#i feel like I'm just wandering the halls like a ghost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallenneziah · 8 months

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Summary: Teasing your husband John while he's busy with work was already a risky move, but coming to see him while he's with his lieutenant... Even riskier.

Cw: spit roasting, oral (m! And f! receiving), teasing, dirty talk, Price sharing his beautiful wife. Afab reader, reader uses she/her. Multiple orgasms, pet names, overstimulation.

Nearly 4k, another thing I guess that could count for kinktober. Enjoy?

Admittedly, you shouldn't have been texting John while you knew he would be at work. But you were feeling yourself and wanted to send him the necessary photos to include him. John knew you were not above teasing him, no matter what the workday would be like.

So when his phone went off again, he had to do his best to ignore it, swishing his shallow glass of whiskey while thumbing through a record report with Ghost.

Although it did get his mind wandering, thinking about what it could be this time. If you were in that new lingerie, or if you'd ditched your clothes altogether to show him what he wanted.

He huffed to push away the thought, taking another sip of whiskey and placing the glass down gently.

"They made it to the waypoint before they had to turn back." Ghost said, finding photos from the back folder and pulling them out. "That rock perch we had was completely blown. I guess they were spotted and not spared…"

Price didn't have the option to reply before the second of silence was cut by the sound of his phone. He hummed, finally picking up his phone and seeing the photo you had sent him. For the love of… You're going to send him crazy. And he didn't know if it was good yet.

He placed his phone back down and shook his head softly, naughty girl.

"Sorry, I should've turned that off." He murmured, looking down at the report once more. "Did they find anything?"

"A couple of guns." Ghost answered, flipping over the paper and placing it down for the two to share.

Price nods, clicking his tongue thoughtfully as he reads.

The two continued to talk, unaware that just down the hall, you were cooking up ideas in your head. Looking at your tight military uniform. Oh, you could wear it. Not as if seeing you fully clothed didn't get John hard anyway.

You'd been teasing him all morning, and now you were planning to head to his office for a little mid-work quickie.

You slipped out of the room, looking down the hall before heading for the office. Your hips had a particular sway, knowing John had to be tensely waiting for you.

You made it to his door and listened, hearing him talking. If he was on the phone, then you had the double advantage.

Without a second thought, you entered. "John~ baby-" you managed to cut your script off when you saw Ghost sitting in the chair across the desk, looking at you expectantly.

Price leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat. "Love, I'm a little busy right now."

You blushed softly, nodding and attempting to back away, but John's familiar whistle kept you.

He motioned you over to his side, keeping his eyes on you, even though Ghost would burn his gaze through you.

You closed the door and came to his side, his hand resting on your hip, running smooth circles over it.

Your hand gently combed through John's hair, his hand moving from your hip up against your belt, slipping it inside the fabric. You gasped softly, biting your lip in anticipation as his fingers pulled your panties and slipped past.

Ghost's body language didn't give away that he knew. He didn't give away anything, actually.

They just continued to mutter and mull over their paperwork again, John making a 2% effort to give you the attention you sought.

It made your cunt clench, shifting back into his hand as his wrist made it into your pants, middle finger slowly circling over your slit, feeling the juices building up between your labia from your excitement.

Your grip on his hair tightened as his finger finally pressed over your clit, making you moan. You knew Ghost wasn't stupid. And he knew you two well enough to know something was happening.

But it didn't make you feel guilty for being so open about your pleasure.

Ghost remained, not saying a word about it, however. Even as you felt yourself melting into John's side, hips shifting to help get his fingers where you wanted them to go.

Your eyelids fluttered when he pressed his finger against your clit, circling briefly and pulling back to run his fingers through your slick mess.

And yet you felt annoyed you weren't getting even half the attention you wanted. You knew he was busy, but now he was teasing you back. As if telling you to be patient or be bold enough to do something about it.

And oh, how you wished you could have stood there and taken his teasing back like a champ. But you couldn't, not like this. You hadn't spent all morning for his attention, only to get off on his hand subconsciously. No, no, no.

You shifted your body, leaning into his ear and nuzzling his cheek. "John…"

He chuckled lowly, his middle finger rubbing your clit softly and making you sigh.

"Yes, my love?" He murmured back, looking down at his paperwork and writing a few notes.

You groaned softly, feeling your legs shake. "John…please, baby."

"You'll have to be specific, my darling."

Ghost grunts over the paperwork, looking up from the photos to you two. John, he wasn't ashamed. He was protective, but the idea of sharing his wife with a close man. When being such a slut for his attention. It didn't bother him.

John looked at Ghost, who shifted his gaze away.

"Why don't we take a little break, Ghost. We'll come back to this later."

Ghost nodded understandingly. "Yes, sir." He moved to stand, but Price stopped him. "That won't be necessary."

Ghost raised an eyebrow, and you as well, feeling your breath hitch to suppress your whine.

Price smirked a little, working his finger across your slit, dipping his fingers into your cunt to tease your sloppy, needy hole.

"Always so needy… It's like she wants the attention two of me could give her…"

He looked at Ghost, who returned his gaze. When Ghost made no move to leave or dismiss himself to give them privacy, John took it as acceptance. And Ghost knew he wouldn't get pushed away.

Your cheeks feel a bit warmer, hips squirming when John's finger makes it to your warm insides, but pull away all too soon.

He hums, looking at his slick fingers. "Pants off, love." Your face flushes a little warmer, looking between them.

"John-"

"Pants off, princess, be nice and good for me."

You shudder under his voice, finding yourself resigning and unbuckling your belt in seconds, tearing down the zipper and stepping out of them, leaving you in your panties and top.

John hums, moving the files and papers away, clearing his laptop and nodding toward the desk, to which you comply.

John stands, pushing you back against the cold wood, his lips finding yours as his hands mess with the buttons of your shirt, groaning and pulling them open. The ends hanging over your shoulders, falling across your wrists.

"So pretty…" he hummed, moving to undo his own pants.

Ghost watched, the growing bulge in his pants giving him away.

John noticed, smiled at him and held a hand out for him, offering him his spot.

Ghost preferred to stay seated, feeling his pants straining with you pushed under Price like that. And John continued, kissing you and taking your bra off, strong hands massaging and cupping your soft breasts. Pushing them together and pulling away so he could suck one of your nipples.

You moan softly, gasping out his name happily.

Ghost's eyes bore into your back, palming his crotch, watching you two mingle.

Price wouldn't force Ghost, but just the extra pair of eyes got his cock a lot harder than he first expected.

You looked gorgeous and needy like this, and Price could tell Ghost agreed.

You inhaled deeply, feeling John pushing you back, his hands firmly spreading your legs wide as he pulled your panties down.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as Price kneeled down in front of you, pulling your hips forward again so you were just perfect.

Your eyes focused on him, watching him lean in, his beard making you shiver as his tongue flicked and curled up and down, reaching your slit. Your eyelids fluttered as he cared for you, mouth working away the slick puddling from your core.

You whimpered, gripping the desk tighter. A shadow fell over you, and you looked up, moaning when you saw Ghost. He shuffled forward, forcing your back straight as his chest pressed against you, his gloves off so he could feel your soft breasts.

His hands were larger and rougher, his touch feeling different than John's. Groping and pinching at the supple flesh, tugging at your nipple while John licked away.

You could barely contain yourself, panting and moaning from their combined touch on your skin. Ghost's eyes glued to you, playing with you as if this was the first time he'd touched someone. And yet his hands moved skillfully against the hard buds of your breasts, squeezing and pinching in a way that makes your cunt ache.

John's hands held your thighs, pulling your legs wider as his mouth worked you. Your toes curling from the sensation.

"Oh please, oh god…" you gasped, feeling yourself reaching the peak.

You looked down at your husband between your legs, his mouth working its magic blissfully and effortlessly. He knew your ins and outs, the spots that made you tick.

Combined, they were making short work of you.

The only noises in the room were John's muffled grunts and your moans of desperation for where they were taking you.

You moaned louder, trying to buck your hips to get yourself to the finish line, but their combined weight held you in place, Ghost's hands pinning your shoulders and holding you steady, John's hands holding your thighs open wide.

You were at their mercy, trying to wiggle out in vain, strong hands keeping you down.

Ghost's warm breath hit your neck, the fabric of his mask pressing against it, whispering just out of reach of your ear.

"Bein' such a good slut, sweetheart."

You shivered, exhaling harshly, your eyes moving from John to try and look at Ghost. His hand took your chin, thumb pressing to your bottom lip, and he turned your face away, back to John.

"Focus on what Price is doin', love."

His voice made your stomach drop, his words hitting your ears like honey.

John's tongue circled over your clit, pressing his nose against your mound, his eyes fluttering closed, taking a deep breath.

You couldn't help but whimper.

Ghost chuckles softly, his hand still holding your jaw, his other moving down your body and groping your breast once more.

"John…" You whimpered, squirming. Price looked up at you, kissing your clit and pulling away briefly, his lips warm with your juices.

"You're doing so good, Princess, so good."

"She's a fuckin' whore ain't she Price?"

John smiles, humming his agreement and turning his gaze to Ghost.

"She'll take any attention she can get. Ain't that right, love?"

You look into his eyes, wanting him, to be near him. You'd take attention, only if he would give it. You admit you were a slut for any attention he'd offer you.

Ghost chuckles, his hands moving up and down your sides, his breath hot.

"I'd say she's a good little slut."

"Good little slut." John echoes, leaning back down and sucking your clit, his teeth brushing the sensitive nerves, tongue flicking through your labia.

You continue to squirm, lips parting from your orgasm being so close. Feeling Ghost's breaths, his hands dragging over your breasts and flicking your nipples. Whispering words in your ears that make your stomach twist like a knot.

"John, please…" You pant breathlessly.

"Please?" He asks, pulling away, his beard dripping with your slick. "What does my girl need? You want to cum?"

You nod frantically.

"Use your words, my love."

"Please- please, John, make me cum, I need to." You whine. "Please… Please." Your eyes fill with pleasured tears, welling you just shy of spilling. His fingers tease your slit, circling just enough to give you friction before pushing in.

"There's my girl." He rubs your clit with his thumb, slipping his fingers deep into your slit, making you arch and whine.

"C'mon, princess. Be a good little whore for me and cum on my hand."

"Fuck!"

Ghost holds your wrists down, watching you buck and writhe, feeling yourself reach the edge.

You cum on Price's fingers, feeling him tight inside you, warm cum spilling down over him. He hums in satisfaction, rubbing your slit gently. "That's it…"

You shiver and shake, breathing heavily. And still not feeling satisfied. John sits back in his chair, undoing his belt and pants, pulling out his cock and stroking it firmly.

Ghost continued to keep you still, his chest pressed to you while you watched John. His cock was leaking pre-cum, swollen from anticipation.

"On your knees, sweetheart. Why don't we let the lieutenant have some fun of his own."

You whimper, attempting to look up at Ghost, but his hand pushes your head away gently, nudging and urging you across the desk to a new position, stomach flat across the hardwood.

Ghost looked down at your dripping pussy, running his fingers over your labia. He plays with your wetness a moment, slapping your ass gentler than you would have expected.

Price hummed, stepping forward, smacking his hard cock against your cheek gently. "You look so good like this, love…"

You look up at him with that precious look in your eyes, opening your mouth when he cupped your jaw, pressing his cock in against your tongue.

"Atta girl- there it is." He grunts, sliding into your mouth.

Ghost rubs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh between his hands. Finally, undoing his belt and his zipper, freeing his cock from his jeans.

His eyes remain locked on your body, stroking his cock and rubbing the length against your ass. Cock drooling in need, salty pre-cum leaking across your plump ass.

He takes his chance, pushing his fat tip against your dripping slit, teasingly rubbing his cock between your wet lips, gathering up your slick.

You moan around John, his hips thrusting shallowly. You look up at him, keeping your eyes on your husband, one hand gripping the desk, the other on his hip. John's hand resting under your chin, his cock sliding into you. "Look at you, my good girl… Always my good girl."

Ghost groans, feeling himself slip in easier. Feeling his cock get soaked by your tight cunt, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Shit."

John looked at Ghost, watching him, his hips thrusting slowly. "Feel how good she is? How wet?"

"Fuck…" Ghost's head tilted back, his hands moving up your waist, his hips snapping harder, making you moan louder, vibrating around John's cock.

They work in tandem, soon finding a rhythm, Ghost's hips slowly riding in and out of your tight, wet cunt. John slid his cock further down your throat, helping you relax and take him, seeing your helpless expression.

"Fuckin' hell…" Ghost groans, exhaling softly, smacking your ass and squeezing the flesh between his fingers again.

You whine around John, looking up at him with teary eyes and seeing his lustful gaze.

"You're doing so good, my love. Fuck." He groaned, his head tilting back as you sucked his cock, working your tongue along the underside of his cock, swallowing spit and pre-cum. Choking along his length and trying to relax again as he pushes deeper, hitting the back of your throat and sliding you along.

Your back arches, feeling Ghost's hips pick up a little, cock driving into your tight cunt, watching his length disappear into your dripping, desperate cunt.

He was getting to fuck his Captains wife… Fuck, you'd think it only happens in porn, and yet here he is. With your tight cunt wrapped around him. A cunt claimed by Price shared with him. Such a good cunt at that. Hearing you choking down Price's cock makes him harder, his hands wrapping tightly around your quivering hips.

Your thighs trembled, your cunt squeezing him, begging him for more.

"Christ."

John pulls away, stroking his cock as you whine and whimper, his cock throbbing, watching Ghost fuck you.

Pre-cum and saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock, more of it dripping down your face as he strokes himself, seeing Ghost starting to pick up his pace. His hand comes down across your ass, making you whine again.

It felt so good. In a way, it felt sinful and yet, seeing how much John enjoyed watching you get fucked made it all worthwhile.

Ghost's grunts are getting louder, his breath hitching. "Fuckin' hell.."

"You gonna cum, Lieutenant?"

Ghost's hand moves down between your thighs, fingers working against your clit, feeling you clench around him.

He grunts in acknowledgement, spanking your ass. Admittedly it had been a bit, but the idea of cumming in your cunt made him bristle in utter arousal. Especially of a woman who doesn't belong to him. His cock throbbing inside your pussy, eyelids fluttering as he fucks his hips into you.

You gasp when he forces you onto the desk, grabbing your hair and forcing your gaze up. You moan, Price stroking his cock against your cheek.

Ghost's thrusts grow more and more erratic, his breathing laboured. "Fuck…" he hissed, pushing you down harder, fucking his hips into yours.

"Fuck fuck-" his grip on your hair tightens, making you moan loudly, gasping out John's name. Ghost grits his teeth, slamming balls deep into you before pulling out, shooting his cum across your back, splattering along your spine.

"Fuck…" He pulls away, slowly stroking his cock, watching you pant and whimper.

Price's smile only grows. "Good girl, love." He caresses your cheek, grabbing your underarms and pulling you off the desk. You pant, your pussy dripping, feeling fucked out just from that, but you aren't done.

Price sits on his chair, pulls his pants down and urges you onto his lap. He turns you, your back to his chest, and he lines his cock up with your cunt, pressing his length into you.

You shudder and whine, arching into him as he grips your hips, helping lift you up and down along his cock.

You rest your head against his shoulder, his hands groping your breasts as you bounce along his cock.

"Look at him, Princess. Look at how well you took him." He hummed, his breath fanning over your face, feeling his warm touch against your skin.

You pant, trying to hold your head up as you slide along John's cock. Your eyelids flutter, and your breathing is heavy. "John…."

"You've always been a good little girl." He groaned, his teeth grazing your ear lobe, nipping at it and hearing you whimper.

"You like this, don't you, love?"

You nod, swallowing thickly and trying to relax around his cock. Ghost finally approaches as his cock recovers, stroking it and getting down on his knees before you, sucking your breasts as Price fucks you.

You moaned louder, feeling overwhelmed by the attention, having both of them and loving it.

John's hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, not choking, just holding. Your hands move, one to his hand, the other to Ghost's mask, tugging the fabric gently.

He sucks your breasts, stroking his cock as well. Price continued to bounce you on his cock steadily, hearing your moans and groans. Panting and whimpering.

"Fuck, Princess. You're so good." John groans, squeezing your throat a bit, feeling your body shiver.

Ghost's cock twitches, a few drops of precum dripping down to his hand.

"Oh god…" you whimpered, jerking away from Ghost's mouth.

Ghost leans up, watching you.

"You like it…" Price hums, his hand moving to your ass. "You like it, Princess? Having both of us fucking you…"

"Fuck you're tight, princess." He grunts.

"Go ahead, love. Cum."

His cock throbbing, feeling you clench around him, and God, you just whimper and mewl, feeling him slide in so deep and cumming, coating his cock with your cum.

"Mm, fuck…"

"That's my girl." He continues to thrust, his hips snapping up, cock throbbing, cumming into your tight cunt.

You whimper again, just having his cock inside you, making you feel full.

"Such a good girl." John hums, kissing your neck, sucking softly, making you shudder.

Price lifts your leg, pulling you off his cock and stroking it across your ass. You gasp, breath hitching. "John-"

His cock presses against your asshole, grunting and forcing you down. "Shh, easy baby, Easy, love." He cooes to you.

"Fuck!" You yelp, feeling John's hand squeezing your neck a little as he grips your hips tight to his own.

"Fuck, Princess…" he groans.

You groan, arching into him, your body shivering.

Ghost strokes his cock, watching you get fucked in the ass and hearing your whimpers.

"You can take it, love."

You whimper, but you feel his cock spreading you open a little, the head of his cock sliding through your walls. It feels so good. So full. So dirty. Ghost jerks his cock faster, watching your trembling frame as his Captain's cock slides into your ass.

"You like it, Princess?"

"I can feel you're excited, my love." He chuckles, Ghost groaning at the sight of her. "Look at him. Look at how much he likes watching me fuck you."

You gasp, your eyes fluttering. The feeling is intense, so much so that you can't think of much else. You feel like you could cum again it feels that good.

Ghost leans in, pushing your thighs apart more, hooking them over Price's and sinks his mouth onto your abused cunt. You jerk and cry when he licks and sucks on your clit. Price chuckles softly, kissing your throat. "Easy, princess. Taking it so well…"

You whined, tears stinging your eyes from the overstimulation. It felt so good, being between them, having them treating you like this.

"I-I can't!" You cry, but John gently silences you, stroking your throat. His cock continues to ram into you, stretching you nicely around him.

Ghost's tongue lapped through your labia, flicking your clit and swirling around your slit. You jerked your hips again, convulsing and cumming again, what little you had left in you sloppily dripping from your fluttering slit.

John's hips settled, rubbing your thigh slowly. "There…"

Ghost leaned back, wiping his lip with his thumb. Having cum a second time, seed dripped down his cock and onto the floor.

John had one hand keeping you firmly still in his lap. You panted and squirmed, but didn't fight. He grabbed some tissues from his desk and handed them to Ghost, who did his best to clean himself and the floor.

Price then grabbed the file and his computer again. Ghost zipped up his pants, fixed his mask and sat back down across from you both, legs parted, watching Price.

Your cunt clenched, having just been utterly railed, and now they were back to business.

Price poured another whiskey into their cups and swallowed his back, sighing softly. You leaned into John's neck, and they continued with their work.

#cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader smut #john price x reader #john price x reader smut

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thecutepoison · 3 months

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This is very speculative, but I'm suspecting Kipperlily is using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids and if I'm right I might have figured how she got found out by the rogue teacher!

First, let me explain my paranoid thoughts about the spying. Since ep 3, we are aware that Kipperlily is hearing their conversations, even if we don't know for sure the extent of it. She, just like Riz, must have a crazy stealth modifier + reliable talent, however I don't think she's relying only on that.

So, there's a scene in ep 4 when the Bad Kids roll for perception to spot Kipperlily. Kristen casts See Invisibility and Fabian rolls a nat 20. Brennan describes, only to Fabian, that although he doesn't see Kipperlily, he feels the "twinge of some kind of sense". Very creepy. That implies that she's there but cannot be seen. She could be invisible, however I don't think that's the case because an invisible person could still be perceived through hearing or touch. Also, Kristen would have been able to see her because of the spell.

With that in mind, the paranoid goblin that lives inside my brain is convinced that she's using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids. The Border Ethereal is perfect for infiltration and spywork, since you pass through physical objects and watch everything in the material plane without ppl there perceiving you. There are a couple of ways to access the Ethereal Plane, with spells or items, but I have no ideia abt the specific method she might be using.

Her being in the ethereal plane explains why Fabian, with his nat 20, didn't notice any physical indicatives of Kipperlily but still felt a presence, like some sixth sense. Now, Adaine did use her Third Eye so she could see into the Ethereal Plane within 60 feet and still saw nothing. But that doesn't mean that Kipperlily isn't there since there's a very easy way to circumvent Adaine: Non detection. This is a third level spell that hides the target from divination magic - for 8 hours they "can’t be targeted by any divination magic or perceived through magical scrying sensors". The Rat Grinders, long time haters of the Bad Kids, are for sure aware that Adaine is a divination wizard, they would be fools to spy on the party without casting Non Detection first. She's the motherfucking elven oracle!

Okay, now about the rogue teacher. In ep 3, Siobhan theorizes the rogue professor is the ghost teacher. I think she's absolutely right! We know most teachers of Aguefort and even if the ghost one was among those we havent seen, the Bad Kids would probably have heard about them if they were teaching something like ranger class. It's plausible that the reason for the party having no ideia who they are and not even passing by them in the halls is that the ghost is the rogue professor. After all, no one knows who the hell they are, it's the whole point of their teaching method. And for a ghost it would be really easy to go undetected since they can travel through the Ethereal Plane, beside the insane stealth.

Indulge my conspiracy theories for a minute. Rogue professor = Ghost Teacher and Kipperlily can wander in the Ethereal Plane, the plane of ghosts. Even with the advantage of being on the same plane as the teacher, it would still be a nightmare to find them since they are a pro rogue. In fact, Kipperlily didn't achive that: the rogue teacher found her.

But how did she manage to have the professor find her? I'm sure it wasn't an accident, she's too calculating for that. So, I started thinking about what would I do in her place and came up with the stupidest ideia. It's utterly ridiculous. But it could totally work and the strategy seems kinda Kipperlily's style.

Remember the Ghost Steak? The one Fig tried to eat when she invaded the teacher's lounge in season one? It's the ghost teacher's lunch, and Brennan reestablished its existence in ep 3 when Adaine used Ethereal Sight, explaining that the school wards are porous enough to allow ethereal travel and other stuff.

So if I was Kipperlily, my dumbass plan would go as follows: invade the teacher's lounge through the ethereal plane and hide inside the fridge. It wouldn't be a problem for me since I'm intangible and can pass through stuff, plus the other professors wouldn't see me even if they opened the fridge. Inside, I wait as long as needed, until the Rogue/Ghost Teacher gets hungry. They finally open the fridge to grab their snack, only to find me looking at them from inside the fridge like a lunatic. Mission complete: got found by the rogue teacher and aced junior year!

It's so mundane and stupid and that makes me more convinced that's exactly what happened. It's too funny to not be true.

#fhjy #fh #d20 #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fhjy theory #fantasy high junior year #kipperlilly copperkettle #rat grinders

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months

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I think tumblr ate my last ask but may I request ballroom dancing/just slow dancing with the lady in red in the art gallery? Preferably female reader because we love lesbians here.

Yan Painting + Gallery Nightguard Reader

(Reader is referred to as "wife" once. Otherwise their gender is never mentioned)

You've seen her dance before... Swaying along to the classical mix crafted by the head janitor as a token of the older man's gratitude for cleaning up during the slower hours of your shift. It was the first of few times you'd seen the Lady on ground floor of her own accord without chasing after yourself or anyone foolish enough to trespass. The way she moved was quite unnatural for her as well. Her steps never succeed pass rocking rhythmically on her heels - but it was the most life you'd ever witnessed in her actions before. The Lady in Red teetered between being too stiff in her movements to overtly animated depending on her audience - never in between.

Had she not become a regular part of your life you would have assumed her to be yet another lost patron wandering the halls. Even then you wondered what it would've been like to join her- By the time you gathered the courage to approach, the radio's battery had run out and the Lady was on her way without noticing you were even there. Unfortunate as it may have been, you couldn't feel too down about it. Deep down you knew there would be a second chance.

"Miss?...."

The music swells as you offer your hand - drowning out the stifled cries coming from over her shoulder.

"May I have this dance?"

The sobs hasten as her heel clicks against the marble floor. She glances back at the intruders, body still angled towards you. Droplets of red pelt the earth as her grip tightens. You reach out as her ankle shifts in the direction of her previous targets.

"Miss!...." The expression in your tone surprises even you. "I've been waiting for a chance to dance with you for so long... How much longer do you plan on making your partner waiting for you?"

The clatter of her blade hitting the floor is deafening. The Lady in Red freezes - perplexed by your declaration. The gentle kiss you placed to the back of her less bloodied hand pulls her from whatever haze her thoughts had been drawn into. Cool air kisses your cheek as she sighs - ghosting her fingers along the path of goosebumps trailing up your sleeve.

"When you say partner... do you mean-"

You cut her off by locking your fingers with hers. "Hmm... I'm not sure yet. How can I marry someone without knowing if we're compatible as dance partners first?"

Laughter as sweet as the honeysuckle planted within her painting plays by your ear.

"How cruel of you to do this to a woman who's heart bleeds for you so....very well."

Silence binds you as the Lady in Red pulls you close to her - memorizing the feel of your body against hers and the flow of the music that surrounds the two of you. As she takes her first step, her free hand falls to the curve of your back - further giving her the lead.

You nearly forgot the original purpose of you being here had their sneakers been more quiet. The Lady in Red barely bats her eye as your audience hobbles for the emergency exit. Her hand grips yours tighter as they brush pass you yet she remains where her presence is needed most. You glance at the floor, watching her feet - careful not to trample them. Her cold fingers dig into you through the thick fabric of your shirt.

"Keep your eyes on me. Don't look anywhere else."

You nod - following her guide as she spins. "My apologies. I swear I'll keep my eyes on you for the rest of this evening....In return, will you make sure I make home safely?"

"....Yes... Though it hurts to see you leave, I know you will return to me..... My dear wife..."

#night gallery tag #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere fluff

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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

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One New Video Message - Part 2

Another expansion on Soap's section of "you have a few minutes before you're missed" by request over on AO3. You can find part 1 here. This will probably end up being three parts by the time I’m done.

This is smut. Pure smut. I don't think I've written this much smut in my life. Did I mention smut? Gods (the old and the new) don't judge me. And a slight vulnerable moment with you all...I've sat on this for three days unsure whether I should post it. Waffling on if it's good enough, if my followers will like it or should I just scrap it. But I'm taking the plunge and doing it so...here it is 😰

TW: m/f interaction, voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise, very mild degradation, sharing, spanking, oral sex, other lewd acts (ha)

You were nervous, excited but nervous nonetheless. You had sent the video three days before you received a response and nearly jumped out of your skin at every notification on your phone while waiting. When you received Soap's message early in the morning you nearly dropped your phone in your anxiety to open the message. They had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it. And they were rushing back now.

That was two days ago.

Tonight was when they were due back and you had spent your jittery energy preparing. How you prepared for this you weren't sure, but you did what came naturally. Cleaned the house and made a huge homecooked meal. Soap always lamented about how horrendous and cold the food was when they were working so you always made sure he had something hot when he walked in the door. Whether it was at three in the afternoon or one in the morning. So, you figured the other guys would appreciate a meal as well.

Just as you removed the last glass dish from the oven you spotted headlights dance along the wall as a car pulled in the drive. Followed by a second. Soap had not been lying that they would be coming right to the house. One steadying breath and down a quick glass of the Scotch that Soap asked you to have out, you rush to the front door and open it.

Soap is halfway up the walkway as you appear in the door and you see a broad smile grace his face. He looks tired but that doesn't stop him from rushing up the few steps of the front porch and bounding right to you. He drops his duffle on the front step and instantly grabs your face to pull you in for a kiss.

You stumble back a step at the force of him but laugh as he peppers you with soft kisses. His facial hair is longer than you knew he liked and it prickles against your neck as he bends down to envelope you in a tight embrace.

"Missed you lass," he mumbles against your skin, his face buried in your hair. "Missed your smell," you can feel him smiling as he kisses the soft spot where your shoulder meets your neck. "Your feel," he pulls back and kisses you again, this one less hurried and more passionate as he he backs you up into the door that was still wide open.

"'Scuse me," Gaz says as he attempts to sidestep you both, lugging Soap's duffle in for him. He's grinning as you peer at him from around Soap's shoulder as Soap also turns to look back at him with a smirk.

You were feeling shy, you could tell you were shrinking a bit behind Soap. But Gaz doesn't linger, he keeps walking in the house and throws Soap's bag down by the couch before wandering to the kitchen. They had all been at the house plenty of times, they knew where everything was.

"Oh shit you cooked," comes Gaz's voice just as Price and Ghost walk in. Price giving you a polite smile and Ghost a head nod. Ghost had at least lost the full faced balaclava for the occasion, just a simple facemask this evening, well morning. "It's a full blown feast in there, how long did that take you? " He asks coming back to the hall with a glass of Scotch already in hand.

"Ah, not too long," you answer, sliding out of Soap's embrace. You knew Gaz was doing his best to keep you in conversation, to not make it awkward, and you were grateful for it. You had confessed your fears and anxiety to Soap on the phone the day before. He offered to call it off, to wait if you wanted but you said no. You wanted to just...didn't know how. "Didn't have much else to do while I waited around."

Gaz smirks a bit around his glass as he sips, obviously doing his best to not say what else you could have been doing while you waited for them. You flush before heading into the kitchen yourself to pour out drinks for the rest of them.

You don't have to fill the silence as they all talk, thankful that the four of them fall into easy conversation. There's definitely a tension in the air, anticipation, but no one pushes it. Soap had promised that he wouldn't push anything, that none of them would, it was all up to you how fast or slow they went.

Sipping on your own glass you curl up next to Soap on the sofa, your body leaning against his as he casually loops an arm over your shoulders. The television had been switched on, an old football match they had missed playing on the screen. Your eyes wander up to a few times but you can see the men watching you from the corner of your eyes. Careful, predatory like, stares that flit away when you glance over at them. Except Ghost.

He holds your stare until you bite your lip and look away first feeling a swooping sensation in your stomach. You hear him chuckle to himself at that and you can feel Soap twist to look down at you.

"You're red bonnie," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling you. "Is it the alcohol? Or the fact you know all four of us are chomping at the bit to get you out of this cute little number?" His fingers rub at the collar of the silk sleep set you were wearing. it was innocent enough, a light pink top that buttoned at the front and matching shorts...that were maybe a few inches too short to be truly decent.

You squirm a bit as Soap nips at your ear and you lock eyes with Gaz who is on the same couch as you as Soap. He's holding his glass with his fingertips, swirling the last dregs of amber liquid inside while watching you. He gives you a smile, a reassuring one, even if the looks he's giving you is anything but innocent.

"Both," you breathe out after a second, your gaze sliding to look at Ghost and Price on the other couch. "Scotch always makes me warm," you answer and Soap just laughs, his hand sliding out of the collar and down your side before grabbing at your hip. You let him lead the way as he tugs you into his lap and you throw a leg on either side of him.

You can hear the rest of them shifting a bit. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Gaz down the last of his drink and hear the thud of him putting the glass down on the end table. You're breathing a bit faster as Soap pulls you down for a kiss, your hands braced on his shoulders. His movements are slow, lazy, as he works on drawing you out of the insecurities in your head. His hands pull your hips on him and you sigh a bit into his mouth at the friction, moving your hips yourself after a few tugs.

"There she is," Soap says against your lips as you grab a bit harder on his shoulders to restrain yourself. You’re rocking yourself unabashedly over him, feeling he's already hard under his pants and the whine you had been holding back slips. Someone in the room huffs at that and you smile a bit. "I think Gaz is going to combust if you don't let him do something," Soap says and he inclines his head to the side a bit so you look over.

Gaz is watching intently, his hands fisted in his lap for lack of anything to do. He doesn't back down from your stare and you swallow, he looks like he wants to eat you alive. You glance at Soap who only has eyes for you before you look back at Gaz and give him a small nod, permission.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He rises from the couch to come behind you, kneeling on the floor. Even on his knees he's still tall enough to be level with you. You jump slightly as his hands slide around your waist and he instantly freezes but you look over your shoulder at him and tell him he can continue.

"I think this needs to come off," Gaz says quietly as he presses his chest up against your back. He has his chin resting on your shoulder to watch what he is doing before he finds the top button of your shirt. He pulls the first one free before moving to the next, his fingers quick as he works his way down. As each button is freed a sliver of more skin is revealed and Soap is watching the show with a reverence, as if it were all for him.

"Still good?" Gaz asks you quietly as his fingers trace the line of bare skin, making your skin feel as if it were being burned, even if the touches are featherlight.

"Good," you answer, your throat a bit dry.

Both of his hands come up to grasp the lapels of your top by your collarbone before pulling your top completely open. Soap groans, you didn't have anything on underneath. You can feel Soap's cock twitch against your clit through his pants as Gaz continues to slowly peel the silk off, his hands running up to your shoulders to push it down. You drop your hands from Soap's shoulders so Gaz can slide the material away and his hands rub down your arms as more and more skin is revealed.

The warmth of his chest against your back disappears for a second as he tosses the top somewhere and removes his own shirt. But he's back a moment later and you sigh contently as he presses his bare skin against yours, his hands coming around your waist. He has his hands pressed flat to your skin as he moves them up your ribcage and you arch just the slightest bit in anticipation of where his hands were going.

"Fuck you're soft," Gaz breathes as he kisses your shoulder, flexing his hands to pull you back against him from where you had pulled away slightly. "Don't squirm away just yet," he teases as his palms finally land on your breasts. You groan as he squeezes, looking down to see his hands are large enough to hold them in his grip.

You drop your head back on Gaz’s shoulder as he gently kneads you, your eyes watching Soap. He’s grinning, his hands gripping tight to your thighs as he takes in the scene.

“Feel good, Lass?” Soap asks as Gaz concentrates his ministrations on your nipples. You whine a bit at the change and push your chest up to his hands to silently beg him to continue.

“I think he asked you a question,” Gaz prompts as he pinches you a little harder causing to you jerk up a bit.

“Y-yes,” you answer to which both men smile. Gaz pulls one of his hands away before delving two fingers into his mouth, his eyes on yours. You know your eyes flare at the sight, you see him grin around the digits, before he pulls his fingers back out and rubs them over one of your sensitive nipples. You moan at that, not caring if it sounded wanton or needy.

You roll your hips over Soap, needing the friction. He helps you, his hands grabbing at your plush hips and digging his thumbs into the delicate bone underneath. You dare to look at the other two men on the couch, not having forgotten they were there just watching. They were patient, much more patient then the men you were between currently.

Ghost was leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, staring at you as if studying your body's reactions. Committing each movement to his memory and making mental notes of what he wanted to try. Price was still lounging in his seat, one foot resting on his knee as he admires from afar. When you catch Price's eye you open your mouth to pant a bit as Gaz bites down on your neck, he smirks in return.

"Go on love," Soap says as he watches you looking at his commanding officers. "You can go see them," he smiles as Gaz slides his hands back down your ribcage before pulling away.

"I don't know if she's ready for us yet. You Sergeant's play too nice," Ghost answers and you snap your head over to glare at him. It was a challenge and you can tell by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle he's smiling at you under the mask. He still hasn't moved from the position he was in but he extends two fingers on his right hand and makes a come hither motion with them.

You scoot back off Soap's lap and Gaz offers you a hand to stand, placing a kiss to the back yours before letting go. You hear him flop back down on the couch with a sigh. You hear the tinkle of glass on glass as Soap pours them more to drink, the bottle more than half gone. You don't look back though, eyes only for Ghost as you walk over and stand in front of him, your hands hanging limply at your sides as you look down at him.

He gives a satisfied huff as he pushes himself to sit up, eyes appraising you as he spreads his legs a bit more. He motions for you to come closer, to stand between his legs and you do it, never breaking your stare on his eyes as he looks you over.

"I'm not gentle like them," he warns as his hand moves to toy with the hem of your sleep shorts. "Not soft," he adds on as he tugs them down a bit to expose the indent of where your thighs meet your pelvis. "But I get the feeling you don't mind," his eyes snap up to yours from where they had been following his index finger.

You shake your head no and he nods once, his finger pulling harder on the shorts so they make a v in the front. The back is still covering your backside and hasn't quite cleared the curve of your ass. He tugs again and it clears the apex of your thighs and you tremble a bit as he glances down, his knuckle barely brushing over your clit.

"So eager," he grins and nudges his knuckle back into you causing you suck in a breath in anticipation. Without thinking you spread your legs out just a bit, just to make it easier for him. He stops and chuckles before letting the fabric go and it snaps back up. He leans away now, back into the couch cushions and lays one long arm across them. He's acting disinterested and you glance back at Soap who's watching intently before back at Ghost again.

"I don't," you start, feeling a bit self-conscious just standing like this between his legs.

"Come here," Price rumbles as he drops his foot down to the ground. "He's just playing hard to get," he gives you a reassuring smile before reaching a hand out to you. You move to walk out of Ghost's legs but he extends one out so you can't get away. You look down at his foot before back at him.

"Crawl over to him," Ghost answers patting the cushion that separates him and Price. Just enough room for you to fit. You lean forward to climb over Ghost's thigh, your hands hitting the cushion, carefully adding one knee, then the other. Your body grazes Ghost's as you move and he pulls his leg back up, his other hand lightly grazing the back of your calf.

"Fuck that view," comes a growl from Gaz behind you as you wiggle to settle on the couch on your knees facing Price. Ghost's hand slides up your spine for a second, his hands much more calloused and scarred. You arch like a cat at the touch and his hand finds the nape of your neck to pull a fist full of the hair there for a second. You bow back even more as he holds you there, your eyes watching Price.

"Pretty little thing," Price appraises before Ghost lets you go and you relax down a bit. "Don't let him scare you," he explains as his hand slides soothingly up your chest to your neck then your jaw. "We're just a bit older, bit more," he pulls you forward toward him and you instinctively reach a hand out to his leg to balance yourself. "Sure of what we want." He grins as you open your mouth a bit, breathing heavier as he lingers just out of your reach.

"She's soaked through her shorts," Ghost says casually and you feel the blush. You know you're on full display like this and when Ghost plucks at the fabric between your legs you pant, shutting your eyes for a second.

"Is that so?" Price asks you, his eyes locked on yours as if you were the only thing in the room. You nod, your fingers curling into his leg a bit as if you would tug yourself forward to close that gap. He knows what you want and without hesitation he kisses you, his hand sliding to the back of your head to hold you there.

You sigh happily into the kiss, tasting the Scotch and stale smoke there. You push into him, wanting more and he obliges, sweeping his tongue into your mouth and you whine. You wanted him, right now. You were tired of being teased and as you're about to climb onto his lap a hand grabs your thigh. As if Ghost knew what you were thinking. His hand slides up between your legs and he finally rubs you where you've been needing it the most.

You moan into Price's mouth at the touch and his hand tightens on you, keeping your head still as he abuses your lips. Ghost continues his rubbing, his hand big enough to slide along your core and clit at the same time. You try to rock back but Price holds firm and you whine again, the need for more eating at you.

"You didn't lie when you said she was needy," Ghost says from behind you and you hear Soap answer. You don't know what he says though, your heart pounding in your ears as Price grabs your wrist that is on his thigh to press your hand on the seam of his pants. He's hard and you hum rubbing him with the palm of your hand through the fabric. Price pushes back against your hand and you start fumbling for his button and zipper while he kisses you senseless.

"Go on then," Price says as he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours as you finally look down. You had managed to get them undone without seeing and you wrench at the hem of the pants down, Price lifting his hips to help. Fuck. He's not wearing any underwear and he's already so swollen his tip is a dark red, and leaking.

Still though, you pause, turning your head to look back at Soap from around your arm. He had asked for this, had given you full permission but it was still all so new. What if he changes his mind? What if it was a test? You catch his blue eyes and he gives you his lopsided smile, the one he always gave you when he was blissed out. You note that his own pants are undone as he watches and you smile back at him before turning your attention to Price.

You gently grab him, your thumb swiping over his head to smear the precum there. You hear a satisfied growl in Price's chest at that and you lean forward to just lick the slit. He jerks in your hand and you grin before leaning down to take him in your mouth. It's salty and he has a different musk than Soap, but it's still just as good. You slide your mouth further down, relaxing your throat as you slowly take him in inch by inch.

In this position you know your bottom is on full display and Ghost's hands make quick work of your shorts now. His fingers grab the hem and he yanks them down fast, letting them pool at your knees. You gasp then gag, he had ruined your concentration on what you were doing and Price laughs a bit. The air is cold on your soaked folds but you continue, sliding your mouth up a bit before Price's hand finds the back of your head and he pushes you back down.

Price holds you there, not letting you move as you will yourself not to gag at the prolonged intrusion. Ghost's hand is rubbing gently over your ass, up your back and back down again. He squeezes every now and then and you whine as his fingers glide over your bare core. He's not giving you what you want and you tense as he gets close again to which Price pushes your head down harder.

"She likes that," he says to Ghost and you whine, feeling drool escaping your lips as Ghost taunts you again. You attempt to rock back because damn it you need to be touched. That just earns you a sharp stinging slap across your ass. You rock forward from it and gasp indignantly before gagging once again.

"Fuck do that again," Price says and Ghost repeats it and you splutter, choking this time, your body visibly retching. "Wait," he says to Ghost, who must have raised his hand again for another sharp slap, before turning his attention back to you. "Breathe through your nose," Price instructs, his voice much gentler than his hands. "Relax darling," he adds as he feels your body trying to panic, "deep breath."

You do as he says, relaxing the death grip you had on his thighs as you had attempted to push away. The air makes it to your lungs and you feel the panic ebb away. Price lets his grip up on you so you can come back up and he puts a hand under your chin to get you to look at him.

"You good?" He asks, brushing some of the tears that had streamed out of your eyes. You hear Soap shift, muttering about a break but Price holds his hand up to him, waiting for your answer.

"I'm," you breathe for a second, "I'm good. Johnny, I'm okay," you reassure though you don't turn to look at him as Price holds your gaze. The older man searches your eyes for a second to make sure you aren't lying before he lets your chin go. "Good girl," he says and you feel yourself preen a bit. "Through the nose," he says again as a reminder before he balls all your hair up and forces you back down on him.

It's easier the second time, and you relax your throat again before anxiously waiting for Ghost to return to what he was doing. Price's free hand slides down your jaw, your throat before finding one of your breasts and squeezing. His grip is rougher than Gaz's had been and you huff a bit as you feel yourself begin to drool again. The anticipation for Ghost was almost too much before he finally gives you attention again.

The slap is dangerously close to your core and you take a sharp breath through your nose as you are rocked into Price's pubic bone. The cool air eases the sting and you prepare for the next one but it doesn't come. Instead Ghost's fingers finally slip, literally slip, through your folds causing you to gasp. The movement causes your throat to tighten which makes Price groan and push up into your mouth shoving him further down your throat.

"Jesus fuck," Soap groans out as he watches Ghost almost experimentally push a finger into you. You whine loudly at the unannounced intrusion but you don't mind. "She's fucking dripping," he bemoans and you know it's killing him to be over there.

"You're little bird likes a touch pain," Ghost answers simply, "I could tell," his voice is cocky. A second finger joins the first and he pumps you slowly and Price finally lets you up, pulling your hair a bit to start bobbing over him. You eagerly do as he instructs with his hand, needing to do something as Ghost twists his fingers in and out of you.

It's almost enough to put you over the edge. You grind back into Ghost's hand without thinking and he stops, pulling away, and you keen at the loss. Another slap across your ass comes down and you whine again before Ghost goes back to what he was doing before.

"Let me do my job while you do yours," Ghost instructs, "disobey again and I stop." You nod though you don't know if he sees.

Price keeps you moving on him, his other hand never letting up on it's brutal groping and pinching. He gives you a break after a bit, letting you breathe properly as you lick at him before he shoves you down again. He seems close, you can feel him twitching in you and you try to move faster but he stops you, pulling you off him completely to edge himself. With your mouth free Ghost slides your arousal over your clit.

You cry out loud at the feeling and feel your body shaking with the promise of a release. After all the teasing, the taunting to the edge then stopping, your body was almost demanding it. Ghost's fingers are deft as he rubs you, pushing up against you and almost grinding his hand over the spot.

"Please, right there," you finally whine out. "Please Simon," you try and you feel him still at the use of his name. No, no, no. That's not what you were going for. "Keep going," you ignore his stupid rule, since he had stopped anyway, and rock your hips on his hand. He doesn't pull away but he doesn't help you either.

"Johnny?" comes Ghost's voice sounding like a growl. It was a question, but also a warning. One last chance to end this before everything escalates.

"It's okay, LT," Soap says, his voice calm and reassuring. It's an odd power shift in the 141 dynamic, but in this situation you and Johnny have all the control over these men. "Go on, she's waiting for you." You can tell by the way he speaks he's smiling.

That final confirmation from Johnny is all it takes before Ghost reaches for you again.

Part Three Here

#18+ only #18+ content #mdni #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #x female reader #x fem!reader #tf 141 x reader

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wingedjellyfishflight · 8 months

Text

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Captain Price is a tough man. He has risen through the ranks by making tough decisions and somehow pulling success from the jaws of defeat on many occasions. He is well aware that many of his best men do not come from good homes with good role models in their lives. Thus, he adopts a stern, but fair dad persona. Most of the time, there is pushback quickly and he doesn't get to indulge much. At least, until you come along.

The day you join the 141, he goes over your file, it isn't the first or the last time he will look it over, but it is the first time he looks at the section covering your home life from before you joined up. The file on your father is thick, intimidating, mother is just one line: died in childbirth. As he skims over the known and assumed facts of your father, he sees the same patterns again that are present in many other files. Abuse, neglect, abandonment. He sighs before standing to meet with you and welcome you to the team.

It doesn't take long for you to settle in, despite the constant jump scare that is Ghost looming out of dark corners and doorways, imitating a character from a book with his yells of "maintain acuity!" Captain Price has the exact opposite energy around him. Calming, always announcing his presence in some way to not startle anyone. Good job sounds encouraging, not condescending and you feel on cloud nine when he says attagirl, because you know he means it.

The first time you get a scrape, he is there checking you over. As soon as he's sure you're fine, he jokes, "No saving it. Gonna have to cut off the whole leg. Get the medics." Soap is the only one to laugh. Later, you find a quiet moment to ask Soap why the Captain's jokes are always so bad. He explains dad jokes to you and your response is simply, "didn't know dad's could joke, huh." You're puzzled, but happy for the hug he wraps you in. The moment of comfort ends when Ghost looms out of a nearby door and jabs Soap in the side with his stupid "maintain acuity!"

The jokes continue and you find yourself laughing at how dumb they are. One day you say, "I'm hungry." Before he can think, he shoots back, "Hi hungry, I'm da-Price." Clearing his throat, he quickly walks away. Less than twenty minutes later, he drops a bowl in your hands. "What's this, Captain?" "Mac n cheese n hot dogs with ketchup, the dad special." He sits down with his own bowl and watches you out of the corner of his eye as you dig in excitedly, a small smile on his face when you tell him how good it is.

Later, Ghost stops you in the hall. "You don't have to humor the old man. If you tell him to stop, he will stop and it won't hurt his feelings. He's tried to parent all of us at one point." You stare at him worriedly. "Am...am I not supposed to eat the macaroni and hot dogs? It was really good. Never had it before." You can see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. Finally, he answers, not making eye contact, "if you like it, eat it."

When you mention that a guy from another team asked you out on a date, you see a whole new side of the Captain. He demands to know who it is and when he finds out, he has Gaz gathering intel immediately. Armed with the report, he tells you that this guy isn't good enough for you. The guy doesn't even have a car. When you remind him that you don't have a car, Price responds, "exactly, how is he gonna take you on a date with no car?" You shrug. "He said something about a bar, so I thought we would just take a taxi there and back." He grunts and walks away. When your date picks you up, Captain is there asking where he is taking you and when you will be back.

You spot no less than three of your team members at the bar within twenty minutes of getting there, all watching you from various points around the room. Clearly, your date sees none of them, as he gets more than a little handsy despite your mild protests. Tired of his wandering hands, you try to stand up and he reaches to pull you back down. A hand wraps around his wrist, Captain Price glaring down at him, face red and unlit cigar clenched tightly in his teeth. "She said no, lad. Hands off." He takes you back to base and passes you a pint of your favorite ice cream. "Blokes suck," is all he says as he claps a hand on your shoulder before settling down to watch an old Bond movie with you.

Some might confuse his interference as flirting, but you and the team know that he is fully platonic in his feelings, just determined to be the dad you needed as a kid. It seeps into everything after long enough. He is spotted wearing white new balance sneakers on his days off and yells at everyone to "get off his grass" while he sits on a lawn chair. His favorite days are the ones where you plop a chair next to him and drink a pitcher of lemonade together, his secretly spiked with his favourite bourbon. You chat with him, sometimes asking for advice on life and other days discussing his favorite historical battles or his plans for retirement.

You ask him to be your dad for real one day after several years, nervously asking him to adopt you. The hug he wraps you in hides the tears pouring down his face. He is never prouder than the day he pins a new tag to your chest. It reads PRICE and he tears up seeing you proudly wear it.

#call of duty #captain price #john price #dad jokes #fluff #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod

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captain-mj · 4 months

Note

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!! Write the mafia au. If you want to do just a little bit of exposition before the smut instead of fleshing it all out, I would still be thrilled!!! I'm so excited.

Okay! You've convinced me I'll make it! (Did not have to convince me at all I was already writing it)

Ghost liked his flat. It was more spacious and well taken care of than any shack he had been in as a child. As much as he liked it though, he never stayed in it long lately. He'd wake up, go to the gym, take a shower there and then go to his favorite place recently.

Soap was a nice person. He looked a little soft. Ghost knew he was 19, 20 in two months, and that he wanted to be in the military but had a shoulder injury in high school that kept him from doing so. Soap explained that if he could prove he healed enough, he could join but the damn bastards wouldn't listen.

Personally, Ghost saw the way Soap winced when his shoulder twisted too far and that he clearly didn't have full range of motion in it. He hoped the military would never take him. People like Soap shouldn't be around bad things like that.

"Simon! My favorite customer." He said it like the man didn't tower over him and had a fucking mask on. He was scary.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm your only customer."

"Not many people come in at 7:30 in the damn morning for a drink." Soap grinned at him and started fixing him his tea. Same thing every time. Ghost could probably make it better at home, but who wanted to when he could have Soap make it for him.

Ghost grunted in response and, while he waiting, got his money ready. He almost wished tipping was more common, just so he'd have an excuse to throw money at him. Maybe he could slide the bills into his pocket. For stealth, it would have to be his jacket pocket, but in his little fantasy, he slide it in to the pocket on the back of his pants and give his ass a little squeeze.

"Simon?" Soap broke him from his thoughts. "Someone turned off the machine for the water, it's going to be a minute." He didn't seem very apologetic.

"That's fine. How have you been lately, Johnny?"

"I've been good. Got any plans for the day?"

"Nothing."

Soap smiled at him. "One day, will you tell me about yourself, Simon."

Ghost shook his head. "Never gonna happen."

"Come on. Live a little. Let me know something."

"This is my favorite part of my day." Ghost gave him that, watching how Soap blushed and smiled.

"Thank you, Simon." The tea finished and handed it over to Ghost. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Always." He smiled at him.

Ghost left quietly. He hated this part of the day. He liked pretending to be normal.

So he went to work. The boss waved at him and smiled. "There ya are." He was a strangely jovial man considering their line of work. "Need you to deal with a guy that's been causing problems tonight."

"I see. What's his deal?"

"Same thing it always is. A junkie not wanting to pay his dues." He sighs.

Same old, same old.

He sticks around. Great thing about the mob is how neat they keep things. Maybe that's just Price. But there are records for everything. Nothing happens in Manchester that doesn't get a little page about it.

Ghost doesn't deal with it much. He's a glorified hit man. No need to clean his hands and work on something as tedious as making a note of every ounce of coke currently sold versus coke in a warehouse.

So he stood next to his boss and acted as an intimidating guard dog.

Once it got dark, he got the address of the junkie from one of his... coworkers and he did what he always did. He went there with a knife and made his way down the halls of the flat.

What a shithole.

It was... vaguely grimy in the way all cheap places feel. His mother cleaned constantly but it never felt quite clean enough. He wandered right to his door and raised his hand to knock.

The junkie opened the door and Ghost decked him. His target hit the ground, barking something out about if Ghost "knew who he was" and "how he was a powerful man".

Ghost put his foot on the man's chest. "John Price sends his regards." He put more weight on him, crushing his ribs under his foot like dry grass. A creaking sound came from the bone doing its best not to fumble and break underneath him.

"Wait. No. I said I'll get him his money. No need to do anything hasty."

"...What a fucking waste."

Ghost lost track of how long he hit the other man. Just that he knew it hurt. He beat him until his hands hurt. He ran his fingers through the blood on the floor, finding two teeth. After he was done, he double checked to see if he was breathing, he needed him alive to pay his debts, and he left the apartment.

Down the hall, holding groceries, was none other than Johnny. The gorgeous man. He saw the blood on his hands and paled.

"Simon?" He seemed unsure, like he might have the wrong guy.

Ghost lifted his finger and put it to his lips.

Soap swallowed and stared at him as Ghost left.

Simon thought that was the end of it. A disappointing end to an innocent thing he had with him. While he had hoped to at least get his dick wet for the first time in ages, he could admit defeat.

Ghost went back and gave Price the teeth. Blood got his desk but he just grinned. "You did great. Thank you." He smiled at him. "Sit down with me."

Ghost sat in the chair across from him and took the drink. He lifted his mask up for just a moment before drinking it.

They discussed some local happenings for a few minutes before someone knocked on his boss's office. "What is it?" Price called out, leaning back in his chair.

"Caught someone sniffing around."

"Well, bring him in then."

Ghost sighed. "Fucking hell."

Soap was flustered and he had clearly been slapped around. Nothing too bad though. Ghost was going to kill him. He didn't want to, but Price could be unpredictable and it was better for everyone if Ghost did it. He'd do it nice and fast. Easy peasy.

"Simon."

Oh my god. This dude is fucking dumb.

Price raised an eyebrow immediately. "Simon, you know this guy?"

"Know is a strong word."

"Is it money?" Soap interrupted, which luckily seemed to be more amusing to Price than infuriating. "Look, if Simon owes something, I'll pay it okay?"

Price made a face and Ghost rubbed his temples. "Johnny..."

"Look, I understand okay? You didn't have a choice in doing this an-" Ghost grabbed Soap's face and yanked him down so he'd half fall into him.

"Johnny. Keep quiet, yeah?"

Soap paused, face slowly turning more red.

"That's cute." Price laughed. "How old are you kid?"

"I'll be 20 next month."

"Cute. I guess he is in your age range, Simon."

"Sir it's not like that. At all." Ghost tried to explain, finding this more than a little embarrassing.

Price grinned. "Simon. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to make sure... Johnny here never, ever comes back. I'll leave it up to you. Want to put a bullet in his head? Go for it. But if you want to just break his legs... you can do that too."

Soap started to struggle. "Simon, you won't hurt me, will you?" He looked so distressed.

Ghost sighed. Fucking hell. He grabbed him by his coat and dragged him away. "I'll deal with it, Price."

Soap tried to get his bearings but just couldn't, feet unable to get on the ground properly. "Simon, wait, please."

Ghost pushed him up against the wall in a spare room and fit his hands around his throat. "You're an idiot. You get that right? Following me like that."

Soap had to stand on his tip toes, hands around Ghost's wrist. "I'm sorry."

Ghost growled at him. "Listen up. You're going to go home. You're going to go back to work tomorrow. And you're never, ever going to come back here. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir." He swallowed against the hand holding him.

"Good. You're not going to breath a word of this to anyone. Ever. And if you do, I'll make sure you never breath again." He pressed against Soap, crowding him.

And crowding the hard on he was wearing. He glanced down at how Soap was trying so hard not to grind against him.

"Oh.

Oh."

Soap flushed and whined. "I'm sorry. I..."

Ghost rubbed his thigh gently against him and watched him moan. "Fucking hell."

He picked Soap up by his hips and placed him down on a table, pushing him back so he'd lay down. Soap pulled his shirt up and off while Ghost unbuckled his pants and shoved them down. He grabbed Soap's jeans and yanked them down. "Your little white knight act was cute. Coming in here to save me. What were you going to do? Pay off my debts? Fight your way through them?"

Soap went to snap back at him but Ghost trailed his fingers along his cock and he quickly shut up.

"You're brave. I'll give you that. And god I want to fuck you." He spit on to his fingers and grabbed him, teasing his hole with the pad of his finger. "You going to let me?"

Soap tried to push against him. "I'll beg you for it. Got all undressed for ya."

Ghost slapped his thigh hard, watching him jump. "You're a fucking slag." He pushed his finger in gently and growled at the way the flesh gave.

Soap groaned in a mix of pain and pleasure. "No, it's not like that..." For a moment, Ghost worried he'd struck a nerve but Soap was rocking against his finger with vigor, trying to get it in deeper.

"Then what's its like? You just like this for me?"

"Yes. Just you." Soap promised, looking up at him. "I've wanted you for so long... I was just so nervo-" Ghost sank his finger the rest of the way in to make him shut up. He used some of the oil they had around to make it a bit easier and started to work him open.

"You're going to be good and tell me if it hurts too much, won't you?"

Soap nodded and braced himself against the table. Ghost used some of the... precum dripping from Soap's cock to stroke his own, getting himself nice and wet. He grabbed him by his hips and pushed in nice and slow. Soap's mouth fell open right before he screamed.

"Fuck you're so big I don't know if i can... So big..." His legs locked around his hips as he whined. He kept whimpering and crying out as Ghost just pounded into him. Those nice legs of his were up in the air and trembling as he took it.

Ghost kissed him hard and then pulled away to let him keep yelling. He should've been more careful with him. Distantly, he knew that. But Soap was gagging for it, begging him in between cries. He grabbed him tight and pulled Ghost to his throat which he peppered with kisses.

"Please don't stop! Please! Don't! Stop!" Soap choked when he came, cum spilling over his chest.

Ghost finished inside him, feeling how tight he clenched around his cock. He thrust in a few more times before sliding out. Silently, he dressed Soap and fixed his belt.

Soap rubbed his face to get rid of the tears. His legs were shaky.

Ghost looked at him for a moment. No outward marks. He didn't bite at his throat like he wanted to. But the limp he had was obvious.

"Johnny..."

"Simon..."

"Sorry. Was I too rough with ya?"

"No! No. i enjoyed it. A lot."

Ghost grinned under his mask and grabbed a pen. On Soap's wrist, he wrote his number. "I know where you live. You feeling lonely, send me a text." He squeezed Soap's ass and sent him on his way.

The horrified looks everyone else gave him clued him in to what they thought happened. It was for the best. If they thought he tortured Soap, they'd at least let it go.

Price stared at him, looking just a little confused.

"Let him off with a warning."

"I see..."

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap

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howlingday · 5 months

Text

Nora Finds Fear

Based on OSP's retelling of "The Boy Who Found Fear At Last"

Mama Valkyrie: (Screams)

Nora: Mommy? Why are you screaming?

Mama Valkyrie: The wind blew the door open, and it scared me!

Nora: It... scared you? What's scared?

Mama Valkyrie: Well, um, it's like a really bad feeling you get when you think something bad is going to happen to you.

Nora: Like what?

Mama Valkyrie: It's worse if you don't know.

Nora: That's dumb.

Nora: (Leaves without saying good-bye)

Mama Valkyrie: (No longer in this story)

----------------------------------------------

Nora: (Sees mountain in the distance) Ooh~!

Nora: (Hears laughter, Squeezes between bandits)

Raven: And that's when I stabbed him! (Bandits laugh)

Nora: What are you guys talking about? (Bandits scream)

Raven: If you're looking for fear, then I'm afraid you've found it! (Draws Omen)

Nora: Really? Where?

Raven: ...

Raven: (Sulks)

Shay: There, there, boss. You're still very terrifying.

Vernal: Uh, there's a graveyard nearby you could try. Here, bake this cake while you're down there.

Nora: Thanks~!

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Nora: (Baking cake in a cemetery)

Pyrrha: (Reaches out) IS... THAT... FOR... ME?

Nora: Nope! (Whacks hand with spoon) Dead people can't eat cake.

Nora: (Takes cake, Leaves)

Raven: (Still sulking)

Shay: Look, boss. The weird girl brought cake. You should try it.

Vernal: Uh... There's a spooky pool of water on the other side of the mountain.

Nora: Ooh! I like the sound of that!

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Jaune: (Crying on a swing set over pool)

Nora: Huh...

Saphron: Please! You have to help my baby brother!

Nora: I do?

Saphron: Here, let me get on your shoulders so I can reach him!

Nora: Okay. (Saphron stands on shoulders) Just let me know when you got him. (Saphron pushes down) OOGH! S-Stop it! (Throws her) Alright, I'm done! Hm? Ooh! Shiny white bracelet!

Nora: (Takes bracelet from the ground, Jaune and Saphron disappear) Hey, problem solved~!

Nora: (Wanders into town)

Blake: Hey. I'm an unexpected reminder of the casual occurrence of faunism in historical literature. That's my one personality trait, and also that bracelet is mine.

Nora: Tell it to the judge!

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Ironwood: You claim you "won it from a ghost". And your claim is...

Blake: I'm a sneaky and conniving trickster and boy do I hate humans.

Ironwood: Uh huh... Well, seeing as both claims are so far-fetched, despite being an old fairy tale of dated historical relevance, I have no choice but to hold onto this bracelet until I can be provided with a bracelet just like this one to prove ownership.

----------------------------------------------

Nora: (Unfazed by complex legal system, Still no fear) Stupid judge...

Nora: (Sees ship sinking with people screaming) Ooh~!

Nora: (Swims over) What's the matter? Are you guys stuck? (Screamed at) Uh... Okay, I'll take a look!

Nora: (Dives, Sees Weiss dragging boat down)

Nora: (Punches woman, Ties her up)

Weiss: What just happened?!

Nora: (Gurgles, Blurgles)

Nora: (Swims up) Okay! Try her again!

----------------------------------------------

Nora: (In an enchanted forest)

Nora: (Experiencing whimsy) Is this existential dread?

Nora: Huh? (Sees three birds flying nearby, Watches birds transform)

Saphron: You will not believe the night I had!

Pyrrha: Try me, sister.

Weiss: So, there was this bird~.

Pyrrha: (Pours drink) A toast to the brave girl who smacked my hand away when I was coming out of my grave!

Saphron: (Raises drink) A toast to the fearless girl who threw me off of her shoulders when I tried to drown her!

Weiss: (Swigs drink) And a toast to the weird girl who swam to the bottom of the ocean to fight me IRL.

Nora: DO YOU- Stop screaming- Do you have another bracelet?

Saphron: (Leads to enchanted treasure hall) Are you sure you don't want anything else?

Nora: (Walking away with bracelet) Nah, I'm good!

----------------------------------------------

Nora: READ IT AND WEEP, OLD MAN!

Ironwood: I will do no such thing.

Nora: (Walking away happily with bracelets, Sees crowd) What's going on?

Oscar: We're about to have a new king!

Nora: Does that happen a lot?

Oscar: ...No. Anyway, since the king died with no heirs, we have a foolproof plan to determine who our next king will be! See, a pigeon will be released from the top of the castle wall, and whoever it lands on will become our new king!

Nora: Wow! That's so much better than a democratically elected system! Huh? (Pigeon lands on her) Oh. Would you look at that?

Oscar: ALL HAIL THE KING! (Crowd cheers)

Suddenly, Nora feels something. Sees something. She peers into a window of the future, one most uncomfortable. She was bound to a throne, tied by a sense of obligation and responsibility, and forced to spend the rest of her life trying and failing to make the poor richer, the hungry satiated, and the bad better. Never again would she have her freedom to wander and do as she pleased. Nora's chest became tighter, and her breathing shallower. Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes and spilled over from her cheeks. Her heart began to ache so much, she brought a hand to where it tried to rest, and found her arm, her fingers shaking with this strange new emotion! Was... Was this the fear she sought?

Robyn: Huh... She doesn't look to happy.

Nora: My carefree lifestyle! My free time! My vibes!

Qrow: We gotta reassure her! RELEASE MORE PIGEONS!

Nora: (Sobbing, Covered in pigeons) Thanks, you guys... I'm good now... (Crowd cheers)

#rwby #overly sarcastic productions #osp #mama valkyrie #nora valkyrie #raven branwen #vernal #shay d mann #shay d. mann #pyrrha nikos #saphron cotta arc #jaune arc #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #james ironwood #oscar pine #qrow branwen #robyn hill

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0x1lovebot · 5 months

Text

three; 🌿

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | one | two | three | four

1.6k words. [1,623]

warnings; angry chan, mentions of arranged marriage

now alone in the garden, y/n got back to her work of picking new flowers for the rooms in the palace. she picked, and she picked, and she picked. it was a mindless repetitive action, and it allowed her mind to wander.

her mind replayed one specific memory, a memory y/n tried not to think about. she didn't like that memory. it made her happy, it gave her too much hope.

she was 15 again. it had been a few weeks after her mother passed away, and y/n was still grieving, hard. she couldn't even remember the last time she had smiled or laughed or even just enjoyed the smallest things. all she felt was numb.

y/n was alone in the garden, planting seedlings of flowers in a new patch of fresh, soft soil. the sky faded from a fiery orange to dark red as the sun set over the horizon. the chill of the evening breeze bit at y/n’s skin through her thin dress as she continued her work, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. nothing mattered anymore without her mother there with her.

“hey, you’re going to catch a cold out here." a voice warned.

y/n turned her head and met eyes with chan. even in informal clothing, chan still looked as handsome as ever. under the setting sun, his pale skin seemed to glow like the jewels in the king's crown. his black hair, although very unkempt, framed his face beautifully and looked dark red due to the color of the sky. even in her state of grief, just seeing chan brought color to her very dull world.

a ghost of a sad smile crossed y/n's face as she turned back to the ground in front of her.

"it's just a breeze channie. you don't have to worry about me."

chan sighed at his best friend's stubbornness. he knew that she was going through a very sad time and he wanted to help. but y/n seemed to shut him out.

"i always worry about you y/n. you seem to cloud my mind every hour of the day."

y/n's breath caught in her throat. chan had this way with words that made her heart flutter no matter how she was feeling. she did not like it. nonetheless, she acted as if it didn't affect her.

"i doubt that that's true. i bet you forget about me with every princess you meet. i'm afraid i might lose you to them one day." she teased, but her heart sank slightly at the thought of it being true. y/n wished she was born into royalty sometimes. maybe then she would have an actual chance with the person she was in love with. and after losing her mother, she knew that she couldn't stand to lose chan either.

chan sighed again as he gently grabbed y/n's wrist, stopping her from planting the flowers. he pulled her up off the ground and turned her to face him.

"y/n, you're not going to lose me, ok? no matter how many girls i meet, you will always be my number one. i've known you the longest. you mean the most to me. no matter how chaotic my life gets or how many princesses i meet, you’ll always be at the top. i promise.”

even now y/n still didn’t know how chan knew to say those words, but at the time they were comforting for her. they made her feel happiness, warmth for the first time in weeks. but thinking about it now she knew that it was unrealistic for chan to try and keep that promise. he was going to be king soon, and it was very well known that royalty stayed with royalty. and sadly she couldn't change that.

———————————————————————

chan walked at an accelerated pace through the halls of the castle, while hyunjin brushed away any stray pieces of dirt or grass from the back of chan's robes. he really wished his time in the garden would have lasted longer. it was the first time in months, he had spent time with y/n. it felt nice to see her face, to hear her voice, to smile and laugh with her like they did when they were kids.

"this is so unusual." chan mumbled. usually the rulers would come for their meeting and then return back to the comfort of their own kingdoms. why were they staying now?

"yeah I know but it seems that there is nothing you can do until you find out more." hyunjin reasoned as he wiped the last speck of dirt off of chan's robes.

the 2 of them now stood at the entrance of the dining hall. more commotion could be heard on the other side of the doors, more commotion meant more people. chan sighed at the thought of having to interact with people other than his family, for that morning's meeting had left him very socially drained. and if the rulers families were anything like them, this would be even more taxing on chan's will to live.

"well in you go, your highness." hyunjin said as he pushed open the doors of the dining hall. "enjoy your meal."

chan shot hyunjin an extremely annoyed look before masking it with a smile and entering the room.

"ah there he is." chan's mother welcomed. "come and join us son."

chan sighed through his nostrils, holding onto whatever composure he had left, and made his way to the table in the very middle of the room. he took the empty seat between his father, and his younger brother, felix who looked just as unwilling to be there as chan felt.

on the right of felix sat king chinmae and his family. his wife looked sullen and detached, like all the light in life had been sucked away. that's what happens when your partner for life breaks your trust one too many times. chan thought. he felt bad for the woman and for their young sons, youngho & minhyung. he couldn't imagine what it must be like to see your own father disregard your mother as if she met nothing for someone he barely knew.

on the left of his mother sat king jinsang. he didn't have a family, well not a legitimate one anyway,so he sat by himself gorging on food as if he hadn't eaten in years. it was quite disturbing to watch actually. most of the people at the table made it a point to avert their eyes, out of sheer discomfort and slight disgust.

and at the very end of the table sat the dreaded king jiwoo, accompanied by his only daughter, inyeong. the last time chan had seen her was when he was 15 and she was 17. she still had the same harsh, sharp features similar to that of a marble statue. her black hair had grown quite long though. the black strands were curled in large, bouncy ringlets, framing her pale face and indifferent expression. she looked regal, however the sinister look behind her eyes didn't go unnoticed by chan. her eyes snapped up at him, and the intensity they held made chan's blood run cold. he'd seen the same look in her father's eyes countless times.

inyeong never left her kingdom with her father unless she absolutely needed to, so why was she here? why were they all here? what was this?

"so," chan's father started. "as you all know my first son will assume his role as king soon. as the ruler of this kingdom he will need a woman to rule beside him."

everyone at the table murmured in agreement, while chan quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

'why would my father bring this up now?' he thought.

"and at his age of 24 i think it's about time we continue this tradition. so with the blessing of me and king jiwoo, my son bang chan and his daughter hong inyeong will be married in 2 weeks time!"

chan's heart stopped. there was no way this could be happening. not with inyeong. chan's chest started to tighten as his eyes searched the table frantically, gauging the reactions of his table mates. to his surprise only he and felix seemed to be rocked by this news. even their mother seemed okay with this happening, and she wasn't really one for the royal traditions.

and yet, she knew. they all knew, except for him. he didn't even have a fucking choice in the matter.

chan's ear and face grew a bright red as anger started to rise in him. he gripped the armrests of his chair with such force that wood whined under his hands. if he squeezed any harder the wood snap, just like he was about to.

"hyung are you ok? your knuckles are turning white." felix whispered. chan turned to his brother and cocked his head.

"am i ok? am I ok?!" chan seethed. "of course I'm not okay! none of this shit is fucking ok!"

the other royals gasped at chan's outburst.

"chan, watch your mouth!" his father boomed.

"are you fucking kidding me?! I don't want this shit! I barely know inyeong and you want me to marry her for the sake of the kingdom! you didn't even fucking give me a choice, you decided for me!" he yelled. "but fuck my opinions when it comes to your beloved traditions right?"

chan threw his chair back from the table and stood in an instant. he stormed out of the dining hall and straight to his quarters without another word. he couldn't be in there anymore. he couldn't be around them anymore; it was all too much.

masterlist.

#first fic of 2024!!#bang chan x reader #skz bang chan x reader #skz bang chan #bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #stray kids x reader #skz fantasy au #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #the garden!🌺#faithwrites🌱

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animementrash · 5 months

Text

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #aot vets #aot headcanon #aot headcanons #levi headcanons #erwin headcanons #hange headcanons #attack on titan

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dovithedarklord · 7 months

Text

Age of Monsters

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Summary:

50 years ago, the world was turned upside down by the appearance of a virus, and monsters destroyed most of the known civilization. For safety, humanity has retreated to colonies all around the world, where life is lived according to strict rules and in fear of monsters. Fortunately, the virus caused something other than just the emergence of mutant monsters, it also awakened the Hunters, who have been heroically protecting the colonies ever since. Leona Woods spends her days in Colony 17 hiding from her duties as a Healer, but her carefree life soon ends when one of her evenings doesn't go as planned. And when karma finally catches up, she is forced to join Liquidation Unit 141 to fulfill her duties.

Life in Unit 141 isn't nearly all sunshine and rainbows, especially when a certain masked Hunter tries to make it even harder. However, the excitement only increases when a new danger appears, which threatens not only the life of the unit but the safety of the entire world. And Leona must decide whether to choose her own interests or the survival of her new team and the world.

The world in the story is inspired by the Guideverse.

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Authors note:

Leona ends up in a nice mess after eating her dinner too carelessly. She has no idea how quickly fate will catch up with her.

The story moves quite slowly, so please be patient! 141 boys won't appear in the first chapter just yet, but they will;) I have pretty much covered all the characters in the tags, but the list could expand in the future. (I proofread myself before posting, so sorry if there are mistakes! I write the story in my language first, and I translate it after. English is not my first language, so help is welcomed! Just be nice, please! )

I'll post more chapters, but if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter One

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I lazily stir my cocktail with the small wooden stick in it, as an absentminded distraction, my eyes run through the room enveloped in a flood of colorful, flashing lights. The bass of the music vibrates through my every muscle and bone, and I can almost feel the rhythm in my stomach, sending pleasant shivers through me. This is the thrill of the hunt, to be exact.

The people crammed into the small hall are pressed together like herrings, and the air smells of sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol. My gaze wanders through the blissfully ignorant dancers from the force of habit, since I've done this a thousand times, I know exactly what I'm looking for. I’m searching for an exact type, a fool who seems lively enough to have just enough energy for a busy weeknight fun, and just as easily swayed by a seductive smile. I'm lucky because it seems like everyone wants to celebrate today, and that might be the reason behind today’s unusual crowd in this club, which is located in a hidden corner of the city. Usually, I would have to choose from a much smaller selection, but today on The Day of the Great Escape, everyone felt the need to paint the town red. Even if someone doesn’t give a damn about the important holiday, this day is still one of the few occasions when even those doing the most menial jobs are given a day off to be able to honor the memory of the first great Hunters who appeared fifty years ago. What an idiotic habit. If they knew the easy lives of those publicly funded mercenaries and executioners… they wouldn't be so grateful that they occasionally venture outside the green zone to kill a mutant monster or two.

Raising my glass to my mouth, I take a generous sip of my sweet cocktail and enjoy the way the alcohol sold at the price of gold pleasantly burns my throat. Like any other luxury item, alcohol is also a treasure, of course, only if you don't want to go blind from the crap concocted at someone’s shady basement. I feel my frustration awaken in the back of my head when I think about the near fortune I spent on the cocktail, but I push the annoying thought away, thinking that in worst case scenario I will not only get my usual snack from tonight's victim, but also the content of their wallet. If I'm lucky, the unfortunate bastard will have a few credits on them. Almost on cue, I catch a glimpse of a guy on the edge of the dance floor who stands out from the ring of people around him like a scarecrow on a cornfield. Judging by his movements, he's not the least bit thirsty, and as I watch him almost tripping over his own feet during his clumsy dance moves, a satisfied grin crosses my lips. Got you.

I down the last remnants of my nauseating drink, and I jump off the bar stool with light movements and throw myself into the crowd of dancers. I make my way toward the cutie I've chosen, not taking my eyes off of him for even a moment, and I feel my heart beating excitedly as I get closer and closer. As the adrenaline spreads through my body, all my senses sharpen, like a wild animal waiting to pounce on its victim. Tonight I'm bubbling with anticipation and impatience more than usual because it's been a week and a half since I caught the last sweet little boy for some private fun… and my appetite is coming back fast. With dull, but steady force.

As I finally arrive behind the boy, my fingers twine on his arms with a butterfly-light touch and travel sensually up to his shoulders. Despite his apparent drunkenness, the guy visibly flinches in fright, and this one tiny movement makes my mouth dry with anticipation. He looks puzzled and surprised as he turns towards me, and as he glances down at me, all my nerves and senses are attuned to him. And as the inviting warmth of his body travels from his hot skin through my fingertips, I can already see the intricate network that weaves through his body in my mind's eye, with his pulsing heart in the middle beating to a fierce rhythm. I don't need to use my ability to know that I don’t have to try hard, because as soon as the first shock wears off in a fraction of a second, he arranges his features on his sweet boyish face and pulls his mouth into a lazy grin. Bingo.

"Hi. " I shout over the music blaring around us, and I conjure up the flirtatious smile that I have perfected over the years, which I know will immediately sweep such simple-minded fools off their feet. Obviously, it also helps a lot that even if the higher powers that supposedly exist have already cursed me with my fucking abilities, they at least put conventionally attractive features on me. It would be foolish to deny that I am charming, and I am neither modest nor delusional enough to try to lie to myself about it. It would certainly be a more attractive quality to blush and protest against such facts in order to score good points in the eyes of other people, but if there is one thing I have learned it is that in this new order, you won’t get far with modesty and goodness. That fair world has been gone since the first mutant monsters slaughtered an entire city, or maybe it never even existed.

"Hello... " The guy greets me too, and as he turns towards me welcomingly, ready to flirt, my hands clasp around his neck with a swift movement, and I snuggle up to him with my whole body, promising salacious adventures. It doesn't escape my attention how his pupils dilate almost on command, as my breasts press against his chest and my nails run through the back of his neck teasingly. I can almost feel it in my mouth how the heat of his desire starts to build and a tingle fueled by lust travels through him. It's ridiculously easy for me to turn him on, but he’s exactly the type of easy target I usually hunt for. He's just drunk enough to not be able to think clearly but be up for action when a pretty girl approaches him. He's just healthy enough to withstand my snacking but weak enough to not be able to resist. Not that he'd stand a chance against me.

I’m not wasting time on talking anymore, because I can tell from his heated gaze and his fast-beating heart that I could climb on him even here if I wanted to. But I was always shy when it came to my private life. I like it better when we enjoy these intimate moments together without any pesky interruptions.

I remove the presence of my naughty little body from the guy, and as his dark eyes fill with disappointment, I hold back the laughter that threatens to burst out of me with all my might. I grab him by the arm, and I just give him a teasing smile over my shoulder as I point towards to the exit with my head, and his quick to understand what I’m implying. He follows me without a question as I lead him out of the dance floor with purposeful steps towards the back entrance of the club. He stumbles along like the fool he is, with a distinct look of puppy-like longing spread on his face. And I send tiny sparks of my energy into his body through his skin, which boosts the already present alcoholic stupor in him even more, because I never leave anything up for luck. We should look like just a simple, carefree young couple who after finding each other in the heat of the night, are heading somewhere, anywhere, to relieve their needs. Which is true. But I suspect that this little cutie and I are not thinking about the same needs as we are galloping towards the exit.

And as the back door opens and the cool fresh air of the night hits me, the all too known impatience that usually comes at this time takes over me. I've been feeling that painful tension in my stomach for days now, which indicates that I can't wait any longer and I have to find someone to help my little problem. I hate the feeling when I squirm in bed with a heated body, trying to fall asleep, but every part of me aches and pleads for me to just finally satisfy my hunger.

As the guy finally exits the club behind me the door closes behind us with a loud bang. The dim light filtering in from the street only vaguely paints his features, but I can make out enough to know that by now my machinations got him ready for the finale. I don't like what I am, but I love my abilities. If the members of my species weren’t treated like objects or animals for slaughter, I wouldn't be frustrated by all of this shit.

I drag the now completely dazed guy towards one of the corners filled with cardboard boxes, forcing him to back up against the hard concrete, trapping him with my arms over his shoulders. The sight could look quite comical, a girl who is at least half a head shorter, pinning a grown man to the wall with a gesture taken from a romantic movie, but I know that out of the two of us, I am not the prey. But he is.

"I like girls who take initiative. " He says, his words smeared by alcohol and from my little tricks echo in the darkness of the alley. I pull a lazy little smile on my face as I kneel down in front of him, and I’m quick to unfasten his belt and unbutton his pants with my hands. I can almost hear how the air catches in his throat, and when I look up at him and see the stunned look that blooms on his face, I release my laughter. My God. It gets me every time.

"Then it's your lucky day. " I answer, and I feel my voice deepen and get filled with the longing caused by my hunger. He swallows his Adam's apple bobbing as my hands start to pull down the rough fabric of his pants from his narrow hips with excruciating slowness. Goosebumps rise on his skin when I grip the lean muscles of his thighs and I involuntarily lick my lips as the pulsating veins appear before my eyes. I nudge his legs apart and he obediently spreads them wider, and I lean forward to smooth my lips on his now-exposed skin. A shiver runs through him as I follow the line of blood vessels branching under his skin with my tongue, and I mark the place where I plan to eat my meal with a small seductive kiss. I give him another boost with my energy so that he gets even more stunned, and he tilts his head back with his eyes closed, his breathing speeds up desperately, and all the while he doesn't even notice how I make a small incision on his thigh with the small blade I dug out of my pocket. The first drops of blood emerge from under the pale skin, and I, like a thirsty pilgrim left in the desert, throw myself on the small pearls that surface. I press my mouth tightly to the wound, and my teeth tingle painfully as I swallow the first sips, but I know, that even if a stupid bastard like him would discover a bite mark, he could easily put the pieces together and get me caught. So I’m momentarily satisfied with the way the metallic taste of blood fills my taste buds, and my whole body trembles as the familiar heat sweeps along my spine. I sigh with relief, as the hunger gnawing at my insides begins to ease, and the torturous feeling that has been twisting my stomach for days is replaced by the euphoria, which is hard to put into words, that rears its head in my body with each meal. My energy begins to throb excitedly in my veins, and my head is taken over by a daze similar to alcoholic intoxication, which makes my limbs quite light and weightless. Despite this, my fingers grip the thighs of my victim even harder, who stiffens under my hands, groaning in confusion. It must not be a pleasant feeling, but none of them have died yet from the tiny little blood loss I caused. The next day, they are as good as new, and they easily mistake the minute sickness that I cause for the evil aftereffect of a hangover. After all, who doesn't feel like shit after drinking through the night before?

I get lost in my meal, and the intoxicating taste of blood obscures my senses and leads me to a fleeting state of ecstasy, and I know that it is almost time to stop because there is a level of blood loss that can’t be attributed to the fatigue of a hangover. However, before the thought can ripen in my foggy mind, searing pain shoots through my scalp, and I hiss as the unknown force grabs my hair and pulls me away from the subject of my feast. My brain can't get out of its stupor right away, so it is not particularly difficult for me to lose my balance. I arrive on the damp concrete of the alley with a loud thump, and I blink wide-eyed at my assailant from the sudden surprise. The unknown man walks over to the guy slumped on the floor with a worried look, who just as all my victims do, passed out after my little dinner.

"Roy! Roy!" Tries the stranger as he talks to the knocked-out guy, and I pull myself up to my feet. I wipe my mouth glistening with blood with the back of my hand as I watch the potential friend of my dinner trying to breathe some life into the poor kid. When he doesn't succeed, he turns towards me and steps in front of me menacingly, grabbing the collar of my sweater. "What the fuck did you do to him, you bitch?"

"We played a little." I declare easily, and as my eyes focus on the boy sprawled out on the dirty ground, an evil little grin curls on my lips. "And it seems I literally blew his mind with my professional technique."

"Don’t fuck with me! " The guy snarls at me dangerously and shakes me by my clothes, which makes my funny mood disappear almost immediately. Based on how his face gets contorted in anger, it becomes clear that my lip service won’t get me out of this situation, and I'm cursing to myself as I assess the possibilities. Although there are no cameras in this alley, I can guarantee that this bastard will be able to give an accurate description of me if I just let him slip out of here. If I don't do something now, he's going to call the enforcers, which is a literal death sentence for me. Because, even if I lie that I indulged in little more perverted pleasures than necessary, they will immediately suspect that something is wrong. And if they find out what I am... that can't happen.

But before I could create a concrete plan in my mind, the guy loses his patience and raises his hand, preparing to put some sense in me. However, before he could hit me, I target his knee with a firm kick causing it to dislocate with a loud crack, and as he loses his balance, his grip on my clothes loosens too. The roar that erupts from the guy is muffled by my hand fast on his mouth, and taking advantage of the situation, I throw myself at him and knock him off his feet. His head hits the ground with a sickening sound, but that’s not nearly enough to make him unable to attack. It seems that the adrenaline is starting to work in him too, because his hands suddenly slam down on my neck and wrap around it with a vise-like grip. A stifled cough breaks out of me as the pressure of his fingers slowly squeezes my trachea, and then it becomes completely clear what I have to do to get out of the hot water I got myself into.

I press my hands firmly on his head and, while struggling with shortness of breath, I concentrate the energy bubbling in me towards the man. Tears well up in my eyes from the effort, but I can still feel the blood vessels in his brain, and I clench my teeth as I begin to increase the pressure in them. I almost see the image of the tiny, spider web-like system swelling up and getting dangerously close to bursting like an overinflated balloon. The man's grip around my neck loosens, he grabs my wrists now and tries to pry my hands off of him, but he has no chance. Pure desperation takes over his features, his eyes widen and his body begins to jerk wildly underneath me, but that doesn't deter me from finishing what I started. Because if I show even an ounce of mercy, I'll get the short end of the stick. If I don't kill him, I'll be exposed and dragged off to be used like fucking battery for the rest of my life. I’ll lose everything I have, but most of all, my freedom. If I don't end it now, I'll suffer the same fate as the other Healers and I’ll be used by some Hunter until I die. I can't let that happen. I WON’T let it happen.

Rage and anger fill my consciousness, and suddenly a red mist swallows everything in my sight, which makes me focus only on the suffering of the man below me fighting for his life. My fingers claw into his skin, and for a moment the thought runs through my mind about how it would feel to crack his skull and see his bones break under my grip. A painful snoring sound leaves the man's mouth, his mouth fills with bloody foam, red liquid begins to flow from the corner of his eyes drawing vivid lines on his deathly pale skin, and I tensely observe his death throe. A few minutes stretch into an eternity as I watch the last sparks of life disappear from his eyes, and the vague emptiness of death takes their place. Suddenly the man freezes, his limbs going limp under me in surrender, and as a last soft gurgling moan leaves his lips, I know it's over. The frantic rush of his blood ceases under my fingers, and his heart, which until now was hammering restlessly under his ribs, is now silent.

I kneel over the dead body below me panting, and I pause for a moment to look at my "creation". I'm not surprised that I don't feel any remorse, because I left the guilt and shame behind me a long time ago, in that dark little corner of my mind, where there might still be a drop of tenderness left. I can still vaguely remember the panic that came over me the first time I accidentally killed someone. I will never forget the young guy’s face, the freckles dotting his nose, which shone almost sickeningly dark on his skin pale from blood loss. The frightened whimper that left those lips that slowly turned blue forever embedded itself in the tangled webs of my memory. But everyone else who stood in my way looms as vague, unrecognizable spots in the depths of my brain, and it doesn't bother me one bit. A normal person might be affected by so many lives lost in vain, but I learned a long time ago that these are all luxuries that the likes of me cannot afford. That's why I still feel nothing but pure frustration and anger for making such a simple mistake. I didn't pay attention to the friends. You should never target a victim with friends, because after a while they always show up worried. It's understandable, of course, but it's just an unnecessary problem for me.

A strained sigh leaves my lips as I stand up, dusting off my clothes, and I step over the body lying motionless on the ground. My night didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, and as a sharp, migraine-like pain rips through my head, I'm already sure that my dinner tonight was wasted. Small snacks like this are just enough to satiate my hunger, but not enough to pump me up enough to stop me from being cranky after using my powers to such an extent. I should have eaten a lot more for this. Fuck. In a few days, I'll be able to play this whole little charade again to find a fool to drink from. And I can throw away a bunch of credits again to go to one of the clubs and have an alibi drink.

I pull the corner of my mouth in distaste as I remember the poor state of my wallet, and if possible my mood becomes even more gloomy as I realize that unfortunately robbing my victims will not be an option tonight. That way, if I'm lucky, enforcers will see this as nothing more than a tragic consequence of a night out where one of the unfortunate dudes had fun with the wrong stuff, and the other drank just a little bit too much. But if I take their credits now, then robbery and murder will also enter the picture, which would be true, but I have no need for any unnecessary excitement.

So I take one last look at the two guys, straightening my sweater, and I head towards the exit of the alley to enter the street swimming in flickering lights, making my way home. Every muscle in my body screams for sleep, and as the knife-like pain in my head increases, I want nothing more than to rest and forget this miserable night.

⃰

My fingers drum nervously on the table, adding a fast and restless rhythm to the background noise of the machines humming softly in the lab, the whole thing resulting in a symphony that slowly drives me crazy. My eyes are fixed on the radio lying on the counter next to me, and although now the monotonous female voice from the other side is talking about general news affecting the entire colony, I still keep replaying a scrap of information that barely reached two minutes over and over again, as if an old and broke record player had stuck in my head, on which the needle keeps jumping on the same tune.

The previous night, I threw myself into bed with the firm belief that everything was fine and that I had no reason to worry about anyone paying enough attention to the deaths of two insignificant civilians in a party district. One would think that the enforcers have their hands full with monitoring smugglers and petty criminals selling illegal drugs, or supervising food distribution units, but no. Of course, in a city where it is common for someone to disappear or die, where the law-keeping organizations are struggling with a shortage of people, the biggest news is that two random young dudes were found in an alley under questionable circumstances. Out of thousands of similar cases, the wretched news providers just had to pick this one, which was described exactly as desperate and terrifying as it should be to get some clout. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. Similar atrocities happen daily, it's enough if someone doesn't buy from a good dealer and stuffs themself with goods made from all kinds of crap in a basement. Or it's enough if someone has more food stamps than the others, and if someone feels even a tad bit jealous of this, then the unlucky fool will be found on the street the next day knocked out because of those few pieces of paper. And I make one mistake and these hyenas immediately feel the need to overanalyze it under a magnifying glass.

A thousand thoughts run through my head, and in every one of them, I try to figure out why the officials believe that this case is different from the others they encountered until now. Why did the interviewed spokesman emphasize the fact that this case shows such an unusual pattern that they are forced to carry out a thorough investigation? I can theorize a thousand possible mistakes, and I could find a solution to all of them almost immediately, but the doubt that crawls into my brain just can’t seem to leave and I can’t help but feel that this time I really was careless.

There were no cameras in the alley, nor in that shithole of a club, so there was nothing that could have recorded my face. Due to the holiday, there were too many people in the club to give a good personal description of any of us. And my dinner last night was far too drunk and dazed to remember anything substantial about me. They won’t go far with the information that a pretty little girl dragged him away. There are thousands of cases like that in this cursed city. They could have found my DNA or my fingerprints on one of the bodies, and they can find me based on that, but I can bluff that I just wanted a nice little threesome with the guys, and when they offered me some weird substance, I walked away. There is no way to prove that this is the case, nor is there any evidence to the contrary. And they can't bring me in without solid proof. And anyway. Who would believe that a short, weak young woman could knock out two grown men?

Almost instinctively, my tongue wanders to the line of my teeth, and as it runs along the plastic, I clench my fists nervously. They can't possibly suspect anything about who I am. There's no way in hell they'll find out I'm an Extreme. They won't test DNA because it's an expensive procedure, and they won't do any further research for a simple murder case where NOTHING points to an Extreme. They won’t be able to reveal my identity, even if they end up linking me to the case somehow.

I have been hiding my identity since I was thirteen years old, and no one has a chance to see through my disguise, which I have perfected over the years. Although an Extreme would be easy to recognize, because who the hell wouldn't be able to see when a person has vertical pupils and razor-sharp canines? But I have this under control. Cheap contact lenses, and even cheaper removable veneers, and the problem is solved. And the scent of my energy could only be smelled by a professional, high-ranking Hunter, especially what is left of it now. Everything seems ideal, the realistic part of me knows that the chances of me being exposed are small, but the stress hormones working inside me plant the doubt that small enough is still not zero. It will never be zero.

The sudden window that pops up on the computer screen jolts me out of my thoughts, which were moving strongly towards gloomy suspicion and tense fixation, and for the first time in my life, I turn quickly toward a finished result. It's not like I'm careless in my work, after all, to maintain a normal life, you have to be thorough and a good worker bee. But suddenly anything seems like a good distraction, and I honestly thank the fact that I still have six hours of work left, because it may distract me from the chaos raging in my head.

I take one last anxious glance at the radio, which is already playing some melodious song by an unknown band, and then I turn to my computer instead. I don't have to worry. Like all sensations, this will pass in no time. Everything will be fine. Nothing will happen. NOTHING.

⃰

But when I get home a few days later, two strange men are waiting in front of the door of my small apartment, and I already know that nothing will be fine. I quickly assess the two figures, and it immediately becomes obvious that although they are not wearing uniforms, they are clearly enforcers. They turn their heads towards me in unison, and the neon light of the lamp on the ceiling paints the dark expression gliding across their faces in an eery glow. Only two words flash in my mind; They know.

Still, I force a mask of honest surprise on myself, and as I move towards them with slow and deliberate steps, I try to take on the role of a meek, defenseless, and more importantly naive young woman with every movement. It's ridiculously easy because I've been forced to play it all my life, but now I'm analyzing almost every fiber of myself with tense attention, as the two men silently size me up.

"Leona Woods?" Says one of the enforcers, and his hoarse voice echoes hauntingly off the dirty walls. "We hoped we were in the right place."

At first glance, it may seem like the situation about to unfold is completely harmless, but as the taller man pulls his hands out of his pockets, but it does not escape my attention how a metallic glint appears for a fleeting moment under his jacket. They came with weapons, and from that, I can immediately conclude that they did not show up for a simple chit-chat. They won’t be playing a pleasant game of question-and-answer with me as witnesses, but as a suspect, and the recognition creates an unpleasant pressure in my stomach. Calm down. Take it easy. They may be suspicious, but they don't have anything in their hands.

"What can I help you with?" I ask innocently, and I mix just enough incomprehension into my voice to make my little play look authentic. I arrive in front of them with a faint little smile on my lips, every cell radiating I am indeed just a simple civilian. Someone who may have been involved in a very sad misunderstanding, but is in no way capable of killing or even injuring someone.

"We’d like to ask you a few questions." Says one of the men, and as he flashes his official ID card, my eyebrows rise in feigned surprise. "If possible, we'd rather not talk to you here. Could you let us in?" My new guest points towards my front door with his head, and I fish out my keys from my bag accompanied by a cooperative nod. I concentrate on keeping my fingers from shaking with every fiber of my being, as I insert the key into the lock because nothing would give me away faster than them seeing me upset. And it's a difficult task, because with every second the tension raging inside me increases.

"After you." I open the door, and as soon as I turn on the light, the two men march into my small apartment after a quiet "thank you". I hesitate for a minute, but finally, the door closes behind me with a soft click, and after slowly kicking off my shoes, I follow the two enforcers into my modest little living room. The faces of the two strangers do not reveal anything, as they peer into the living room and take a quick, but rather detailed look at the room. And I follow their every movement, like a startled stray dog surrounded by dogcatchers. What an apt analogy.

"Take a seat." I gesture towards the thousand-year-old sofa in the middle of the room, and after giving one last look at the furniture of my modest apartment in search of some kind of clue, they silently take the seat offered to them. I follow their example with measured calmness, and I try to sit down in the armchair opposite them as carelessly as possible, smoothing out the creases in my pants with my hands, so that at least I can reduce the growing restlessness inside me. "What did you want to ask me about? " I ask with sincere curiosity, and I consciously try to banish any doubt, anger, or malice from my voice. It is quite obvious that these two men are not simple enforcement officers, because they behaved like two hounds on a hot scent just waiting for the opportunity to pounce from the get-go.

"Three days ago, two men were found in one of the nightclubs in sector H. Thankfully, one of them only lost consciousness, but unfortunately the other victim was already dead by the time they were found." Begins one of the enforcers, who seems to be the older of the two with his graying hair and crow's feet around his eyes. "We have reason to assume that you might be able to provide us with useful information." He states pointedly, and before I can even think about opening my mouth to speak, his companion pulls out a couple of black and white pictures from his jacket’s pocket.

My gaze lingers on the older man for a moment, so it doesn't become clear to them that I want to look at those pictures so much that every muscle in me goes rigid with desperation. And when I finally turn my eyes to the photos resting on the table, I feel my blood run cold. Until now, I was sure that there is no chance of them connecting me to the case, but even I don't have any ridiculous objections to the way I recognize myself in those goddamn pictures. While there may not have been a security camera in the alley, I must have forgotten that the fucking motel across the street must have one installed for the safety of its clients. And this camera isn't the kind that captures people as blurry, smudged blobs. No, this fucking camera recorded me pulling my pretty little ass out of that dark hole in such sharp detail that it occurs to me for a moment that this coincidence could only have happened in my honor.

"I was there on that night." I confirm the facts shown in the prints, it would be completely unnecessary to deny what is in the photos lying on the worn surface of the table because it's clear as day that I’m the one unlucky idiot on them. "But I'm afraid I can't help you with anything more." I smile faintly, just enough to not seem obviously unfriendly, despite the fact that a burning lump is forming in my throat and the gears in my head are immediately starting to turn, wondering what chances I have to get out of the shit in which I seem to be sinking up to my neck.

"I'm not so sure about that, unfortunately. " Answers the older enforcer, and fishes out his communicator from the pocket inside of his jacket, on which a very interesting hologram image appears after he presses a few buttons. I recognize almost immediately what is written on the investigation document, and I have to hold back the small disgusting smile that wishes to appear on my face with all my might. As I expected, they apparently found my DNA on one of the victims, and thanks to that the lab result which proves the sample found matches my DNA is staring at me in a faint blue light. Calm down, you expected this.

"I met a handsome boy that night, but flirting and having sex is hardly illegal." I remark innocently, and as my eyes fall on the two men, I allow a small, light superiority to creep onto my face. But as the man flicks the hologram lightly with his finger, all my joy disappears like a speck of dust in the wind and is replaced by shock, and I can no longer control my face where genuine terror settles in.

"It isn't, indeed. But hiding a Healer, or rather an Extreme Healer status, and killing people are." The enforcer gets to the point, and his eyebrows furrow grimly on his forehead, as his gaze wanders meaningfully from the hologram to me. A nerve-racking silence settles in the room for a moment, as I try to comprehend the data presented to me, and every brain cell fights against the denial of reality. Because the inscription "Status: EXTREME" appearing in all capital letters on the last page of the lab result cannot be a figment of the imagination. Because all of this would have to be a nightmare, and this situation is clearly real, because my pulse pounding in my ears, the gnawing, visceral dread creeping into my stomach can't just be the work of a dream. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us to the headquarters."

This one sentence is enough to make the future immediately appear in my head. They’ll drag me, brand me, and put me on the market like a horse so that whoever is the fastest can take me. I will join some unit with Hunters, and every single day I will charge and heal a different stupid bastard each time until one day I inevitably become useless and they get rid of me. And then, if I'm lucky, I won't vegetate as a houseplant in a research institute, but maybe someone will take me in and turn me into a whore. This is the fate that awaits most Healers, and I am not so delusional as to believe that I will be lucky enough to be one of those rare cases where the Hunter will not treat me like an object. Especially as an Extreme. I'll be the real gourmet meal. They will be able to use me for a long time. If they don't take away my blood supply, like the opportunity to recharge from ordinary Healers, they will be able to leech off me for years and decades. No fucking way.

As if I had suddenly found enlightenment, the fear of death disappears from my face with disturbing speed, and I nod with a careful movement. Standing up, I obediently walk toward them, raising my hands in front of me, and it doesn't escape my attention as their eyes glide over my figure cautiously. It doesn't matter that they are suspicious, they are not prepared for what comes next.

The older man orders his companion with just a silent gesture, and I patiently wait for the guy to stand up and step in front of me with the handcuffs unfastened from his belt. But before my new trendy bracelet could snap on me, I grab the man's arm emerging from under his jacket and send a significant amount of energy into his body, causing him to suddenly sprawl on the carpet with widened eyes and a loud thump. It takes the other enforcer a moment to realize what's happening, but he reaches for his gun too late, because I'm already there in front of him, and my nails are digging into his skin with force as I press my palm into his face, causing his head to drop back, and his body to fall on the cream-colored fabric of the sofa unconsciously.

I don't waste any time, I tear open the door of my apartment and I bolt out almost immediately in desperation. I run along the corridor with the agility of a chased wild animal, and when I reach the staircase, I take the steps two at a time. There's only one thing in my head, that I don't care how, but I'm going to escape from here because there's no way I let myself get caught. I'll break out of this fucking city myself if I have to, and wind my way through the monster-infested red zone until I get to the nearest colony. They won't catch me. NEVER.

The small shards of glass scattered on the pavement sink painfully into my bare feet, as I throw myself onto the street and continue running without any consideration. The pain appears only as a distant, dull pang in the hidden corner of my brain, because now even I have bigger problems at hand than how much damage I'm doing to my leg. The biting night air burns my lungs as I sprint breathlessly through the unusually desolate neighborhood, but I don't waste precious energy trying to figure out why the street is so empty on a weekday evening.

And I don't even have time to think about this any longer, because before I can turn into the side street behind one of the blocks, a sharp, shooting pain rips through my back, and whatever hit me, the force of the impact is enough to make me stagger with a startled squeal, and I fall to the ground like a rag doll. My hands ache excruciatingly as they get stuck under me in an attempt to cushion my landing, and my nose is hit by the familiar smell of blood as the concrete scrapes the skin from my palms. Despite the burning sensation, the narrow object sticking out of my back worries me more as I touch it. It dawns on me that it might be some kind of tranquilizer dart, but by the time I can congratulate myself on my foresight, I can already feel my limbs turning heavy like stones. The image of the street swimming in colorful lights blurs in front of my eyes, and no matter how hard I struggle, I can only whimper softly, as I try to fight with my last strength against the temptation of the darkness that falls on me.

"Forgive me, sweetheart. But you're not goin’ anywhere from here." Someone speaks up not far from me, but I hear the voice muffled as if my head has been submerged under water, and it only travels to my ears as dull and distorted fragments. Halfway to losing consciousness, I catch the sight of booted feet swimming into my field of vision. I want to come up with some kind of witty remark, but before even a sound can leave my mouth, the darkness engulfs me. Fuck.

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forestshadow-wolf · 1 year

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Soap headcanon because I'm still projecting :) and to distract myself from the fact that my parents are fighting

Soap will sometimes get random bouts of insomnia. And they can sometimes last a little as a few days or as long as a few months. He doesn't know why, it just happens.

It makes him stay up until an hour or two before he has to get up, and then when he wakes up he's left really really tired. He ends up setting his alarms for an hour and a half before he actually has to get up to account for it. Because thats how long it takes for him to be able to drag himself out of bed. He keeps falling asleep after his alarms go off, this happens for an hour and the the last 30 minutes he just lays in bed hating himself for not being able to sleep for so long the night before.

It's not because of nightmares, he's been dealing with those for forever, knows how to handle them.

It's just that he'll go to bed at his normal time, and his eyes will just not close. He could he tired enough to fall asleep on his feet, and as soon as he lays down he's suddenly not tired anymore.

Sometimes he lays in bed doing nothing, sometimes he goes on his phone, sometimes he draws, sometimes he doesn't even bother with getting into bed. Just wonders the halls. There are some nights where he find ghost walking about as well. When he does find ghost out he doesn't always go wonder with him, sometimes he's not up for it, or he can tell ghost isn't.

He's found that during thses fits of sleeplessness he can sleep just about anywhere except for his bed. When he really desperately needs sleep he'll go sleep on the couch in the common area. But there's only so many times one can do that before people start to get suspicious.

There are some nights where his muscles and bones feel like jelly and he can't bring himself to get off the floor where he sat down. There are others where he's too hyped up on energy.

He's lost count of the number foof times he's deep cleaned the kitchen while everyone was sleeping. Or the nights where he wakes up on his floor with a crick in his neck. He's lost count of the number of times he's accidentally gone days without sleep just because his body won't let him.

I bet ghost gets suspicious about this sometimes but never has any substantial evidence to bring it up. And he knows that if he does bring it up without evidence soap will just brush it off, or redirect it towards ghost.

Ghost worries but it doesn't happen consistently so he can't actually bring it up. And soap it good a hiding his sluggishness, good a forcing his energy outward, good at putting up the smiling mask. The only reason ghost knows about it is because he's caught soap out enough times while out and about due to his own insomnia.

He watches the bags under his eyes deepen, and his hair becoms slightly unkempt. that's one of the most worrying things. For as long as he's know him, soap has always taken amazing care of himself and his hair. And then there will sometimes be months on end where the bags under his eyes look like they could reach the deepest depths of hell, and his hair gets just slightly too long and wild. Or sometimes it keeps getting cut shorter, as days pass, perhaps on restless nights when there is nothing else to do.

But again soap still acts completely normal so he can't bring it up. So he doesn't, just watches, keeps an eye on him.

Sometimes on nights where both soap and ghost are up and wandering the halls but don't interact, soap will draw. And when ghost goes back to bed soap will stay out. Continue drawing. On those nights ghost often wakes to a haphazard pile of drawings slipped under his door. He doesn't know when it started happening but he appreciates it.

#this got way off track but it fine #el rambles #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #insomia

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necroromantics · 4 months

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🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 15. // (masterlist)

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Nina exclaimed, pulling her pink knitted scarf over her mouth as she waved goodbye to her coworker, pushing past the front glass door and out onto the windy streets painted by early springtime frost. The girl made her way down the bustling downtown roads, the soft chill reddening her puffy cheeks as she quickened her pace. As she passed by the townhouses and little local shops, Nina glanced up towards a particular apartment and noticed a large red sign swinging with the strong breeze, the words reading in a blocky white: “FOR RENT”. She stopped her in tracks, heart beating a little faster, her honey doe eyes sparkling in the sun that barely peeked from behind the cloudy skies overhead. A large smile etched its way onto her face, an eager sort of excitement creeping up from her chest. She ran all the way home that late afternoon.

Nina scrambled into the living room of that tiny, quiet farmhouse, nearly tripping over her own feet as she slid and hopped over to the two boys sitting on the torn up couch, watching whatever channel was blaring on the old TV. Chris turned his head over towards his erratic sister, and Toby raised an eyebrow at the girl as well.

“I found a place to move into,” she shouted out, beaming as bright as rave lights.

The loud thud of the box echoed throughout her new, and empty, apartment as Toby dropped it down onto the hardwood floor. Bold black letters announced itself atop the cardboard flaps holding everything in place, reading in bubbly cursive: “Ninas Stuff”. Chris wandered through the tiny apartment, his quick footsteps pattering as he ran through the halls and into the rooms, playing with no one but himself.

“How’s it feel to finally have your own place?” Toby asked, looking at the girl who was deep in thought.

“It feels so good, really freeing. I was thinking of getting a loveseat to put over here, and then I can put the TV there. I want like, a flatscreen or something, yknow?”

Toby watched as she slowly made her way around the living room area, gesturing her hands out to show where she was picturing everything would go. As Nina continued to talk, Toby slowly made his way over to the window, and peered out over the street.

“You gotta be careful too. Don’t forget that anyone can break in,” he interrupted.

“Duh, I’m not stupid,” she grumbled back, “can you not talk to me like I'm useless?”

Nina crossed her arms and stared at the boy, who continued to look out of the window. The muffled sound of cars speeding past, engines roaring outside, and people loudly chatting amongst themselves as they walked by, filled the open air.

“I’m just being realistic,” Toby said, turning to face back at the girl who was glaring daggers at him.

“You’re not being realistic, you’re just being an asshole.”

Toby shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the door, the old flooring creaking under his steps, the ambience of the streets outside pouring into the silent apartment.

“Make sure to lock the door,” he said as he tried his best to ignore Nina’s irritated pouting from behind him.

As he walked through the downtown area, the boy tried not to think too much about the junkies riding past on stolen bikes, or the men with tattoos of gang symbols. He tried not to look at the same type of people he’d meet back in the old world. Not proxies, not ghosts or ghouls, but something worse. It was a different type of society living in the cracks between buildings, in alleyways and unassuming houses. It was something normal people wouldn’t bat an eye at; but he knew. He knew the types of things that go on in areas like these, it was something he’s experienced many times before, in the old world. Toby continued down the street, past the old, rotting buildings, the ones with chipped paint and smashed in windows. He scowled a warning at anyone who looked at him as he walked past the old brick buildings tagged with graffiti and boards on the windows. It was early into the chilly evening, but late enough where certain types of people would be around more often than not. Toby made sure he never left the house without a pocket knife, just in case.

When he approached the run-down bar, the neon light sign overhead giving out, poorly flickering the name “Bulldog Tavern”, the boy thought he should’ve felt a sort of ease of his nerves that he didn’t. When he pushed past the door, and into the dim pub, wooden floors, wooden tables, warm light shining off of the bottles on the shelf, people gathering in after their shifts at work, music blaring, his nerves only got worse. There was a red neon sign illuminating itself on the beam over the bar counter, giving off a soft glow down onto the bartender, who Toby knew better than anyone.

Natalie wore her hair back, sleeves rolled up, apron on. She had a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face; the fake kind she’d use when she wanted something. To Toby, it was almost terrifying, like the horrible smile a predator would give before devouring its prey. And he knew better than anyone that when that girl smiles at you like that, you’re better off running away.

Toby casually made his way into the bar, watching as Natalie chatted casually with some customers who seemed to have already had too much to drink. They were a group of five, maybe six, and they were a rowdy bunch. The older men sported thick graying beards, some bald, wearing vests and jackets with familiar patches. The boy sat at the front bar, a few seats away from the loud drunken men, and watched quietly as Natalie served them another round of beers. He furrowed his brow at the sight, arms crossed as he leaned into the counter, trying to make sure the girl didn’t fall out of his view. Every roar of laughter, insult, tone change, cuss word, made Toby squeeze his fist shut. He didn’t know why it made him so tense; he didn’t know why he could do nothing but glare and sit alone with irritation choking him.

Toby continued to stare without a word as Natalie wiped down cups from across the bar, the tiredness on her face being quickly replaced with a fake-warm friendliness whenever one of the men dragged her back into the conversation. Showing off, flirting, making a big scene, tossing her around in their bad jokes like she was a ragdoll. She laughed her fake laugh, a loud cackle laugh, as if the jokes they had made were funny. As if the stories of crime and violence they told meant anything. And when she finally glanced over towards the boy, and noticed his familiar scowl, she just as quickly dropped the act.

“What’re you doing here?” Natalie asked, making her way over to Toby as he continued to look at her with disdain tracing his face.

“I was just in the area helping Nina move in. How's work?”

“Work’s great. You look stressed, need a beer?”

“Sure.”

Natalie grabbed a bottle from a little fridge under the counter and popped the cap off, handing it over to the boy, who immediately took a heavy swig of the drink as soon as it reached his hand.

“I’m off in an hour if you want to go home,” she said.

“I’ll wait.”

The girl looked down at Toby for a moment, before sighing in surrender at his stubbornness, and walking back over to the lively section of the bar. She continued to make drinks for new customers, reapplying her charm and take-no-shit attitude the locals seemed to love. Toby took another sip of his beer as he kept a close eye on her. Smiling, laughing, raising her eyebrow. Taking no shit.

The boy tapped his finger impatiently on the empty beer bottle, his dark eyes still fixed into his usual glare. He waited and listened to the men talk about the same things he had witnessed in the old world. Bar fights, petty theft, guns, money, drinking too much on a Thursday night. Toby watched as Natalie’s coworker came in, tapping her on the shoulder and taking her apron from her. He waited impatiently as she made her way into the back room, letting her hair down, and grabbing her coat.

She met Toby outside of the bar, the night skies dark, only illuminated by the warm glow of street lamps shining down on them as they walked down the street, and past business lights pouring out from the boarded up windows. The boy matched her pace as she slowed to light a cigarette, perching it in between her overworked fingers.

“You seemed to be making some interesting friends,” Toby said.

“I’m just doing my job,” she muttered as she took another long drag of smoke, inhaling the mountains into her dying lungs.

“Yeah, cozying up to guys like that. Definitely in the job description.”

“What is your problem?”

“I’m just saying that those types act all tough, but I bet you they’re all too pussy to do half the shit I’ve done.”

“You haven’t done anything in this world, Toby,” Natalie said in annoyance, brushing the boy off as she continued to walk down the darkened streets of downtown.

As he followed behind her, he had come to the terrible realization that the girl was right. The dreadful truth that everything he had become, everything that he had seen, committed — none of it was done in the world they walked in now. Toby had never intended to become what he was. A killer, a weapon, a false prophet. He knew nothing of peace, or time, only that he had lived through a war that no longer existed. And he wasn't even left with the scars to prove it.

As they entered into the moonlit serenity of their home, the pale light settled on the old floorboards, Natalie quickly made her way into the bathroom to run herself a bath, while Toby sat down in the livingroom to watch cable TV. He pressed his thumb down on the remote, the screen flashing on to a news channel which had been in the middle of discussing local politics. The boy leaned back into the couch, half-watching the nonsense plastered on the television. His eyes fell heavy as he barely processed the words the woman discussed with another man on screen. As his body grew tired, melting into the couch cushions that cradled him, Toby continued to listen as the news channel switched from local politics, to local crimes. There was a sour taste in the boy's mouth that grew more and more as he began to listen intently to the woman explaining that the horrific failed break and enter last month that left one child dead, and a family devastated, was still under investigation. And that anyone with information should call the number that proceeded to flash on screen.

The world around him fell as short as his breath, as if the room had taken a step back. Toby watched the news like he, himself, was trapped behind a TV screen. There was a soft tightness gripping the heart beating in his chest as the number was announced once again through muffled noise that didn’t process properly in the boy's brain.

Call the number if you have any information on the crime.

The horrific crime.

The one that left a child dead, and a family devastated.

Toby felt the room spin around him as he wondered how many people called numbers about his crimes. He wondered how many children he left dead, how many families were devastated. He felt the couch cushion swallow him whole as the world slipped past him, the news switching to commercial break.

Call your insurance company today.

Call your doctor about the newest heart medication.

Call your mother.

Call the number if you have any information on the crime.

The sudden, loud blare of the house phone ringing out shattered through the glass box Toby found himself in, yanking him back into reality. It stopped for a moment, the boy thought he must’ve imagined it, before another loud drill of the phone rolled across the heavy air of the living room. Like it was taunting him, like it knew what he had done, or not done. Not here. Not yet.

Toby brought himself to his feet and slowly made his way over to the ringing phone, he barely felt the floor under him as he stepped down. He barely felt the button under his finger as he pressed the answer key.

“Hello?”

Silence. The quiet infomercials danced around in the space behind him.

Call about the newest product.

Call for more information.

“Hello?” He asked again, unsure if he had actually said it the first time.

Silence again. Toby waited, not saying another word as he counted the seconds that passed in his head, the soft static buzzing from the other end of the call. The long air of silence lingered, draping itself over the time that had been passing the boy by as he stood, awaiting a voice on the other line. He thought about what he would’ve said if he heard his mother on the other end, screaming a sob as loud as he remembered the other woman did through the broken window pane that dreadful night; wailing about how her baby died, her poor child. Toby thought about how much his mother must’ve cried alone after Lyra died. And how much more after he left her behind. And still, the silence screeched through the call, suffocating him. The room twisted mercilessly around him, Toby felt himself losing his footing, he tightened his grip around the phone, hoping it would offer some sort of support if he fell. He felt his chest strain so tight, he couldn’t seem to breathe.

“Toby?” A familiar voice rang out.

“H-hello?”

“What are you doing?” Natalie said, standing in the doorway of the living room, hair wet, freshly changed into pajamas. Toby quickly hung up the phone and placed it back onto the holder, shaking his head.

“Nothing, I thought we had a call but it was just silence.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” the boy said as he walked past her, avoiding her raised eyebrow and crossed arms. Avoiding her demanding voice, the silence that fell around it, and the infomercials quietly playing on the TV behind him.

Call the number if you have any information on the crime.

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the-chaotic-scilla-aster · 5 months

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Cuddle Puddle

My first real one shot, A good 1550 words. Did my best to keep MC gender neutral, hope you enjoy!

Thank you, @honeybadgerdontcare394 for being my inspiration mirror and just chilling with me while I wrote this

fic inspired by this pic

MC has been haunted by nightmares of the battle with Ranrok going horribly wrong and living with the guilt of her dear friends dying due to her failure. Cue the Legacy Crew coming to the rescue.

Sitting straight up, gasping for air I look around the dorm. trying to grasp onto the reality that I'm surrounded by my sleeping housemates who are very much alive and well. The inkling of my nightmare still at the forefront of my sleep riddled mind, any normal person would get a drink of water and lay back down.

Yet knowing myself, I'd have better luck roaming the halls or taking care of the beasts in my vivariums. Slipping out of bed, I put my house shoes on and quietly make my way through the common room. House elves, animated portraits and ghosts are the only wayfaring occupants of a sleeping Hogwarts, making my way past the Central Hall fountain as the sound of a door opening comes from behind me. Not a moment after ducking behind a mermaid, in hopes that it's not Madam Scribner or a Prefect, a certain troublesome Slytherin sneaks by.

“At this time of night I should have known it would be you coming from the library, instead of Scribner herself.” I mutter just loud enough for sebastian to hear me, a half hearted laugh escapes as he nearly trips from spinning around

“I was so focused on getting back to my dorm, I didn’t even see you hiding so poorly” the Slythern chuckles before looking at me “Actually, why are you awake and wondering about?”

I should have expected the big brother of my friends to pick up on anything abnormal about my own wandering schedule, “for the most part, I”m fine. Just a bit of restlessness.”

If Sebastian Sallow was good at anything mundane, it was making people fidget from his unnerving staring, which is why the water pouring from the fountain has my attention, because I know the guy isn’t buying my lie. Along with the fact I can’t lie to save my life when it comes to him or Ominis. Damn Slytherin boys.

“You’re having nightmares. Aren't you MC?” he sighs as the sound of feet move and suddenly his arm is around my shoulder and I'm being pulled against his side.

“That’s not fair! I get that I’m horrid at lying, but Ominis can’t even see, yet points it out like a red thumb in fresh snow!” I groaned as sebastian laughs and guids me up the stairs of Central Hall

“Either way, I take it you were heading to the Room Of Requirement?” His smirk is annoying, the itch to zap it off his face is enticing, nonetheless, the warmth radiating from him settles my nerves. A further tie to the reality that not only am I but those around me that I care about, are safe and very much alive.

The walk to the Astronomy Tower was mostly a blur, save for the few ducks and dodges from a certain poltergeist, I gaze at the stairs till the darkness swallows them. “I don’t feel like being alone, I don’t think my mental state can handle it.” turning to look at the boy next to me, his face shows an emotion that I’d seen a handful of times.

“Then you won’t be, we can make it a slumber party. Invite all of our friends even!” Sebastian softly declares as he takes my hand and guides me to the seventh floor of the tower, once we stop in front of the slowly appearing door he spins around and smiles

“I'll head back to my dorm and get Ominis, we'll send owls to the rest. While we do that, you and deek can set up however you feel is necessary” with a smile and a nod he's off down the stairs

Taking a step inside I smile softly at the warmth the room gives off, a home within a home. “Deek, I know it's late but I could use your assistance” I say as I round the corner seeing the sweet house elf sweeping by the hallway “Deek would be most happy to assist you, what is it that you need?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I think that should be plenty, what do you say Deek?” I ask while looking at Merlin knows how many pillows and blankets, scattered in a somewhat organized chaos.

“Deek thinks that it looks like the perfect place to spend time with friends and take a nap” I smile while turning around to the sound of the door opening. Ominis and Sebastian are quick to enter and while I have to say Ominis in anything but his daily tidiness is odd, it suits him nonetheless. A warm hug from the Slytherin Prince and a flick to my forehead before Sebastian throws his arms over both of our shoulders.

“Is there a good reason as to why you didn’t come to either one of us, or any of your other friends in that matter, about the nightmares you’ve been having? Or do you think we don’t care or love you enough to listen and help?” His face shows all the emotions his voice doesn’t.

“Neither, nor anything. I’m sorry but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust or think none of you cared, if anything the exact opposite. I didn’t think they would last so long or begin feeling so real” I say looking at the floor, a burp comes from behind and a smile forms as I look behind me.

“Ew, Garreth. That was right next to my face!” Amit bemoans as his hand waves frantically in front of him, Poppy and Natty are doing their best to not laugh as they come through the door

“We got Owls saying that a particular someone is in need of cheering up” Poppy states as she comes over and hugs me “The freaky thing about nightmares is realizing that they were created by your mind. Don’t stop dreaming, just because you had a nightmare” her embrace is warm and lean my cheek against the short Hufflepuff

Natty comes over and joins in the hug, next moment I’m suddenly the center of a very large hug, laughter bubbles from my lips as I try (and fail) to wiggle around. Amit is the first to pull away and looks around “Are there enough pillows? Other than food I think we’re all set”

I chuckle as I side eye Garreth who’s already eating a random muffin, innocent smile and shrugged shoulders thrown my way before I walk around the pillows and my friends. “We can always sneak into the kitchens, that is if Amit is willing to be lookout?” A smile and an open door is all that's needed to urge the mixed matched group of pajama students to take action. Or maybe it's the mention of food?

“Are we in agreement that if a house elf shows up, we leave Garreth or Sebatstian as the sacrifice?” Ominis snickers at the harmonized ‘hey’ as we file past the portrait, Poppy is already grabbing muffins, mini mincemeat pies and scones. Natty is in the back by the kegs, no doubt stuffing the charmed bag she’d gotten for Christmas with the mini kegs of butterbeer. I grab a couple of apples and a basket of dinner rolls, soon we’re heading back to The Room.

Once back in the room and a table placed in the center of pillows, we slowly empty bags and robe pockets of the food and snacks, Natty places two kegs at the center of the table while I conjure mugs. A glance at Deek as he comes to join at the beckoning of Natty and Poppy, the tendrils of the once recurring nightmares are quick to fade from my mind. Laughter and chatting fill the late hour air, shortly followed by yawns and groans of full bellies.

“Personally, I am ready to pass out. Not sure about the rest of you.” Amit states as a yawn escapes him, a unified agreement rings among us and we’re quick to vanish any traces of food and drink. Natty and Garreth are quick to go curl up with Amit as they quietly chatter about odd interests, Poppy and I curl up with Sebastian layed out behind us acting as a pillow, Ominis finding my lap once settled myself

I spy Deek at the steps of the hallway leading to the lower room, and smile softly at him as he nodes back at me, a smile of his own, as he's been a pillar of his own since my nightmares started. A yawn slips past my lips as my eyelids grow heavy and the tendrils of the once recurring nightmares are quick to fade from my mind.

I love the unexpected friendships I’ve made this year, for if not them being here. I’d have lost myself in a way no one would return from. A smile paints my face as I fall asleep, knowing I’ll never be alone.

“There's something about kindred spirits, you meet them and for a moment this world - no matter how ugly- makes sense. They bring a sense of freedom and clarity to the conversation; just enough to remind you of who you are.”

Nikki Rowe

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #spilled ink #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #natty onai #hogwarts oc #ominis gaunt #poppy sweeting #writeblr #comfort

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