few inches off ground. Ghost tries to be annoyed with him, but he always found Gaz’s more energetic approach to life endearing.

“Nothing’s final yet, settle down.”

“But you know who it is, right?” Gaz sits in the chair in front of him, “c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

Ghost considers lying and saying he has no clue either, but he figures he might as well rip the band-aid now.

“It’s Sergeant MacTavish.” he tries to sound bored.

By the mischievous look on Garrick, he knows he failed miserably, “ohoho Ghost… Did you suggest your mysterious Sergeant to Price?” he grins like the menace he is, “seems like you won’t be able to hide what happened on ‘The Mission’ for much longer-”

Ghost slams his mug on the table, “nothing to hide, Sergeant.”

But Gaz is already 3 steps ahead in his brain, “I’ve heard he can create explosions, you think he could shoot up like a rocket? Could work well with my powers…”

Ghost stands up and groans, “he’s not a bloody spaceship Gaz, fuckin’ hell…”

He has a feeling Garrick and MacTavish will get along just fine.

The following days are… weird. Ghost never waited in anticipation for something as impatiently as he does right now. The clock seems to tick at a snail’s pace, and he finds his focus impaired. Thank his Reaper he’s not on a mission right about now…

Price is practically living in his office, constantly making calls and going through document after document. From what he understands, Soap is highly sought after for his explosion immunity, the best defuser there is.

Ghost is bitterly reminded of the huge pile of medical records in his personal file. That taste he rather not chase.

As for Gaz… His excitement grows by the day. It reminds Ghost that while the Sergeant is very friendly and always finds someone to talk to, he’s also one of the very few revenants on base.

He wonders if it feels as alienating as it does for him from time to time.

It’s not for 2 weeks later that he and Gaz are summoned to Price’s office. The place reeks of cigar smoke, and Price himself looks like he’s in need of at least 24 hours of sleep. But a triumphant attitude emanates from him in waves, and Ghost knows before he even opens his mouth what he’s about to say.

“It wasn’t easy, and I had to use every connection I had up there, but I got great news for you lads.”

Gaz smiles brightly, and turns his head to look at Ghost.

“I can finally say Sergeant Soap MacTavish is officially a member of the 141”.

Garrick cheers and floats high enough that Ghost has to drag him down before he slams his head against the ceiling, and sees the Captain’s expression shift.

“But…” Ghost starts for him. Of course this wouldn’t be this simple, nothing ever is.

Price exhales loudly, “Soap still has a couple of unfinished missions he will need to attend before he can join us fully.”

Gaz finally picks up on the mood shift, ‘...he will still be with us on base though, right?”

“Yes”, the Captain scratches under his iconic hat, and not for the first time Ghost wonders if it’s glued on with the way it refuses to fall off, “he will train with us, so take those few weeks as an opportunity to learn to work together. He’s quite powerful, and I think you will find… creative ways to work together.” with that last sentence, he glances at Ghost. Curious.

“When will the Sergeant arrive?” Ghost asks.

Price takes a quick look at the calendar, “3 days, early morning.”

That sends Garrick on a marathon of questions to Price, and Ghost retreats to into his mind.

3 days… 3 days and he will see those flames dance again. That Scottish lilt and crooked smile.

Ghost feels his mouth stretch in a hesitant smile, as if the muscles almost forgot the movement, and notices Price mirroring it.

Perhaps he could give a chance to hope.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! I appreciate it a lot <3

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spirk-trek · 5 months

Note

I always love when spock has to ask mccoy to help him understand his feelings for jim

now on ao3!

i'm so sorry to this anon who waited so long for me to finish this prompt *cries* i have never written anything from mccoy's pov and wanted to challenge myself... and oh boy, was it a challenge. i feel like it turned out kind of (very) boring and maybe not so good but i tried my best with something new!

~*~*~*~

Spock had cultivated an arsenal of excuses to get himself into sick bay when he didn’t really need to be. Some were more convincing than others, but over the years Doctor McCoy had come to consider himself a damn near expert at identifying them. At least, he eventually identified them. Once he managed to stop being annoyed.

“What in the blazes- Spock! Get your hands off my equipment!”

“Doctor,” he greeted, raising a brow and pausing whatever the hell he was doing with several panels removed from the wall. McCoy stared at him, swelling with rage.

“I leave this room for one damn minute-!”

“Actually, you were absent for nine minutes, eighteen-”

“Dammit Spock,” McCoy gritted his teeth and begged whatever gods might be listening for strength. “ You have eighteen seconds to tell me what you’re doing before I tranquilize you.”

Spock’s mouth closed with a well-then expression, eyes widening just enough that McCoy might’ve felt accomplished if he didn’t have a six patient backup in the transporter room. He watched as Spock deposited the components onto an empty biobed- the only one remaining, mind you- and placed both arms behind his back to face the doctor squarely.

“I am here to calibrate your newly installed biofilters to include the latest blood-type data sets.”

McCoy blinked, then helplessly gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I'm a little busy here, if you hadn't noticed. Can it wait?”

“Hardly.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. Two can play at that game.

“Medical equipment, eh? Since when are you our go-to guy for that?”

Both Vulcan brows eased their tension, rising to meet the dark curve of his bangs. “I am not. However, considering the fact you are currently treating Lieutenant Macsen, as an experienced science officer I am the most qualified individual to-”

McCoy groaned and uncrossed his arms to toss them at Spock impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, alright but-” he jabbed a finger at him. “But you're acting Captain now, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge? ”

Spock’s eyes slipped away. It was only for a moment, but that was enough. Gotcha.

“The danger has passed,” Spock eventually answered, careful mask back in place. “I can be of assistance here.”

“You sure?” A smug grin was spreading over McCoy’s features. Spock tilted his head in consideration of him, likely knowing he was in trouble. Damn right. “So this ain’t just an excuse to check up on Jim, then?”

As if he had forgotten his excuse, Spock gathered several of the discarded components back in his hands, answering only once his back was turned. “I assure you, doctor, my only concern is the efficiency with which your facilities are capable of treating the biologically unique individuals awaiting care.” He paused, both his speech and his hands, which were simultaneously reconnecting a tangle of wires. His chin tipped back over his shoulder just enough for McCoy to see downcast eyes stuck to the floor. “It is a logical endeavor. There is no need to question it.”

McCoy set down his medical tricorder with a thud and glared at the back of Spock’s head. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, chewing the corner of his mouth. “Well, if you're not here to bother me, carry on with your ‘logical endeavor.’ Just make it snappy. I got patients to heal.”

He left the goddamned hole in his wall to do a lap around the med bay, asking after patient conditions and giving orders where needed. When he got back around to where he started, he was pleased to find the wall panels more or less back in place. He was even more pleased to catch Spock peering down the line of beds, even craning his neck to do so. Gotcha again.

He knew already, of course, which bed was the subject of Spock’s nosiness. Nurse Chapel was there, standing over an unconscious, battered, and idiotic (in McCoy's professional opinion) Captain James T. Kirk. The man looked downright pitiful with his uniform torn and bloodied, neck supported on either side by braces.

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say anything. He wants to know? He’s gonna have to ask.

Spock never asked, though. He suffered in silence, like a damn ascetic. The doctor sighed, knowing already he didn’t have this particular fight in him. Not now. Not today.

“He’s gonna be alright, Spock. He’s had worse.”

At being addressed, Spock hastily resumed what appeared to be the last of his tinkering. McCoy watched him quietly, trying- unsuccessfully, as always- to read the unyielding Vulcan façade he so effortlessly constructed moment by moment.

“I acknowledge that the Captain's injuries are not likely to be fatal.”

“More n’ not likely. He’s gonna live, and he’s gonna thank me for it.”

Spock said nothing, simply pressing the final strip of wall back into place. He slid his hand over the seam to ensure there was no protrusion before ultimately turning around to face McCoy again.

“Once more, my concern lies with the efficiency of the ship's functions. The Captain's well-being is, logically, a crucial component of that efficiency. Is that not correct, doctor?”

McCoy scowled, not buying a damn word. He knew Spock wanted him to agree. To hand him his own excuse back on a silver platter. Not gonna happen.

“Well, if you were worried about him,” he cajoled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you might have a point. He took quite the beating down there.”

Spock shifted, and another bolt of triumph shot through McCoy’s core.

“It has been my experience that the Captain possesses a remarkable ability to defy all odds.”

Leonard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sap.

“Still. Haven’t you people ever heard of hand phasers? They have a couple hundred meter range, you know, but no. You just have to get up close n’ personal.”

Spock’s gaze hardened. McCoy knew that meant his bluff had been called.

“Doctor. You have already indicated that the Captain’s injuries are not of long term concern. Are you rescinding that assessment?”

McCoy sighed, any remaining sense of accomplishment fleeing him. He was just about to damn his attempt at getting a proper rise out of Spock when he saw him turn a glance toward Jim’s vital signs, checking them. Not very Vulcan of you, he thought, even as a pang of pity won out over the desire to dig his thumbs in and yank.

“I, uh…” He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Listen, Spock. Since you’re here, I’ve been waiting what feels like a century to get my tricorders synced with the medical catalog we integrated from Nomalis III.” He looked at Spock pointedly before jerking his head in the direction of the storage cabinets. “Think you have time to get to them, too?”

He nodded once. “Certainly. I will assess their status presently.”

And if he noticed a stroke of gratitude in Spock’s immediate acceptance, he wasn’t about to claim responsibility for it.

* * * * *

Sometimes, the visits were shorter.

Leonard glanced up from his screen, raising a brow at Spock's unexpected presence on the other side of his automatic doors.

“Spock,” he greeted warily, one eyebrow raised. “You finally taking me up on that open nurse position?”

With a look he’d no doubt deny was annoyance, and a breath he’d definitely deny was a sigh, Spock placed his hands at the small of his back. “Negative, doctor. I require a medical examination for a minor injury sustained during our most recent expenditure.”

“You? Injured?” He set his PADD down and pushed it away, leaning over his desk toward the other. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is a minor contusion,” Spock explained promptly. “I deemed it necessary to ensure my optimal functionality.”

The Vulcan presented his hand between them, fingers outstretched, a thin line of green wrapping around the palm and over his first knuckle. With a frown, McCoy stood and gestured for Spock to take a seat on the nearest biobed, coming to stand beside him as he snapped on a pair of gloves. He pulled the marked hand into the light, turning it at different angles. It was half healed at best, shallow at worst.

“You know, Spock,” McCoy murmured as he looked, “I don’t tolerate malingering.”

“Proof of my injury is visible, doctor. Or did your medical training not prepare you for superficial wounds?

“Ha ha,” McCoy deadpanned, noticeably less gentle as he flipped the hand back over and dropped it. “It’s already started healing, so I can’t use a stitcher. A treatment bandage overnight should do it, with that Vulcan metabolism of yours.”

He busied himself with a nearby drawer, pulling the right type of bandage from its depths. Once he had Spock’s hand back in his, he cleared his throat and began wrapping it.

“You didn't come all the way down here for a papercut, did you?”

Steely blue eyes flashed upward, but Spock wasn’t looking down to meet them. McCoy rolled them instead, annoyance mounting.

“I discharged him twenty minutes ago, y'know.”

He refused to look up again when Spock’s posture went rigid, his fingers flexing unconsciously against his newly coiled bandage. To McCoy's shock, he didn’t even bother denying that’s what he was really after.

“The venom was of an unidentified variety.”

“I identified it.”

“And his symptoms? They were-”

“Severe, yes. Keyword there being were .” He smirked, but Spock was still looking straight ahead. It quickly curled into a frown. “I healed him. That's what doctors do.”

Spock said nothing in response, though a crease appeared between his brows as he watched McCoy seal his bandage with a whirr of instrumentation.

“Anyway,” he turned in his chair, wheeling to a shelf to pull out a bottle of pain capsules he knew Spock would refuse. “I confined him to quarters until morning, if that's what- hey!” The doors were swishing as he turned back around, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear it, he still called after Spock bitterly.

“You’re welcome!”

* * * * *

Sometimes, the excuses weren’t really excuses at all.

“Doctor,” Spock greeted upon being let into McCoy's office. He blinked in surprise at the vision before him; Spock was pacing, hands clasped tightly behind his back, gaze down on the floor. He watched him take two trips from wall to wall before clearing his throat.

“Why yes, Spock?” he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes to no effect.

“I have come to report increased stress levels, resulting in loss of sleep.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. He placed his resequencer aside, immediately forgetting whatever he’d been doing with it. It’d still be there later, but this. This, he had to hear.

“Stress, Spock? That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”

“Stress is a natural reaction to disturbed mental equilibrium.”

“Would you please stand still?”

The Vulcan froze in his tacks, looking down at himself as if he hadn’t even realized he was in motion until that moment.

“That’s better. Now, what is going on with you?”

Spock, for a moment, looked explicitly uncomfortable. The lines of Leonard's face ironed out in shock. That level of transparency was, in Vulcan terms, something like an outright confession. He might as well be singing Shakespeare from rooftops.

“I’m waiting,” he eventually probed when Spock didn’t answer, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Spock shut his eyes. “Captain Kirk has recently… developed a closer association with a civilian on board.”

Oh. McCoy couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the pretty copper-haired thing he’d seen hanging off Jim’s arm that morning. And the morning before that. And the morning before that.

“Kaylia, right?”

“My concern ,” Spock continued as if McCoy hadn’t spoken, his eyes meeting some spot beyond them both, “stems from the potential risk such emotional entanglements pose to our current endeavor.”

McCoy’s smile curved into something dangerous.

“I see, I see… So, the Captain’s love life. That’s what’s stressing you out, is it?”

Spock’s jaw worked from side to side. “I fail to see the relevance of his personal relationships to my emotional state.”

And damn him, Leonard actually believed that. He leaned in, fixing Spock with an intense stare.

“Look, Spock. I'm a doctor, not a counselor, but I've seen the way you look at Jim.” He raised a hand when Spock opened his mouth, no doubt to deny it or try to explain the accusation away. “This ain’t just about the ship, or your current endeavor, or whatever the hell we’re calling it today.” When Spock didn’t answer, McCoy’s harshness receded slightly. He could feel it shrink within him, going from hot to cold in an instant.

“There's something more there,” he continued earnestly. They were well past it being a question. It was a damn fact as far as he was concerned, and he was sick and tired of pretending it wasn’t. “Way I see it is, you may be a Vulcan, you may have even fooled yourself, but you're not fooling anyone else.”

In the end, that got Spock’s attention. The dark eyes that swiveled down to meet his had a dangerous flicker to them. An ember he couldn’t help but stoke.

“I've known Jim a lot longer ‘n you have, and this? This ain’t about a single thing except you being jealous .”

Spock's mask wavered, another current of vulnerability passing over him like a spectre. When he finally broke his silence, he spoke with a voice that was measured and low.

“That is a highly illogical hypothesis, doctor. I am not capable of experiencing jealousy, and even if such were the case-”

“Oh, cut the crap, Spock. I've known you long enough, too. You've got feelings, and they're more n' just friendly when it comes to Jim.”

Spock raised a brow, the barest hint of a frown crossing his features.

“It is not… ‘crap.’”

“It is crap,” McCoy snapped, smacking an open palm against his desk. Spock stared at it stiffly. “Admit it, Spock! Seeing him with someone else is tearing you up inside." He narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a not-quite grin. Struck a nerve, did I? "How many days has it been since you slept, anyway? Have you gotten a wink since she walked onto this ship?”

“Your analysis is flawed," Spock spoke quickly, his speech pressured in a way the doctor hadn't heard before. "I am merely concerned with the Captain's ability to remain impartial. These matters often do not work out favorably.”

McCoy shook his head. “So, what? You’re worried she’ll break his heart?”

Spock didn’t react other than to pull his lips into a thin line.

“Ah, no. You're worried she won't.”

Spock was speaking again before McCoy had even finished accusing him, and if he had to give it a name he'd say he sounded downright irritated. Yeah, well, join the club.

“I am not governed by emotions. I am not worried, nor am I jealous-”

“Yes you are.”

“Furthermore, my feelings would be irrelevant regardless of-”

“Irrelevant my foot .”

A pause. “That doesn’t-”

“All’s I’m sayin’, Spock,” McCoy raised his hand and his voice to cut the other off, eyes screwing shut in his frustration. “You might want to face those feelings head-on before they gut you.”

They held each other's gaze for a prolonged moment, McCoy’s silent office beginning to feel heavier and darker than before.

“As you have already pointed out, doctor,” Spock spoke quietly now, the tide of irritation ebbing away. “You are not a counselor. I am here to seek a simple sleep aid, if one is available.”

After several more seconds, Leonard finally broke their eye contact to slam a drawer open. He tossed the bottle of pills at Spock, who caught them with cat-like reflexes that annoyed him more than it should have. Spock held the bottle low and looked down at the capsules, watching them fall over each other as he twisted the bottle side to side. McCoy bit his tongue, waiting... and what’ll you know? It paid off for once.

“Suppose your hypothesis is correct,” the Vulcan eventually murmured without looking up. “What is the solution?”

McCoy blinked. “Spock.”

Only then did their eyes meet again. McCoy sighed.

“Emotions don’t have solutions. Alright?” A ripple of impatience pushed itself into a frown on Spock’s lips. “But,” he continued, “they do have causes. Usually, anyway. Is that- Does that make any kinda sense to you?” Spock nodded once, straightening his spine. McCoy considered for a moment, his lips pursed. “Jealousy, for example, is usually caused by…” He leveled a careful look at the other man. “Well, I don’t have to tell you. It’s biblical.” Seeing the bewildered expression beginning to take shape, he rushed to clarify. “A tale as old as time. You want to be in her place.”

Spock averted his gaze again, then shook his head once. “I do not.”

“I don’t mean you want to be a diplomat, or a pretty redhead, or on the mind of every man aboard this ship.” He let out a short huff of breath. “Just the one man, right? And he’s currently off on some observation deck somewhere…” McCoy trailed off when he noticed Spock’s hands flex around the bottle, taking a moment to send some irritated thoughts Jim's way. Blind, stupid idiot.

“Am I getting anything right, here?”

Spock rolled his shoulders. “This is… not my area of expertise.”

“I know,” he said in a way he hoped was kind. He meant it to be kind, anyway. “Like I said, there ain’t a solution to feelings, but... In this situation, there are a few outcomes. And outcomes are sorta like solutions, right?”

Spock opened his mouth as if to disagree, then shut it again and gave a curt nod.

“Right. Okay. So,” he held one hand up as a visual representation, “one outcome is, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Hope it goes away, hope each beautiful woman that comes along never stays too long. Hope you can keep ignoring it forever, and hell, sometimes that’s what it takes.” He took a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fully empty again before pressing on. “Sometimes, though,” he raised his other hand, looked at it as if he was actually holding something suspended in the air, “it never goes away. It just becomes… different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse.”

He fixed Spock with a severe look before dropping both hands back to his desk.

“And since you can’t know, there’s no way to know- well, that’s why us humans decide to do something about it to find out.”

Spock remained perfectly still until he swallowed, throat bobbing with what looked like effort.

“‘Something’ is vague terminology,” he pointed out, deadpan. “Clarify.”

McCoy flipped his restless hands skyward. “Well, we talk. Ask questions we don’t know the answer to.” A gradual smile broke across his lips. “Kiss each other, maybe, if the moment’s right.”

Spock looked more uncomfortable than McCoy had ever seen him, but he couldn’t even enjoy the blotches of subtle green that bloomed over both cheeks because of the pit of worry weighing down his stomach. Damn.

“You are saying," Spock began to summarize slowly, "that my options are to continue attempting to suppress my emotions… or to inform Jim of them.” The green in his face darkened as McCoy nodded. “I admit, I do not favor either prospect.”

The doctor chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Yeah. One of the scariest things in the world, tellin’ someone who’s important to you that…” He looked Spock up and down. “Well. That they’re important.”

The Vulcan remained silent, finally opening the pill bottle and rolling two tan colored capsules into his palm before looking up at McCoy again.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said simply, and the words held a tightness to them so poignant McCoy couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he watched Spock take his leave.

The next time he or Jim tried walking into his office to worry about the other one, he was gonna lock them in a conference room somewhere, even if it meant crashing the whole damn ship. And he was gonna demand a drink first.

#idk this got sad for NO reason????#i do not ship spones but something happened while i was writing this and i feel like it's there #if you squint #spirk #fanfic #request #prompts #my writing #dr mccoy #bones #spock #jim kirk #captain kirk #bones pov #fanfiction

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avvail-whumps · 3 months

Text

Royal Bought: Complete Masterlist

General/brief content and warnings:

🏹 Luke’s Arc: vampire whump, non-human whumper, defiant whumpee, human auctions/trafficking, pet whump, hypnosis.

🍂 Ten’s Arc: none, apart from (temporary) character death, hypnosis and vampiric turning at the beginning.

💌 Ileana’s Girls: vampire whump, lady whumper, non-human whumper, multiple lady whumpees, hypnosis, conditioning, polygamy.

Information: the numbers beside each chapter indicate the writing order they’re written in. All stories are listed in chronological order. Although the stories can overlap and some are repeated, the emoji’s indicate who the chapters belong to mainly. For example, 🏹’s appear within Ten’s first few chapters of his arc because he makes an appearance, and it’s beneficial in understanding the origins of his story. However, they are mainly Luke’s chapters and are from his point of view.

🏹 Luke’s Arc

Growing up in a distant camp away from vampire civilisation, Luke has lived a life of constant fear and the unknown. When a vampire is thrown into his path under alarming circumstances after threatening somebody he cares deeply about, Luke is carted away to the kingdom and prepared to be bought and sold at one of their famous auctions; by none other than a Royal.

Note: Don’t like lady whump? Chapters 6-11 contain a (temporary) lady whumper. If you’d like to skip them, here’s a masterpost briefly summarising these chapters.

Hunting Deer (#1)

Upon Gates (#2)

Child’s Play (#3)

Underground Cattle (#4)

Sampling (#5)

Pretty Girls (#6)

Thorns and Roses (#7)

🍂 Ten’s Arc

When the vampire Justinian finds him in the Collared Forest, Ten was oblivious to the fate that would be in store for him. When he’s tricked into drinking vampire blood and subsequently murdered, Ten finds himself waking up as a bloodsucking creature of the night. Alone in an unfamiliar world, Ten adjusts to being an immortal child and the new life ahead of him.

🏹 Hunting Deer (#1)

Enter Justinian (Bonus)

🏹 Upon Gates (#2)

🏹 Child’s Play (#3)

💌 Ileana’s Girls

The story of three strangers, who are forced into unforseen circumstances when they’re abducted and planned to be sold off to any vampire that will pay for them. But their fates become irrevocably intertwined when they catch the eye of Ileana, a beautiful vampire attracted to pretty humans. And pretty things deserve to be spoiled, don’t they?

coming :)

Asks and Answers

Questions:

Ten’s Arc and Minor Whump (Short answer: there is none)

Justinian’s Significance

Plush Bunny

Everything Tag List: @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires @thecyrulik

Ten’s Arc Tag list: @obsessednerd505

Note: if you ask to be added to the tag list, I will automatically add you to the ‘Everything Tag List’. If you want to opt out of certain stories, e.g you don’t enjoy lady whump and don’t want to be tagged in Ileana’s Girls, then please let me know so I can tag you accordingly.

#royal bought #masterlist #whump writing #vampire whump

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infin1ty-garden · 10 months

Text

GUARDIAN ANGEL

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ summary: hearing rumors of the fountain of youth and finally finding a heading, nikolai decides to follow the rumors ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ pairing: nikolai lanstov x gn! siren! reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ warnings: drowing, darkling, a bit of spice ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ word count: 2k ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ author note: inspired by this and sorry for not posting in a while I was on vacation

masterlist.

"Are we sure that compass even works?" Asked Tamar swaying from side to side due to the heavy rain and storm they were passing through. "It points to what the holder wants most. I think the instructions are pretty clear," Nikolai's attention only being on the compass. It's arrow spinning from one direction to another.

"You are going to crash the ship," yelled Mal as he fell down sliding to the other end of the ship. "Don't worry we're almost there," and then he let go of the wheel entirely. Tolya grabbed it but as if they'd entered another dimension. The storm was nowhere in site and not that far away, an island.

"See, I was right," as he said that the ship hit something causing him to fall overboard. He tried to swim up but the waves kept crashing in on him. He could hear people yelling for him and orders being thrown around. They turned incoherent as he sunk deeper.

He felt two hands taking hold of his arms as he was lifted out of the water in seconds. Once he managed to open his eyes, he was miles from the ship. He wanted to turn and see his saviour. "Don't strain your body too much, just relax your safe," he heard the most angelic voice say.

In a blink of an eye his feet met the sand. He coughed up what felt like half the ocean. When he turned to thank his saviour they were nowhere to be seen. Had he imagined it? Then he saw it, his ship being attacked by sire

But he could not help his crew. If he even attempted to swim to them, he would be instantly attacked. His gun was wet, so it was useless, and what could he do with a sword. All he could do was watch and hope they make it.

Most of the crew was alright. No deaths but they had to dry dock the ship, as going in the row boats would have been a death wish. Now, they had to find the chalices. "Captain," Tamar handed him a spyglass. Looking through it he saw Second Army flags. The Darkling was here or his grisha were.

"How did they get here before us?" Alina asked bewildered. "It doesn't matter we just need to get the chalices before them," he really should have better timing. "Hand over the map," the Darkling appeared, along with his forces. "There's no map," Nikolai replied, confidence radiating off of him in waves.

Then one by one his grisha disappeared until he was the only one left standing. "You and what army," Kirigan looks behind himself. Worry coating his face but then he smirked. "I don't need an army," as he raised his hands the sand beneath his feet disappeared. He dropped down into the newly formed puddle like it was a slide.

"Well, that happened," all anyone could do was nod along to Mal's statement. As they continued on following the compass, it seemed to lead them in circles. "I think your magic compass stopped working," Alina gave him a sympathetic look. "We have more company. Tamar reported seeing Fjerdan and Shu ships," great just what they needed.

"We still need the two chalices. Let me give that map a try," Mal took the map from Nikolai. The map was written in a language no one could understand. It wasn't in Fjerdan, Kerch, Ravkan, Shu, Zemeni, Suli, or even Old Ravkan. But now that they were actually on the island, they could at least recognise the landmarks drawn. Mal's tracking skill would finally come in handy.

After spending hours walking, they've decided to make camp and rest for a bit. They couldn't let the Fjerdans or the Shu be the first to discover the secret to the fountain. As Nikolai was starting to close his eyes, he heard a splash of water near him. He looked to where he assumed the sound came from and was met with the most beautiful pair of eyes.

Was this the person that saved him? He couldn't be sure. He slowly moved towards the person, worried that any sudden movement might scare them away. "I am not some kind of rabid animal," that voice, his guardian angel. "Your friends are on the west side," you could mean the Fjerdans or the Shu.

"They're not our friends," you sent him a sceptical look. He suddenly remembered why they were on this island in the first place. "You wouldn't know where someone could leave two chalices around here, would you?" At this point Nikolai was fully laying down in the mud that surrounded the pot of water.

His face inches away from it. "Hypothetically, I would know where something like that could be hidden." He smiled and then asked. "Hypothetically, could you show me?" You disappeared, only to emerge a few seconds later. Slowly moving closer to him as he had done only minutes ago.

What you did next was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. You kissed him. It was slow at first, as if giving him the chance to pull away if he so wishes. Instead he placed his palm on the back of your head. Pulling you as close as he can and uped the ferocity of the kiss. You placed your fingers at the bottom of his chin.

Putting slight pressure on it, due to this he opened his mouth. You quickly slipped your tongue in. He felt something foreign enter his system. You quickly pulled away and submerged yourself, only the top part of your face could be seen. Watched him swallow whatever you had just given him. I really hope I don't die from this.

You made a motion with your hand for him to enter the water. Waited for him, as he took off his jacket and shoes. His feet were searching for the bottom of the pond or whatever it was. He felt a hand grab his foot and pull him into the water. "You're taking too long," he realised he could breathe underwater. You gently grabbed his waist and he placed his arm around your neck.

He finally saw your tail. You were a siren. He was so gonna die but why had you saved him and why were you helping him now. He had too many questions. None of which he could ask. As soon as he had entered the water he was out of it. In Front of him was a ship, but none of the text in any language he knew. It did match the art on the map.

"Thank you," you nodded with a smile on your face. He walked closer to the ship. It was suspended in mid air. Wedged in between two huge pieces of stone. How could he get up there?

He finally entered the ship with your help and a lot of trial and error. Each step on the deck was taken with extreme consideration as one wrong move could send the ship falling. Even if the ship seemed to have been here for years with the plants that have taken over the deck. Nikolai didn't want to take any chances.

As he descended down to the lower levels of the ship, he was greeted with copious amount of dust and rot....and gold? But he had little care for it. Maybe after they find the fountain of youth, he could bring some of that gold back to Ravka. One room in the ship was clearly meant for dining. The table comfortably fit nine people.

The seats were filled with skeletons. The stench of the rotten food and empty glasses of wine could signify that these people were poisoned. The ship without a crew was probably left to roam the sea and had met its journey's end. Crashing into the rocks. Or maybe all of them have been stabbed, who knows.

The chalices were nowhere to be found. He went searching different rooms until he reached the captain's quarters. In the middle of the room the captain was sitting a skeleton like the rest of the crew but on the bed next to him a chest. Nikolai made his way to the bed as he did the ship swinged and then the voices came.

He wasn't alone anymore but he recognised one of them as Zoya. He needed to work faster. He got to the chest but it was locked. Nikolai could hear the voices getting closer. The key was laying on the chain around the captain's neck. Unlocking the chest and...nothing, just some documents. Where could the chalises be? He looked in the drawers, desk and finally under the bed.

There was another chest, this one without a lock in it, the chalices inside. Then the door burst open. "Hand them over," before he could think or even form a plan the ship was falling. When he awoke he was tied up, next to him, Zoya. The flags were the first thing he'd recognised, Shu. The second one, that they were tied to a tree. "Finally, the sleeping beauty's awake," one of the guards said.

Whatever they'd done to Zoya, she'd seen better days. Cuts were littering her face and bruises were starting to form. "The others," he'd simply asked. "Probably dead." The guards had left their posts to fetch their superior. In the corner of his eye, Nikolai could see something being thrown next to his feet. A knife, he quickly picked it up and placed it near his hands. Cutting himself and Zoya lose.

"We need to plan our next steps carefully since we don't have our weapons," just as he said that his and what he assumes is Zoya's sword were thrown out of the water. If she had found the ordeal weird, she didn't mention it, just grabbed her sword. "This way, I saw them place the rest of the weapons there."

They managed to escape the camp unseen. "I will let you go but the next time we meet, you won't be given the same courtesy," with that she disappeared in the forest.

The chalices weren't with the weapons. The Shu must have taken them. Then out of nowhere Tamar, Alina, Mal and Tolya come charging past Nikolai. Tamar carrying one chalice while Mal carries the other. "Sturmhond," Alina says just realising he was even there. "Run," yells Tamar as she grabs him.

Then he sees it, the Darkling and his volcra. His feet do the rest as he joins the group running. Hoping to lose him in the woods. "What happened?"

"What happened? Where were you? You left and didn't even tell anyone," Alina retorts.

"I got a lead to where the chalices might be."

"But WE found the chalices."

"And WE are going to lose them if you two don't shut it," Toyla interrupted, silencing them both as they hid. Once they saw the Darkling walk pass. They slowly walk in the other direction. "Where did you find them?"

"Near the entrance to some caves but that was nowhere close to where it had been marked on the map," Mal said in disbelief.

"Let me guess there was a river or some pond close by," Nikolai asked. Mal nodded. "But how could you know, it wasn't marked on the map." Nikolai shrugged. You must have taken them and brought them to his crew. "Now, we just need to find the entrance to the fountain," water splashed nearby. "Give me one moment," he said to the rest of them as he took the map and walked towards the water.

Tamar and Alina followed him. He kneeled down. "Yes," he asked, looking at the water. You slowly lifted your head and swam to where he was kneeling. He held up the map. Mal and Toyla joined the rest. Alina lifted her palms up as Toyla readied his weapon. "You are here and the entrance is here," now they could see the scales coating your arms, along with the tail.

All of them were thinking the same. You're a siren and you're helping them.

Thanks for reading! If you want a part 2 leave a like or comment

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lordgrimwing · 1 month

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Glorfindel’s Long Day

[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 5, and for the WIP game @thescrapwitch tagged me in]

[why is this a wip? I have a list of other things that he needs to do still but it so long and dull (as it's supposed to be) that I doubt I'll finished. This has a nice conclusion as it is now]

“I’m not sure how that rumor started, but I’ll look into it,” Glorfindel said shortly. A frown pulled at his lips. “And correct the appropriate parties.”

“Thank you,” Elrond sifted through the disorganized piles of loose papers on his desk. The Lord of Imladris was not habitually so messy, but Galadriel’s impending visit appeared to be putting just as much strain on him as his guard captain.

“Was there anything else, my Lord?” The golden-haired elf asked, mind already well departed from the cluttered office.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Elrond looked up, several limp strands of hair escaping their precarious housing atop his head. “I could use—no, no,” He interrupted himself with a quick shake of his head, causing more brown hair to tumble free. “Lindir can do that. I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you, Glorfindel.”

Finally dismissed, his body followed his thoughts back through the winding stairs of the sanctuary carved into the gorge all the way back to the guard house where several elves waited for a tongue-lashing the likes of which they’d never experienced. The problem, he thought as he walked through the stone passages, with building a serviceable guard from those primarily beget in the latter years of the second age, was that they did not have the requisite experience to understand why they should never leave a post unattended for even a minute—no matter how tempting the colorful skylights were last night.

No sooner had Glorfindel finished with the flighty, would-be guards, then a young elleth (were they not all young to him?) came with a written message from the head baker. She gave him the tightly rolled paper and, apron shedding flour onto the rug before his desk, informed him the baker directed her to not return until she had a written response.

With a mighty sigh that could no longer be called long-suffering, he opened the letter and read.

After only a few lines, it grew quite clear that the problem of which the baker wrote should not be addressed to him but rather to Erestor or more probably Lindir as it was nothing but complaints about the new system for ordering irregularly used spices. He said as much to the apprentice baker, offering the page back to her.

She raised her hands and shook her head, saying that the baker ‘insisted she wanted an answer from Glorfindel’.

He reiterated that he had no say in anything that had to do with managing and running the House. She swore she wasn’t leaving until she had something in writing to prove she’d done exactly as directed.

Glorfindel was many thousand years old—yes he spent a good chunk of that time as a bodiless spirit in the halls of the dead but it still counted—so he had the self control to not roll his eyes at whatever low stakes power struggle was being waged among the house staff. Taking up a small note page and his inkwell, he scrawled out a quick response, reminding the baker to use appropriate communication chains; they were, after all, set up for a reason (mostly to keep half of the staff from stepping on the toes of the other half, as elves were rather prone to do when no greater threat was around to distract them from small grievances). He ended the letter with the most serviceable of unembellished tengwar.

After a quick blotting, the elleth departed with the note, too happy to report that she completed the task set before her and exactly nothing else.

If Glorfindel ground his teeth slightly at the preposterous nature of that entire interaction, well, it was merely an accident caused when he jerked his head up from where he rested it against the desk, suddenly realizing that it was past time for him to go up to the plateau that formed the highest border on the the secluded valley and see how the field exercise was going.

Down to the floor of the gorge he went, then up another meandering staircase and tunnel until he reached the hidden exit onto the grasslands above.

Gwendyon met him just behind the next hill.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” the guardsman chirped brightly, popping up from the brush he'd been hidden in, telescope in one hand and notebook in the other. “How are things in the valley today?”

Glorfindel liked Gwendyon. Born late in the first age, the Sinda had enough experience and focus to keep newer guards in order, while keeping a cheery good nature—a combination that saw him regularly managing field training exercise, as Glorfindel's duties generally did not permit his leaving for extended periods except when the lord or lady of the valley, or their children, wished to travel.

“Better once I have your report,” Glorfindel said. Today, the blazing cheer was rather too bright.

Gwendyon nodded out toward the west, where the long grasses faded into rocky hills and trees, and jumped into a review of how well the teams were working together.

The taller elf nodded and asked a few clarifying questions, then directed changes for tomorrow's schedule based on how things were going so far.

“Keep up the good work,” He said at last, ready to depart.

“One more thing,” The dark elf said quickly. He opened the leather bound notebook and withdrew a folded sheet. “It sounds rather silly,” He laughed at himself, “but I’ve written a poem for Mileidh and I was hoping I might convince you to take it to them. They should be bringing the goats back to the barns any time now.”

Glorfindel pushed a smile across his face. “Of course I can,” He said.

He'd need to do it as soon as he returned to the valley. There were several reports waiting for him to review and sign off on in his office, as well as that tracking down the origin of those rumors for Elrond, but if he dealt with those first, he wouldn't have time to go back down to the barns before Mileidh went home.

“Thank you!” Gwendyon enthused, clasping his shoulder briefly in gratitude.

Glorfindel left after that with a terse farewell that may have made the young ellon wonder if he'd offended him or overstepped propriety with the personal request, but the golden elf didn’t care at the moment, he just wanted to be done up here and get on to the many other things he had left to do.

#please someone he just wants today to end but it's been going since last november #he's suck in the never ending day of dealing with little irksome problems #please he just wants out #(i'll never release him)#glorfindel week #glorfindel #elrond #imladris #rivendell #the silmarillion #lotr #it's falling into that timeframe when i'm not sure which book to tag #glorfindel's terrible horrible no good very bad day #grimwing writes

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sleepy-hyperfixations · 2 months

Note

it was never coming out of my drafts anyways so you can have half of it (the other half is just badly written porn that i gave up halfway through)

This is unfair, Gale thinks. He’s not a man easy to fall into temptation, but God is really testing his limits right now.

Bucky is sitting right in his central field of vision, licking a popsicle. Actually, scratch that. Sprawling like a cat is the more correct word to define how Bucky’s laid out on the bed.

Long limbs are splayed over the white mattress, stomach pressed to the sheets. The blanket is crumpled at the head of the bed, previously kicked away by Bucky’s impatient feet- the weather is too hot to allow for any cover. It’s also why Bucky’s almost naked right now. No shirt. Only shorts that are too short to be considered one. His thighs are in full view, soft and supple and begging to be done something to it. Gale doesn’t know what. Squeezing it may be nice.

Gale loosens his collar. He hasn’t gotten his dress uniform off since he arrived from the major’s office. He had just been promoted to Captain rank. Bucky had already been promoted weeks ago.

When he had arrived at their shared bedroom, Bucky was in the middle of watching the Yankees game. His shirt hadn’t gone off then. He asked how the meeting went to which Gale just nodded, telling him the brief summary. There really wasn’t much to tell. He got promoted, got a new badge, and then went to the cafeteria later to get some iced coffee. Bucky still hugged him anyways, the grip almost crushing. That’s when he felt the stickiness of sweat slicking Bucky’s skin and realized how hot it has been today.

Gale walked over to the side of the room, placing his badge on the desk. When he turned over his shoulder, Bucky was slipping his shirt off.

It’s not the first time he’s seen Bucky’s bare body. His smoothly, defined muscles, soft from afar. But it’s the first time he’s noticing how slim Bucky’s waist is. Compared to the broad width of the shoulders, his waist looked like it could fit in both of Gale’s hands.

Gale swallowed, turning away, and took off his tie.

When he looked back again, Bucky’s walking over to the mini fridge they keep in the room. Captain privileges- Bucky ordered it a week ago. Then he took out a bright wrapping or some sorts. Gale didn’t even know there were things already kept in the fridge. Bucky opened the wrapper, almost slowly like he’s having trouble. Like he couldn’t just rip it off.

Gale would have offered to help him out if he didn’t have this dryness in his throat.

Then Bucky finally popped it open, and oh. It’s a popsicle. He took the plastic wrapping off completely, holding it by the wooden stick. Then he parted his lips, almost too slow bordering on questionable, and darted his tongue out to lick it. Kittenishly, like shy.

Gale was jolted when Bucky suddenly peered at him from across the room. Bucky asked if he wanted one, the heat bringing a healthy flush to his cheeks, eyes blinking at Gale.

Gale shook his head, swallowing, and turned back to the table.

He bit his lips as his groin accidentally pushed against the edge. This is bad. Really bad. He’s half-hard in his pants, and the reason had been his best friend licking a goddamn popsicle.

He discreetly breathed out shakily and composed himself. It’s alright. He could do it. He just had to walk past the room, to the door, to the communal showers, and get himself off over there. Being hard is normal biology.

God knew how many times he’s heard Bucky’s muffled whimpers in the darkness when they were cadets. They were sharing bunks with other boys back then, around twelve of them in the same room. He tried not to tear the place down, knowing the rest could hear Bucky too at night.

He still didn’t want to admit the time when he fought another guy extra hard, sending him to the med wing- during a “training” session. The guy had been jerking off to Bucky’s quiet moans.

Gale drew in a slow inhale and readied himself. He turned back. Tried not to grab his crotch right there and then when he saw Bucky’s legs. Somehow within that short period of time, Bucky’s switched his pants to shorts. Bright red ones that hid nothing and do nothing except hug his ass’ curves.

That had been how Gale found himself in this position now. Preparing himself to walk past Bucky while trying not to pay attention to how those lips wrap around the popsicle, the sound wet as he pops it off his mouth. The blush on Bucky’s face is really not helping either.

Gale stands straight. He takes a deep breath, then begins to walk. One step, two steps, three steps. One more and he can make it past. Four-

A soft moan makes him freeze.

He tells himself not to look but he can’t help it, head already turning, glancing down… To Bucky’s scrunched face, eyes shut as his mouth parts. Another soft mewl escapes him.

Blood rushes down south. Gale’s body is heavy, face numb.

Bucky blinks his eyes open, peering up at him. His lashes seem to flutter. “This ice is really good, Buck. You don’t want some?”

Gale can’t say anything, can’t bring his tongue to move. Ordering himself to blink feels like a monumental task. Bucky’s brow furrow, lips pouting. Gale doesn’t even know why Bucky’s doing that.

He almost chokes on his own saliva when Bucky tucks a curl over his ear and wraps his mouth on the popsicle again. He pushes it deeper. Three-quarters of the ice has disappeared inside.

Bucky opens his eyes, staring at him. He blinks slowly. Gale isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing right now but he’s getting increasingly hard. He’s pretty sure there’s a tent in his pants right now.

Bucky then pulls back the popsicle, slowly. It seems to be the motif today. Slow. And sensual and innocent and soft. He takes extra time when his mouth is at the edge. He pops it off with a wet sound. Saliva strings connect his lips to the popsicle.

Gale almost believes that he could’ve come untouched right that second.

“Can I help you?” Bucky asks. His red lips, now sheen with blue ice, juts out.

anon pls this it so good 😭

#masters of the air #mota #buck x bucky #clegan #buckbucky

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mykneeshurt · 2 years

Text

Sparring Session - Soap x F!oc

Just a Soap Drabble. I love this trope and I’ve not written for the Scottish god himself yet.

This is a self insert (kinda) cause god damn it I want this to be me. Descriptors of moi in here. Female reader.

Warnings - descriptions of violence, knife play, implied smut (I think)

The requested part 2

‘Good to see you again love’ Price’s warm smile welcomed you into his office. Smiling back you met the Captain in a hug ‘So good to see you John! It’s been ages, the boys still giving you trouble?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe’ he snorted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You and Price went way back, when you were an inexperienced rookie. He felt so proud watching you blossom into the cut throat special forces op you were today. ‘Ready?’ He asked releasing you from his grip guiding you to the door with his arm. ‘Absolutely’ you smirked.

‘Lads, this is Raven. She’s come over from Alpha team to help out on our next mission. She’s an expert in close combat, so, she’s come to join your sparring session.’ Gaz, Soap and Ghost all immediately stopped what they were doing and looked over towards you and Price. ‘Riley’ you nodded, offering him a warm smile, ‘you’ve not changed one bit.’

Soap whipped his head around so fast his neck could have snapped. ‘You know her?’ He asked quietly. Ghost met his gaze in the corner of his eye and let out a grunt. ‘Raven.’

‘Oh come on Riley! You can’t still be holding a grudge against me?’ You laughed hiding your smile with your hand. Soap furrowed his brows, so you two had history. Like a dog with a bone he piped up, ‘what? Lt? What’s she talking about?’

Ghost remained stoic and silent, regarding you from across the mats. Stifling a giggle you explained that you and Ghost had trained together, worked on a fair few missions together which went exceedingly well. But you were the only person currently recruited that was able to put Ghost on his ass, in front of everyone. ‘Get tae fuck?!’ Soap burst out, ‘Lt? She floored you?’

‘Yeah I did. He looked magnificent underneath me, didn’t you Riley?’ He rolled his eyes and visibly tensed up, feeling sorry for him you sauntered over and punched his bicep. ‘I’m joking Riley. But you need to let it go, I won fair and square.’

Huffing he shook his head ‘it’s good to see you too.’ His shoulders relaxed and he appeared to adjust to your presence once again. ‘Right, Gaz, Raven, you’re up first’ Price ordered. Stepping barefoot onto the mat you and Gaz circled each other like vultures circling prey. Eagerly waiting for someone to make the first move, Gaz lunged forward arm already extended which you grabbed pulled him off balance. Gaz fell to his knees and within seconds you had your knife against his throat. ‘Predictable’ you tutted.

With your knife against his throat you flashed you eyes up to Soaps. He was already staring completely infatuated with what he saw before him. Removing your knife you placed it back in its holster and helped Gaz up. ‘Again’ you commanded. Shaking himself off Gaz once again tried to lunge for you but lower this time, being wary of where his stance was. You dodged and jumped on his back about the pull the knife again, Gaz quickly pulled you over his shoulder before you were able grip his waist with your thighs. Landing with a full thump on the floor Gaz tried to get the upper hand, but being as quick as you were the knife was already back at his jaw. The tip of the knife pressed into the fleshy underside of his chin. ‘Fuck sake’ he sighed.

You patted his cheek grinning at him ‘better, but you need to be quicker.’ Gaz got up before holding out a hand for you which your graciously accepted. Price laughed in the corner knowing exactly what you were like. ‘Soap, next.’

Feeling like a child at Christmas he stepped onto the mat, and flicked a brief glance over at Ghost who rolled his eyes. ‘Ready?’ You asked, tightening your ponytail. He nodded. He flew at you ready to land a punch but you managed to block it and landed a kick into his ribs. He came at you again, calculated punches and impressive footwork. Still managing to block them you threw a foot out to kick him again, but this time he caught it. A huff of surprise left your lips at you twisted your body and threw your other foot into his stomach. This caught him off guard and winded him briefly. Taking this chance you got in close to avoid anymore punches and took out the backs of his knees.

He fell to the floor but managed to grip your waist and threw you under him. Seeing you go for your knife he grabbed your wrists and put them above your head. Nothing you couldn’t get out of, but seeing him squirm was too much fun. ‘Ooo down boy’ you smirked ‘isn’t this position reserved for the bedroom?’ He visibly stiffened, not quite sure how to take your comment. He slid his knee in between your thighs until it was resting just beneath your cunt. ‘Only if you want it hen’ he hissed back. Ever so subtly you let your hips move a fraction to grind on his thigh letting your eyes flutter shut.

He watched as your chest raised and lowered, lulling him into a trance. Your pulse on your neck clearly evident as it danced along your milky white skin. You bit your lip ‘don’t tempt me with a good time.’ Feeling his grip loosen slightly you pulled your wrists free as you arched your back, pushing your hips up throwing him off balance. As you did this you used your muscular thighs to push him sideways before you straddled his hips. Knife at the ready you pinned one of his muscular arms down over his head and traced your knife along his neck. You could feel how hard he was getting against you. Leaning into his ear you nipped at the lobe and whispered ‘you look so good underneath me Johnny.’

Sitting up you rolled off him completely brushing off what you’d just said him. ‘That was good Soap, again? Don’t lose focus.’ You barked. Soap got to his feet trying desperately to hide the semi now adorning his gym shorts. Luckily they were baggy enough to hide how much he wanted you. You began circling each other, a shit eating grin all over your face. Soap this time went for the element of surprise, he rugby tackled you to the floor. Causing you to drop the knife and land on your side. Before you could counter attack him he was on you, pushing you in the the floor in a prone position. He held your wrists behind your back and this time held your knife to your neck.

‘Fuckin’ naughty you are’ he muttered under his breath. Using your nails you pinched his skin causing him to flinch loosening his grip. With your arms now free you grabbed his Mohawk and pulled him closer to your face ‘yeah? What are you gonna do about it?’ He let out a whimper in your ear, you were teasing him. Your breathless question had him conjuring up imagines in his head of bending you over a desk and fucking you from behind. Winding his hand in your long black ponytail as he thrust deeply into your wet cunt. Feeling his erection growing further as he pressed against you, you moaned his name. It was barely above a whisper but it was enough for him to completely forget what he was doing.

Throwing an elbow into his ribs he fell to the side, once again you managed to get your knife and hold it to his throat. ‘Mmm good boy’ you drawled. He couldn’t take any more, he looked around questioning if anyone else was hearing this? Evidently they weren’t. Price was muttering to Ghost about the up coming mission while watching you both. Gaz was rubbing his chin where the knife tip had prodded him. You were in your own bubble on the mat.

Running your tongue along your teeth you smiled, a filthy, come fuck me smile. He stared up at your bluey green eyes, which contrasted perfectly against your porcelain complexion and black hair. His mouth fell open, laboured breaths escaped him as he tried to ground himself from what ever spell you’d cast on him. ‘Fuckin hell’ he muttered to himself as you climbed off and got to your feet. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched your hips swing as you walked over to Price.

‘This was fun. I’ll spare you the embarrassment Riley, same time tomorrow?’ you laughed.

#call of duty #cod mw22 #fan fic smut #john soap mactavish #john mctavish #tension #soap x oc #McTavish x oc #Soap x female oc #johnny mctavish #soap smut #soap mctavish

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wishfulwithwine · 2 years

Text

Ghost Rider - Chapter Two

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x pilot female reader

Summary:

You lived up to your callsign, Ghost. You hid and then scared the crap out of people in the sky. As an incredibly decorated officer for your age, you were called back to Top Gun for a dangerous mission. Despite your best intentions, the people on this mission - specifically one - would do their best to get you out of hiding, getting you out of your comfort zone of the shadows and into a lively world.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+. INVOLVES EXPLICIT/NSFW CONTENT. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR.

Series Masterlist

Picture from Pinterest

“Why the hell are you doing pushups, Maverick? I thought you got everyone” Hangman asked. The sun was setting and Maverick had just come out to finish his pushups after Rooster had finished his. The group had waited around outside while the last of the group finished out pushups. Phoenix had waited for Rooster, and then the rest of the 10 pilots had waited around discussing today’s flights.

“Not everyone” Maverick gritted out, annoyed. The group raised eyebrows, looking around to see who they missed. Whoever it was wasn’t coming forward. Hondo nodded in agreement, as he counted out the pushups for the captain.

“Everyone’s here. Who are we missing?” Coyote asked.

“Ghost” Maverick replied, and after the initial shock of hearing that callsign, everyone looked a bit confused.

“Lieutenant Ghost? She’s here? Did she get here late?” Hangman asked, surprised. He heard the rumors, as well as most of the group, about the female lieutenant with the callsign Ghost. She was legendary.

Maverick sighed, going through his pushups with some sweat.

“Who was she flying with?” Phoenix asked, as the rest of them had to fly in teams.

“Lieutenant Commander, and no wonder you all can’t beat me. You can’t even see she’s been here the whole time” Maverick said, as he finally finished his pushups and rose to his feet, causing many of the group to look down at their own. Maverick rolled his eyes, annoyed at the group for not being more observant as well as himself for not beating Ghost, subjecting himself to 200 pushups.

Hours Earlier:

In the list of the order of flying, Hondo told you you’d be flying last and surprisingly by yourself. Last place gave you the ability to analyze everyone’s fighting tactic, and being alone, well that’s where you worked best. You were great when you needed a partner, that was for certain. There was no denial of your skills with team members, but you were confused why you weren’t put with another person to dogfight Maverick

This surely wasn’t done by accident, however. Hondo told you your place on the list quietly when no one was nearby, as to not inform the other pilots in the room. This had Admiral Simpson written all over it, and you wanted to know why. As you walked down the halls of Top Gun, by all the photos and awards, you made your way to Cyclone’s desk.

“Admiral Simpson” you stated, standing erect and stiff outside the door of his office. It was open, so you looked at the board behind him when he looked up to you from his paperwork on his desk.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander. Close the door and come sit” Cyclone said, as you obeyed.

“Let me guess, Y/N, you’re wondering why you’re at the end and not flying with anyone?” He asked, and you nodded, daring to sit back a bit in the chair to get more comfortable.

Him calling you by your first name didn’t phase you anymore. The first time he did it, you barely remembered that day. The whole day was a blur, but shaped your life’s perspective indefinitely. After that day, Cyclone took you under his wing - well as much under his wing as he could with his strict personality. Admiral Cyclone was not one for favoritism, but you were different.

“I wanted you to teach this class, but Iceman put a request for Maverick, and he has had many more years of experience. Also, you’re around the same age as the lieutenants out there, and everyone decided it was best for him to teach” Cyclone said, looking out the window, and you nodded, understanding. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew better than to interrupt him.

“A few of the admirals and I will be watching how you square up individually against him. He’s going to need replacing on his usual missions soon. People are fed up with his attitude and absolute disregard for rules. Think of today as a test. You do well against him, there will be a lot more significant opportunities in the future” Cyclone said, turning his gaze towards you.

“Permission to speak, Ghost” Cyclone said, seeing the look in your eyes.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” You countered. Cyclone smirked, but nodded.

“You want me to be the next Maverick?” You asked, hoping you were understanding clearly.

“I know you can do it. You’ve got the flying skill, but you’re calculated. You take risks, but nothing incredibly ridiculous like the shit he pushes. He takes risks, and then pushes. You push just the right amount, and you make sure to get the data to back it up. You don’t do anything blatantly disrespectful. Today’s just going to be one test out of probably many in the future, but I figured since you both were here, let’s show people what you can do. You’re on a lot of higher up’s radars, Y/N” Cyclone stated. You smiled softly.

“Alright then, I need to go watch him fly. Thank you for this opportunity, Admiral” you said, and he gave you a smile, before focusing back on his paperwork.

Sneaking into the large watch room, there was already commotion, everyone focused on those flying. Luckily for you, it seemed that they were just getting started, as you took a seat in the furthest corner of the room with a good view of the windows as well as adequate hearing of the coms.

Watching someone fly was like staring straight into a mirror of the person’s personality. The way they glided, how they interacted with their fellow pilots, the attack and defensive measures used all were drawn from the personality of the pilot. Most of the pilot’s actions didn’t surprise me. Hangman left Phoenix and Bob out to dry, but when he got in trouble, tried to call out across the burned bridge. Rooster let his emotions get a hold of him with Maverick, but protected his team when he cared about them.

Why were you thinking it was admirable and attractive that he did that? Why was Rooster on your mind like that? Come on Ghost, get your head in the game.

You could see the frustration growing on every pilot’s face as Maverick beat them all, one by one, most of them twice. The exhaustion from the heat and being in the planes all day, as well as the pushups, was wearing everyone down.

However after the final dogfight battle between Maverick and Rooster - well Hangman was technically there, but the fight was really just between those two - even Maverick was emotional. You tried not to show your smirk, hearing the coms come in. He let Rooster into his head, but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t the last flight of the evening. Maverick couldn’t have known how big this dogfight might cost him.

“One more…. Ghost? By yourself?” Maverick asked, confused. Clearly he didn’t spend enough time looking over the list of dogfights that Hondo had passed him. He had heard of Ghost, clearly, but this was suspicious.

“Yes sir” You said, flying.

You knew he liked to lay low, then pull up and surprise attack. He’d done that on most of the dogfights today, so you planned accordingly. His emotions were off, so luckily for you, he fell into his usual attack strategy. You wouldn’t fall victim, unfortunately for him. You were smarter than that.

“Where are you, Ghost? Am I going to have to chase you out of hiding?” He asked, searching for you.

He was surprised, and impressed, that you had hidden from him. None of the other pilots had been this good, or maybe he was off his game due to the last dogfight with Rooster.

There was silence on the other side. He raised an eyebrow, although he knew you couldn’t see it, as Maverick flew around, sweeping his eyes over the terrain and sky for you.

Then, suddenly, your plane zoomed up past him, startling him, and then did a 360 loop around to fall behind him. He flew to the side , trying to get you in your loop, but you were able to still get tone on him, despite being mid- loop and upside down.

“You’re dead, Maverick” He heard on the coms, recognizing Warlock’s voice. Why was Warlock listening to this dogfight? Was Cyclone there too now? To his knowledge, they weren’t planning to be there for any of the lesson today and he hadn’t heard them before. This was suspicious.

“Good job Ghost. Really surprised me” Maverick admitted, reminding himself that he was supposed to be teaching these students.

“Thank you, sir” You replied, cordially. Guess you’re not a talker, Maverick thought.

“Wanna go again?” He asked, not yet ready to accept defeat from his supposed student. If he was supposed to be teaching, he needed to learn more. You clearly weren’t giving him much to go on. He started flying quickly to you, on your tail.

“Yes, sir” You said, flying quickly and defensively.

In the watch tower, Cyclone smirked, looking over to Bates who had a similar expression.

“If she survives this mission, she’ll have her pick of assignments” Bates stated, watching your plane soar through the air.

“She deserves it” Cyclone said, in a soft tone as he reminisced about the past.

Maverick could barely stay on your tail, as you made sure to fly just above the hard deck, maneuvering around the mountains and torpedoing your plane around. It wasn’t long before you had gone around a large mountain, and out of his range of site pulled up steeply at a sharp incline. Since he couldn’t see you past the mountain, Maverick assumed you went in a certain direction straight. When you watched him follow the straight path and had gone enough distance ahead, you dove down, doing a one 180 turn down and pulled behind him. It was a twist on the usual break and pass maneuver.

“Shit!” He cursed, when he saw you behind him, coming down from your up-down maneuver, and get on his tail. He did his best to shake you, but he still heard the tone.

There was no commentary this time from the coms, and still nothing from you.

You were a different kind of pilot, Maverick thought as he reviewed in his head what just happened. Silent but deadly. Ghost is a great callsign for you.

As you two landed, you saw Hondo waiting for Maverick, as well as some of the other pilots walking around. Before Maverick had even a chance to talk to you, you got your gear, and walked quickly inside.

When you got back to your living quarters, you were thrilled to wash away today’s grime and sweat from being in the plane under that hot sun. You were lucky to not have done pushups like everyone else or stayed in the plane all day like Maverick, but you were still pretty gross. Every time you went to the communal bathrooms, you had managed to avoid the other pilots.

You put on some civilian clothes, a pair of ripped denim shorts, a plain tshirt, flip flops and your black leather jacket, and went out to get some dinner at the Hard Deck. After a long day, you expected at least some of your fellow pilots to be there and by now, after seeing Maverick do pushups, they were probably going to be on the lookout for you. You rolled your eyes, as you got an uber to the bar.

It was just as you predicted, with a few people you recognized from class drinking their pain and playing some pool. As soon as you walked through the door, you felt eyes on you, but you purposefully didn’t look around the bar for them as you sat down in an empty booth. You decided to not bring them to you, they’d come if they figured it out, and got a whiskey - to celebrate your successful “test” - and a burger. You didn’t see Penny around, just some other waitresses, which by knowing Penny, she’d be out on the boat. You could still feel the stares on you, but you wouldn’t engage unless they did, and decided to do some mindless scrolling on your phone.

Hangman was on an intense lookout for this mysterious Ghost. So was the rest of the group, but Hangman was analyzing every person who came through the door. After hearing how Ghost beat Maverick, he looked through all the class photos of Top Gun to find her.

“Think I found her. 9 o’clock. Leather jack babe with long legs” Hangman said, looking over in your direction, letting out a low whistle. The group - Bob, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, Phoenix and Rooster - looked over to you, seeing as you sat down in a booth and ordered, before going to check something on your phone.

“She’s gorgeous. How didn’t we see her in class?” Phoenix asked, as everyone all but checked you out.

“Just like how you didn’t see me with you guys when we were here the first night” Bob said, shrugging his shoulders.

Rooster stared, trailing his eyes up and down your body, taking in your long tanned legs, y/h/c hair, and gorgeous face. There was something about you that enticed him but also kept him frozen in place. You were naturally gorgeous, an effortless beautiful that he couldn’t take his eyes away from you.

Unfortunately for you, Hangman had decided he had enough analyzing you from afar, so he strolled over, which inevitably brought everyone else along. Hangman’s cocky strut he did as he walked over made Rooster roll his eyes.

“Ghost! Congratulations on the only one beating Maverick. How’d you do it? Why were you slated to go alone?” Hangman asked, inquisitively, as he sat down directly in front of you in the booth. You could tell you had really ruffled his “feathers”. You looked up slowly, raising an eyebrow at him before looking at the rest of the group. They all were waiting for an answer as they all began to settle into the booth. Rooster sat down next to you, while Hangman and Phoenix sat across, with the rest pulled up chairs. You looked back to Hangman, eyebrow still raised with a face that told everyone you were already pretty bored of him.

“Hangman, is it? The only thing you need to beat is your ego, don’t worry about Maverick” You stated, as the rest of the group laughed loudly, especially Bradley. He was in over his head, Rooster thought thinking about you. Beauty and brains, lord help me.

“For why I was alone, ask Simpson and Bates” You added with a shrug, pretending you didn’t know anything else, before the waitress set down your whiskey.

“You must’ve just had a lucky shot” Hangman said, trying to get himself hyped back up. The fact this girl beat him - and everyone else - didn’t sit right with him, especially if he was going to get the position of team leader. He wasn’t the best, and he was annoyed.

“Lightning doesn’t strike twice” You said, taking a large sip of whiskey, watching their expressions as they realized what you were saying.

“You killed him twice?” Coyote asked, all but trying to hold his jaw up.

You could feel Rooster’s direct stare at your face, heating you up but you held your facade while looking to the rest of the group besides him. You nodded, still sipping on the whiskey.

“He wanted a rematch” You replied shrugging your shoulders. Now, Phoenix had broken out of her shock and smirked. Rooster made you look at him then, raising his bottle to your whiskey glass.

“Thank you” He said softly with a smirk on his face, as if just for you to hear, as you clinked glasses. You gave him a soft smile, and you could’ve sworn you saw something flash across his eyes.

“I think I like you” Phoenix said, raising her beer bottle to cheers you, as the rest of the group, even Hangman, clinked your whiskey glass. The waitress then put my burger down, and everyone else - upon seeing your food - started ordering from the waitress.

“So is it true you’re an Ace?” Hangman asked, clearly trying to get more information from you.

“She clearly has her mouth full, Hangman, or did your parents raise you without manners?” Rooster shot at Hangman. Hangman rolled his eyes, but you gave Rooster a gracious smile before nodding at Hangman.

“Do you need a ride back?” Rooster asked, as you both waited to pay your tabs. It didn’t take long after everyone had finished their meal before everyone started to head home. Everyone else had left as you two were waiting while the waitress finished up some other people’s tabs.

“That would be nice, thank you” You replied, smiling. Why were you feeling like some love-sick school girl? This wasn’t typically like you. Blame the whiskey.

“Here, I’ve got it. You beat Maverick twice, made my damn day” Rooster said, quickly handing his card over to the waitress when she came over for your tabs. You raised an eyebrow at him, but not arguing.

“You did the heavy lifting by really throwing him off his game for me” You admitted, not understanding why you were being so kind to him. No feelings, remember? Was it the alcohol? No more whiskey when you’re around Rooster. You didn’t feel too drunk, but maybe it was just enough to weather your facade. Who knows what you’d do with tequila…

Rooster’s eyes flashed something before he smirked at you.

“So, you owe me then, is that right?” He said, a teasing element in his tone. Was his voice lower? Why is it affecting me? You felt heat in your core, with his eyes on you like that, raking over your body.

Do not engage.

You listened to your thoughts, keeping your mouth shut, but you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as you raked your eyes over him while he paid the bill. As soon as he turned back to you, he knew that you had been staring at him, but you didn’t seem ashamed.

“Ready?” He asked, tilting his head to the car. You nodded, following him outside to his Bronco. You couldn’t hold back your smile as you looked over the car, and Rooster looked at you curiously.

“You like?” He asked, testing his theory.

“She’s a beauty, Rooster. Real classic” You said, running your hand along the side before Rooster held open your door to get in. “Thank you”

“Just trying to be a gentleman” He replied, with a smirk and even dared this time to add a wink. You rolled your eyes, but inside you were heating up. You watched as he got in the car and started to drive. His hands, you noticed, were massive, and his thick bicep was almost pushed against you as he leaned his arm on the middle console.

Snap out of it, Ghost.

He could tell you were staring at him, and if he didn’t want to focus on getting you home safely, he would’ve stared right on back. However, Bradley glanced at you, locking your eyes together. There was something there, something electric he was feeling. He watched as you bit your lip, before looking away at him and out the window. Focusing back at the road ahead of him, Rooster shifted in his seat, his pants suddenly becoming tight with the thoughts of you biting his lip.

What the hell is going on with you, man? You seriously just met this girl and she is your competition here.

By the time he pulled up to the housing, there still wasn’t any talk between you two, despite the numerous glances back and forth. You turned your body to face him better.

“Thank you for the ride, Rooster” You said, with a soft smile.

“No problem. Let me get your number so you don’t have to use uber anymore” He said, and you nodded, as he gave you his phone to enter your number in.

“So you’ll be my personal uber?” You teased, before your brain could stop the words from coming out. Your guard was seriously failing around this man.

“I’ll be your ride anytime you need, day or night” He said lowly, leaning over slightly so his lips were right next to your ear, his breath on your neck. You involuntarily shivered, looking up at him from your gaze on the phone, staring directly into his warm brown eyes with pupils that were blown. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat while he gulped, and you were overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne - woodsy with a hint of spice. Perfectly him.

As he put his hand on your thigh, Rooster heard your breath hitch. Those beautiful y/e/c eyes were staring all doe-like at him, and he couldn’t help himself but lean in closer.

“Thank you for the ride” You whispered out, finally snapping out of the spell he seemed to have you under, before moving away and getting out of his car.

You forced yourself not to run back to your housing like a scared chicken, and walked back slowly, looking back to see Rooster watching you.

Giving him a small smile, he smiled back, not a large one but just enough.

He waited till you were safely inside before he left.

What the hell just happened?

taglist:

@studentville-struggles

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@multiplefandommess

@umm-i-love-u

#rooster #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader

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