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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

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No Rest for the Wicked

CW: Vampire whumpee, referenced combat PTSD, some brief suicidal ideation (of the “if I die now, that’s okay” sort) throat torn open, blood loss, a kind of animalization (vampire getting feral for lack of blood), death/murder

For @whumptober 2022, day five: Blood loss

1989, somewhere in London

His wounds weren’t healing.

There wasn’t enough blood to power the cells to reproduce, to push the itch as they closed and rebuilt themselves, covering over hurt as though it had never happened. As if he were still a man living alone in the woods eighty years ago or more.

Instead, the last of the blood he needed to heal was joining the puddle beneath him in a dirty alley behind a restaurant. Fitting, to die in a crowded noisy city when all he’d ever wanted after the war was to be left the fuck alone to die with the sound of the shells burying themselves into the trenches still playing in the back of his mind.

With the sting of of the gas still echoing in his lungs.

With the screams of the other soldiers whispering in his dreams, trying to pull him into the earth with them. Some of them were still there, buried by time in the fields in France where they had fallen. You could still see, they said, the line of the trenches from airplanes, now green with grass... you could follow their winding path and know where you’d find the last remnants of men who had died screaming, crying, calling for their mothers.

Sometimes, in the newspaper, you’d see articles where some farmer accidentally plowed up a handful of bones, an unexploded shell, ammunitions... but not Erich Eeten.

Erich Eeten hadn’t died with his fellow soldiers, but he hadn’t been able to live with himself afterward, either.

The smell of his own blood was thick and rich, sparkling with death. It would not nourish him, it was only his own. No life was left in it. Erich felt it growing stickier with every passing second, seconds he spent gasping for needless air, clawing with frantic panic at the vampire on top of him.

The one whose fangs had ripped him open.

If the people walking by, only a dozen or so feet away, suspected anything, they never turned to look. Erich had learned over the years that cities often had people in them who never looked further than their own destinations. It was safer that way.

He didn’t blame them.

“Bet you regret stealing my kill now,” The vampire who had attacked him hissed against his neck, lapping at what was still coming out. “I’ve been hunting that hot piece of ass all night.” The press of tongue, warm and wet, made Erich shudder, and he shook his head back and forth, pushing at the vampire’s chest, over her collarbone, but he had no strength.

Nothing left.

The world was dim around its edges, going dark.

“Poor baby,” The vampire cooed, running her fingers back through his thick dark hair, speckled with hints of gray that had never grown in any further, frozen in time. “It’ll be a hard true death, you know. A rough one. It’s going to hurt.” She breathed the last words, and pressed a kiss to his lips, where blood was bubbling up, running out of him everywhere it could find an escape. Her lips were warm from feeding.

His were ice-cold, as he faded away.

“But that’s what you get for muscling in on my kill. I hope it’s agony, as you go. I hope you meet your true death weeping.” She pulled back, smiling at him, her eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “I hope you burn in hell. I’ll never see it.”

Erich coughed up a little more blood in reply, making her flinch backwards as some of it got in her eye and she had to wipe at it, hissing with irritation.

She stood up, dusting her hands off, and he turned his head, blearily watching her as she began to walk away on heavy platform heels. “Hey,” He croaked, one hand out, scraping at the pavement and broken rock beneath him, rolling with effort onto his stomach. “Listen.”

She paused, without looking back. She wore a heavy leather jacket, black jeans, her hair was dyed darker than the night sky. A nose ring glinted. “What?”

“It’s… n-not agony,” Erich managed, and now she did look at him, over one shoulder, eyebrows raising. “There’s... waiting for us, there’s... something. Better.” He watched her put her hands into her pockets, pull out a lighter and light a cigarette with shaking hands. “It’s… it’s going to be… good. After.”

He shifted onto his side, coughing hard to try and get the last of it out of his throat. Everything was copper and darkness, and the world was fading. He would die here, in a back alley in London, far from the battlefields that still haunted his dreams.

He hadn’t died with a gas mask strapped on making him blind and breathless as his lungs burned.

He hadn’t died in the woods in his bed, another long casualty of a war that went uncounted because he’d waited until the war was over to be lost.

But… here, it would end.

It was as good a place as any.

Better than some.

“You think there’s a heaven?” She asked, hesitating, taking a drag off her cigarette and blowing smoke into the air. “Even for us?”

“I think… I was s-supposed to find out a long… time ago. I’ll… I’ll tell the bastards you s-said hi if I make it.”

She snorted. “I just killed you. You’re oddly cheery about it.”

“Guess… I am. Can’t blame you. Shit move, for me t’steal a kill, right?”

He laughed, but all that did was make him cough up more, and when it bubbled too thickly in his throat to breathe, she left. He listened to her heels click on the ground until they faded to silence. Until even the shouted conversations of the people on the street had gone dim, muffled. He wondered what it was like to die with no heartbeat.

He was about to find out.

Erich’s eyes closed, finally. He hoped only for peace.

When a wrist was pressed to his mouth, warm and living, he groaned and tried to turn his head away. No, no, let me die, let me join them in the fields, let me fall into the trenches where I was supposed to rest-

“Drink, liebling, now,” Auri commanded, and Erich’s mouth opened against his will, took in the hot rush of fresh living blood. He bit down hard, then, gnawing into the skin and listening to a weak cry of pain. The pulse of the wrist’s owner was rapid, fluttering in fear, and his hands came up, smearing his own drying blood over her as he pulled her close, her body hot like a brand against his. He swallowed, and felt some of it run out of the wound in his throat even as the telltale itch began.

The girl was weeping, whoever it was he was killing. He couldn’t care any longer. Now that the hot blood of life was in his mouth, he barely heard her and with a mind gone mad with thirst, he no longer cared. He drank, took in swallow after swallow of salt-sweet copper, and after a moment felt a shift of weight and knew Auri was there, too, holding her down on top of him.

“Good, liebling, there we go... there we go, my love,” Auri said, and Erich’s eyes opened, taking in their pale face behind the victim’s shoulder, smiling at him with sparkling eyes before they turned and buried their fangs in her neck. She threw her head back and cried out, and there was something obscene about this - Erich on his back with a woman’s hips pressed to his, Auri behind her and pressed to her, how the three of them moved together in a harmony wracked with the poor thing’s pain.

Erich felt his wound healing, and he couldn’t think well enough to remember that he had wanted, before, to die.

Auri drank their fill and left him to take the rest, not moving away but resting their head on the girl’s shoulder and holding her still as she thrashed and struggled, desperate to escape. “Kill her,” Auri whispered. “Drain her dry, liebling.”

Erich was with his packleader.

He had to obey.

He felt every hint of life and breath leave the victim’s body until she was limp, until her heart slowed and finally… stopped.

Only then did he realize what he’d done.

He jerked backwards, his head smacking into the ground beneath him, and Auri pushed themself up, tossing the dead body of the victim carelessly aside. “Feel better?” They asked, hands on their narrow, angular hips. They wore acid-wash jeans and a torn black tank top. They’d been in a club or something while Erich went to hunt alone.

“No,” Erich ground out, voice still rough, as he rolled onto all fours and then slowly pushed himself up. His head swam with blood, soaking in it like a man diving into a pool. His chilled fingertips were warming, his face flushing with it. “I was going to die. I wanted to be done with you!”

“But I don’t want you to be done with me. So you won’t. Sorry I was late. I was… busy.”

“Feeding?”

Auri shot him a dazzling smile, and he hated and loved it in equal measures. “No. Well, not the way you’re thinking. Come on. You need to rest somewhere safe.” They held up a key ring, jangling it. “My little friend there-” They gestured at the dead body. “-told me her parents rent her a flat, no roommates. We have a day or so before anyone notices she’s not where she should be. Let’s go get some sleep, hm? Then we have a plane to catch.”

“No,” Erich said, but he knew it was pointless.

“Yes,” Auri replied. “Now. Come, my child.”

They turned and walked out of the alley into the din of the city.

Erich felt the pull of their command, and he set his jaw in a miserable line and followed.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @wildfaewhump

@whumpworld for Whumptober taglist

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heckitall · 9 months

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One | Two | Three

you ever need someone outside your family

to make you have the hard conversations

whether you want it or not

cuz same

also! warm water/ice/smelling something strong (like lemons!) can help ground people who are having a panic/flashback

i swear by the warm mug of water

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rise leonardo #flashbacks and veterans #tw low self esteem #tw panic attack #tw flashbacks #the stranger has been revealed!#its an axolotl!#also this is where i start talking about myself #fun fact: i have combat ptsd #okay not actually a fun fact #but we are a few weeks away from the event that started this all for me #i relate a lot to leo in the movie that made it hit a little too close to home #i was a newly made leader and given a small team of 7 #and sent into a situation that was lose/lose but we didnt know that #i didn't know that #i made a lot of really dumb decisions and #it was not okay #all 8 of us came home which is the lowest bar possible #im the only one that ended up any kind of injured so i take that as a win but also not great #anyway #not to bring some serious undertones to all of this #but this was SUPER theraputic for me #also why i will probably never write/draw a bad!future au #too real for me #even the scene of them shooting the technodrome was hard and its cartoon violence ugh #heck draws

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tricornonthecob · 9 months

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"What's going on?"

"Didn't you hear? Braithwaite challenged Major Phillips of all people to swords at dawn."

"That ought to be good."

----

Major Phillips stands in the clearing just outside camp, waiting, wondering why the beautiful country he's in has to be blighted with his regiment of jackasses, when the senseless death will end, if he'll ever get the smell of saltpeter out of his nose, if his ears will ever stop ringing, if he can ever be anything other than a soldier.

Maybe he'll be court-martialed for this asinine duel and get away from it all. Probably best not get hopes up. After all, his ears haven't stopped ringing.

...

Little Sarah is growing tall, he's given to understand. Lady Phillips writes that she's learning French.

He's killed men with French in their mouths. He hears them as he wakes. Men who tried to run him through with bayonets fixed, or bury a musketball in his lungs, who were determined to make his wife a widow and leave his only child without a father.

To be fair, he did the same to them.

If he ever comes home, will he be greeted with French? Surely there's a word that describes that kind of irony.

A breeze snakes its way through the Ohio oaks, their ochre leaves crisp against the sky, their scent a spicy malt. The Major sighs and tastes the air and, for a moment, thinks of nothing.

#liberty's kids #my art #Major phillips #oops I got a little angsty there #tw: mention of combat violence and ptsd

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faofinn · 2 years

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No. 9 CRUTCHES (Alt. 13)

@whumptober

@whumptober-archive

Fred was in his study, trying his best to make use of the peace and quiet of the boys' lie-in. It meant neither were up to mischief either, which was a godsend. With Fao returning to live with them post Afghan, things had finally started to settle back down. Finn’s seizures had begun to decrease again, now that Fao was home and slightly more on the straight and narrow.

The silence didn't last forever, and as much as he didn't want to leave his work, the clatter from upstairs couldn't be ignored.

Fao rarely slept well, and especially not since his accident. He managed a few fitful hours, and then tossed and turned after that. He’d maybe managed to doze a little more, until the pain woke him properly, and he finally dragged himself out of bed. He reached for his crutches, and managed to knock them over as he did. Fuck’s sake, the stupid things never stayed upright. He wasn’t supposed to bend, but he did anyway, and managed to get them up off of the floor.

With that challenge completed, he then had to get to his feet. He just about managed that too, with a groan, and awkwardly pulled on a hoodie before he made his way downstairs the best he could. It was slow going, and that’s what endlessly frustrated him. Things that used to take a minute took five. He headed straight to the kitchen, hoping Fred was busy, and made himself a coffee, leaning against the counter so he could free up his hands.

With that done, he left one crutch leaning up against the counter, opting just to use one to hold his mug with the other hand. He could just about maintain his restricted weightbearing with one crutch, although he wasn’t supposed to.

He stopped by the back door, withdrew a cigarette from the pack Fred hid there, pocketed the lighter next to it, and held the cigarette between his teeth as he negotiated his way out of the door and down the step. The garden wall wasn’t too low, and he sat there whilst he lit his cigarette.

Fred hadn't heard anyone shouting after the noise, so he figured he could just finish his sentence. The back door shutting made him jump, and he swore. The two minutes to finish the sentence had almost been a half hour.

He headed out, his assumption it was Fao confirmed by the abandoned crutch. He couldn’t count the amount of times he'd been told to not do that, or the amount of times they'd been ignored.

Picking up the crutch, he pushed the door open. "Forgetting something?"

Fao looked up a little guiltily. “Nope. Needed a hand for my coffee.” He said, gesturing to the mug with his cigarette.

"You know you're not supposed to." He said, sitting by him. "I don't want you getting hurt again."

“What am I supposed to do, though? I can’t smoke in the house, and I can’t magically carry a mug without any hands.”

"You can ask for help."

“Yeah, because you’ve got nothing better to do with your time than carry a mug for me.”

"Fao, all the people I'm writing about are dead. They can wait another five minutes."

Fao couldn’t help but snort. “Even so, though. It’s still your work.”

"I'm on leave, it's not like I'm expected to do anything."

“I want to be independent, though.” He said, tapping the ash from his cigarette.

"You don't want to be back in hospital."

“No, I don’t, but I’m careful. All I want to do is enjoy my coffee and cigarette like normal.”

"Unfortunately, things aren't normal. You need to ask for help."

Fao reached for his coffee. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

"You're asking for trouble if you keep doing this."

Frustrated, he clenched his jaw. It sent a jolt of pain both across his jaw and into his temple and he groaned. Why did everything have to hurt all the time? “I’m depressed, and so they tell me to do things I enjoy, and yet I can’t even sit and have a smoke and a coffee in peace.”

"And they tell you to be sensible and ask for help, take things one day at a time and build your strength back up. You'll get there, but you need to listen to us, not just pick pieces of the conversation to try and use against us."

He sighed. “At least you’ve not told me off for the fucking cigarette, I suppose.” He grumbled, knowing full well he didn’t have an argument for everything else.

"Yeah, because I'm not an arsehole, Fao." He said softly. "Do you remember what I said to you the first day you came to stay with us?"

He hummed. “Don’t let Sheila catch me?”

Fred laughed. "That as well. But, no. That we're in your corner. We're always gonna be here for you, but the way you're going? There's gonna be nobody left for us to be there for."

Fao cradled his mug with both hands, staring down into his coffee. His hair fell into his face where it was getting too long, and he didn’t speak. He didn’t trust his voice.

"You know that though, don't you? That we love you?"

He hummed. “I love you too.”

"Good." Fred smiled. "Right. Breakfast. What are you fancying?"

“None of it was ever because I didn’t love you.” Fao said softly, though he still didn’t look up. “Have whatever you want. I’m not hungry.”

"I know it wasn't. I just know how easy it can be to forget it, when everything is on top of you."

He scoffed. “One way of putting it.”

"I don't know what you're going through, and I don't pretend to. But what I do know is that you're going to get through this. It'll get easier, with time, but you're gonna have to try. And that includes listening to us."

“I’m trying. I swear, I am.”

"I know you are. And I'm proud of you."

“You shouldn’t be proud.”

"You're still here. That's more than enough to be proud of."

“Is it?” Fao asked, finally looking at Fred.

"It is."

“I don’t exactly control it.”

"You control your actions."

“And look where that got me. I’m only alive because of Harrison.”

"I don't mean that, Fao."

“And then I tried to undo all of his hard work, like a cunt.”

"And you've been working so hard to keep going, despite everything." He corrected.

“Sure.”

"I'm serious."

“So am I.”

"You need to listen to us."

Fao took a drag of his cigarette. “How did a lecture on using both of my crutches turn into a discussion about my depression?” He asked, his voice lighter than it had been.

"Give me five minutes and I can change it again."

He smiled. “Is Finn still asleep?”

"Finn? Awake before noon?"

“You never know.”

"I haven't heard him."

“That’s good. He needs the rest.”

"What would you say to him if he refused to take all of his meds?"

“I take all of mine.” Fao shot back.

"And then you walk around with one crutch."

“Carefully. It wasn’t far.”

"You still walked."

“I kept the weight off it.”

"It's hard to do that when you're not doing it properly."

“It’s not so bad.”

"I know, but you're still missing the point."

“I’ll be more careful in future.”

"Will you?"

“For the most part.”

Fred laughed. "I guess that's as good as I'll get."

“Can’t promise all the time. I was stupid enough to spend my whole career getting shot at, after all.”

"That's true."

“Could’ve picked a nice, safe hospital. Decided I preferred the idea of Afghanistan.”

"Of course you did."

“Why would I go for the easy option?”

"You never have, no point starting now."

“Hug?” He asked softly.

"Yeah, come here." He murmured, wrapping his arm around Fao.

Fao leaned into him with a sigh. “Sorry I’m such a pain.”

"You're not, far from it."

He hummed. “Thank you, though. For everything.”

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 12 days

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I just got out of my psychology class and I kept having thoughts about Leon and how his mind works. Here’s a psychoanalysis on Leon bc I truly do like how his brain works:

TW: mentions of mental illnesses, substances, substance abuse, suicide. (Guys- I am not a medical psychologist or a medical psychiatrist. This is strictly based on my psychology class, take this with a grain of salt.)

Leon suffers from Combat and Violence Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This type of PTSD (because there’s subcategories) is most often common in veterans and in men.

More often than not, one can tell when someone’s suffering PTSD (flat voice, substance abuse, inability to sleep, change in personality, etc.)

Leon in RE2/RE2R didn’t necessarily show signs of PTSD until after the events took place. Leon was too busy trying to survive that his brain shut off the emotions he was feeling “in the heat of the moment.” He was scared but it was his survival instinct that allowed him (or the player) to move forward. Hence why I think he also suffered from Depression and Acute Stress Disorder (ASD).

ASD is commonly found in patients with PTSD, ASD is kind of like the first stage after a traumatic event took place. PTSD victims often find themselves having frequent panic attacks. I think it would be safe to assume that Leon in RE2/RE2R had several panic attacks during or after Raccoon City. I don’t think he’d go to therapy/psychiatrist/psychologist because in RE4R he stated that he immediately got called to the White House after he survived RC. And this is where I think it got worse.

RE4 and RE4R both portray very distinct Leon characters. One is more “fine” than the other in short words. Leon in RE4og doesn’t necessarily show signs of having mental issues but maybe he’s just good at masking them. Leon in RE4og often finds himself being very witty or very lean back. He’s less serious but I think it’s a coping mechanism. Up to that point in his life, he’s been in very serious situations that I think this is his way of gaining some of that control he lost when the virus first started. His brain is fighting battles of being in control or letting others control him. In this case- the situation is controlling him. He wants to have that sense of individuality and most of the time this is a coping mechanism. To gain back some of the things he’s lost in the process.

In RE4R, however (and I’m going to be very bold with this one), we don’t know much about how he feels. He is flat and his demeanor is distant to an extent. I’ve noticed a few changes to him from when he first started the game to where the player made it halfway. In the beginning of the game (when he’s with the two Spanish cops) he’s similar to RE4og- sarcastic and a little unserious. Which can be guessed as his normal personality. He doesn’t really show how much he’s actually been through with those two strangers. He’s got better things to worry about- he neglects his own issues. When he tries to find Ashley and he sees the zombies again- his PTSD gets triggered and it makes him be able to pull the trigger (aside from the player lol) There are few types of reactions when PTSD gets triggered and I think Leon’s reaction is a bit depressing.

When Leon sees these zombies again, his brain automatically jumps back to the memories of Raccoon City and almost immediately finds himself back in his former self’s shoes. But he doesn’t have time to linger, he forces those thoughts away and keeps going. I don’t think he wants to have time to think about what just happened because he’s often trying to keep his brain occupied “sorry, must’ve slipped” or any other phrase he says makes me believe that he’s just trying to make himself laugh (because believe it or not, laughter really does help with mental issues) or he’s trying to make the situation seem lighter. Or maybe he’s in denial, his brain hasn’t processed that the same thing that happened in RC is happening all over again. And when you’re in denial, you are repressed. Sigmund Freud said that repression is when someone turns something (trauma, thoughts, events, feelings) away. They deliberately choose to cast their thoughts and feelings aside. Leon bottles his emotions, it’s his defense mechanism. He doesn’t smoke (as mentioned in the game) nor does he drink (there’s a Reddit post that perfectly summed it up for me) He knows substances aren’t good for you and the fact that he’s against them makes me believe that he has other ways of dealing with PTSD such as exercise. I’m not saying this just because Leon looks very built, I want to think that maybe half the reason he works out isn’t just for his job. I think it also because it helps him mentally.

Mobility, sleep, and nutrition are the most important things to keep yourself mentally and physically healthy.

I’ll get on to RE6 because in that game, he pulled a 180 imo. RE6 Leon is more empathetic. He cares about the people that could’ve survived. He suffers from survivor’s guilt. After RE4/RE4R, Leon probably became more aware of his struggles and has tried to deal with them. He’s become more human, he’s allowed himself to feel human. He’s still the same serious guy with the flat effect but he’s becoming more open about his thoughts and feelings. I think the game is trying to hint at us that MAYBE he’s getting better. (Guys this is a stretch okay. RE6 is lowkey messy)

Now on to the films (I’ve done the liberty of researching a ‘order’ of when these may have taken place and not by the release date order so you guys won’t get confused):

ID Leon: He’s very compassionate in this one. He has a sense of self righteousness but I know why. He wants to make up for the losses of the people he’s seen die. He wants to fight against the corporation and wants to end the spread (submarine scene when he talks about RC) He wants to make up for what he couldn’t save. (Hence why he didn’t give Claire the chip- he wanted to protect her because he cares for her)

Degeneration Leon: Protection can only go a long way. Leon is more… assertive in his objectives, if you will. He’s back in his RE4 days in other words (any of the two games tbh, this Leon is complex) Leon wants to keep fighting for his cause. Not only is he forced to be a soldier for the government but he also has found a drive. All his pent up PTSD and trauma has shifted into something else. If no one could’ve been the hero then HE’LL be the hero himself, does that make sense?

Damnation Leon: Haha Russia go brr (sorry) Again, he’s become more chill. When he’s with JD, he’s funny but still cautious (bc let’s be honest, JD could’ve still shot his ass) nothing much to comment, I think he’s been consistent since Degeneration.

Vendetta Leon: NOW WE GETTING JUICY. This man- this Leon is the epitome of what a relapse does to you. Leon is seen drinking away his problems. He’s relapsed back into the mentality where his brain is finally processing everything. He’s even tried to attempt suicide- that’s how bad he got. His PTSD, his ASD, depression (bc you can’t tell me he didn’t have depression) it all came back to him and it made him feel shitty. He lost his power over himself, he no longer feels useful. He feels empty and broken. That’s sh he drowns himself in his own sorrows. Because he’s learned that if you drink until you pass out, you don’t dream. He doesn’t sleep- no. He’d rather black out because when you’re in an unconscious state, you don’t dream at all. You’re simply just lying there on the floor with your eyes closed. And that’s the feeling Leon wants to feel. He wants to forget everything for one minute and just calm down. And alcohol does that to you, that’s why people with PTSD become addicted to substances.

DI Leon: homeboy somehow got better (I’ve yet to watch DI lol) but from what I’ve seen, he’s definitely back to his “normal” self. He probably learned that maybe living life is the best thing. That if his attempt would’ve succeeded, then he wouldn’t have been able to live to his fullest. Regret makes people do a lot of things and I think Leon matured and learned.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #di leon #re2 leon #re4 leon #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy angst #resident evil 4 #re4r leon #re2r leon #resident evil angst #re4 remake #re2 remake

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sanguinedipity · 11 months

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Somethings You Just Can’t Speak About.

simon “ghost” riley x reader

angst

wc: 1.2k

simon watches you slip slowly through his fingers knowing there’s nothing he can do about it.

TW: depiction of PTSD, violence and depictions of the military.

He’d known you were crashing and burning for a while now. There was once a cloudy sort of content look in your eyes that he had admired, the illusion of you being in one piece maybe, and he couldn’t seem to recall the exact moment it had been replaced with cold, grey stone. A wall you’d put in between yourself and what you did - and it probably helped for a while, to hide behind it and convince yourself you were doing the right thing. What was best for everyone else so the people in their homes, washing their dishes and working their 9-5s, didn’t have to see what you saw. The life draining out of eyes and the blood staining concrete. But a killer on a mission is a killer all the same; you’d ran out of justification for your actions. He wishes he could say he’d been concerned seen the changes in you but really he’d praised you for it. you’d become so much more obedient, so quiet. Your voice no longer filled the team’s communication channels, or the mess hall, or the briefing tent because you were somewhere else entirely, on some other plane of existence where he couldn’t reach you.

Simon only really began to notice the signs on your second to last mission together, he didn’t know that at the time and if he did he would never have let you step onto that aircraft. It was a routine stealth operation, no altercations, just smoothly in and out, but of course it would be too much to ask for a mission to go to plan. The village you were making your way through had been invaded by foot soldiers for an underground crime ring that the 141 had been tasked with gathering intel about. The organisation’s core members had recently abandoned their headquarters; a house at the heart of the completely remote village which was your team’s point of contact. Make it to that house, source the information needed, and escape, that was the plan. However, on the route to the house that you were walking with Ghost, the streets were littered with bodies from the gang’s invasion. Whole families had been forced from their homes and slaughtered on their doorsteps. This was your first shift in character he had witnessed, it was small but usually you’d utter an apology to the people who had died for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Instead, you disregarded them and you stepped over each body calculatedly like you were on autopilot. He wishes he had stopped you on the side of that road and shaken the life back into you but he was a creature of habit. The worst habit being that he never got too close, so he doesn’t have to feel weak and dependent. Feeling weak would be so much better than whatever he feels right now. The mix of regret and guilt and loss enveloped his chest and suffocated any hope he had left.

Suddenly, muffled voices were heard from inside one of the now ransacked houses. There were two men that were clearly gang-members and two other voices that belonged to civilians sobbing and screaming. You didn’t react, there was no suggestion that you’d even heard the voices over whatever was happening inside your head but you approached the house anyway. Into the doorway and through the living room until you were standing in a small kitchen where the voices were coming from. A mother and daughter cower on the tiled floor looking up at the two gang-members until a shot from Ghost’s gun wiped out one and your knife plunged into the other. You’d never usually use your combat knife. It was something Ghost used to muse about as the blade in your holster was spotless and without a scratch. At least it was. Watching the now dull and stained edge sink into the man’s neck made Ghost’s hair stand on end. Something had gone seriously wrong. Mind-breakingly wrong. He swore it had been only a few weeks since he had last saw it gleaming at him from your utility vest. This is when the dread set in. One of his teammates had slipped completely under his radar and into some inescapable darkness, he was responsible for you, how did he let this happen? You had already gotten up and began to usher the civilians upstairs and asked them to remain silent until help arrived.

“Good work Lieutenant.” was all he said to you and you didn’t say anything back, just gave a curt nod before exiting the house and continuing on your route. He would try to talk to you the rest of the way there but his fears had already been established. There was no saving a soldier lost to their own mind. He could only imagine what was playing over and over again behind your eyes and what was haunting your dreams as you tried to sleep that night. On your next mission everything unraveled which caused lead to your discharge, your entire team had watched something snap in you as you took down your target, unsheathing your knife and buried it in his chest again and again and again and again. You had to be dragged off of his long-cold body, kicking and screaming face drenched in his blood. He’d heard all of the wild stories about the incident; that you were possessed, were a secret serial killer, sleeper agent or a secret russian spy. He’d grown so tired of closing down every conversation that surrounded these theories and he could only imagine what it was like for you. To have so many witnesses as you broke down and not even be present yourself. You’d never be able to tell him what had happened, what had flipped some invisible switch inside you and turned you into a hollow shell. And he was the only one who seemed to remember the real you, the one that had joined the special operations unit after only 5 years of service because of your talent and drive, the you that would do anything to save a life but couldn’t forgive yourself for the ones you had to take, the you that had given her entire life to this job to be part of something bigger than yourself only to be thrown away at a moment’s notice and have your good name tarnished by locker room talk and conspiracy. It still makes guilt creep up his spine to this day, all of his repentance manifests in his dreams as he watches the inky black void swallow you whole or when he’s walking down the street sometimes he swears he saw your reflection in a shop’s window or heard your laugh from around a corner. But you’re long gone. When something dies, that’s it, it’s dead. You’ve got to let it be. He needs to let you be.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #angst #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader angst

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cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

Protective of One Another

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The Saviors war ended, and everyone has been doing their part to rebuild the communities. A project being the bridge. You have been assigned to watch those building the bridge and help where you can. You just didn’t expect to end up in the infirmary • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Anxiety / PTSD

Requested by: Anon

“Hey, you coming to work on the bridge?” Aaron asks Daryl who was preoccupied with sharpening his knife.

“Nah. Why?”

“Eh just thought I’d ask…” Aaron started to walk away from the tent the archer was currently occupying. “Y/N will be there”

Aaron now with a satisfied smile on his face worked beside Daryl who was hammering away at a panel they just placed while Y/N walked past them every now and then.

“Bitch”

“Hey it got you to work today. At least I didn’t lie”

“Mm. Fair” Daryl scoffs looking up for a moment seeing Y/N talking to Rick about the progression of the bridge they were working on.

________

“You sure can hold your own”

Y/N turns toward Daryl after setting another Walker on the pile with T-Dog’s help.

“Yeah…okay” Y/N brushes her hands off on her blue camo pants seeing that he was still standing there. “Yea need somethin’ Daryl?”

“How come you know my name but I don’t know yours?”

“First, it’s Y/N. Second, you’re not a very social person. Or you weren’t until that Grimes guy came and told yea he ditched your brother on a roof”

“Mm. Fair I guess” Daryl frowns watching Y/N step over one of the dead’s legs and extending her hand out to him.

“It is nice to finally meet you though”

“What’s with the blue camo?” He asks while shaking her hand as she laughs slightly.

“Navy. Blue is for the navy. I had just gotten home from discharge when the outbreak happened”

“Then I guess you weren’t part of the dumbasses that kept the virus under wraps until it started killin’”

“Oh I would’ve deserted and told the whole world if it meant this outbreak not happening”

“Wouldn’t have met yea though”

“Already liking me, D?” Y/N teased before going to help T-Dog with the rest leaving Daryl a bit of a blushing mess.

________

“You’re crazy yknow”

Daryl turns to the beautiful voice that matches the woman he’s been pining for for years as Y/N held up a canteen.

“Crazy for what?”

“Wearing all black in Virginia air. Or at least all dark clothes” Y/N gestured to his outfit before crossing her arms and still having that gorgeous smile remain. “What am I gonna do with yea, Dixon?”

“Beat my ass if I pass out from heat stroke” Daryl jokes getting that laugh of hers to roar out of her. “You’ll never see me in shorts”

“I would pay good money to see that one day” Y/N laughs a little more. “Shorts are great” she gestured to her own dark blue denim shorts as it wasn’t the only thing Daryl looked at. She was wearing a black tank top and red flannel over it with the sleeves rolled up, very different from her old Navy camo pants and the long sleeve when they first met up until the farm. But she always had the signature combat boots, something from her past that she won’t get rid of.

“On others maybe” He makes one last comment on the shorts listening to her laugh die down a bit before patting him on the shoulder.

“Least you can do is go inside one of the tents in the shady forest to cool a bit with that canteen.”

“Yea ain’t the boss of me, woman” He smirks watching her glare playfully.

“Last I checked. I was assigned to oversee those working on the bridge today…so the least you can do…is follow my orders” Y/N smirks getting up in his space as the archer covers his ears to avoid the blush rising.

“Yes ma’am” Daryl states watching her go back to working.

As he made his way back to the little tent city they have up for those working on the bridge, Carol immediately got up from her tent with a smile on her face.

“Hey buddy”

“Buddy?” Daryl scoffs to the nickname.

“What? You want me to go back to pookie?” She smiles deviously listening to him groan. “Anyway, I saw yea chattin’ it up with Y/N. Did you finally ask her yet?”

“Ask her what?”

“Oh come on!” Carol shoved him playfully as Daryl almost pushed her back but decided against it and sat on one of the outdoor chairs she has set up. “You know exactly what I mean Dixon” she took the other empty seat listening to the man groan even more. “She’s a catch. If you’re not going to say anything, someone else is gonna swoop in”

I don’t even want to think about that Daryl rolls his eyes turning his attention to the bridge. “The fuck am I supposed to say that I should’ve said years ago?”

________

“You’ve seen Y/N?”

“Oh my god. Are you actually going to finally do it, Dixon?” Carol teases handing him a bowl of breakfast which was whatever meat the archer hunted for that morning.

“Shut up” Daryl grumbles taking his bowl and going to sit with Rick at the table he was at with Judith in his arms.

“Waiting for Y/N?” Rick smirks watching Daryl glare as he was about to get up and leave. “Woah Woah. I surrender…sorry man. Just never seen someone so close to our navy officer and well. Connecting the dots here…”

“How’d yea tell Lori yea liked her?”

“Geez. You have no experience just from that question alone”

“Rick—-“

“Right right. Well. I kind of just went up to her asked if we could talk somewhere more private and then told her how I felt” Rick shrugs, it wasn’t exactly rocket science. “Then one thing lead to another”

Daryl hums in response to such as he watches the gates open showing Michonne returning on the horse they found and Y/N walking beside. They have been going on runs together that would last days or weeks and the archer would be stuck sticking around hoping to run into Y/N just for a second.

“You wanna tell her. Just tell her” Rick smiles picking up Judith and heading inside leaving Daryl to sit there watching Y/N draw closer.

He straightens up and in that moment he decided today was the day to tell her how he feels. But once she got closer to him, Daryl noticed the bandage on her arm and his worry got the best of him.

“Long time no see, Dixon” Y/N smiles warmly even if his neutral expression didn’t exactly cover his tense body language. “It’s just a scrape. Gotta see Hershel to see if it needs stitches”

“You better”

“Oh I will, and then I can tell you about the run I just went on” She smiles patting his shoulder in passing leaving him stuck in his thoughts once more.

________

So many opportunities.

And this was the time he chose to take it head on.

Y/N heard commotion going on between a few Saviors and some Oceanside on the other side of the bridge. She quickly apologizes to Eugene who she was talking to about the progression, to go handle what was going on.

“We shouldn’t have to work with scum like you!”

“It ain’t my fault the old man is making us work with weak ass people like yourselves”

“We’re weak?!” One of the Oceanside men got up in the Savior’s face. “Whose fucking leader is caged like an animal?”

“Woah guys let’s break it—-“ Y/N’s words didn’t reach their deaf ears as the Savior grabbed the Oceanside’s collar tossing them down. “Hey! Stop it”

“Back off!” The Savior yells pushing Y/N aside as she was resilient. “This fucking weakling needs to know his place”

“Oh yeah?!” He snaps back rising to his feet and with an unexpected play of drawing his gun which none of the crew that day thought anyone was armed. Even Y/N.

“Hey—Who told you you can—“

“Shut the fuck up! I ain’t listening to you” the gun pointed at Y/N temporarily before going back to the Savior who seem to be standing his ground. “And I’ve had enough of you Saviors walking all over me”

“Really? Then pull the trigger”

“Hey let’s not escalate this any further” Y/N sternly states to the two while standing in between them as she suddenly felt her hair get pulled to bring her back out of the way of the now nervous Oceansider. “Excuse me—-“

“Nah I wanna see if this fucking pussy will actually pull the trigger” He snaps in the nervous one’s face as Y/N tried to push him back because this wasn’t going to end well regardless.

Then the gunshot rang through the nearby woods, alerting the residents in the tent city. Daryl quickly rose to his feet running over toward the bridge with Carol following shortly behind. The two noticed a small crowd was formed and as they drew near, Daryl instantly locked onto Y/N pinning the Oceansider down while Rick kept the Savior at a distance.

“What the hell happened?” Carol snaps bringing herself over to Y/N before realizing. “Let me take over”

“Just take his gun away” Y/N hissed through the pain in her side given the Oceansider was a nervous wreck, making him a nervous shot. He aimed low and Y/N knocked the Savior out of the way. Resulting in her receiving the bullet. “Get the leader of Oceanside to take care of her own, Carol will confiscate the gun and…”

“We’ll call it a day” Rick finishes for her but then noticed the shakiness in her composure. “Somebody catch her”

And that was Daryl’s cue. He caught her right as she started to faint. The archer quickly picked her up and didn’t wait another second to take her to the med-tent that currently had Enid working. Not that he didn’t trust the prodigy, he would rather have Siddiq for someone this important.

“It’s just a flesh wound”

“So no bullet?” Rick asks Enid once she finished applying the pressure bandage on Y/N’s side.

“No bullet. Through and through”

“This could’ve been a whole lot worse. Hell remember when you took a bullet?” Carol laughs a bit of the tension away referring to Daryl’s near death moment.

“Yeah but I would like to knock that son of a bitch’s teeth in when Andrea walked away”

Both Rick and Carol gave each other a confused look when Daryl said such. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed.

“What.”

“Andrea didn’t just walk away”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The archer was even more confused than ever.

But he’s not the only one pining for another.

________

“Oh you’re a fucking moron that’s trigger happy”

“Now Y/N I didn’t know it was Daryl—-“

“Don’t fucking matter.” Y/N didn’t hesitate to punch the girl square in the jaw, with enough force to cause her to stumble and before Shane or Rick could intervene Y/N held her hand up toward them. Indicating she was done after that. “Four of our men ran over to Daryl to take out the walker—if it was a walker—you didn’t have to get on your high horse and shoot the only other person in this goddamn group that understands”

“Understands fucking what?!”

“I don’t like you. You ain’t getting that out of me” Y/N knelt to her level on the ground. “But if he doesn’t pull through or you try that shit again. I’ll put you six feet under with my bare hands”

________

“She was scary” Rick laughs a bit. “Seriously. Why do yea think I don’t piss her off?”

“Besides, she was at your bedside when you slept in the farmhouse” Carol adds. “She really protective of you in some way”

“She was also the advocate to get yea out of the Sanctuary job sooner. So you didn’t have to relive any trauma left there”

The two stopped talking when they heard Y/N groan indicating she was waking up.

“We’re gonna take care of cleaning up for the night” Carol smiles giving Daryl a look as he glares back stating this isn’t the right time. But she didn’t care and insisted with her eyes.

Enid handed Daryl the painkillers for Y/N to take before giving them the room (or tent).

“Take it easy”

“I feel like shit” She crooked out with a sigh following, Daryl reached for the canteen opening it for her and taking out a few pills. “Mm. Nurse Daryl to my rescue?” She teases bringing herself to sit up which she regretted given the stitches in her side.

“Lay back down and let me actually nurse yea” Daryl got up to grab the pillow from the other cot to help her sit up a bit to take the pills with the water.

Y/N sighs once more handing the canteen back to Daryl and sinking into the cot. “Shit got out of hand”

“Yea don’t gotta talk about it right now. Just rest”

“Mm…Carol and Rick talk a lot” She randomly states receiving Daryl’s confused look as she brought her right arm under her head. “I wasn’t fully unconscious. Yeah lost some blood and fainted, but started coming too a bit ago”

Shit. “What’d yea hear?”

“Besides how you were barking at Enid for doing a simple repair because of how worried you were. The fucking farmhouse story. Guess we both have bullet scars”

“That…isn’t something to be happy about”

“Oh I’m not happy. That bitch reminded me of Andrea when she was trigger happy. Regardless…you’re missing my point here”

“I think I’m tryin’ to avoid it”

“Why?” Y/N gave him a small smile. “Because you wanna be the one to tell me you have feelings for me and not the other way around?” She continues to smile while the blush became more prominent on Daryl’s face.

“I thought…uh. I waited too long”

“We never had a quiet moment, D. Just think about it”

The outbreak in the quarry

Merle gone missing

The CDC exploding

The farm

The Governor Pt. 1

The prison illness

The Governor Pt. 2

Terminus

Grady Memorial Hospital

Old Alexandria

The massive herd

The wolves

The Saviors introduction

Daryl’s kidnapping

The Saviors demise

…Wow

“We really didn’t…” Daryl frowns watching Y/N bring her free hand to take one of his. “But I was still protective of yea”

“So was I”

“Is this finally that moment?”

“As fucked as it is” She laughs squeezing his hand a bit as Daryl leans into her pressing his lips firmly against hers. Feeling the hand behind her head move to run through his hair.

Once they parted…

“Took you two long enough” Carol chimes in with the biggest smile on her face. “Should’ve made a bet on it”

“Shut up”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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atvace · 8 months

Text

Lady Dior and the Seven Dilfs

Call of Duty men x Female!Reader

(y/n) got demoted from the FBI inspector general down to sergeant because of her valiant move in a drug smuggling mission. she has been assigned to task force 141.

"what a bunch of fuckers." she thought.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

available to read in AO3 and Wattpad!

• not owning any character, they belong to their creators whatsoever

• slow building, eventual porn, character development. slow update because I need to play the campaign first

• not so accurate, might ooc a lil

• Los Vaqueros, Mexican Cartel, Kortac included

● This was originally written in my Wattpad (@Atvace) but I decided to post it here too for more recognition.

●warning: Harsh words, incoming shameless smut (non-con will have a warning in the chapter intro), drug addiction, smoking, drinking (me, im sorry), sh, sa, ptsd, mention of rape, angst (from the comics), F/M/M type a smut, etc. chapter that contains smut will have the TW.

copy my work, I hope your cat makes biscuit to your face with their murder mittens and leaves claw marks all over yo shit face, I hope you did your homework but forgot to publish it so you got an F, I hope your mom forgot your lunch and you starved for the rest of the day, I hope a roach fly to your face when you're taking a huge shit, I hope when you take that huge shit it's so huge you got hemorrhoid for the next 5 months

Spotify:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized 5/9 Rebound Effect

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He left after that.

And what was more, he left without saying goodbye, he just sneaked out in the morning and left her with a bunch of money on the table. At some level, it made her feel like a prostitute, even when she knew that was not what Simon had meant.

She didn’t harass him for leaving like a thief in the night because the man had obviously freaked out. It would do no good at this point to try and have a therapy session about it. But what she did comment on was the money roll he had left her with.

She wasn't bitter, only bereft. She had thought Simon would stay at least a few nights if he was on leave. Truth be told, she had thought he'd stay for a week like he used to when he came to watch her at the club. But he was running away from guilt, not her; protecting her by pulling back the potential threat that was him. As soon as she realized he only did what a soldier would do, all confusion left her. It was admirable, but she feared it also meant that the silk gloves were back on.

You forgot something on the table.

A gift. Don't take it the wrong way.

If you say so.

Thank you.

Anytime.

The gratitude came mainly from remembering her manners. But it got under her skin, so much so that she felt like there was more to this than just Simon wanting to help her out or play the provider.

In a furious decision of not submitting to the role of someone who just waited for their man to come home from work or war, she tried to concentrate on her studies. But the next time she visited the library, she walked straight to the psychology shelf and loaned books about PTSD and war-related trauma.

She read about the major symptoms of torture victims, the PTSD treatment for combat veterans, she read how to screen for impulse and control issues. Whatever had happened during Simon's career as a soldier had left more than just scars. Combined with a traumatic childhood, it was a marvel he was doing as well as he was. If she were to continue down this path with him, she would have to take it slow.

Slow and steady would win the race. Creating an atmosphere of safety would win the poker game. Again, she could hear the alarm bells ringing but did nothing about it.

Simon had left but wasn’t wholly unavailable this time. He wasn’t working in the field and had more time for her. He even called, and not just once, but nearly every night. For the first few times, it was only a brief session, just an exchange of how are you’s and how’s it been’s. It was a change and a welcome change at that. The calls soon turned into hour-long marathons.

He shared more details about his life in the base of the unnamed military organization he was working for and revealed that he was the commanding officer of his team. The person she had taken for a shady ladies man and a simple soldier turned out to be a warm-hearted, level-headed leader who was fiercely protective of his subordinates.

The way he and his team found humour, even in the most grim situations, was hilarious, and she spent most of the calls laughing with tears in her eyes. Simon seemed especially vexed with a certain Scottish teammate who was the exact opposite of him: extroverted, silly, and cheerful. So lovably childish that it was clear that Simon was more like a father figure than a superior officer to this man. And it was also clear that he wasn’t actually vexed at all: he loved this particular person, who was codenamed after being good at "cleaning", more than anyone.

"What do they call you? Skeletor?"

"Very funny."

"Why is your alias a secret but Soap’s isn’t?"

He finally told her, and another door into his soul opened. It was labeled with one simple word.

"Ghost."

And of course it would be something memorable and ominous.

"What’s the story behind that one?"

There was a short silence on the other end.

"I was buried alive once but came back."

At her end, the silence was much longer, much more palpable. It sounded like a stupid joke, but she knew better. The men she had previously dated were definitely not in the same league as Simon.

This was fucking crazy. She tried to sound casual as she made a quip about another horrible trauma this man had suffered.

"So you’re the Kill Bill Bride instead of 007."

"I used the jawbone of the dead man I was buried with to get out."

Jesus Christ on a motherfucking surfboard.

"Oh, or a MacGyver."

There was a husky laugh at that, but she was fucking horrified.

That stuff followed her even to her dreams. In them, he was the undertaker, and she had to get out of a coffin by using a skull he gave her. Another test… not assigned by Simon, but by Ghost and those eyes that wanted her dead.

In other dreams, she was there with him in the field, invisible to everyone but him, helping him find a way through bombarded buildings like Ariadne escorting Theseus in a labyrinth. She liked those dreams more because in them, Simon needed her and not the other way around.

He seemed hellbent on his protocol of not updating her on where he was, what he was doing, and when they would be able to see each other again. She kept her apartment always tidy in case he would stop by, she put on makeup, even when she went to grab something from the store. Her eyes roamed the campus in search of a tall man dressed in black, and the smell of cigarette smoke made her stomach pinch with excitement. If Simon was even half as into her as she was into him, he would have serious trouble concentrating on his work.

She was tired of being the one always waiting for him. In that department, slow and steady started to feel like an absolute torment. Appearing calm and collected, playing hard to get had worked for a while, but what would happen if she went all in and made him want and wait? What if there was a hidden jackpot in being a tease?

She sent him photos in various states of nudity, cuteness and temptation: when she was chilling on her bed, or about to walk on the stage, once even when she was at school — always with the enticing words Wish you were here or Thinking of you. It was raunchier than the first time, highly uncharacteristic of her, and so much fun that she didn't even have to fake a smile in those photos. It was a pure attempt to seduce him.

And it worked: after only a few days of sending such pictures, Simon came back. As always, there was no warning, unless the radio silence after the fourth photo could be considered a warning that a storm was coming.

She was at the club, and her gaze had turned inwards when Simon had walked into her life. She didn’t choose a guy from the audience anymore. She only danced for herself and him, wherever he was.

She noticed him only in the middle of her show and started smiling, something she never did while on the pole, at least not here. The second she saw him in that familiar setting with a scotch in front of him and those eyes burning, the whole world shifted. Had he taken a day or two off just to come here and make her pay for her little come-hithering? The rest of the dance was energetic and wild, and that beaming smile gave her a roar of applause she had never experienced before. The whistles followed her even to the bar as she went straight to his table and all but radiated delight.

"I've forgotten how bloody good you are on that thing," he said with a thicker voice than usual.

"Nice to see you too, honey."

He looked at her with a full-blown smirk then and was, all in all, completely different from the guarded stranger she had first met at this very same place.

"I've been promoted to honey?"

"Don't take this new position lightly."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He downed that scotch, and she went to get her things, and when they walked to her apartment, he took her in a gentlemanly arm-in-arm escort. It felt good, the kind of possessive that said he was committed, that they were in a relationship. An established couple.

But as soon as the front door of her home was closed, the gentleman turned into a ravenous mercenary who pinned her against the wall, much in the same way he had done nearly three months ago. The shared kiss was starved and desperate, and she had no trouble whatsoever getting wet for him anymore.

"You're the most infuriating man I have ever met, did you know that?"

They were both panting at that point, and she was feeling high and wild, especially when Simon seemed suddenly more serious than ever.

"I'll take that as another promotion."

"Of course you will," she whispered out of breath as he devoured her neck and pressed her even more fervently against the wall of her hallway. Her heart was racing, and she had never, ever had a feeling that a man could merely lift her skirt and pull her panties aside and slip inside with no effort. Right now, she did, and right now, she would go mad if he wouldn’t do it.

"Ya missed me?"

"Every day."

The whispers were like long-held secrets finally uttered out into the open air. The lights were off, the city was sleeping, her ghost was here, and she wasn’t afraid at all. She was ready for everything, to conquer the whole world with him.

"How about you?"

"I'll show you just how much," he answered and suddenly detached from her, then grabbed her by the shoulder to spin her around and pin her against the wall again. It was a rough treatment that briefly reminded her of The Incident… But she was so drunk on him that even that didn’t spoil this moment that only felt good and right.

"This too much for you?" A slight trepidation in his voice told her that they were both walking on the brink of something new, but his cautiousness only made her feel more sure about letting him do whatever he wanted before they set the world aflame together. The silk gloves and normal dudes could go to hell; she wanted bare, calloused skin and a revenant, she yearned for the shared suffering that was only a kin to passion.

"No."

That steel of muscle kept her in place as the other hand went under her skirt. The garment was loose enough again and made the plundering far too easy. And of course he commented on it.

"I like the skirts you wear."

The arm from her back disappeared, only to descend down her back and grab hold of the lifted clothing. There was a soft rustle and a poignant click, and then her underwear was stretched away from her skin.

"They're convenient."

She didn’t feel the blade as it cut the fabric, but she could feel the sudden snap as the soft material yielded under a sharp edge. The rest of the ruined clothing was torn down from between her legs, and he didn’t even put the knife away, didn’t fold it with another precise flick and tuck it back to wherever it had been hidden.

He drove it to the wall. Next to her face, not close, but close enough for her to draw a panicked gasp. It wasn’t a classic stiletto or a pocket knife; it was sturdy and tactical, something she would never even have guessed was foldable. The silk gloves were nowhere to be seen, and she was overjoyed about it.

"You know what's infuriating?" The next thing she heard was a zipper opening as he got himself out of his jeans, then pressed his whole body against her.

"Watchin' all those fucking blokes drool after you in that joint."

It was that kinky talk again, but something told her there was more than a few months worth of frustration here too, gushing out like a flash flood. The thickness was guided to her opening in an almost blunderous manner, but he wasn't a brute. He only seemed to be in a hurry to get inside her and chuckled when he found her completely ready for him.

"Makes me wanna shoot everyone." And then he did push inside, with one measured but steady thrust, letting out a shaky sigh as he did it. She was watching the blade jutting out from the wall and didn’t give a single fuck what her landlord would say about the dent left on his property. Her ghost slid in and out of her, finally content. Tender, but thoroughly passionate, like he had missed her far more than mere words could express. He didn’t need his hands to keep her steady anymore; his chest did all that, but a hand found its way to her hair and pulled gently, lovingly, as he nuzzled close to whisper in her ear.

"Would ya like that?"

She tightened around him — she didn’t know whether it was his voice or his words that made her so unhinged. But another huff of silent laughter hit her at the response she gave him without uttering a single word.

"Yeah… That's wha' I thought."

His other hand reached for her thigh, slid down under the knee, and lifted, granting him better access to hit even deeper, and she finally moaned. She could almost hear the good girl talk, even when it never came. He didn’t have time for that, for there were more important matters at hand.

The longing of entire months came undone, and the knife on the wall was evidence enough that Simon was very much dedicated. Somehow that ferocious gesture was a vow, a whole pledge from the man who didn’t fuck anyone else after all. And if that didn’t make her wet, then nothing would.

"Dripping all over me here…" He stated the obvious as he continued the pillage she surrendered to — gladly and with an orgasm that came almost without a warning as the mercenary drove deep and grunted his desperation on her skin. She had to bolt her lips tight to not whisper something stupid that would only ruin the moment that was her first experience of a quickie, first experience of a fierce, intense rutting perfectly capable of having a godly amount of affection in it.

She broke against that wall and knew that she was lost: lost in Simon, in Ghost, or whoever he was. From this day forward, he would be forever inside her. Even if and when he pulled out, she would never get him out again.

Simon was a full package, and she had to accept all of it rather than try and fix him. If he would leave her only with his ghost, she would be forever bound in that frozen state of the engraving, the woman who dropped everything for the sake of sulking and only remembered beauty and meaning from a distant past. It was better to take the risk and die one way or another with this man.

"Simon," she sighed, whispered, because she was afraid that the three words that must not be said would come out if she wasn't careful. His hand found hers and entwined their fingers together, a surprisingly gentle lapse in the middle of a rough fuck.

"You're the one who's infuriating," he grunted. It was his way of telling her that he was nearing the point of loving too, and her only answer was another broken sigh as she came down from the overwhelming realization and the stunning, sinful orgasm that felt more like a love confession.

She was being pressed into pieces between that hard wall and an even harder chest, spread open for his taking, but it only felt safe to be trapped there like this. She was crying inwards by the time he came inside her while having all the earmarks of emotional turmoil as well. The controlled, rigid manners were gone, and he didn’t pull out for a good long time, only panted together with her against that wall that she paid rent for, which had a knife on it, a knife he had probably used to end human lives. How could the same man kill someone one day and bring someone back to life the next?

The desperate clutch that had curled both their hands into a fist loosened its hold, and the chest that had heaved her up pulled away just enough for her to catch some air. He pulled out reluctantly, and the seed gushed forth, making a magnificent mess. A gentle hand ran down her back, another released her leg just to slide up her hip like she was the most precious work of art a bloodied man like him had ever looted. She reached a hand behind his neck to tell him that she was his if he wanted her.

"Love," she whispered the most important one of those three words, and he lowered his head to rest on her shoulder. His was a heavy weight to carry, but she didn’t feel like she was Atlas holding the world. This burden was something she shouldered with joy.

---

The next morning was laced with drowsy tenderness and lazy lovemaking, and she couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

"Simon… are we in a situationship or a relationship?"

"You tell me."

She turned in the loose hold of his arms and admired how comfortable he looked under the mundane, flower-patterned linens. Simon still couldn’t be described as someone joyous or carefree, but he did appear calmer than ever. She liked to think that at least some of it was her influence.

"I like you. I like this."

"Yeah... You're okay, I guess," he muttered with a sleepy smile. She laughed and got up with the intention of making some coffee. And tea.

He soon followed in her trail, and the mood in her apartment was heavenly. He sat on her couch with nothing but his boxers and t-shirt on, the sunlight got in, and the coffee machine made cozy sounds and filled the air with the smell she loved. Simon didn’t even go outside for a smoke: it looked like he was in no hurry at all to get anywhere from that little piece of furniture.

She knew that love was a drug. Would Simon find it amusing if she told him he was the only drug she was on? If she confessed that she was an addict who never wanted to go to rehab...

"Why do you wanna be with me of all people?"

She had already asked the question once before, but today, she was feeling unusually confident. Some of his cockiness was contagious, and something had shifted last night, some fragile power, and she felt wild and optimistic again.

"You're a hot school girl."

"Simon…"

"You remind me of… I dunno. Something from back home."

Again, she didn't quite know what to make of him. Did he mean that he liked the girl from next door look? Was she a nice holiday from his exciting, death-defying work, a small slice of wholesome dullness? It wouldn’t bother her if she was. But something in that remark screeched in her head like nails on a blackboard.

"Something from back home? Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

The sunlight didn’t only fill the room with light; it exposed dust and long-forgotten clutter.

"Tell me about your childhood in Manchester."

"No thanks."

Her confidence this morning was more than enough to move whole mountains and seas. She wanted to know, even if it would hurt to know. If this was supposed to last, she needed to know.

"Was your father a beater?"

"Yeah, and a serial cheater."

He didn’t run away; he didn’t escape this conversation in any way. She had braced herself for resistance, but she was met with none, which caused her to mentally tumble all over the place that was Simon’s past.

And suddenly, she didn't like where this was going. Even if she was the one who had dragged them on this path.

"Only with paid women, though," Simon continued without any filter on.

Hold on…

That didn't sound right.

"Could you please tell me what I remind you of from back home.”

He finally stirred, a torturer who realized he was the one being questioned.

"Sarah…"

"I remind you of a hooker and you're trying to save me?"

"That's not… No."

She saw in his eyes that it was a blatant yes. At least for some part. The jealousy, the offering of money… All made perfect sense now. She felt like a project, not a love interest. She was a nut to be cracked, even if he did it gently and with a tenderness that left her writhing with pleasure. The need to set some things straight suddenly chose to override everything else.

"I’m a dancer, not a sex worker. And just for the record, I've had like three men before you. Plus the relative who abused me when I was… almost of age."

She never said "as a child" because that sounded too fucked up. She had been 16, so it wasn't the same as 6. It fucking wasn't.

She immediately got an excellent reminder of why she didn't share this stuff with people; because that pity stare was even worse than the fact that shit like that had happened. It reduced her back to a helpless victim.

"I don't want your money," she declared.

"Got it."

She turned, feeling guilty and idiotic for having ruined the most beautiful morning they could ever have had. The coffee was ready, but she felt like throwing up. She put the kettle on — would he want milk and sugar with his tea? Perhaps another slice of trauma dump served with it?

Whatever happened to slow and steady, to creating that calm atmosphere…

She hadn’t meant to share that. It simply flew out of her mouth. Not because she wanted pity, but because she wanted him to know that in some way, there were things that needed to be saved, ruins that needed to be haunted by different ghosts…

And hadn't he been her project as well?

She wanted more than this, more than tests and strategies and projects. Raw, naked flesh was what she wanted, not a treatment plan. He had disarmed her last night, and apparently, it was time for the final surrender. She waited for the bullet of mercy, but it never came.

She heard him rise and walk behind her, then felt Simon place his hands on her shoulders. He was here amidst her ruins, and her eyes stung, even after all these years.

"Are we gonna have a pity party?" She squeezed the ear of her favourite Don’t make me use my art historian voice mug. She wondered why the hell she had voiced anything at all.

"No."

"I don't want your money."

"You already said that."

The hands wouldn’t draw away, they stayed and felt soothing. At least as comforting as her snug little home and the familiar smell of coffee in the morning. The nausea had left her shaky, but he held her, just with his hands, making it known that he was here and wouldn’t leave her with her shattered self.

"I only want you," she finally said to the coffee machine and the empty mug and waited for a second or two to see if that warmth would leave her.

It didn't. If anything, the sun seemed to shine on whole new parts of her.

"You have me."

She felt bold enough to finally turn, and he immediately closed her into a hug and pressed her against his chest.

He breathed more life into her, day by day. All the goodness in the world returned, the water reached a boiling point in the kettle, and an exceptionally loud magpie made a racket outside.

"Ok," she whispered and let herself soften against his warmth.

Simon wasn’t a phantom or a cold, emotionless soldier. He was a man and very much alive. There was coffee and tea, and even if they strangled each other occasionally with ghosts that weren’t invited, it wasn’t enough to choke the mass of beautiful things that came from having found something as pure as this.

"You have me too," she announced in his shirt.

"I was hoping you would say that."

#ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #mw2 smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc #simon riley x female oc

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kyriethesquishysquid · 7 months

Text

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Word count: ~6.5k

Rating: Mature

A/N: Use of Y/N and Y/L/N. Appearance of a feral and jealous Possesive!König. We get plot but no smut in this one, with some angst, feelings, murder, and comfort on top! Reader really just needs a hug right now. Reader is also morally grey and morally questionable. Continued COD and military inaccuracies galore. Don’t shoot me for not writing out any combat scenes please - I’m a smut/fluff/angst author, action is outside of my wheelhouse lol. Once again written in less than 24 hours so please forgive any mistakes!

TW: Non-consensual drugging, emotional manipulation, body shaming, and attempted assault from asshole #2. Cold-blooded murder (but done for “good” reasons so it’s fine right?). Canon violence toward others by König, hints at stalking, hurt/comfort. Pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m still a lame monolingual American, and STILL no beta because we die like jackass Graves.

Crappy Translations:

Ungeziefer - Vermin

Maus - Mouse

Mein schatz - My darling

Meine leibling - My love

Scheiße - shit

It had been two whole months since your “rescue” from KorTac and not a day had gone by where you didn’t spend it thinking of König. That man plagued your mind worse than anyone ever had before. Which was stupid, considering you knew next to nothing about him, except that he treated you like a princess and fucked you like a whore. Oh and that he was the colonel of a “technically” enemy faction and your relationship would be seen as treason. And yet, he was the first man you’d had any sort of connection to in years. The only one who seemed to know everything you needed and wanted by intuition alone, and you craved the opportunity to explore that connection further.

You tried to think of some way to reach out to him but there was never a plausible avenue. You didn’t know his real name so finding him online, if he even had an online presence, would be impossible. You couldn’t very well ask Graves if he had any information on him either, lest you get fired, or worse, murdered, seeing as the Commander did not have a reputation for being understanding.

As the hamster wheel in your brain spun round and round, your thoughts grew more desperate and unhinged. It wasn’t too much longer before your contract with Shadow Company was up anyway. You were heavily considering seeing if KorTac would take you after, which you felt crazy about, but you weren’t sure what else to do. Logic just didn’t seem to play well with your thoughts about König and it was driving you insane to not be in control of yourself.

You could only turn off your constant barrage of emotion when you were knee-deep in patients or allowed out onto the field to provide care; though even that had been happening less. “Don’t want to chance triggering a PTSD episode”, Graves had said. And yet, despite thinking it couldn’t get worse, life had decided to throw you another curveball. It came when you were given your first mission in weeks, being called across countries with a small team of specialists to Russia to protect a diplomat and his family while they were in the country. That wasn’t the bad part though. Oh no. You could handle travel and a safe mission for once. The part that tied your stomach into knots was the fact you were going to be serving along with KorTac. It took everything in you not to show the emotions you felt in the moment Graves had told you that, while the last time you’d seen the KorTac colonel flashing through your thoughts like a movie.

The shouting in the quiet bunker was your first sign something was wrong. At first, you tried to ignore it, snuggling closer into the big human-shaped heater against you but then there was a gunshot, and that got you both up. Instinctively, you knew what was happening before even stepping foot out of the room.

“They’re here, aren’t they?” you whispered.

An overwhelming sense of panic filled your chest as you clasped his hands tight, unsure of what you were supposed to do.

“Stay here,” he instructed you as he quickly crossed the room to his dresser, gearing up in a hurry.

“What? No! You can’t go out there! What if they hurt you?!” you snapped back.

König shot you a bemused look as he tightened his vest.

“They can try, mein schatz, but they will not succeed.”

While his cockiness was certainly attractive and you knew he could hold his own in fights, there was now a part of you that worried and ached at the thought of him getting hurt. Before he could leave, you caught his wrist and jerked him back to you, smashing your mouth against his.

“Be safe.”

“Y/L/N!”

The pain of being ripped from such a powerful memory was enough to make you stumble, nearly falling into the last man you wanted to see at that moment; Daniel Carter, your “savior” from König and KorTac. It took all the power in your body not to frown at the brunette smugly grinning down at you.

“Yes, sir?” you finally asked.

“You gonna get in?”

He gestured to the plane and you quickly stepped into the cabin, a hot blush coating your face as you walked down the aisle to find a seat near the exit but still far enough to not be at the very end. Your fear of flying wasn’t something you had to face often thankfully but, when you did, it was a tough beast to battle. Fortunately, your mind was easily swayed into other worries when you watched the rest of the teams climb onto the plane. One by one, they found a seat, until the last member boarded, his figure dominating the entire space with his six-foot-eight presence. You couldn’t help but watch as he walked by. Gods, he was even bigger than you remembered. The sway of his hips and spread of his gait as he walked left nothing to the imagination, and you found yourself staring unbearably hard at his thick ass and thighs until he sat down on the other end.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought. Your heart had felt afloat water in stormy seas ever since the moment you’d seen him waiting with his team this morning. At first, seeing him made you feel like you were finally able to breathe again, but the way he pointedly avoided your presence dragged you back down into the suffocating depths of turmoil. You’d hoped it was just a show for the others around you, but then it became clear that your hopes were for naught. Twice you’d tried to get him alone, practically begged him to talk to you, only to be treated as if you didn’t even exist.

A tightness that had nothing to do with your fear of flying squeezed at your heart as your eyes dropped to your feet. Doubts began to pile up like a car crash. Maybe you were stupider than you realized. Maybe those nights had meant nothing to him. Maybe you were just another stupid conquest who had the gall to believe someone as high-ranked and enigmatic as König would actually want more than an easy lay. And, fuck, had you made it easy. Some nice words, a few sweet gestures, and a voice that made your brain melt, and you were putty in his hands.

Lips tilting down, you leaned back against the stiff seat and let out a long sigh. Maybe if you hit your head hard enough on the wall you’d break something, or at least get a concussion bad enough to be sent home.

“What’s up, toots?” Daniel asked, tapping his boot against yours.

You managed a half-assed smile and muttered, “Hate flying.”

He grinned and leaned over just enough to nudge your shoulder with his. It was minimal contact but it was enough to make your stomach hurt. While Daniel seemed nice enough, you’d been privy to too many conversations he and his buddies had when they thought they were alone in the medbay or canteen. While some of the absolutely disgusting things he’d said were enough to make you wary, most of your ire came from him being the one to sneak you out of König’s room.

“You’re a strong gal, you’ve got this. Just take some deep breaths,” he instructed slowly, “Here, gimme your hand.”

Before you could politely decline, he snagged your hand in his and wrapped your smaller fingers around his palm.

“Lean back, close your eyes, take deep breaths, and squeeze if you need.”

Just the thought of being that vulnerable in his presence, or really any of the men around you, made your skin crawl. But honestly, what else did you have to do at this point? It was about an hour flight and your mind wasn’t in a good place.

Giving him a little nod, you did as instructed and let your head fall back once more. After the first few breaths, you had to admit some of the tension was dying down.

“There you go. Atta girl.”

Fuck. Your heart lurched against your ribs as his words threw you into a very heated memory that you most certainly didn’t need right then - the way König praised you for taking his cock so well, how his lips brushed your ear as he said such sinfully beautiful words as his hands caressed your skin. Face warming, you tried to clear your head again, only to get disrupted by the sound of heavy feet stopping in front of you.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” Daniel asked, something akin to fear in his tone.

Who could he have been afraid of? Most everyone here was on good terms, or so you thought.

“Is there something that we need to know before we land?”

König. Jolting upright, you gaped up at him in disbelief as he stood there stiffly, arms crossed across his chest and eyes pinning Daniel down in earnest. God, that shouldn’t have been hot. You were supposed to be hurt, pissed at him, and yet the fire in his eyes as he stared down the other man was nothing more than primal.

“U-Uh, I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Daniel stammered out.

You quickly jerked your hand from his and noticed that finally- FINALLY- those deep blues were focused on you for the first time all day.

“We cannot afford to have any distractions out there. I will ask again, is there something that we need to prepare for? Will your attention be divided?” König bit out.

It wasn’t painfully obvious but you could hear a slight inflection, almost anger, filtering through his tone.

“No, sir,” you retorted stiffly, “Private Carter was helping me with my fear of flying.”

“Correct, sir,” Daniel agreed quickly.

König let out a snide hmm before strolling back down the aisle to his seat. It wasn’t until he was fully sat that you relaxed in your seat.

“What the fuck…This is awkward, right?” Daniel whispered, “I mean, it’s weird for me but I can’t imagine how weird it is for you.”

Playing dumb, your eyes cut to him curiously and you asked, “What do you mean?”

He gestured weakly toward König and the rest of his team, and then at you.

“They quite literally kidnapped you a couple of months ago,” he muttered, “They killed a group of our men and were actively fighting against our mission, and now we’re expected to just get along with them?”

The guy had a point. Sighing heavily, you shrugged and leaned back.

“Yeah, it’s weird, but we do what we gotta do, right?” you murmured.

If only he knew the real reason for your discomfort. Eyes flicking up to the bare metal ceiling, you said a silent prayer that once you were on the ground, you wouldn’t have to be in König’s presence anymore. It wouldn’t do to be distracted, and lord knows you would be.

“Try to rest,” Daniel said suddenly, “I’ll wake you when we land.”

Any thoughts of arguing were wiped from your mind when the cabin shuddered through turbulence. With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes and started counting back from one hundred. Even if you didn’t fall asleep, it would help with your endless anxiety.

…

“Alright, you’re good to go. Just try to stay off of it as much as possible until we leave tomorrow. Those painkillers will help the pain but the ligaments still need time to repair,” you sighed with a weak smile.

“Just glad it’s not broken,” he laughed nervously, “It’d suck for my first real injury to be caused by tripping in the dirt rather than by combat,”

You snickered in agreement at that. That would be one sad story.

“Remember, ice, elevation, and painkillers!” you called as he exited the room with a wave.

Turning back to your laptop, you started the final charting on the private’s file but it wasn’t long before you were distracted by someone entering the room. Dread filled the pit in your stomach when they didn’t instantly speak. So far you hadn’t seen König more than once or twice in passing this past week and you’d hate to break that streak right before you got to go home.

“Hey, Y/N, why don’t you head out for the night? I’ve got things covered here!”

Relief practically oozed from your pores as you heard the familiar voice of one of KorTac’s medical staff. Spinning around in the wheely chair, you found the redhead already opening her own laptop at the other desk.

“You sure?” you asked.

“Of course! You let me sleep in and took the first half of my shift, it’s only fair I let you out early,” she teased kindly.

Leaving early meant the possibility of running into the silent colonel, but it also meant you could actually enjoy the last night in the city. While it was a smaller area, it apparently had a decent nightlife, or so Daniel said. He’d caught you before your shift and practically begged you to join him and some of the guys out for drinks at the local bar to celebrate a job well done. You’d thought he was going to cry when you told him you worked late and couldn’t join.

“Girl, go! Shoo! I’ve got this.”

Flashing her a smile, you nodded and gathered up your things.

“Okay, fine, you win,” you groaned in faux frustration, “I’ll leave you be.”

She shot you a mock salute and turned dutifully to her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as she began to check charts. With one last nod, you grabbed your bag and hurried out into the hall. It was only eight thirty and the guys were going out around nine, so you had just enough time to change into something more sociable.

The instant you were in your room, you wasted no time digging through your duffle bag until you found a semi-decent outfit. Most of your clothes were for work but you liked to keep a few nicer things on hand for occasions such as this. After pairing a cute black peekaboo sweater with a pair of fitted dark-wash jeans that framed your thick thighs and ass perfectly, you slipped on your only non-work shoes- a pair of black ankle booties. From there, you hastily fixed your hair and put on a quick bit of makeup before rushing out the door.

It felt weird to admit you were kind of excited to hang out with Daniel and the others tonight. You’d never really been included much in things back home, being medical staff and not one of the “boys”, but ever since being here for the mission, Daniel had made it his primary objective to make sure to check in on you multiple times a day. A strange little friendship was budding and, somehow, you didn’t hate the idea. He’d been nothing less than kind, and now that you weren’t completely hung up on the colonel, you were losing your biggest reason for disliking him.

“Y/N! Whoa!”

Daniel’s yelp caught you off guard and you couldn’t stop the blush that formed when you saw the way multiple pairs of eyes raked up and down your form.

“Damn, you clean up nice, Y/L/N,” another private, Chad you think it was, said from beside Daniel.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied awkwardly, “So… bar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel said with a grin, “Hope you don’t mind but we’re walking because it’s only two blocks away!”

Nodding in understanding, you joined the group of five with a little smile, trying your hardest to keep your nerves at bay. It was chilly out. Nothing too horrible, but it made you glad you’d had the foresight to wear something warm since you had to walk in it.

“Hey, you know, Chad was right,” Daniel said quietly when he dropped to the back of the group with you, “You look incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than work attire.”

Damn it. It was much easier to hate him when he was acting more creepy and you were under the illusion he’d ruined your love life. Now… Now it was almost too easy to like him.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” you answered, “You look nice too! Never seen you dressed down either.”

It wasn’t a lie. Daniel wasn’t a bad-looking guy, maybe a bit plain with short brown hair styled in the regulation cut, nice green eyes, and a big smile, but definitely not bad. It was just that your thoughts were always flittering around the almost seven-foot beast of a man in comparison and no one could compare to that.

The pink that dusted his cheeks only served to make him cuter and you were nearly groaning in frustration at the thoughts filtering through your mind. No. There was no way you were going to give in to those thoughts. It was just the pain of König ignoring you and the human need for attention making you think that way, you were almost certain.

“Ah, we’re here!”

The music from the bar was audible from the outside and it only got worse once you stepped in. He hadn’t been lying when he said there was a thriving nightlife. The small bar was packed to the gills, with just enough room to move around and get to the bar, bathrooms, or dance floor.

“Come on, I’ll buy you your first drink!” he shouted over the music.

Aw shit. You knew where that was going to lead. Before you could decline his offer, he snagged your wrist and nearly dragged you to the bar. You were given no choice but to order your favorite drink when he demanded so and the bartender stared you down with a less-than-patient glare. True to his word, he paid for your drink, and then instantly dragged you through the crowd without a word. Daniel led you everywhere like you were some lost puppy who needed direction. From the bar to the table, and then to the dance floor, you weren’t given a single choice in the matter up to the point of him practically pouring your drink down your throat.

Said action didn’t fly over well, the liquor bitter and stinging down your throat so quickly you had to reflexively cough to avoid aspirating.

“Jesus, fuck, calm down,” you snapped at him once you caught your breath.

“I just wanna make sure you can loosen up and have fun,” he replied with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry. I.. I just don’t want you to fall behind or anything.”

You couldn’t contain your eye-roll as you gave into the puppy dog eyes and made a show of taking another drink.

“There, happy?” you asked.

“Definitely, come on, let’s dance!”

The irritation over his actions was soon forgotten as you gave in to the beat of the music and joined in the writhing bodies on the floor. It didn’t take long to get drawn into the moment, the alcohol and music a powerful combination that brought out the serotonin you didn’t know you needed. Song after song passed and soon enough you found yourself in Daniel’s arms. It was almost nice, to let the stress of the past few months flow away and focus on only the here and now.

“I didn’t know you could move like this,” Daniel said into your ear as his arms wrapped around your waist.

The graze of his lips across your skin sent shivers down your spine and you instinctively arched into his touch as his hands slid further down your sides.

“I don’t get the chance to dance much,” you admitted meekly.

“That’s a shame. You’ll have to let me drag you out more often because it’s a damn sexy sight.”

A giggle escaped before you could stop it. Damn it. His flirting wasn’t funny!

“Mmmhmm, sure,” you retorted cheekily, “You’re like the only one who thinks that.”

He quickly spun you around, fast enough that the world went wonky and you had to grab onto him for balance, and it sent chills through your body.

“Whoa, that- oh my,” you gasped.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

There was a look of concern on his face as you felt your knees weaken. Panic sent your heart racing but you couldn’t focus enough to figure out why. Something just felt… wrong.

“Maybe you’re dehydrated. Why don’t you finish the rest of your drink?” he urged.

Shaking your head, you managed to mumble out, “Alcohol won’t fix dehydration. It’ll actually make it worse.”

“Well, it’s worth a try, come on.”

When he pushed the cup to your lips again, some semblance of your brain came back online and you pushed instinctively it away. The ugly curve of his downturned lips told a terrifying story. Was he- Was he trying to drug you?! Clenching your eyes shut tight, you tried to sort through your memories and recall the symptoms of being drugged to compare to your current ailments.

“Damn it, just take the fucking drink. I spent ten dollars on this fancy shit,” he grunted lowly.

Eyes popping open, you caught his furious glare and instantly everything clicked. The reason he was so intent on you coming out tonight, how he handled the drink all the way to the floor, his insistence to drink the alcohol.

“You- You prick,” you bit out.

Thankfully, you hadn’t drunk more than those first two gulps. Whatever he’d laced the liquor with likely wasn’t at its full potential, and yet you were still feeling the effects. Just what the fuck had he given you?

“Y/N, what are you-”

With all your strength, you pushed him and luckily managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying back into the group behind him. You didn’t wait to see if he got back to his feet before you took the chance to escape. It was like a psychedelic maze, trying to escape the packed dance floor with your heart racing and your eyes swimming. Eventually, you made it out, and you instantly left the bar.

The cold night air tore a gasp from your lungs when it hit your skin but it was more than welcomed. Your body felt like it was on fire, sweat rolling down your back and forehead as if you’d just been vigorously working out. The chill helped to clear your thoughts some.

“Okay, I can do this, it’s just two blocks,” you murmured to yourself.

For a minute, you considered calling for help from one of your squadmates, but your gut cautioned you otherwise. These soldiers were close, dangerously close. There was a good chance they’d just help him cover it up if you tried. A weak sigh left your lips as tears flooded your gaze. You wished you would have just stayed at work. You wished you hadn’t gone against your initial judgment of that asshole. You wish you were home, safe and sound in bed. Most of all, you wished you could call König to come save you. How ironic that you were looking to the man Daniel had “rescued” you from to come rescue you from him now.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?!”

A big hand snagged your wrist and pulled you to a stop so suddenly that your shoulder popped audibly, pain shooting through the joint as you collapsed back against him.

“Daniel, please- I-”

“Uh-uh, nope. You’re not talking me out of this,” he hissed.

Despite using your entire weight to pull against him, he was able to drag you down a nearby dark alley with ease. Pain exploded through the back of your skull when he slammed you into the brick wall with a grunt and you nearly collapsed.

“Fuck!” you yelped, hand instinctively touching the throbbing spot to check for blood.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? I was the one who located their base. I was the one who led the team in and took out as many of those dumb fucks as possible. I was the one to save your miserable ass, and what did I get for it? Nothing more than a fucking “thanks” and a shitty attitude. I waited for you to come around but you never fucking did,” he snarled, palm slapping the brick beside your face with a grunt, “When Graves suggested we bring medics along, I knew it would be my best chance of getting you alone. You’re such a stuck-up whore at home that you don’t ever go out with us. But here, I knew I could convince you. All it took was some kindness for your fat ass to fold. Can’t reckon you get much attention, so I’m not that surprised.”

Disgust and shame reared its ugly head in your chest as you let your eyes drop from the angry vision of his face. Instead, you stared intently at the pocket of his white polo.

“Now, you’re going to do what you should have done long ago, and you’re going to thank me for saving you. Get on your fucking knees and if you even think of using teeth I’ll put a round in your head so fast that-”

You stopped, mid-decent to the concrete when Daniel went flying. As he slammed into the ground, a hulking shadow followed him in earnest. It took your brain some time to figure out what was happening, but then you heard a familiar voice snarling in German. Slowly, the details of his form solidified in your gaze, and you sagged in relief.

“Pray to your god while you’ve got the chance, ungeziefer!” König barked loudly.

A pained screech filled the air and made your stomach twist.

“ König?!” Daniel groaned, “What the-? Why?!”

“You’re quite simple, aren’t you?” König snapped back with a humorless laugh, “Take one guess.”

You watched the way Daniel’s head popped up, a look of disbelief clear in his eyes as he stared up at the giant before turning to you. Even through the lingering haze of the drugs, you could clearly make out the terror on his face and a sick part of you felt thrilled that he was experiencing even a modicum of the fear he’d pushed onto you.

“I- I didn’t know,” he panted through frantic gasps, “I wouldn’t have-!”

Daniel’s weak croak was silenced by a brutal kick to the face. The crunch of bone and cartilage sent chills down your spine and you couldn’t but absentmindedly think about how badly that would heal… if he even made it out of there.

König rolled him over with a boot to the gut and crouched down above him, his voice just barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Even if she wasn’t mine, you don’t get to touch her in that way. Unfortunately for you, she is mine. You’re just lucky I don’t have the time to drag this out. The things I would do to you…”

His words lit a fire in your stomach, misplaced lust and satisfaction filling your chest despite the gruesome scene before you. There was a rapid-fire battle going on in your mind, between the lawful good instinct to stop König and the chaotic righteousness to let him beat the hell out of Daniel. It wasn’t until the glint of a blade pierced through the dark, reflecting the weak fluorescent light behind them, that reality finally set in. This wasn’t going to be a fight. This was going to be a slaughter. König was going to kill someone over you!

“No, don’t! König, wait!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears. Before you could even blink, he was knelt on Daniel’s back, jerking the smaller man’s head up by the hair only to sink the knife into his ribs repeatedly, ending it with a vicious slash across his throat. It was awful and astonishing. A man of his size shouldn’t be that quick. While you’d seen him take out five of your team alone, that was with a gun. This was different. This was personal.

Licking your dry lips, you watched with wide eyes as König got up from his position and turned your way. Something between fear and excitement quickened your breaths as he stalked your way, slowly, wiping the blood from his blade before shoving it back into his pocket

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you murmured.

“And let him live after knowing what he was going to do to you? I think not,” he growled back lowly.

The instant you were within reach, a hand was around your throat, gentle but commanding as he pulled you into him.

“He’s lucky I didn’t make him clean his guts up off the floor,” he hissed.

“Oh.”

Before you could react, he crouched and lifted you up onto his waist. Brick bit into your back through your sweater as he pinned you against it, making you gasp as his mouth devoured yours.

“Mine,” he growled fervently.

His hips ground roughly into the apex of your thighs and stole your breath as a wave of pleasure scorched through your belly. Holy fuck, he was already rock-hard. A pathetic whimper escaped your mouth into him when his teeth bit into your lip hard and you couldn’t resist scraping your nails along the nape of his neck.

“Nobody gets to touch you except me, got it?”

Your eyes rolled back at the rasp in his voice, the thinly veiled need peeking through in a taunt.

“Yeah, but… Hey! König, wait, please!”

A little growl emanated through his chest as you pushed on him, but he easily relented, drawing away to catch your flustered gaze with half-lidded eyes.

“What is it, maus?” he asked.

“We can’t just- What- How the fuck are we gonna explain this?” you retorted, panic slowly filtering through your lust-hazed mind, “My god. You’re gonna get in trouble! I can’t- I can’t let you get hurt for protecting me! We have to do something! Maybe we can-”

Your rambling was quickly silenced with a hand over your mouth, the weight of his body leaning more into you, providing a sense of comfort almost like a weighted blanket.

“Calm down, meine leibling,” he shushed warmly, “Take a deep breath and relax. Everything is going to be fine, I promise you.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked from him to Daniel and back to him, only to find his eyes hungrily tracing your form. Even in the current situation, you couldn’t deny the heat it caused. And then it was gone, the furrow of his brow conveying that anger once more when he released your mouth.

“What did you think you were doing anyway, coming here with him?”

You couldn’t help but recoil, grimacing as your head hit the wall in the same tender spot, until he forced your face up by your chin. There was so much fury residing in his gaze that your heart squirmed in pain. It hurt worse than anything to see that judgment and anger directed at you. Was he really going to blame you?

“Maus, I said, what did you think you were-”

“Well, I sure as fuck didn’t think I was coming out to get raped!” you spat back finally, unbidden tears spilling down your cheeks, “I thought- I thought I was- was with friends. I-I didn’t think-”

When he pulled you into his chest, the damn broke fully. Sobs poured from your shaking form as you wrapped yourself around him and breathed him in. You cried over the betrayal from your teammate. You cried at how close you came to being assaulted by another horrible person, the fact that König had saved you twice now. You cried over how much you’d missed him, over how happy you were to hear he still had some kind of emotion for you; no matter how demented it might be.

“I had a bad feeling about him,” he bit out after a moment, “When I saw you leave with them, I just knew. I’m sorry it took so long to get out here to you, schatz. If I had been quicker-”

You shook your head frantically and whimpered, “You were just in time.”

He hummed quietly, hand cradling the nape of your neck as he murmured little soothing words against your hair. You don’t know how long you stood there like that but eventually, your limbs started to ache from the position. When you pulled away from him, he put you down gently but didn’t let you retreat fully, hands cupping your face tenderly while he wiped away your tears.

“I don’t enjoy seeing you cry like this,” he sighed.

Something about that triggered that subdued anger in the back of your mind, waking the beast from slumber. Anger was easier to handle than sadness. How dare he stand here and comfort you, hold you like this, when hours ago he couldn’t even look you in the eye!

Nose wrinkling in frustration, you stepped back and wrapped your arms around yourself as the lack of his warmth hit hard. The hurt that passed through his eyes nearly made you collapse back into his arms but you knew you couldn’t- not yet, not until you had answers.

“Why?” you finally asked.

“Why, wha-”

“Why did you act like I didn’t exist? I spent the last two months driving myself fucking crazy, pining over you and what could have been, only to get treated like I was nothing more than dirt on your boot the next time I saw you!”

He tried to talk but you cut him off swiftly. No way were you done with him. Shoving a finger into his oh-so-glorious pec, you stepped closer with all the rage you could muster in your glare. In another light, it probably would have been hilarious to see someone of your short stature intimidating the giant man.

“If I was just some fucking notch in your bedpost, you could have said that! You didn’t have to act like there was something more. You have to know how hot you are. I would have fucked you even without you tricking me like that. But no, you had to make me feel special, make it feel like there was more than just my body on the line, and then you have the nerve to get mad at me for seeking out platonic companionship in my teammates?! You dare claim that I’m yours?! No, no, you don’t get to do that!”

The instant your rant ended, one hand cupped the back of your head and the other shoved you back against the wall, the impact cushioned by his hand before he boxed you in on either side. And fuck, you shouldn’t have found that hot but god it was. The way he instinctively protected you, acted like he cared, towered over you in a way that just screamed dominance and power.

“Don’t you dare say those things. There hasn’t been one moment that I haven’t thought about you, that I wasn’t looking out for you from afar, mein schatz,” he said sternly.

“Then why-”

“Because I couldn’t risk anyone figuring out what had happened between us!” he snapped with a huff, “If anyone knew you had stayed with me willingly, your life would be in danger, and I knew if I spoke to you, I would break. How could I not? I’m only so strong, meine liebe. Did you really think it was easy for me to do that? That I didn’t want to scoop you up in my arms the moment you walked through that door? That it didn’t break my heart when I watched the hope leave your eyes?! I hated myself every- single- second.”

Swallowing hard, you couldn’t force out any kind of answer. Distrust held your heart in a stronghold but his words were slowly chipping it away, the passion in his voice worming its way under your skin.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. You don’t even understand. Scheiße, I put so much time and effort into finally meeting you, and then somehow… somehow, I lucked out. I got a taste of what I’d wanted for so long,” he paused, thumb gently stroking that sweet spot below your ear as his eyes searched your face, “And it was more than I could have ever hoped for, only to have you ripped away at the last moment.”

His words settled heavily around you and, as their significance soaked into your brain, you could only stare at him in confusion. He… had known of you before you met? You knew they’d gathered intel on your team before the attack, but… he'd seen enough to want to see you?

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

His silence was loud, louder than you could handle and the guilt in his eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

“König,” you urged, “What- What do you mean?”

German spewed suddenly from his lips, angry and frantic as he began to pace in place, and it only served to make that anxiety nestle deeper in your belly.

“Damn it! Talk to me!” you cried.

When he spun around, you tripped over yourself in shock trying to back away from the fury in his glare. Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, he caught you before you could actually fall, but he didn’t let you go even once you were balanced.

“There’s no way to make this sound good,” he breathed quietly.

Eyebrows shooting up in disbelief, you retorted, “Yeah, well, it can’t be worse than leaving me guessing at all the horrible things you could mean!”

“I need you to promise me you won’t run, that you’ll let me explain.”

While you wanted to hear him out, you weren’t sure how well you would handle whatever it was. There was also the issue of your dead teammate less than five meters away. Everything in your heart and mind was torn into a million little pieces of focus and it was all too much. You had to pick one problem at a time to deal with.

Looking over at Daniel’s still form, you pressed your lips into a thin line.

“What the hell do we do about him?” you asked.

You weren’t lying earlier when you said you were worried for König. He had a lot of power, but straight up murdering one of Graves’ men out of battle and, even worse while allied, was beyond reason. That was a death sentence.

König froze up, almost as if he’d forgotten about the whole reason you were there, and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll call it in and have Horangi take care of it,” he muttered, “For now, come back to my room with me. Everyone should be out right now.”

Why did that sound so inviting, so perfect? Fantasies of being able to touch him again, cuddle with him once more, plagued your thoughts until the weight of his admission came crashing back down. You couldn’t help but stare at him as his words reverberated in your head. It was clearer than ever that you knew nothing about this man, and yet you couldn't stop the way your heart fluttered when he slipped his fingers between yours, nor the way you felt content in following him out of the alley. Despite it all, under the fear and the uncertainty, that fatal attraction to him was still burning strong. When he wrapped his arm around you and slipped you under his jacket to protect you against the blustering winds, it felt too much like home.

Just what the fuck were you supposed to do now?

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #cod fanfic #könig fanfiction

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

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🥰- for Erik and Auri please. We haven‘t heard from them in a long time

1948

"Scheiße!" Erik gasped, a tight band of terror wrapped around his chest. The world swung sickly to and fro in the terrible tight darkness. His stomach swung with it.

Next to him, there came a shift. Erik pulled air down his throat, imagining a bony hand laying over his chest, the hissing whisper of a dead man, the gleam of bullets where eyes should be and the heavy wool of field uniform scratching across his skin-

"Verdammt," He groaned, and fell back again, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Das Gespenst des Krieges..."

"No," Auri said, and their lips brushed his cheek. "Only the living dead, down here."

He could have laughed, but the sound would have been broken with his bitterness. "How can the dead still dream?"

"Would it truly be eternal damnation if we didn't?" Auri chuckled, and he hated the sound, nearly as much as he loved it. He turned his head, their mouths an inch apart or less.

"How long until we are in America?"

"Another week, not so long."

"Another week... I will rot here in the darkness."

"Mmmn. What if you do other things instead?" Their smile was a flash of white in the darkness. The great ship creaked around them as it steamed across the Atlantic.

He buried a hand in their long hair and pulled them on top of him, luxuriating in and loathing the sound of their husky, delighted laughter.

"What if I do not want to?"

"Oh, Erik." They laughed again. Their hair smelled like metal, the blood of the men who woke weaker in their berths than they had felt when they went to sleep in it, on them. Pulsing through dead veins. "That doesn't matter."

"No," He murmured. "It doesn't."

Still... it was better than dreaming.

#erik eeten #auri saathoff #whump #implied dubcon #ptsd tw #combat ptsd tw #nightmares #intimate whumper

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heckitall · 9 months

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Hi... I just wanted to say thank you for Flashbacks and Veterans. I also have PTSD (not combat related) and I'm having a hard time at the moment. Reading the last panel today really helped. Thank you.

anon i was thinking about this all day

im not very good at words - im definitely more a visual person (shocking)

but

if i could hug you i would

#heck asks #tank u anon #i hope you were able to pick up the hope in it as well #this feeling isnt the end #its just a moment in time and sometimes we need to take a knee to get thru the moments #ptsd is ptsd i wanna be clear on that too #i only specified combat ptsd for mine cuz of the directi relation it had to the parallels #i was making #otherwise i don't ever make that distinction cuz there isnt a difference #we went through something traumatic #and it effects us #and i can just say combat ptsd and it usually makes it so people dont ask any more questions #you can kind of assume #but anyway thats my soapbox moment im sorry #i know we place ptsd as a military thing a lot #but its so much more #aNYWAY #tw ptsd #ptsd

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starry-snippets · 1 year

Text

part 4 jotaro + anxiety attack (tw: nightmares, implied ptsd, grief, chatacter death but no specifics)

thinking about sleeping with jotaro, wrapped in his arms until he tosses in his sleep. you feel the weight leave your sides and it stirs you awake yourself but what concerns you most is his heavy breathing and sweat rolling down his temples. he's gritting his teeth - his normally peaceful face while asleep replaced with nothing but stress.

you readjust yourself so you can hold his hand, your boyfriend immediately squeezing it as he grinds his molars. after a few moments of trying to stir him awake to only have your hand tightly held, you begin to feel pain seep in from how much force he's using.

"jotaro, please wake up." your voice is weak because of weariness, anxiety, and the pain from his grip and your inability to loosen it. "you're hurting me," his grip loosens there but his eyes remain closed. you use your other hand to gently cup his cheek, rubbing soothingly across his skin. "it's okay jotaro, I'm with you." he inhales, inable to speak despite wanting to reassure you he's fine.

his mind is running rapid with memories of battling dio - the lives lost and cruelties he had to bare witness. jotaro's chest feels impossibly tight, like he can't breath despite audibly gasping.

"honey," you say borderline panicked. remaining calm since you know he needs your help, you continue to stroke his cheek and take his hand again to rub circles on his palm. "breathe in and out. let's do it together?"

jotaro hates this feeling; the feeling of being unable to control himself. he's wanted to be strong for you since the first stand you fought together nearly killed you. but here he is now, unable to stop hyperventilating without you holding his hand and your soothing voice counting to twelve for him.

despite the voice telling him he's being weak, jotaro finds a growing peace in him to combat the overwhelming despair he felt from his dream. your kind voice giving him the strength to walk away from this ledge. you continue to rub circles into his palm while your other hand's still against his cheek, he takes a moment to relish in your touch while shakily stabilizing his breathing.

"I know that what we went through rivaled Hell," you say once he's opened his eyes, those beautiful azure eyes you fell in love with staring up at you, positive he's calmed down enough to take things in. "but no matter what I'm here for you. we didn't survive that emo reject together so you could fight through everything else alone." you lean down to kiss his nose, feeling the residue of his sweat on your forehead. you don't care at all as you're too worried about his well being.

"I love you so much jotaro. you're not alone. whatever you need, I'll try my hardest to provide." You kiss his nose again then say, "you mean everything to me jotaro." next you trial down to kiss his cheek, a bit startled when he pulls you into his chest with a hand on the back of your head.

silence consumes you both but it's not awkward. you hear his breath hitch every so often, making you think he didn't want you to see him cry. you don't blame him, feeling relieved that he's comfortable with you enough to let you aid him when grief overcomes him - even if it's just a little at a time. his voice is the shakiest you're ever heard it as he strokes the hair on your head, trying to calm his building sorrow for a second time.

"stay... please, I can't lose you too."

#jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #jotaro x you #jotaro x gender neutral reader #angst #jjba angst #jjba x reader #jjba part 4 #jjba x y/n #jjba x you #jjba #tw anxiety attack #tw ptsd #tw nightmares #tw character death #jjba blog

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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Pop Goes the Rat || Modern Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: When Arthur Shelby was discharged from the Special Air Service Forces due to his PTSD symptoms, his whole life fell apart. As his mental health declined, his wife divorced, and he became a drug addict. But recently Arthur is more than committed to getting his shit together. He even goes to drug anonymous meetings. If he manages to stay clean and get better, he will be reintegrated into his unit. And if he is, maybe Linda will come back.

That being said, you had never been part of the plan. And yet you're here, ready to wreck his life and rob his heart. Who are you? Where do you come from? How did you end up in the streets? No one knows. What they know though is that you call yourself "Rat".

Words: 2.5k

TW: Mention of drug use, otherwise it's kind of cute and funny. The vibes are grumpy veteran x unhinged punk girl.

Notes:

♠ Even though I tried to keep "Rat" as Y/N as possible, there are two physical traits described: she has blue and long hair.

♠ This is not supposed to be a series but I had to exorcize this idea. If some people are interested in the concept I might write a few blurbs or one-shots for Rat and Arthur!

MASTERLIST

“I see a new face here! Welcome dear. I am proud you joined us in today’s session. What’s your name?”

“Arthur.” He mumbled, feeling awkward.

“Hi Arthur.” The whole participants replied in unison.

Arthur nodded to greet them but remained silent during the whole meeting. At first he was convinced that going to these anonymous groups was nothing else than bullshit, but as people shared their experiences and struggles he had started to feel better. To the point a faint smile flattered his lips. When the chairman clapped in his hands to signal the end of the discussion, Arthur got up from his chair and grabbed the leash of the huge malinois that was sleeping at his combat boots. Hannibal was his military dog, a fierce animal who had accompanied him throughout his most dangerous missions. Most of the time, he was also his only friend. The dog woke up and stretched his body, yawning. Even though the meeting had been a positive experience Arthur did not feel to talk with the other addicts. All he wanted now was to go home, take a hot shower and try to sleep. He left the place to go grab his jacket in the cloakroom. That was when he first saw you, your hand in the pocket of his utility jacket, seeking for his wallet.

“Oi! The fook are ye doing?!”

You jumped, heart missing at least two beats. To be true, you did not know what scared you the most: the man’s hoarse voice or the dog barking at you? But despite getting caught, your survival instincts kicked in and you exited the house through the window with a surprising agility. Arthur did not really bother running after you, for you had left his wallet. Moreover, he did not want Hannibal to tear you apart.

“Bloody hell.” He said out lout, barely processing what he had just seen. Was the young woman and her long blue hair really there or had he imagine her?

The second time you met, Arthur had just got out from the 24/24 shop nearby and was smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. Whenever he could not sleep, the soldier opted for a night walk and a snack or a cigarette rather than staying at home with his crippling anxiety. Usually he would take Hannibal with him but tonight he wanted to be alone, for he felt at the verge of relapsing into his bad habits: he was torn apart between the need to buy cocaine and his will of staying clean.

“I can’t. Fuck, I can’t do that.” He whispered to himself as his throat tightened at the sole thought of snorting some snow. The need was too overwhelming to resist — just one line, it could not be that bad right? Just one line, he told himself. It was at the moment he had made up his mind about whether or not to get high that he saw a familiar face.

A young woman with blue hair rushed out of the shop, a few stolen goods pressed against her chest. Her two long braids were floating behind her as she ran past him like some kind of feral pixie. Arthur frowned as he recognized that naughty little thief from the drug addicts meeting. Maybe that was why he grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stop.

“What the —“ You exclaimed, almost stumbling because of the sudden stop. You flickered on your legs a little bit and turned around in one vivid movement, your heart racing as you realized a man was keeping you from escaping.

“Nice to see you again, thief girl.” Arthur said, one brow raised.

You blinked several times, not recognizing him at first, but when you did your eyes widened even more, “The fuck is wrong with you dude?! Leave me alone!”

“What did you steal this time, eh?!” He replied. As he did his lips stretched in a carnivorous smile that showcased his pointy fangs.

“It’s none of your business, fucker! Let me go! Lemme go or I’ll scream!”

“You must be kidding m—“ Arthur could not finish his sentence for the shop holder hailed him. Truth be told, the man was fuming.

“Here you are stupid bitch!” He roared, one thick vein pumping on his forehead, “Thank you for catching her!” He said to him before shifting his attention back to you, “who’s laughing now? I’m going to call the fucking cops!”

“No, no, please, no.” You started to plead all the while pulling your arm in a desperate attempt to free yourself from the soldier’s grip but his strength outmatched yours. From then, everything happened really fast: first Arthur looked at your face and realized how young you were. Judging by your physical traits, you were in your start/mid twenties. The second detail he noticed was the pathetic content of your loot. Indeed, what you had stolen was literally a pack of menstrual tampons, a sandwich, a bag of chips and a bottle of water. Arthur clenched his jaws and his heart ached a little bit. Despite his violent outbursts he was far from being devoid of empathy. Somehow, it was quite the contrary.

“Listen lad, she’s me girlfriend. We had an argument and she’s a bit drunk. I’m sorry for any inconvenience. I’ll pay for what she took. “ Words left Arthur’s mouth before he could even fully understand what he just said.

The shop owner looked at him with surprise, his thick brows furrowed in confusion, “That crazy chick is your girl?” He asked, his eyes shifting from him to you several times in a row. When he finally looked at you longer, you awkwardly offered him your biggest toothy smile, “Erm yeah okay. It’s fifteen bucks, man. But next time I see her in my shop I’ll call the police. Got it?”

“Hm.” Arthur replied with a grunt and, with his free hand, he took fifteen pounds from his pocket and then handed them to the man. The latter took the bills and left without further ado, leaving the two of you all alone in the parking lot. Arthur, who was still firmly holding your arm, lost himself in his thoughts a few long seconds. That was your annoying voice that snapped him out of his bubble.

“Your girlfriend?” You exclaimed, outraged. With one quick movement you managed to break free from his grip. Wincing, you massaged your sore skin, “I’d rather kill myself”

“C’mon, I’ve saved your ass. The least ye could do is show some respect. Kids these days…” Arthur growled, his piercing blue eyes staring at you.

You replied by poking your tongue out — which properly astounded him. What a fucking brat, he thought, “you want me to thank you and repay you the favor? Spoiler at fucking eleven, I’ve got nothing to offer. And if you suggest me to suck your dick I’ll punch your bollocks off.”

Arthur opened his eyes wide, his sharp face adorned with an almost cartoon-like shock. God, you had a fierce spirit for such a small creature. Yet he had been in combat zones all over the world and met a wide sample group of people, “Bloody hell. Calm down, midget. Yer a kind of psychotic Smurfette or what? I wasn’t going to ask you these kind of things.”

“Oh? Erm. Really? Yeah, whatever,” Once the fury faded away from your pretty juvenile face, all was left was an indescribable adorable pout. Your eyes fled his.

“I’m serious. I wasn’t going to say that. No need to repay it. It’s only fifteen bucks.” A tint of amusement appeared in his blue irises as he observed your facial expression, similar to a kitten caught in the middle of doing something stupid. He slightly tilted his head to the side, observing your more in details. You were irresistibly cute for a little criminal, “the name’s Arthur Shelby by the way, eh.”

“Well, thank you Arthur Shelby.” You finally said a bit reluctantly before walking away. You had barely made a few steps when Arthur’s voice echoed behind you.

“Oi! Wait a minute!”

You did not. Quite the contrary, you ran away before the soldier’s steel blue eyes, who looked at your slim silhouette disappearing in the shadow of the night. All that remained from you was the soft sensation of your skin against his that was still tingling on his fingertips.

What you loved the most about spring was the fact you could sleep outside without freezing. Curled up on a bench lost in the midst of a parc, you tried to rest but Morpheus refused to bring you to his Kingdom. A little growl escaped from your lips as you wiggled, trying to find a comfortable position. But the wood was hard, and your backpack was an awful pillow substitute.

“Doesn’t seem comfy, eh.”

The gruff voice that just talked caused you to sit on the bench in one vivid movement, all your senses on alert just in case you needed to run away from a potential threat. Living in the streets was harsh enough for those who suffered from this life —but when you were a woman, the struggle became even worse. However, your muscles relaxed slightly when you saw Arthur’s face.

“You’re stalking me or what?”

“Fook off, kiddo,” He rolled his eyes, annoyed, then he made a quick head gesture toward his legs. When you looked down, you saw the gargantuan malinois sitting at his feet. Even though the brute did not move, his dark beady eyes were carefully observing you, “I always walk my dog here during the night.”

“That? A dog? Looks like a fur rocket. It barked at me.”

“Ye were trying to rob my wallet, eh.” He refreshed your mind.

“Whatever,” You sniffed and crossed your arms.

Silence fell above you. The only noise that could be heard was the light murmur of the leaves moving at the wind’s discretion. Arthur’s charming blue eyes looked at you a few long seconds as he thought about his next words. Contrary to Tommy, his little brother, he had never been skilled with them. He was too easily flustered and always ended up looking more stupid than anything else.

“I don’t even know your name. That’s what I wanted to ask you last week but you ran away.”

You looked at him, surprised.

“Rat.”

“Rat? Bloody hell, girl. Your parents really didn’t love you.”

“Hey! Fuck you!” You retorted, your eyes burning with a blazing annoyance, “ That’s what people call me! Not my real name.”

“Why do they call you rat? That’s… Fookin weird.” Arthur asked, taking a flat silver case out of the pocket of his cargo pants. Then, he slipped one cigarette between his teeth.

“Gimme one?” Your eyes shone at such a sight. You dreamt about a good smoke for days but cigarettes were incredibly hard to steal.

“The magic word?” He teased, the gravel in his voice coated with genuine amusement.

“Fuck off, Arthur.” You retorted.

“That’s a right answer, stinky rat.” As he spoke, the soldier pushed you with a nudge and slumped on the bench next to your frame. Hannibal looked at his master, then lied down between his parted feet. Arthur gave you a cigarette and lit it up when you brought it to your lips. A sigh of relief escaped from you juicy lips as you exhaled a cloud of smoke from your burning lungs. It did not take long for the pleasant effects of nicotine to alleviate your anxiety. Admittedly, it felt good. Glancing at you with utter curiosity, Arthur could not help but give a faint smile at how adorable you looked when fury left your face, “So, why do they call you rat?”

“Because of him,” Following a show-don’t-tell policy, you slowly moved your left shoulder. Arthur raised a brow and truly wondered what you were doing, twitching your shoulder like that. But his interrogations soon found their answer when a tiny pink snout appeared between two blue hair strands. Then followed the little and furry white head of an albino rat.

“What the — how fookin adorable that is,” Arthur’s face enlightened with awe. He expected you to roast him but all you did was blessing him with a genuine smile for you were delighted by his reaction. Usually, people would were quite disgusted when they saw your little friend, “His name’s Plague.”

“Ah!” Arthur’s loud and hoarse laugh rose up to the sky, “what a cool name. I like him.”

Plague wiggled his pinky snout, smelling the fragrances of both the stranger and his dog. When he was over with it, he just disappeared again behind one long and thick blue braid.

“Yeah, he’s a bit shy. “

“Hm.”

Another silence. But contrary to the awkward previous one, it was pleasant. Almost comforting. It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared in a void, and that all was left was you, him, your pets and this bench. A feeling of surprise dawned within as you caught yourself smiling.

“Oi, Rat. I know that sounds weird, and I don’t want ya to think I’m a kind of creep or something but —“ Arthur paused and exhaled loudly through his nostrils. He could not believe je was going to say that… As he did, your eyes observed the dog tags that were hanging from his neck, “If ye need a place to sleep tonight I’ve got a comfy sofa. The only con is that you’ll have to share it with Hannibal.”

The dog barked joyfully, as if it wanted to agree with his owner.

“Why would you do that?” You asked, palpable hesitation filling your words. Your reaction did not surprise Arthur, who was kind of expecting it. He was well aware his invitation sounded a bit strange.

“The night you ran from the shop and I grabbed you I was about to buy cocaine,”

The vivid memory of your first meeting assaulted your mind, “Wait. But I saw you at the anonymous drug addicts meeting.”

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur paused and looked down at his dog. But you did not need to see his blue eyes to understand the shame that had bloomed within him, “I was ready to relapse y’know. Sometimes me head screams so loud the only thing that soothe me is drugs. But me mind got busy taking care of your bullshit. As stupid as it sounds, you kept me from snorting cocaine and ruining all my efforts.”

“That’s not stupid,” You said in a rather friendly tone, “Well… I’ve got nowhere to go and I see threatening clouds in the sky so… Okay” You answered after mentally weighing the pros and cons, “But don’t say I’m your girlfriend ever again,” You teased with the brattiest grin ever, “Deal, old dog?”

“Deal, stinky rat.” He repeated.

You gave him the finger, but truth was he could not get mad at you, for your smirk was so beautiful it made him forget about the stars.

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